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Chuck 01x04 teleplay review

2024.06.02 05:20 arvarnargul Chuck 01x04 teleplay review

FAIR WARNING THIS WILL BE A WALL OF TEXT
Intro: In a series of reviews that will begin (or return) here; we are going to try and take a critical look at the Chuck series, especially the unfolding of the story as scene through the teleplay. In this case we are assuming multiple things about a potential watcher:
What is this all for: This started as a project to improve my critical reviewing skills for a hobby of movie script writing and analysis. Chuck happens to have published 3 original scripts and all the text of every episode has been published to a searchable database. This affords an opportunity to break from my movie writing woes and infinite revisions to just have fun enjoying Chuck and trying to deepen my understanding of the intersection of script writing with filmography and visual editing. Having said this, it should be known I have no affiliation to the show, no additional insider knowledge, and I do not write scripts for a living. So, consequently, feel free to ignore everything I say :). I do hope, however, we can go on this journey together and appreciate the excellence that is a love story called Chuck.
So, don't freak out, and lets get started.
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Chuck 01x04 (Chuck vs the Wookiee): TEASER - We open with the gang playing "Know Ya!", which isn't actually a real board game, but based on the game Paddles. It's amazing that Morgan can't stand Ellie/Awesome being in love/winning, but marches triumphantly whenever he gets a question correct. I also like we see, in frame, Chuck watching Sarah pick off olives; he's beginning to notice things just like a real spy. The deep sadness and yet storied confliction on Chuck's face when he discovers Peaches 1 and Peaches 2 was great.
For those who don't know about dogs:
I find it very interesting how Sarah has "spidey sense" about potentially being watched. At no point previously did either Sarah nor Casey display this trait and I'm not totally sure how an open window was enough to do this; I wonder if Sarah's comfort being around Chuck's family is causing her to develop a "feeling of being watched" as she is comfortable with the Bartowski's? For those who missed it, Sarah talks about having a sister I think at the time this was just a throw-away line to protect her cover, but in season 5 Sarah does actually have a little sister if you count the little girl she rescues One last thing about Sarah here, when Bryce is being discussed, I really like how it was played where she acts quiet and shocked, but not saying anything. The facial expressions of Yvonne here are really special and you can tell Sarah lives a life of secrets. This is carried outside when Chuck asks Sarah about her relationship with Bryce. She is totally looking down and to the right, a classic indication of an emotional response searching for rationalization (ie. she is clearly lying)
As they end the game and exit to the courtyard, there teleplay of Chuck does something I've been wanting to see forever; they switch perspective to keep both characters in camera and follow them around from a 3rd perspective. We know this is supposed to indicate they are being watched, but I really enjoy getting to see them together reacting and talking instead of the constant close-ups and cuts. Normally Chuck will be shot with something between a medium close up (MCU) and Medium Shot (MS) to emphasize their characters and highlight their faces and expressions. This works really well because Chuck's cameras are typically either shoulder level or hip level based on the operators moving through their space. In many more modern TV shows, the technology of boom cranes and gyroscopic gimbals allows for content to be show from ground level to overhead giving directors the opportunity to tell their story through a variety of shifting profiles. If Chuck were shot today, we would see everything from full body shots all the way to extreme closeups without the need for continual jump-cuts and re-shoots because the technology is there. At least for this episode, it's nice to see the director explore more hip/knee level motion and more cowboy framed shots when having a distant observer perspective. https://www.studiobinder.com/blog/types-of-camera-shots-sizes-in-film/ does a fantastic breakdown of all the different shot type and camera perspectives for you want to read more!
As we transition into Sarah's hotel room, did anyone pick up on how NICE this is? She has double sinks, a king bed, a sitting mirror, free standing tub, and a great view. I doubt any agency in the "real world" would ever spring for something like this for multiple years for one of their agents, it's fancy! Enter Carina, tell me, who saw Sarah fight with a soap sock and think of iCarly and the famous "butter sock". Also during this fight, why is Sarah wearing a golden bikini? I know she is about to get into the shower, but what plausible reason is there for her to a) wear a bikini at all and b) it to be a bright golden yellow?? If you slow this fight scene way down, you will notice Yvonne's strikes actually come close to hitting Mimi as she has had a lot of training, whereas Mimi's strikes are miles from Yvonne and she just over-acts their impact. The most noticeable is the kick into her table, Sarah goes flying back, but we can tell from the angle, Carina missed her by a good 2 ft. This was just some sloppy editing and not getting the camera into position. I give it a pass because you have probably 3 camera operators wearing stabilized camera rigs trying to rotate around a room with 2 girls fighting and they just missed the angle by like 2 feet. I did really like at the end of the fight Carina had the option to go for the gun but instead went for the fish. If you didn't know they were not enemies before, this should have been a big clue! Carina calls Sarah's life in LA boring #1
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ACT I
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Carina aka: Maria Elena Argalberdi was born Jun 16, 1978 in Alberdi Argentina with a Buenos Aires passport. Maria Elena is actually the name of a famous song in Mexico and eventually had a movie. This Chuck learns on Flash #1 and is the precursor to meeting the general for the first time. I know I've mentioned this before, but to reiterate; the pictures in Casey's apartment are all wrong; he has photos of Chuck and Morgan that don't happen until season 5 (lost footage) he has a map of Echo Park and Malibu already on display, and he has tactical information for each member of the Buy More (which he has no reason for at this time). It is interesting they talk about an opium cartel in Afghanistan as Afghanistan is known for it's huge poppy fields for heroin drug money.
The NADAN-I-NOOR diamond:
We open back to see Carina and Sarah looking at classified files within the restaurant. THIS IS AGAINST THE LAW, you do not look at classified files out in the open and especially not where there are clearly other customers around. Venturing into the BuyMore, there is a monster truck rally on the TV's showing grave digger and reaper, two famous trucks from this time period. Morgan wants to spread his wings and be the fourth wheel to the perpetual 3 wheel party and Sarah, ever the schemer, literally glows when she thinks of the plan to have Carina go on a date with Morgan. I THINK this was just to help maintain their cover, but also maybe Sarah is just needling Carina? If you look in the back of the store when Chuck is talking to Sarah and Carina, there is a really cool Nerd Herd poster that says "Bringing peace to your computer emergency". "if a yawn could yawn" is Carina calling Sarah's job boring #2. One thing I really like with the double data is the way the camera jumps between the couples: boy/girl, boy/boy, girl/girl. I think they way they try and keep private conversations via screen time is a really nice, typical, teleplay trick that really works well here. In a "real" environment, everyone could hear everything, but by splitting the camera focus or playing with perspective, the viewer clearly knows "this is a conversation between girls the boys don't hear it". We see Chuck noticing Sarah picking off olives #2 while they watch a movie about penguins: who mate for life, present their love in the form of rocks, and are pack animals. In Chuck's bedroom as he talks to Morgan, Chuck has a box of King Edward Invincible underneath bongos; for those who don't know this is a famous box for mild tobacco cigars. So I wonder what Chuck is up to in his free time :P.
On the Nerd Herd call with Carina, she opens a bottle of wine with a butter knife. This is actually a pretty famous thing that is done all over the world with everything from a key to a saber. In fact they make a specially type of knife with an extra wide blade for this it Italy. I do want to ask the question; is Carina dressed in red lingerie (Chuck's favorite color she stole from Sarah) really necessary for this scene? I know that Carina is all about improvising and she often uses her sexuality to progress her cause (Casey), but I think we could have gotten away with just the top. I can certainly see the rationalization for going this far, but I think as an artistic choice it wasn't necessary. What IS necessary however is to talk about how Chuck's world implodes when Carina tells him about Sarah and Bryce. Also the perfect act transition ending right at Chuck's jaw dropping and the work boyfriend!
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ACT II
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I'll say it again, the back an forth with Chuck and Sarah should have been a medium close up, shoulder level straight on shot instead of the constant cuts. Seeing their reaction in real time would have been easier and it would have allowed the Weinerlicious to be maybe 15 ft smaller to not need so many cameramen rotating. "Unless talking to your boyfriend is a matter of national security, the ketchup bottles won't refill themselves". Why yes it IS a mater of national security for Sarah to talk to Chuck... also if any one of us stood up to our boss like Sarah did, I'm pretty sure we'd be fired on the spot!
Malibu is ~2hours for Echo Park with standard LA traffic. Seriously, how do girls in high heels walk down stairs; we see Carina and Sarah walking sideways so there is enough space on each step to fit their shoes. Girls, how do you do that and not fall especially with narrow staircases and 3-6inch heels! Inside the room with the stone there is a bust of Cesare, archenemies, da vinci, and biblical David. There is also some famous paintings the best of which is Vemieer's "young girl with a pearl earring" which is rather appropriate considering it's meaning. There is also a Van Gogh of man in a wheat field and a Monet in one shot too. If ANY of these paintings were real instead of reproductions, they would be worth millions, in fact the young girl with a pearl is estimated at 40million, which is 1.5x the sell value of the Nadan-I-Noor! If we take a look at the engineering drawing of Flash #2 on the pedestal, we would see this design creates a closed circuit around the tongs the diamond rests on; which might explain it's red hue. If a person were to touch the diamond, it would close the circuit on their body allowing the 4000volts to travel through their heart. A person can die with ~20volts, though it's usually more like 50 in most occurrences. 4000volts is enough to kill a herd of elephants and completely overkill for a person. Also the amount of power that would take is more than the city of Malibu... this is to say the trap is real, the numbers are complete nonsense; thinking lightning! Nice shot by Sarah with the plate (there are some great bloopers on this too where she misses badly)! A remote controlled jet ski... i'm not even going to calculate the nonsense for this; it's just total nonsense. Almost as much nonsense as Casey using his phone to track Carina's call. That would take minutes, even with today's technology to back trace like that and way more power than just pushing a button on a razer flip-phone from the 90's!
back at the house, Chuck i playing halo with the legendary skulls as his weapon; this is nice because in the BuyMore at the end of the episode there are dudes dressed as master chief! I really like the changing perspective here with Chuck and Morgan. Chuck's reactions remain in focus while Morgan tells a story behind him, then it switches as Chuck starts to move around until bringing both into focus for the final line "we still have each other and that's really sad". The side cut to Sarah picking locks to the hotel door is classic early 2000's TV and i'm all for it, even if it is super cheezy. BTW as someone who used to lock pick in college, that's .... not how that works, but good try. We get our Flash #3 on the diamond in Morgan's back nuclear explosions. I wonder if the refractive capability of a diamond this pure is enough to focus laser to induce fission or if the value of selling the diamond is enough to buy nuclear material on the black market? Either way, we end the act with... the man with the golden gun!
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ACT III
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Chuck uses Sarah's plate move against Carina, nice inter-episode call back; he's clearly watching/learning, but his aim is terrible. This was actually clever as Sarah has perfect aim for she is a professional, while Chuck is still definitely a civilian and has no aptitude for fighting. I really like both these types of simple call backs but also how seemingly throw-away lines/actions help tell the broad story of the show. Chuck talking to Carina also shows Chuck has this weird, innate aptitude to get people to re-evaluate themselves and grow internally. You can watch Carina "grow in real-time. When we get to the hotel and Carina opens her trunk first there are a few glocks, a couple rugers, and a 1911; then she switches to blades and we see some folders, some strait blades, an illegal gravity blade (still illegal today), and a kbar... nice selection! Carina, always the flirt, gives Chuck some very insightful works about the nature of being a spy, but also maybe some way to get through to Sarah.
Inside the hotel we see Carina and Sarah speaking; Carina is speaking Swedish, while Sarah replies in Polish. "Om jag slänger nycklarna till dig, kommer du tappa dem då?" which is Swedish for "If I throw you the keys, will you drop them?" Sarah answered in Polish: "Tylko jak rzucisz jak twoja mamusia", which means "Only if you throw it like your mommy". This is just great!
I want to talk about how fast Chuck managed to find an address for DC, print a label, open a box, put the label on, and get the diamond there all before the door gets broken. Somehow on screen time this is like 10seconds, but in real life this would have to be like 3minutes minimum? Either that door is remarkably strong or... TV magic??
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ACT IV
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Even with all the flirting, as we say goodbye to Carina >! for now !< she is still joking with Casey and every the professional. I like how they show when it's "game time" it's all about the job, but spys can be people too! Carina still calls Sarah's life boring #3 (the common trifecta of episode repeats).
Sarah's face when Chuck brings the pizza with no olives is the reason I think Yvonne makes the perfect Sarah. She exudes the hidden beauty needed and has the acting to so such emotion for Chuck being sweet. The whole scene with Chuck and Sarah asking questions, then Chuck backing off, then Sarah acting stoic like she WANTS to open up but doesn't know if she can really trust Chuck, is ready to move on from Bryce, and should for the nature of her job. This was probably the most well acted 20seconds of the entire episode. Finally, we hear Sarah's middle name is Lisa. Now we never officially know if Chuck hears this or not both due to camera focus and distance, it's never officially confirmed in the entire show. When the intersect is updated in season 4 we see Sarah's picture and it lists Lisa as a middle name, so we assume it's official, but it's never confirmed at any point. Finally, I really like how they end the episode with Sarah closing her eyes as the fade to black.
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Few notes: There are 5 official songs in this episode:
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I think this was a great episode and really showcased what they can do when additional cast members join the team and when they are not afraid to play with perspective. Mimi as Carina is a great addition to the ensemble and I wish we saw her more, but every time she drops in, it's always a wild episode and it's fantastic. Watching Chuck learn about Sarah and seeing Sarah start to open up is a good way forward and heck Casey had some of the best humor in the episode. Overall, it was fast paced, had some nice character development, as funny in the best way, and moved the main theme along, 8/10.
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2024.06.01 13:46 Ordinary_Concept_308 UFO Sighting (REAL) Avenal Cutoff Road, CA USA

