Part II:
The raindrops fell like tears on the sad little town.
Really, it was pathetic. How would you treat a town thats soul purpose was to be a ghost?
June 12th, 1965,
It's been 13 days on base and I haven't seen bravo company faces or doctors anywhere. It's like they gave me a new toy and ran away to let me try it...
I'm not locked up so I guess it's nothing dangerous...
I walk the halls every day for a face, some sort of connection to this place that has 2 ice cream shops, a diner, a movie theater, a small hanger and bed and breakfasts but it's like everyone left for the season and forgot to leave me a way out.
The mountains loom over me like my teachers and parents in elementary school during PTA night... I can't believe I got left behind. They got to be here somewhere, just something's supposed to happen soon... right?
June 17th, 1965,
The ocean slithers in like a snake and all of a sudden, my eye is looking at the back of my eye lid... I seem to have gained a pillow in my sleep somehow and the technology to utilize infrared without opening my eyes, night vision when I do, and the ability to calculate precise equations without... well, for lack of better words, batting an eyelash.
Am I still Sergeant Moore or am I something more?
All of a sudden, it occurs to me, somebody's messed with my eyes. I run to the mirror and there isn't one. I run to the movie theater and there's people watching a movie. Where did they come from? I run to the stores and no mirror was present but people were shopping. I woke up and found myself in my bed with my wife. Did I imagine it all?
I go to the mirror in the bathroom and look at my face. It looks normal but something's a little off. My right eye looks a little droopy. The same eye looks too emplaced to be real. I touch it. It isn't real. In fact, nothing in this side of my face feels anything. They've replaced it all...
You took my face, you dirty mother fuckers. Sergeant Ronald Moore from Nome Alaska.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Pain Case
Part I: Introductions all around
When I was growing up, I wasn't much of anything. My mother provided us with rusted toys and coated them with fresh paint to make them look brand new. The paint did not cover up the toy when it crumbled.
We lived on a farm outside of Bryansk and for the most part, nobody came, nobody went, we strayed from any kind of attention we might attract. We had a suitable pond and a large field that I enjoyed playing in as a young child. If I got near to the house from my adventures crawling through the field shooting American rapists, I was in my command center which was a dumpy, old, green shed behind our house. It was in these moments, my mother so often said to me, "Сделайте что-нибудь с себя!" or "Do something with yourself!" When we could get our hands on them, my friends and I would smoke cigarettes and yell at little girls in the city; big girls too.
I often found myself calling names to a шлюха named Jesika. She would smile and tease me back every time, even when her eyes were black and blue like the turning of a Caribbean wave as it fades from blue to black in its deepest drops of the ocean floor. I had seen such wonders at the newspaper, for which my father worked. I dreamed of going there one day but we barely made enough money to keep our farm when all was said and done. Ironically, I had never seen my father at the newspaper but the people there seemed to know who I was.
During the winter of 1964, I watched as Jesika was brutally raped and murdered at the hands of her pimp. A year later, I watched as my mother, my brother and our cousin were murdered in front of my face after the gang that saw me watching Jesika being raped and murdered caught up to me. They weren't big time, they weren't really even recognized by any crime syndicate but they had wronged me and as they left me there, bleeding on the floor, I was sure I would die being not much of anything.
My father had different plans.
During the scuffle, my eye had been cut out by brutal gang members, in its place, my father had managed to install a test component called an "ocular implant." It made me able to see in infrared, night vision and even given me the ability to translate language, and solve complicated math problems; mostly related to probability.
For years, the deal was that I was given life and this enhancement along with others to serve a purpose: Mother Russia. Everyone knows the KGB but I was something different, something special. I was a project in not only the future of Mother Russia but the future of mankind. I suppose since the Cold War never really went so well for us, my comorads decided to evolve out of the necessity for war and become a better race that would render mankind obsolete. Their plan backfired. As was usual with my country, we did not think the whole thing through. Almost as if it were a karmic mirror to our blight of communism, individuality superseded the indoctrination and programing that was supposed to guide me towards a higher purpose.
Once they taught me how to use the hardware and what all my new functions were, I grabbed my military issue side arm and walked out into the streets of Bryansk...
It wasn't hard to find the Ослиный задницу and his gang. I picked up a hooker and beat her with the blunt end of a Five seveN until she told me "You're in trouble now!"
The петух присоски showed up just as planned: with 9 others and told me that I was going to die.
"Easy killer," I said while laughing down the barrel of his 38'. "I want to join your gang."
"Who are you to join us? You'll have to prove yourself first."
"What do I have to do?"
The conversation went on longer than needs to be told in story form suffice to say that it ended here:
"So you want me to rape and murder an innocent woman before I can join your gang?"
"Yes! This will prove you are hardcore gangster like us!"
"I have already incapacitated your сука and she is defenseless. Would not raping her and killing her be a waste of my time when she is bought and paid for with my money? And if it were an innocent woman, why would she have more courage than a hooker who never knows if her next John is a lunatic like me who will kill her? It seems to me, if this was your initiation you are all in need of a real test. Tell you what," I said, swinging my hand onto his side and removing his side arm to point it at his face, "why don't I just kill you instead?"
What fanfare! All nine idiots raised their guns to my head.
As I flipped his weapon back around to give it back to him, I laughed heartily and said, "Just kidding. If I did that, now where would I find employment?"
"Employment for what?" He said.
"So glad you asked..."
In a split second, I activated my synaptic reflexes and shot out the light. Ten shots rang out in the darkness before a single one of them had a chance to even grab their guns again from the last scare.
I struck a match and lit up a cigarette mixed with herbs as I held the match to the gang leader's face. The girl, whimpering and trying to scream in the background was getting on my nerves so I shot her in the face.
