ep. 2. The Coolest Cat.
"Wake up."
He remembers the sound of the voice as light consumed his vision. How calm, confident, and compassionate that voice sounded. It was the voice of God, truly, and his suffering had ended. He had transcended into the land of bliss and eternity. The light was warm on his face, basking him in such a pale white light that it was the face of the moon smiling down upon him. His eyes watered exposed to such brightness, but as he turned away the voice called him back.
"Don't shut you eyes."
The voice was suddenly urgent. Something cold and lifeless brushed against his face. It traced a single delicate line across his jaw and up the crease of his mouth. Then it plunged into his right nostril. He wretched, bile spouting from his gaping mouth as he reached out with his hand. The object continued to burrow farther inside of him; he could feel the cold instrument slithering inside him. Wriggling down his throat. Wriggling into his stomach.
This wasn't Heaven.
Every muscle within him contracted, forcing vomit and excrement violently from his body. He tried to scream, but all that came was a half choked sob. A plea for mercy. The light was harsh and blinding; it flickered once as he arced his neck backwards to scream. It was then that he saw its dim outline. Metal. A halogen light.
He was strapped to a morgue table. He could became acutely aware of the cold wetness swimming about his abdomen. He couldn't feel his legs at all, and as his eyes poured tears and struggled to stay open, he caught the faintest glimpse of color. Thick, dark, rich, red. Blood. Meat. Everywhere.
Jesus. Help me.
His eyes slipped shut. A vice crushed his esophagus. The vomit could not escape, and so he began to choke.
"DO NOT SHUT YOUR EYES!".
They were open, but not by choice. All the panic of every being on the Earth crashed down upon him, lashing his soul apart as his eyes lost focus. As the lack of oxygen slowly dismembered his consciousness. Pinpricks of darkness grew, tearing holes into his vision and consuming all he had left. He tried to hold onto something, anything -a person, a place, a memory. He had nothing. There was nothing there, in that empty caved in mind. As his eyes glazed over and his being embraced infinity, one hundred knives tore into him. Something venomous began to course within his veins. His pulse pumped fire through him.
He didn't open his eyes.
"OPEN YOUR EYES!"
He didn't want to.
"OPEN YOUR EY- Give him the adrenal shot. DO IT!"
His right arm was no longer bound. It moved fresh and fast, and in a single second he had that obnoxious voice gurgling in his hand. It irritated him. The sound of the cranium's dome imploding swiftly followed, and dimly, through the thick wet warmth of some substance oozing over his fingers, he heard screaming.
He wondered idly if he should feel something. Nah. It was cool. It was all cool. His eyes stayed shut as he felt his hands -his entire body- move on auto-pilot. Feeling muscles mash between his fingers, and tendons snap like taut rubber bands. He felt their bones snapping like dry branches. Something sharp stuck him. He grabbed the arm that held it and snapped it in half. The wailing ceased as his foot went through its head. Warmth showered his face as his fingers found another neck, pushing themselves through the skin and muscle and letting the blood spurt across him. He was warm all over, yet he felt so cool.
He was the coolest cat in the world, and the screams were drowned in jazz.
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Bayne Tarrok's Journal
Miscellaeneous whatnot... maybe a few RP entries.. but probably not :P
[b:6583fd3090][i:6583fd3090]On a long enough time line, everyone's survival rate drops to zero.[/i:6583fd3090][/b:6583fd3090][/color:6583fd3090][/size:6583fd3090][/align:6583fd3090]