UFO Sighting (REAL) Avenal Cutoff Road, CA USA
Look…. I am a tow truck driver, I was driving through here tonight on my way back from Hanford and I recorded some shit that I can’t really explain. It baffles me, I’m gonna explain what I seen & recorded without jumping to any conclusions on what I believe it may be:
There was a flying object circling my vehicle, normally I don’t get nervous over planes or helicopters but I noticed this was extremely low to the ground & had the ability to turn off all lights, and reappear in a new place. The flying object circled my tow truck twice before I got my phone out, and mind you, I’m driving around 55-70mph. In my first video, the flying object appears over the fields to my right, it had flashing lights almost like a plane but I already determined it wasn’t. It flew over to the left side of the road and then the lights changed from flashing to solid & multiple, it then seemed to gain enough speed to turn itself around to face me. It then turned on what appeared to be a headlight as it flew towards me, and when I got close it flew over the fields. Now this part is one I cannot explain, when it went over the fields, it then turned off its lights and flew at speeds I’ve never seen a plane fly before and disappeared behind me.
I started recording the video again (tried to keep them short because I was sending them on IG and messages), and it was because the object was following me. You can clearly see the object behind me in the air, as well as a single light following what appeared to be near the roadway. Both never got too close even when I slowed down speeds they kept their distances. I have a couple more videos of them just moving around behind me and this went on for about 20 miles.
Now, I am not one to believe in conspiracies. I try and deny all superstitions & go with what I can prove to be facts, but that’s where the problem is: there are some maneuvers this object was doing that a plane absolutely cannot do.
1) the object was very low, like under the telephone wires low at times 2) the way it cut & darted around was extremely fast, absolutely no way any plane could make those moves, not even a fighter jet could. 3) the speed in which it took off over the crops seemed to be well over 400mph, and I’m not sure exactly how fast it really went this is an estimate. Yes, a jet may have that ability but you would certainly hear the engines roar if it was. 4) the object is small, not as big as a plane at all, you can hear me in the video question if this was a crop duster but there’s absolutely no way. Not only can a crop duster not move that fast, but the object was far too small to be one. It wouldn’t be able to hold any liquid at all at that size to do anything. 5) I have NEVER seen a plane able to disable & reconfigure its lights in the way this object did on video, at times it appeared to even move backwards while facing me, meaning it had to at least be matching my rate of speed. 6) one major thing bothering me is how long it followed me until it disappears. It followed me through the whole road, and at first I was wondering if it was possibly the prison there monitoring the area, but I soon realized I was far away from the prison and it was gone before I got there, meaning it chose not to fly over the prison for whatever reason.
I do not know what I saw & recorded tonight, what I do know is I have proof of it all & I’m willing to share it. I’m going to attach a picture of where I was located while recording the video because I managed to get a decent recording of my GPS on the tablet I use & it sort of shows my location.
I am curious if you know what company might be out there using high grade military drones to monitor the area. Yes, I can say without a doubt that if it is a drone, it has to be something that the public could never get their hands on. It followed for 20 miles at least, I did not think this possible for drone technology. I am not sure what it was interested in or why it decided to get in front of me with a spotlight, & I am not even certain it was a drone. What it was doing broke all knowledge I thought I had on drone capabilities.
I am more than willing to share these to you all & I hope you might have more information on what exactly I saw tonight at around 2:30am - 3am, which even though I already know that isn’t a crop duster, no fuckin way it was out dusting crops at 2:30am.
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2024.06.01 06:12 BorBurison Respect Son Gohan (Dragon Ball [Manga])