"Why would you do that?" said the gang leader.
"Your men are dead. You need medical treatment and I've just destroyed your product as well as perhaps relieved a shell of a suffering soul. I can't help this shit, they programmed me this way."
"You didn't kill me," he said.
I took out my cell phone and made a call.
"Да ... Мне нужно забрать ... Для города ... Да."
"What are you..."
"Заткнись, сука! Взрослые говорят."
As I hung up, I leaned in to look him in the eyes with my ocular implant illuminating his horrified gaze that now saw first hand the machine behind the fake face.
"Give it time, boy. As I have already stated to you, I hunt bigger game than women and children. Be cautious, however, because the next time we meet, I will give you death in a very slow way..."
I put out the cigarette on his forehead and I imagine the last thing he saw before I vanished was the glowing of my green eye that he had cut out years before...
When I was growing up, I wasn't much of anything. My mother provided us with rusted toys and coated them with fresh paint to make them look brand new. The paint did not cover up the toy when it crumbled.
We lived on a farm outside of Bryansk and for the most part, nobody came, nobody went, we strayed from any kind of attention we might attract. We had a suitable pond and a large field that I enjoyed playing in as a young child. If I got near to the house from my adventures crawling through the field shooting American rapists, I was in my command center which was a dumpy, old, green shed behind our house. It was in these moments, my mother so often said to me, "Сделайте что-нибудь с себя!" or "Do something with yourself!" When we could get our hands on them, my friends and I would smoke cigarettes and yell at little girls in the city; big girls too.
I often found myself calling names to a шлюха named Jesika. She would smile and tease me back every time, even when her eyes were black and blue like the turning of a Caribbean wave as it fades from blue to black in its deepest drops of the ocean floor. I had seen such wonders at the newspaper, for which my father worked. I dreamed of going there one day but we barely made enough money to keep our farm when all was said and done. Ironically, I had never seen my father at the newspaper but the people there seemed to know who I was.
During the winter of 1964, I watched as Jesika was brutally raped and murdered at the hands of her pimp. A year later, I watched as my mother, my brother and our cousin were murdered in front of my face after the gang that saw me watching Jesika being raped and murdered caught up to me. They weren't big time, they weren't really even recognized by any crime syndicate but they had wronged me and as they left me there, bleeding on the floor, I was sure I would die being not much of anything.
My father had different plans.
During the scuffle, my eye had been cut out by brutal gang members, in its place, my father had managed to install a test component called an "ocular implant." It made me able to see in infrared, night vision and even given me the ability to translate language, and solve complicated math problems; mostly related to probability.
For years, the deal was that I was given life and this enhancement along with others to serve a purpose: Mother Russia. Everyone knows the KGB but I was something different, something special. I was a project in not only the future of Mother Russia but the future of mankind. I suppose since the Cold War never really went so well for us, my comorads decided to evolve out of the necessity for war and become a better race that would render mankind obsolete. Their plan backfired. As was usual with my country, we did not think the whole thing through. Almost as if it were a karmic mirror to our blight of communism, individuality superseded the indoctrination and programing that was supposed to guide me towards a higher purpose.
Once they taught me how to use the hardware and what all my new functions were, I grabbed my military issue side arm and walked out into the streets of Bryansk...
It wasn't hard to find the Ослиный задницу and his gang. I picked up a hooker and beat her with the blunt end of a Five seveN until she told me "You're in trouble now!"
The петух присоски showed up just as planned: with 9 others and told me that I was going to die.
"Easy killer," I said while laughing down the barrel of his 38'. "I want to join your gang."
"Who are you to join us? You'll have to prove yourself first."
"What do I have to do?"
The conversation went on longer than needs to be told in story form suffice to say that it ended here:
"So you want me to rape and murder an innocent woman before I can join your gang?"
"Yes! This will prove you are hardcore gangster like us!"
"I have already incapacitated your сука and she is defenseless. Would not raping her and killing her be a waste of my time when she is bought and paid for with my money? And if it were an innocent woman, why would she have more courage than a hooker who never knows if her next John is a lunatic like me who will kill her? It seems to me, if this was your initiation you are all in need of a real test. Tell you what," I said, swinging my hand onto his side and removing his side arm to point it at his face, "why don't I just kill you instead?"
What fanfare! All nine idiots raised their guns to my head.
As I flipped his weapon back around to give it back to him, I laughed heartily and said, "Just kidding. If I did that, now where would I find employment?"
"Employment for what?" He said.
"So glad you asked..."
In a split second, I activated my synaptic reflexes and shot out the light. Ten shots rang out in the darkness before a single one of them had a chance to even grab their guns again from the last scare.
I struck a match and lit up a cigarette mixed with herbs as I held the match to the gang leader's face. The girl, whimpering and trying to scream in the background was getting on my nerves so I shot her in the face.
"Why would you do that?" said the gang leader.
"Your men are dead. You need medical treatment and I've just destroyed your product as well as perhaps relieved a shell of a suffering soul. I can't help this shit, they programmed me this way."
"You didn't kill me," he said.
I took out my cell phone and made a call.
"Да ... Мне нужно забрать ... Для города ... Да."
"What are you..."
"Заткнись, сука! Взрослые говорят."
As I hung up, I leaned in to look him in the eyes with my ocular implant illuminating his horrified gaze that now saw first hand the machine behind the fake face.
"Give it time, boy. As I have already stated to you, I hunt bigger game than women and children. Be cautious, however, because the next time we meet, I will give you death in a very slow way..."
I put out the cigarette on his forehead and I imagine the last thing he saw before I vanished was the glowing of my green eye that he had cut out years before...
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