Respect Gohan

"...Ok, so you don't like to fight. But what's this nonsense about not wanting to kill me? You couldn't kill me in a hundred years! Am I wrong?"
"I'm beginning to get it now...why dad said only I could defeat you. Ever since I was little... when I get mad, I lose control and go berserk. I think...that's what dad's counting on..."
♫Tamashii Vs Tamashii/♫Great Saiyaman/♫ Gohan's Anger/♫Climax
The son of Goku and Chichi, Gohan was born in a time of peace after the defeat of Piccolo Jr. Unlike his father Gohan doesn't enjoy fighting, instead wishing to become a great scholar. Gohan's life would be forever changed when his uncle Raditz arrived on Earth, told Goku and Gohan they were actually members of a bloodthirsty alien race called saiyans, and kidnapped Gohan. Goku set out to rescue him, accompanied by Piccolo, though they found themselves no match for Raditz until Gohan got mad and unleashed his hidden strength on him. This gave Piccolo the opening he needed to kill Raditz, with his attack also killing Goku in the process. Then Piccolo kidnapped Gohan and trained him to prepare for the arrival of two more saiyans in a year. He battled the pair along with the rest of the Z Fighters (though not without heavy casualties), landing the final blow against Vegeta after transforming into a Great Ape.
Gohan would spend the rest of his childhood battling evil alongside the Z Fighters, most notably the bio-android Cell. Pushed to his mental and physical limits against the villain, Gohan snapped and transformed into a Super Saiyan 2. His newfound power allowed him to easily overpower Cell, and after accidentally causing his father's death when too overconfident, he finally killed him with a gigantic Kamehameha.
Eventually Gohan met a girl named Videl and the two got married, with their daughter Pan born soon afterwards. He also retired from martial arts, believing the newfound peace would last.
This wouldn't be the end of Gohan's time fighting though, with new threats like the resurrected Frieza, the world-devouring galactic criminal Moro, and a multiversal tournament to decide which universe lived or died convincing him that he needed to begin training again (though he does still forget to from time to time).
Source key
Manga
Movies/Specials
Hover over a feat for the chapter number. All feats are marked with their saga of origin.
Notes
Scaling

Kid Gohan/Teen Gohan

"I'm...the son...of Son Goku...the warrior... I won't... I won't... let you... beat me!!"

Strength

Lifting
Striking
Other

Durability

Blunt
Ki attacks
Other

Speed

Flight
Agility
Combat
Dodging

Ki

General
Power
Power supression
Sensing
Blasts
Masenko
Kamehameha

Adult Gohan

"Are you really gonna fight me?"
"Fight you? No, I'm gonna kill you."
Bio

Strength

Lifting
Striking
Blocking
Throwing
Grip
Jumping
Other

Durability

Blunt
Ki attacks
Other

Speed

Flight
Agility
Combat
Dodging
Other
Movement

Skill

Intelligence

Ki

General
Power
Barriers
Blasts
Kiais
Masenko
Kamehameha
Super Explosive Wave
Galactic Donuts
Special Beam Cannon
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2024.05.31 21:20 Future_Ad_3485 To Catch a Fallen Feather Part Thirty-Three: A Cartoon of Misfortune and Cruelty

Nyx:
Standing outside the bouncing bubble of a dimension, cheery music had me scratching the back of my head. This adventure was going to be a hoot, my presence was the sole one around. Everyone had an excuse today, a bitter wave of hurt dimming my eyes. Plucking my blade from my back, a strong hand grabbed my shoulder. Deerthos waved down at me, his eager grin causing relief to wash over me. Happy to see him, a hearty laugh tumbled from his lips.
“Did you need a little help today?” He inquired with another big smile, a sharpened antler bouncing off of his fur robes. “How about it, my dear pal?” Chuckling to myself, he spoke the word dear. Confusion twisted his features, my humor going over his head. Shaking off the small bit of hurt at the missed joke, we stepped through. Groaning bitterly to myself, the black and white scene of a nineteen twenties cartoon greeted me. Trees and animals bounced up and down while singing, Deerthos’ energy matching my own sea of pure annoyance. A piano played a villain’s song that sounded like we were tied to the railroad tracks. The animals ran away from the incoming storm clouds, the dust threatening to choke us. The villain music picked up, the trees twisting into evil monsters. His chances of surviving the first attack was slim, the energy picking up. Pushing Deerthos away, a bunch of dynamite landed by my feet. Stomping my boot on the inky ground, an ice wall protected me from the blast. Apologizing as I helped him up, immortality wasn’t on his side. Dragging him into the black hole inches from us, hot air lashed at my cheeks as we whistled into a giant vat of black ink. Deerthos tossed me over the edge, ink splattering against a white wall the moment my face met a hard white surface. Whipping the ink off of me, the cartoon effects were aiding me for the first time. Deerthos landed next to me, a quick shake resulting in him being clean. Staring up at the ceiling, hand drawn gears clicked and groaned. Glancing back at each other with matching wicked grins, the antler spun in his palm. Tossing it into the biggest one, a blast of ice began to grind the rest to a stop. Nodding his head towards a ladder in the opposite corner, our footfalls echoed towards the only way up. Scurrying up the rungs, the cartoon had been put on pause. Hiding behind a thickest tree, a sleazy cartoon styled demon lurked with noises to announce his presence. His slicked back oily hair glittered in the light of a bomb, his big cartoon eyes circling around in a creepy way. Staring down at my ruby lace summer dress, the pop of color seemed foreign in this world of black and white. Ink grazed my fingertips, the liquid dripping from the smooth tree. Soaking my dress in the ink, a wave of relief washed over me at the inky goo soaking into the light material. Digging at the grass underneath me, curiosity twinkled in my eyes at the grass flaking away instead of the usual tearing noises. Tapping my blade against my leg, something had to give. Fishing around my pocket, my genuine smile lingered on my face as I lent him my spare dagger. The bone dagger looked right in his palm, the carved wooden hand had the mark of his people.
“Your grandfather passed this onto me. The weapon never quite liked me. Something tells me that it loves you.” I urged with another friendly smile, tears splashing onto my palm. “Forgive me for changing its composition but I infused my feather into the blade. The darn thing should be as tough as you.” Nudging my shoulders, his presence reminded me of an old friend. Whistling in a pinstripe suit, his sinister grin met my defeated scowl. Throwing his bomb in my direction, Deerthos punched the bomb back in his direction. Mumbling a quick drats, the word boom popped up. Floating into the sky, a thin line of ash stuck out of his pants. Sucking in a steady flow of souls, our eyes traced the line to a cage of living humans dangling over a boiling river of lava. Dramatic music drummed to life, his elastic arms snapping into place. How do we destroy the indestructible? Tapping my foot incessantly while thinking, a metallic noise had me grinning ear to ear. Judging by the water sloshing around what seemed like a water tower. Ink washed away with one drop, my brow cocking. Mouthing the words water tower, his wink confirmed our plan. Crashing towards the newly formed body, our punches slid through his body. Falling flat on our faces, attacking him would be pointless. Burying my fingers into the lush grass, ice crept out from underneath my palm. Devouring everything in sight, Deerthos brute strength would help me out. Bouncing up to us in his cartoon form, the ice had made his realm brittle. Rolling over to face that bastard, a silver dagger glinted in his hand. Aiming it for my heart, my boot smashing into the hilt sent him flying back.
“Now!” I shouted over his steady stream of curse words, Deerthos slamming his dagger into the weakest point. Ominous cracks had his arm curling around my waist, his strong arms taking him with me the moment he leapt into the air. His dimension melted into the water sloshing around in the water tower, Deerthos and I catching the remaining survivors. Summoning a slide of ice, our steady hands pushed themselves onto the pine needle riddled forest floor. A ball of black energy burst from the busted water tower, feathers drifting aimlessly the moment I opened up my wings. Pushing off the edge, a chilly breeze nipped at my cheeks. Shock rounded my eyes at Emberon smashing into me, his hands curling around the base of my wings. A tortured wail burst from my lips the moment he ripped them out, the two of us zooming towards the dirt. His flames whisked him away, panic twisting my features. Angling my blade for the dirt, the vibration of the tip sinking into the dirt had me flipping off the hilt. Cursing under my breath, my weapon was too far from me. Sniffing the air, ash confirmed the sulfuric scent of Emberon. Smashing his knee into my back, a fountain of blood exploded from my lips as every organ burst. The cracking of my spine made the moment that much worse, Deerthos catching me on his arm. My blade bounced off his robe, my head shaking at him placing me in front of a tree gingerly. Shoving a vial of his type of medicine into my mouth, a cloud of dirt obscured him running away. Biting down hard enough to shatter the glass, the sweet liquid coated my throat on the way down. Everything doubled, my antlered friend taking the hits with ease. Spirits of his ancestors floated around him, strengthening his every blow. Horror rounded my eyes at a spot opening up, Master Scarston moving him out of the way. Taking the stab to the heart, his broken smile met mine before blood dripped down the corner of his lips.
“Consider this payment for your services, Nyx. The table is yours to command.” He wheezed, raising his scythe over his head. “Make me proud.” Violent sobs wracked my useless body, what remained of the demon floated by my head. Grabbing it with my hands, my ice ate the ball until it shattered into pieces. A limp Mr. Scarston rolled up next to me, his body decaying to jet black butterflies. Fluttering into the sky, the abrupt jolt of my body healing had me crying out in both physical and emotional agony. Bones clicked back into place while my organs weaved themselves back together, the final second allowing me to pop to my feet. A blizzard roared to life, midnight black snow dancing furiously with my increasing rage. My irises darkened to the shade of the darkest night, Deerthos knowing to get out of the way. Charging at him with increased speed, a smug surprise rounded Emberon's eyes at my kick knocking him through a couple of trees.
“How dare you!” I roared brokenly, every teardrop freezing. “Time for you to pay, you rotten bastard!” A wave of his flames headed towards me, terror rounding his eyes at the lack of results. Freezing his next waves, his boots crunched backwards. Raising my foot over my head, inky blood poured from my eyes, ears and nose. Slamming my heel into the ice, spikes impaled him. Struggling to escape, his claws dug into the thickening ice. Marching up to him with a snarl, my claws extended from my fingernails. Digging them into his eyes, his claws shredded my arm. Collapsing onto my ass, his flames whisked him away. The snow lightened to the pure ivory it once was, my blood painted the icy wasteland with every coughing fit. Fresh tears mixed with the blood, the ice catching my forehead. Weeping into the ice, the howling winds covered my endless bout of screams. Sensing Deerthos, his hand rubbed my back. The ice melted in the morning sun, the mud painting my face. Deerthos scooped me up, his arms carrying back into the safety of his territory. The beauty of his world seemed like nothing with what I saw, his steady hands sitting me underneath a hidden waterfall. Chilly water washed away my sins of that day, the corner of my lips quivering. Washing the mud out of my hair, his next words had me staring oddly in his direction.
“I vow to serve you as my master.” He promised with a sad smile, an infinity mark appearing on his palm. “Seeing you lose someone woke me up to the bigger mission at hand. Rest easy knowing that I will never die.” Massaging a natural shampoo in my hair, my eyes darted over to the glistening water. Parting my lips to protest, his head shook with a confident smile.
“I want this. You need me and I need you. Consider it our own special bond.” He chirped cheerfully, looking hopefully in the sky. “He told me to protect you with my life and I always want to be by your side in your war. Your war is mine.” A fresh scent washed away the brimstone tainted death, the rush of the water stealing me into a rough slumber.
Stirring awake in a hotel room, the setting was familiar. Deerthos offered me a ruby Victorian style dress, his tired smile speaking of all that he had done for me. His mouth moved, the words not hitting my ears. Helping me to my feet, his nimble hands peeled off the fur robes he placed over my shoulder. Dropping the modernized style of a dress over my head, the hem floated around my knees. Fussing with the bell sleeves, silent tears dripped off his skull. Spinning around to face him, my thumbs wiped away his tears. Reading his thoughts, the others kicked him out. Shoving him away, his life was destroyed because of me. Why did I do that!
“Sorry.” I blurted out while clenching my fists, the tears never ending. “It’s all my fault your life is ruined.” Waving my concern away, the bed groaned in protest the moment he sat down. Patting the bed, my shaky legs didn’t give me a choice. Please don’t hate me. Never hate me, I pleaded dejectedly to myself.
“The king thing wasn’t my gig. The truth is that I chose you before I became immortal. My cousin took over in my stead.” He admitted with an honest smile, his hands crossing on his lap. “My father told me to follow my heart and I did. You have my loyalty.” Resting my head on his shoulder, the door burst open. Salem skidded in, his nice black suit matching my dress perfectly. Stumbling to my feet, his arms caught me. Burying my head into his shoulder, his loving embrace was all that I needed at that moment. Kissing the top of my head, a bit of warmth returned to my soul. Comforting me with more kisses, he knew what brought me back to life. Lifting up my chin with his finger, his lips pressed against mine tenderly. Getting lost in the moment, the pain slapped me in the face as he released me from his spell.
“You have to keep it together to greet your council.” He encouraged me sweetly, his thumbs wiping away my tears. “Make his sacrifice worth every second of it. I love you, Nyx.” Stepping back, I slid my feet into my boots. I thought I gave him immortality, Madame Maria finding her way in with a broken smile. Someone looked seconds from bursting with a confession, the primary question haunting my mind.
“He drew that mark on his palm whenever he met with you. It never stuck. I suppose death can’t have immortality.” She wept openly, fussing with her onyx suit. “You tried but I told him to tell you. Please don’t be mad.” Opening up my arms, her hair brushed against my cheek in her desperate embrace. Soaking my shoulders with her emotions, God chose to take a friend away from me. Too broken to be infuriated with him, a sad smile haunted my lips. Hiding that secret from me was simply like him, his spirit floating in the corner giving me pause. Asking everyone to leave, no one protested. Walking over to him, I placed my hands on my hips. Fighting a fresh wave of tears, his shoulders shrugged casually. Death should never be this casual, I sighed to myself.
“I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.” He admitted with tears staining his cheeks, his icy hands cupping my shoulder. “Sorry but I wanted you to be happy and you looked so happy when you saw it. Color painted his pale cheeks, his hand ruffling my hair. A bright light glowed above him, so many questions rested on the tip of my tongue.
“I love you.” I choked out through a wall of tears, his hands cupping my cheeks. “You could have said something and I would have protected you with everything I had.” Kissing my forehead, immortality was something he never wanted. Burying me in one of his bear hugs, his chin rested on my head. Could you never let me go? My heart knew that he would move on the moment he released me.
“I made a deal with God a long time ago. I did my time and now I get to get reborn into a nice life.” He chuckled with his tears soaking the top of my head. “Thanks for everything. Remember kiddo, this isn’t goodbye but another way to see you later.” Floating into the bright light, a numbness came over my face. Moving through the motions of walking through the twisted halls with my support by my side, the others rose to their feet at the sight of me. Bowing in my direction, I took my seat at the head of the table. A scythe necklace waited for me, Maria dropping it over my head. Rising to my feet, they commanded my full respect. Gathering my wits, he left the council to me. Speak like a damn leader.
“Regret haunts me with the fact that Master Scarston died.” I spoke shakily, death glares snapping in my direction. Shouting endless rants in my direction, every breath grew shorter. Leaning onto the table, none of this was fair. Too much loss followed me, the room began to spin around me. Slapping Maria’s hands away, the complaints were hitting me all at once. Ice crept out from underneath my feet, spikes creaking to life around them.
“Shut up! Shut up!” I barked hotly, watching frozen tears shatter onto the table. “He came out of nowhere and took a deadly strike for my friend. That wasn’t my decision and you should know that. Listen to me and listen to me well. I vow to protect you guys with all I have. Our team will always be there for you if monster problems come up. Let’s get to business.” Sinking into my seat, they slid their files over to me. Confused as to what to do, Maria guided me through the paperwork. Swiping their checks, she placed her own on top of the pile.
“We pay our dues to run this operation.” She whispered discreetly, playing with my hair. “Keep up the good work. Their respect lies with you.” Standing straight up, Deerthos stepped up to my left shoulder. Zoning in and out of the meeting, Salem took notes behind me. Rising to their feet with me, they bowed on their way out. Shifting my attention towards Maria, my hands took her. Sniffing the air, a busted smile lingered on her lips.
“Many apologies for your loss, my dear friend.” I apologized for the thousandth time, my palm pressing against her flat stomach. “All isn’t lost. You have a lovely little bat in you. I promise to be there to protect you both with my life. I have to go before I lose my shit.” Turning to leave, her fingers curled around my wrist. Yanking me close to her, mixed emotions had her trembling in front of me. Calm down, friends secrets would always be locked away in my mind
“Don’t tell another soul about this.” She pleaded with the smile I bore when Salem died, my arms burying her into a bear hug. Soaking my shoulder with her emotions, her hands caught the blood soaking my back. Stumbling back with a look of terror and motherly concern, her shaking hands lowered the top of my dress. Rubbing her palms along the bloody nubs, her next question threw me off. How embarrassing for her to see such a filthy mess?
“Does this sting?” She inquired honestly, her tears slowing to a stop. “Do they grow back?” Smiling back at her with the strongest smile I could muster, she had nothing to worry about. The sweetness in her tenderness left me wishing for Scarston’s gentleness all over again. Fighting back the tears, the silence between us was strenuous. Scarston had found himself in my living room quite a bit, his presence brightening the house.
“They grow back. I have a potion at home. If it means anything, I would have traded my wings for his survival.” I sighed tiredly, pulling the top of my dress back up. “If I could rewind time, I would have smashed into him. The information is yours to work through.” Clicking out of the conference room, we would have to meet at the mansion next time. Wishing that I could fly away, I lingered by the window. Sitting on the ledge, my feet dangled freely. Salem embraced me from behind, his chin resting on the top of my head.
“If you could fly, the sky would be yours.” He promised sweetly, sitting down next to me. “Is this what it looks like all the way up here?” A warm breeze blew our hair back, his hand cupping mine. Leaning my head on his shoulder, true beauty could be seen in the sky. Touching the stars was like nothing else, abrupt sobs wracked my body. As dark as it may seem, the flames of hope dwindled down to a small flicker.
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2024.05.31 20:15 Future_Ad_3485 Paranormal Inc. Part Sixteen: The Sting of Wasp!

Morte:
Sitting in my ramble of a shack, today was my last day. My wife had been found and I was going to be working by her side. Staring down at my bloody hands, my bounty hunting days were over. Climbing into my beat up truck, the engine rumbled to life. Speeding towards the tower I was going to call home, my heart wouldn’t stop beating out of my chest. Pulling up to the building tears welled up in my eyes, a ball of water washing any blood off of me. Hopping out, time froze at the sight of my wife. Her looks were the same, the few differences being her salt and pepper hair and ruby eyes. Shifting around uncomfortably, her rockabilly dress matched her personality. Wanting to run up and kiss her, my mind knew better than to act on my impulses.
“I am Corpsia but you can call me Corpsy if it is easier. You must be my assistant.” She chirped cheerfully, the emotional agony of our past hiding behind her broken smile. “You might die all over again if you stay out here for too long. I don’t bite.” Curling her fingers around mine, both of us paused with the same looks we used to give each other. Ripping her hand back, a quick apology tumbled from her lips. Following her to the basement, a couple bodies waited for us.
“Do you know any of the cuts or am I going to have to teach you?” She teased with a wink while tossing me a white lab coat, her trembling hands tugging on hers. “I feel like I know you. Have we met before?” Too nervous to answer, she hadn’t put two and two together. Not wanting to dig up old wounds, a simple shrug of my shoulders shut down the conversation. Motioning for me to join her side, her broken smile had my heart shattering. Showing me the ropes, her slender hands moved swiftly. Scribbling down what she told me, this moment couldn’t be any nicer. Shoving the bodies back into their marked spaces, her gloves hit the bottom of the trash can. Shimmying off her coat, she hung it up.
“Are you into Chinese food or can I order something else? It is my treat.” She inquired with a shell of what her smile used to be, her hand resting on her hip. Mumbling that anything would do, her boots clicked away. Ordering food, my eyes caught a flawless drawing of our children. Tears had smeared the gray lines, a silent tear sliding down my cheek. Picking up the picture behind it, my breath hitched at the perfect picture of me. Dropping her phone as she came in, tears welled up in her eyes. Shit, what did I do?
“I lost my husband and family before becoming a demon. They slit their throats before dragging me off to be hung. My father-in-law was a piece of shit. I drew those pictures about one hundred years ago to hold against my chest when things simply don’t feel right.” Taken aback by her words, quiet sobs spoke of a decaying composure. Watching her walking away, the scene glitched out. A six foot tall female demon sauntered into view, golden and onyx waves blended together to float around her shoulders. Her inky insect eyes glittered with malice, her striped suit reminded me of a yellow jacket. Spinning a jet black stinger in her palm, the goddess energy coming off of her had me stumbling back. Honey colored water flooded around my boots, her voice sounded like thousands of them at once.
“It seems I hopped into the wrong dream. Oh well. I suppose the one who carries decay will have to suffice for the moment.” She mused darkly, panic rounding out my eyes at the water not allowing me to move. Sauntering up to me, her cruel grin widened the moment she slid her stinger through my stomach. Blood poured into the water the second she ripped it out, her hands curling around my throat. Lifting me out of the water, the water turned a dark orange.
“Who are you?” I growled through gritted teeth, my fingers scratching at the hands. Wicked laughter exploded from her lips, air becoming a rare commodity with her strengthening grip. Bringing me inches from her face, giant yellow jackets hummed behind her.
“You can call me Waspia, your bringer of death!” She bragged with another cruel fit of laughter, neon lights blinding her. A voice called for me to wake up, her grip loosening. An angry red claimed my cheeks, a swift kick to her gut sent her flying back. Splashing into the water, a sharp clap had me snapping awake.
Sucking in a deep breath, my hands felt my abs for the wound. Sinking into the passenger seat with a long sigh consisting of honest relief, neon smoke threatened to choke me. Eris sucked in her own deep breath, her hair floating like it always did.
“You got lost somewhere. Are you going to be focused on our mission today? Every part of me wants to make Corpsy proud. I happen to be fond of her.” She sang with a shake of her shoulders, her smile falling at the tears cascading from my eyes. “Hel is with her today at that dumb meeting. I can’t believe she got promoted already.” Wut poked his head through the window, his hair floating up in her field of energy.
“That doesn’t mean we should stop worrying about her. She gets that numb look quite a bit.” He pointed out simply, his own scythes hitting the window. “You kept making weird noises. Are you okay?” Shooting him a shaky thumbs up, they had nothing to worry about. Fussing with my simple ruby dress shirt and dark jeans, my dear friend had a point. Energy built in the air, the wheels crunching to a halt in front of a warehouse nature had devoured. Ominous humming had us shrinking back. Knowing that she had wasps to fight for her, those pests would have to be taken out first. Wasps drowned, my eyes scanning the area for a large enough vat to go through with my plan. An empty pool a few feet from us had me grinning wickedly to myself, a snap of my fingers had a wave of water splashing into the pool. Picking up a rock, the nest wiggled enough to reveal itself. Rolling the rock in my finger, my team had to be the best they could be.
“Run to safety if you need to. A nest is about to be disturbed.” I warned them with a sly grin, Eris cracking her whip. Glowing eyes flitted between the nest and me, the rock hitting the paper nest with a dull thud had a flurry of human sized yellow jackets hummed furiously. Insects eyes focused on me, human screams giving me pause. Grinning sarcastically to myself, Murphy’s law had struck again.
“Save the people without getting your asses murdered!” I ordered impatiently, whistling to steal the wasps attention. Cutting my palm on a piece of metal on the way to the pool, the angry insects zoomed after me. Jumping into the pool, cool water felt nice on my skin. Blood muddied the water, three quarters of them decaying the moment they splashed into the water. Pulling myself out, the next step was seeking out Waspia. Spinning my scythe in my palm, a force had my heart stopping for a second. Corspy’s blood tainted the air, the bloodied pictures of us floating to my feet. Dropping a limp Corpsy and Hel to my feet, Waspia fluttered over my head. Purple claimed their veins, Hel struggling to her feet. Raising her blade in the air, a wasp stung her in the heart. A barely alive Corpsy slammed her fist onto the dirt, a spike impaling the insect. A cloud of dirt obscured her rough landing, blood pouring from the corner of her mouth. Using the tree to get her feet, Stormana made an appearance by Hel. Picking her up off the ground, her sword cut off Hel’s head. A tortured scream exploded from Corpsy’s lips, shadows devouring the space. Kicking her blade from the dagger’s case, her eager palm caught the expanding blade.
“Focus on Waspia. I can hold my own.” She barked with a quivering snarl, wild sobs wracking her body. “I can’t lose you again.” Dropping Hel’s corpse, Stormana’s blade clashed with hers violently. Coughing up a thick ooze, concern dimmed my eyes. Her speed doubled to match Stormana’s, the two becoming balls of light in the forest. A stinger whistled by my head, my fingers curling round her ankle. The ground split slightly the moment I slammed her down, my heel digging into her chest. Eris flew past me, her whip cracking in the still night air. Swinging my blade towards her neck, the goddess grinned one last time before accepting the blow. Decay ate at her body, a gracious thank you flooding from her lips. The giant nest crumbled to a pile of dust, the shadows glitching out. Wut’s robe fluttered the moment his fingers snatched my shirt, the two of us zooming towards the real fight. Skidding to a rough halt, Corpsy had undone her limit. Bleeding from every hole in her face, she needed to stop. A wave of flames headed our way, a wave of my hand giving rise to a wave of water. Eris fought by her side, my wife begging for her to stop.
“Go away! Go away!” She pleaded with wet eyes, her body taking a blow for her. Bones cracked, Eris rolling across the dirt. Cracking her whip, the leather curled around her good arm. Yanking her to the ground, her arms buried into a tackle. Neon green tears splashed onto her face, her pleas stopping Stormana in her tracks.
“Just because she died doesn’t mean you have to join her. Hel fought hard to protect you and lost her life. Honor her sacrifice by living!” She begged with an honest smile, her body collapsing onto hers. “You are like my sister, damn it!” Those words woke her up, her expression softening into an apologetic smile. Breaking into uncontrollable sobs, her arms clung to her like her life depended on it. Digging into her back, nothing would slow the tears. Stormana raised her blade, our turn coming up.
“Throw me into the fight.” I snapped impatiently, Wut throwing me with all he had. Rolling into a couple of flips, her attention turned to me. Fear rounded my eyes, the monster was immense. Tapping her blade against her legs, the color draining from my cheeks. A clammy sweat drenched my skin, Wut joining my side. Rubbing his scythes together, an eerie fog drowned the space. Unable to move her feet, Eris’ whip held her place. A broken Corpsy stared numbly into the sky, a rough slumber stealing her away. Nudging me, it was time to do one of our older bounty hunting tactics. Running away in opposite directions, her words cut deeper I let on.
“Does your wife know about your bounty hunter days?” She taunted cruelly, her eyes meeting mine. “Did I touch a nerve? Would she think less of you? The lowest rung of demons wouldn’t have you. What a powerful whip!” Bending down to pick it up, the opportunity presented itself. Pushing off the ground, realization dawned on me. We couldn’t win this battle without Corpsy, a sharp whistle canceling the plan. Wut nodded once before pushing off her back at the same time, his arms scooping up the ladies. Sprinting back towards the hearse, our window of escape would be miniscule at best. Scooping up Hel’s body on the way back, silent tears staining my cheeks at her body decaying upon my touch. Tossing Wut her heart before it decayed, his palm caught it. Tucking it into his robe, the ground shook behind us. Spinning my scythe in my palm, we needed a touch more time. Slamming the tip into the ground, dirt crumbled into a deep canyon. Falling into the biggest part, time wasn’t on my hands. Jumping into the driver’s seat, the scythe hit the leather. Cranking the key, the engine wouldn’t turn over. Panic mixed with frustration, low growls rumbled away in my throat.
“Come on! Come on, damn it!” I cursed tersely, hot flames casting her shadow in the canyon. The engine roared to life, the tires squealed in protest. Peeling onto the highway, horror rounded my eyes at the flaming motorcycle flying onto the road. When did the surprises end? Pressing the gas pedal to the floor, a crowd would provide us safety. Unfortunately, the sun wouldn’t rise for a couple of hours. Zooming around the turns, her motorcycle wobbled in protest with each turn. An abandoned racetrack had me thinking of a way to throw her off of her bike, the tires squealing with my abrupt turn. Smashing through the gate, Eris tapped my shoulder from the back. A wave of golden flames was heading our way, the heat would melt the hearse in seconds.
“Jump!” I barked over the chaos, doors opening at the same time. Hitting the cracked track, our bodies rolled into an untamed bush. Flames melted the hearse into a smoking pile of metal, the bike squealing to halt. Tapping the concrete, my scythe flew into my palm. A burn hissed to life, Wut covering my mouth to keep our cover. Summoning a bubble of water, the coolness eased the pain. Eris had my wife over her shoulders, the people from the warehouse gathered to see what caused the fire. Flames whisked Stormana away, a few of them calling emergency services. Catching our breath while waiting, Wut dialed Roseworth’s number. Hanging up in a couple of minutes, his mouth moved. Words weren’t hitting my ears, red and blue lights bathing the racetrack. Roseworth shoved her way through while presenting her badge, a tired smile lingering on my lips as she crouched down to my level. Smoothing out her designer suit, her smile fell.
“I am going to take over the investigation and you can get out of the bushes then.” She whispered discreetly while pretending to examine the bushes. “Where is Hel? I don’t see Corpsy without her.” My lips pressed into a thin line, her sharp wit placing the pieces of the puzzle together. Pressing her palms together, a small prayer tumbled from her lips.
“I am sorry for your loss. May Hel have a lovely afterlife.” She spoke gently, rising to her feet. Ordering everyone else to clear out, the local police officers guided the survivors into their cruisers. Roseworth’s team moved in to collect a few clues, her agents not looking up from their tasks. Guiding us to a black SUV, her shaking hand pressed the keys into my palm. Corpsy sucked in a deep breath, her feet hitting the concrete. Opening a door to one of the many gods’ realm, the door slammed shut on our face. Roseworth offered sincerely to take her home, Wut feeling around his pocket. The heart was gone, bewilderment twisting our features. Uncomfortable with leaving her behind, Wut and Eris leapt into the trees. Neon danced with black, the two of them heading back home. Refusing to leave, Corpsy would need me. Letting me sit in the car, the door opened up. A dejected Corpsy stepped out fresh tears cascading down her cheeks, her arms reaching for me. Hopping out of the car, her body smashed into me. Sobbing violently into my chest, her fingers dug into my back. Sinking to her knees, her hands glided down my legs. Burying her face into her palms, tears dribbled down her arm. The early morning painted her in pale pink, the dirt crunching as she curled into a ball. Remembering how she would do this on a bad day, her fingers traced the dirt with her dagger. Hel’s dagger shimmered in her other hand, another wave of sobs paralyzing her.
“I hate myself. Why do people keep trying to save me?” She whimpered into the concrete, her quaking hand slamming the tip of her blade into the concrete repeatedly. How long had it been since she broke down this horribly? Roseworth got onto her knees across from her, her hand cupping hers. Slowing the stabbing to a clumsy stop, her thumbs wiped away her tears. Maybe she could get her well enough to get up.
“How about we go out for breakfast and get some food into that stomach?” She suggested with a cautious grin, her arms yanking her into a bear hug. “I think of you as a sister. Don’t you ever leave me. I can’t live without you, my dear.” Mumbling a quick fine, she carried her to the SUV. Tossing me the keys, the leather groaned the moment I climbed into the driver’s seat. Sliding in next to Corpsy, her steady hand laid her head on her lap. Playing with her hair, the whole way to the nearest diner. The bell announced us walking into the silver restaurant, a cold waitress taking us to a booth by the biggest window. Staring numbly out the window, more tears splashed onto the table. Her lips parted to speak, the others shoving their way into diner. The girls and Miles squirming their way over to her, Roseworth winking in my direction. Brightening up enough to keep the kids happy, her lips brushed against the top of their heads feverishly. Clutching their bunnies close to their chest, Cal came in with a pad of paper and pencils. Sliding them over to her, he plopped down next to me.
“Draw out your emotions and carry them with you. I want to see what you can do.” He commented casually with his broken smile, apprehension burning in her eyes. Opening up the package, the waitress took our orders. The pencil’s tips never stopped dancing across the page, a childlike wonder brightening our eyes. The kids watched with dropped jaws, two pictures had mixed emotions flashing on our faces. Two perfect portraits of Croak and Hel stared back up at us with their trademark smiles, the pencil bouncing off of the pad. When did she learn to draw so well?
“I am sorry I failed you all.” She apologized sincerely, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Hel will always have a place in our hearts. Have faith in me. Never again will I let any of you die.” Fussing with her onyx robe, her finger traced the mask hanging out of her pocket. A commotion had our heads snapping towards the door, Hel coming in with the skeleton half of her face exposed. Leaping over the table, Corspy smashed into her. Tears of joy brightened her eyes, so many questions resting on the tips of our tongues.
“They didn’t seem to want to keep me there. Perhaps, I was a little loud.” She bragged with a big grin, her dagger flying into her hand. “How could I leave you alone in this god awful world? There is a catch to the deal I made. I die with you and that is that. You can’t go dying on me, okay.” Corpsy nodded her head vigorously, Hel cupping her face. Wiping away her tears with her thumbs, their bond was obvious. Dragging her to the table, the waitress rolled her eyes at another person. Shoving everyone down, her hand refused to leave hers. Calling for Hel to come chat with me for a moment, Corpsy was more than happy to entertain everyone with her genuine smile. Meeting her by the bathroom, my arms folded across my chest.
“How did you really come back down?” I interrogated her intensely, her smile falling. “Don’t you dare lie! Don’t ever leave us again. You fucking broke her!” Chuckling softly to herself, her hands crossed before her head bowed in shame. Crap! I might have gone too far again.
“I made a deal with the head god to be tied to her until she dies. I remember darkness and then the head god ripped me out of it. All of me couldn’t leave her alone to suffer. I pleaded and pleaded until they finally let me have my wish.” She admitted tearfully, wiping away her tears. “I will never be able to hide my face again. I gave that up for her. I love her like a sister, okay. When I was going to die, the numb expression from Croak’s death was all I could think of. Forgive me for caring.” Holding her shoulders with a gracious smile, any anger was gone. Her sacrifice wouldn’t go unnoticed, her natural smile returning.
“Thank you so much. My respect will always be yours to have.” I promised with a tired grin, both of us standing in an awkward silence for way too long. “Go on and guard her.” Nodding with the biggest smile, Hel had most certainly changed for the better. Coming out to see her admiring the drawings, her plea to keep hers was honored. Watching them blend together seamlessly, the flames of hope burned bright.
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2024.05.31 19:55 JulianSkies Blackriver Cases - Season 10 “Days of Fury” - Episode 3 “Of Fire And Fury”

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Season 10 “Days of Fury” - Episode 3 “Of Fire And Fury”

“Boss, you-”
“No. Santos, you’re an animal expert and you’ve done more than enough as it is. Vess, one of you needs to be here and between you and Marik I’d rather take him with me, I’m sure you appreciate it. Nila, you have a long career and basically never fielded. That’s enough skeleton crew, the three of you are staying here. That’s final.”
Keya sighs, the closed walls of the van offering little distraction from wayward thoughts. She turns her attention to the rest of her officers in it, trying to distract herself from memories of earlier in the paw “Been a while since I’ve been in an actual transport van” she drops, hoping for a response.
Her officers tiredly turned their attention to her. Marik, Lunek, Aren and Kessa were all here with her in the transport and none looking too joyful at the situation “Somehow our cruiser is more comfortable” Aren chuckles.
“That’s ‘cause it’s a secondhand retrofit bought in an auction” Keya shakes her head before tilting her ears to the front of the van “We got much longer to go?”
“No, ma’am” comes the chirp of a krakotl “In fact just past the corner”
Though it was impossible to see from within the enclosed van, the slow deceleration and eventual full stop made it clear they were, in fact, at their destination. Stepping out of the van the first thing to strike is the noise, a distant cacophony of shouting and howling. The second thing to strike was the colors, usually in such a large congregation of exterminators one would be seeing a light of bright colors, the silver and white of thermal suits, the reds and yellows of their tools, but what was most abundant here were darker colors, mainly black. “Briefing’s over in that tent, you should be the last team for this paw” their driver mentions, having stepped out herself.
Which brings the third thing called to attention- The tents. An entire operational outpost had been set up here, taking over a little park, and by the number of tents present running logistics and command this was far from a small operation. “They’re still bringing in more people?” a voice from behind draws her attention.
Tilting her ear back while they move Keya keeps track of a conversation “Whatever is going on here is big it seems” Aren had begun conversing with someone else that was out of her sight, but they had places to be and she had to keep walking.
“Herd’s just been getting bigger for the last four paws, tension just getting worse. Crap, I’m surprised it didn’t boil over just yet” the bassy voice in what she believed was mazic language added “Well, good luck you all, I’ll have to get back on the line soon”
It did not take much longer before the Blackriver crew arrived at the tent where the briefing was to be held. A scattering of plastic chairs was spread in front of a projector, another two dozen exterminators were already here and seated, the number of venlil among them was also surprisingly low. Or perhaps it was not quite so surprising given why they were here, most surprising was the presence of humans. “Ah, the last group we were expecting” says someone at the front by the projectors. An older venlil whose age-grey had overtaken whatever his natural color was, as well as a human with a long patch of black fur dangling from under his nose were there. “Take a seat”
“Alright, here’s the rundown of the situation” the venlil officer starts. “Four paws ago a protest started in front of the Regional, Ilfran’s Landing is a big city but it became obvious people came from everywhere here. The protesting started getting heated, so the Guild decided to send personnel to prevent it from causing any harm. I’m sure a few months ago we all believed prey wouldn’t get up to these antics, that the human stampede from the memorial service was unique to predators. I’m sure we have been all disabused of this notion by recent news” he sighs “For the last four paws the protest has been building up, they’ve set up food stalls even”
“You know it’s serious when the grills come out” one of the humans pipes up
“Fact they brought some meat is something we’re overlooking right now” the venlil commander adds, causing a few worried signs from everyone present “Planetary HQ decided to get their paws dirty with this protest, however, and sent directives as well as called up reinforcements to deal with this. Officers on site have been rotating in and out to keep a paw-long presence.”
“Here are your priorities: First, the safety of unrelated parties. Second, safety of the protestors. Third, integrity of unrelated material. Last, integrity of the Regional” after a moment to let the information settle he continues “Look… I think it bears saying… None of us is happy with our Regional Firebase. I bet most of you want to be there with the protestors. Speh, I bet the protestors don’t even know how many exterminators are in there with them.”
He starts pacing “We’ve all seen how often promises of funding ended up with badly maintained gear and suspiciously rich chiefs. We’ve all seen how many people complaining about malpractice just happened to be diagnosed with PD. We’ve all seen how reports of extortion seemed to just vanish into thin air. Or how when the omnivores among us learned the truth they kept silent, even when the HQ was giving out statements of succor for their officers.”
“We all joined the force wanting to protect the herd. No, no- Not all of us. Quite a few joined out of lack of choice, but we’ve all bought into the lie we were supposed to be protectors. I think recent history has shown that was never the true intent of the guild.” the venlil commander stops pacing and turns to the assembly “But we’re here to make that lie a reality. We’re here to protect our herd, from ourselves if that has to be it. And HQ agrees. The Regional has fucked up too much.”
“So they’re leaving it out to dry” he adds with a finishing tone “We are only here to make sure those people don’t hurt each other and other innocents around, because they can.” with a paw wave he directs attention to a map being projected, it shows the local streets with a large red mark on multiple of them, as well as blue lines encircling the mark “This is the current protest zone, yes it’s huge. You are not to attempt to contain them too much, for now they have been happy with being herded around somewhat, the only point of real contest is this street” he points to said street “That is to be kept clear for traffic at all times. Solgalick’s Mercy is one of the largest hospitals around here, I’m sure the herd will be understanding of not blocking access to it.”
Then the human commander picks up the briefing “Alright… My turn. You already got the gist of the situation, so I’m adding my experience here. Used to be military police before I volunteered to get here, closest thing we have on earth to the actual job the exterminators do. Been at my fair share riots, both sides. Broke quite a few windows when I was a teenager.”
“Let me tell you one thing, the big bad predator here is scared alright?” he adds with a serious tone, scanning his eyes through everyone “These people are angry, and they’re not aimlessly angry. They know every crime hanging over the Regional, they have lists of the guilty, they have a plan and have goals. And those are the most effective and dangerous kind. They’re not aimless civilians angry at the police because something happened.”
“Or at least their leadership is. I’m sure whatever changes they are pressuring for will go through, with how the headquarters is dealing with things here. Wouldn’t surprise me if they just decided to throw the Regional’s staff to the wolves” a couple of people flinch at the imagery “Don’t pretend that’s not what y’all are right now… No, no you’re worse than that. Let me tell you something-”
“If this shit was going down back on Earth? We could rely on the group being disorganized. When a large group like this happens, they can’t work together very well without training. It takes years to teach a human to work in large groups like this, but I’m seeing a lot of venlil in here, this is your home after all. And you people? You don’t need that training to work in a group, it’s in your nature. And in the worst case scenario, and those people get riled up? We’re not looking at a mob, we’re looking at an army.”
The human’s gaze turns back to the map “But as I’ve said, they’re a people with a plan. The organization of the protest has no plans for things to turn violent, they want pressure and not damage. But that doesn’t mean those aren’t just people here, who have more than enough reasons to be angry. If just one of them decides that the organizer’s plans aren’t enough justice… Well, the herd follows. And I’ve come to realize that’s true regardless of species.”
He turns back to the assembled “My point is be careful, because if the worst comes to pass, well… It’ll be bloody.”
With an affirmative flick of his right ear the venlil commander steps up “I’m sure you’ve all took in the map as is and have found your sectors” he waits for a few seconds, watching as multiple signs from ear flicks to thumbs ups to tail swipes to nods respond “Good, go to the armory tent to get the riot gear and a quick briefing on it and… Good luck”
As the group filters out of the briefing room, Keya steps last behind the rest of her own officers. “Lunek you alright with being in the shield line?”
“Yeah… Don’t worry boss, I can handle it” his voice is shaking a little bit, but he isn’t flinching “I hope nothing bad happens… I understand what those people are thinking.”
“We all do, if it helps… I think they’re doing the right thing as well. It’s this Regional that let Long Cliff happen, who straight up goaded Striped Hill on. Just remember, we’re just here to make sure nobody gets hurt… Too much.”
It wasn’t long until they'd made their way to the armory tent. It was as organized as it could be, a tarp had been set up as a tent off the back of a transport van, inside of it visible are mostly the black padded armor that every other exterminator had been wearing in this place as well as tall translucent shields. The first one to step up was Marik, curiously scanning through the unusual gear.
“I know a gun nut when I see one” says the human that’s manning the station “All less-lethal gear here” she points back with a thumb at the sparsely fitted weapon racks before starting to pull out and give armor sets “Standard issue riot armor, ceramic plating with shatterweave layer. Will take any reasonable hit, fire-resistant, in case any high caliber weapon has found their way here the shatterweave will take one punch no matter how hard” Keya is the first to step over “Fasten over here, and over here. Those are venlil fit”
As the human pulls out two shields Nila and Lunek step up front, both still fastening up their armor “Riot shields, put your hands through this place here and hold on tight. You’re going to have to hold it at a bit of an angle since they’re human-sized. Can take bullets if need be, should stop anything they can throw at you.” Lunek is the first one to strap the shield to his arm, finding that it is as she had said, just a few centimeters too tall and scraping hard at the floor if he tries to move. “I’m sure you’re well acquainted with the sticks, though”
Then, she pulls out a short gun, single-barreled with a strangely wide barrel and a long magazine at the back of it loaded from the top. Marik picks it up, inspecting the empty gun and then the magazine that she puts down “Shotgun with rubber rounds. Low-power, hits like a punch from god, can still break bones and rip an eye off so aim at the limbs. You’re staying right behind the shield line, right?”
“Yeah” Marik adds simply, loading the magazine full of large rounds in it “Keep holstered until command”
Then, the human pulls out two pieces of gear that make the officers look confused. “UX-1s, new thing your people came up with” sitting on the ground was a rather familiar object, a gauntlet-mounted fluid projector with a long tube attached to a back-mounted tank. Unlike the usual flamethrower design, however, it was not just a single tank but two half-sized ones. One of them was a familiar blue but it had yellow stripes while the other one was a bright green.
“Experimental?” Aren is the one to ask “Also I never heard the ‘U’ classification. Are you sure we should be bringing experimental gear to this sort of situation?”
The woman shrugs “Actually better than the stuff we used on Earth, amusingly.” she taps the side of her head “Took a stickyfoam canister to the noggin once, got a cranial fracture out of it. Anyway” she points to the gear as Keya and Aren put them on, its shape feeling familiar to them “Utility-type Mark One fluid projector. Designed first and foremost as a tool. You’re equipped with the riot loadout, shockwater” he taps the blue canister “And stickyfoam.” the green canister.
“There’s a selector here” she flicks the selector unceremoniously in Keya’s palm “Shockwater is water laced with minerals to increase conductivity, when you fire you have more than just high pressure water but also a mild shock, less than a taser but enough to dissuade anyone.” she flicks the selector again “Stickfoam, it remains liquid for a few seconds before hardening and sticking to any surface, solid as stone. Originally used as an anti-tank weapon but we employ it in riot control, be sure to aim for the feet and whoever it is isn’t going to be moving anytime soon” then she pulls out two handheld canisters “Stickyfoam solvent, in case you need it”
Keya pulls up her holopad, looking at the clock. Bit more than a tenth of a claw had passed, very little time, and they were already strapped in gear and ready to go. “Alright” she swallows a deep breath “Meven Street, we’re going to be by the road to the hospital. Everyone be as relaxed as you can-” but her words are interrupted.
Aren had gently swinged his tail to touch her shoulder “Hey, you’re just another officer right now, boss. Don’t worry, we all know our positions” she only answers by flicking an ear forward once, and keeping silent.
The cacophony of noise grew louder and louder as they got closer to their assigned position. There were shouts, not in unison but in a disparate stream of white noise, there was music being played loudly and annoyingly both in real instruments and out of devices. A thousand and one different ways to make oneself heard were being played out within the mass that had overtaken the street.
Even knowing she was just another officer this time, Keya still couldn’t stop herself from watching her officers go their respective ways.
Nila and Lunek quickly ran off to the line of officers standing right beside the crowd, as soon as they approached a gojid and a takkan wearing the same riot gear quickly came back after being relieved, visible bags under their eyes as they sluggishly started heading back towards the temporary base.
Marik quickly found his way beside a group of humans standing just a few meters behind the shield line by a parked cruiser. The group seems to acknowledge him wordlessly at first, but when one of the humans goes to leave he attempts to pat Marik on the head. Predictably, the loudness of the slap is strong enough to even attract attention from some in the protest, who stare inquisitively as the other humans the group laugh at the one leaving.
“Really put us right in the fuel line…” Aren’s voice calls her attention to her side. Tracking where his ears are turned to, she finds the tallest building in the street- Solgalick’s Mercy Hospital. “You think there’ll be a problem?” he asks.
She looks around to where her post is. A small tent had been set up here as well as a large vehicle she hadn’t seen before with a strange turret on top comprised of a long barrel and two round objects by the sides, a couple of people with white bands bearing the green paw symbol of field medics were sitting on plastic chairs “Either there’ll be none or all of them at once” she says. There were two others here, another couple of venlil wearing the same UX-1s as they were and quite clearly the ones they were meant to relive “What’s with that?” she asks, pointing at the vehicle with her tail.
“Humans call it a riot control vehicle” one of them answers “Got a bunch of things in it in case people get rowdy to take them down without harm.” They wave a paw at it “My opinion, though? Looks like one of those arxur transport vehicles. Kinda creepy.”
Aren’s chuckle makes her twist an ear at him “Nah this is definitely not that. Look up human tanks later, then you’re going to see a real vehicle like that”
“Aren, stop making things awkward” she sighs “Everyone’s tense enough as is”
“Nah, it’s alright” the one she’s relieving answers “I’d rather have this stuff on my side anyway” they say before leaving with a wave.
Keya’s role was very obvious. Armed with the heaviest-duty crowd control gear and stationed beside an armored vehicle they were quite clearly the final resort in case something happened, which meant she’d have time to watch. She felt a little bit guilty, it was probably her seniority that got her placement here and knowing some of her officers were right up there in the shield wall while she was here…
But for now, all she could do was observe and… Wait. She watches as the line of officers of many species ahead stand tall as the cacophonous mass of protestors shifts like water past them. The noise is great, but surprisingly not grating, there are a multitude of voices but they seem to be working together in some way. A few more officers come to relieve men at the wall as others leave. Once or twice officers at the wall need to leave and then quickly return. including one of her own.
Lunek needs a bit more endurance training… crosses her mind.
At one point Marik gets inside the cruiser with the human officers and the vehicle speeds away. It doesn’t take long for it to return, they stop the vehicle at the same place it was and step out, nothing seemingly having happened. But the protest is louder at this point.
Nearly an entire claw had passed at this point, with the noise slowly rising higher and higher, when a small commotion happens by the shield wall. For a couple of seconds she puts her entire focus there trying to figure out what is going on, until a krakotl officer waves a beckon with their tail and she and Aren rush towards the position.
When they get there the shield line had let through a human carrying a venlil in her arms “I can walk you know?”
“No you can’t, you’re limping”
“That was my tail, not my leg”
“Fuck you, man, just let me-”
“Excuse-me, what happened?” Keya interrupts the bickering duo
“I don’t know, someone stepped on his tail and he just crumpled, I need to take him to the hospital!”
“Girl, it’s just a tail torsion-” the venlil wiggles in her arms
“That’s not nothing!” Aren howls “Speh, that’s a part of your spine, you shouldn’t be on your feet” he turns around, scanning the direction of the hospital “Do you need help carrying him”
“No, I got it, thanks… Thought you weren’t going to let us pass.”
Keya shrugs her tail “We’re just keeping the way to the hospital clear” she turns her focus to the venlil in the woman’s arms “Stop trying to play tough, just let her take you”
The two of them escort the grumbling pair until they’ve past the area with the vehicle and let them continue on their way to the hospital “Ick, I’m surprised he’s awake. Tail torsions hurt like death” Aren comments
“Don’t I know it, suffered one during stampede response training. Felt like someone was pulling my brain out through my tail” she shudders at the thought “... Why did it happen, though? Takes a lot of effort to cause it”
Aren looks over at the mass of the protest. There were now a lot more signs raised then before, and the noise was louder “Dunno, they look super packed right now” and she sees Aren’s hackles visibly raising “I don’t like this”
Keya turns around, she can hear sounds coming from the large vehicle beside her, like claws on metal. The first thing she notices ahead is the group on the cruiser having opened the vehicle’s doors and standing ready, then she notices that the shield wall had lost some of their lightly casual posture, holding tighter to their shields.
It was just one person.
One agitated venlil having some form of heated argument with a human. The shouting can’t reach her here, she can’t hear the words, but she can see the energetic swings of the arms and the erratic tail.
The venlil turns around suddenly, a bottle of drink in her paw. The human moves quickly, but not quickly enough- He grabs her by the waist, lifting her up on his shoulders and starting to drag her out of there- But the bottle had already been thrown, it sails the piddly distance between them and the shield line.
The glass shatters against a translucent shield, a light crimson fire of high proof alcohol erupts on the impact. And the shouting begins.
In a matter of moments what was disorganized yet harmonic shouting turns to vicious howling and roaring, the crowd on the other side of the shield wall starts moving faster and some voices on a megaphone can be heard. But the cries for organization go unheard as the tension continues to boil- But for a few moments, nothing else happens. There is one officer in the shield wall who is shaking, Lunek’s ears are pinned to their head in fear, but he holds his shield steady- The dying flames still lick at the other side of the transparent barrier, Lunek attempts a gentle motion of reassurance with his tail towards the crowd, nobody around moves and for a fraction of a moment it seems the worst had passed as silence seems to rule.
And then there was gunfire. The supersonic boom of overheated air familiar to magnetically-accelerated weapons, a crimson streak in the sky of a tracer round originated from the Regional.
Sound returns in a terrible roar of a multitude of voices. The officers at the shield wall change their posture and steady their feet just in time as the crowd seems to crash against the shields like a tide and then retreat. For a few moments Keya holds on to her breath, readying for action but… The wall holds, and for now she needs not act.
“Hell, it’s going to shit!” a voice calls out from behind, a human Keya hadn’t noticed here had come running “Everyone, keep this street clear! The riot is breaking out in earnest and we already have a few wounded, they’re coming in from the other side of the street!” It was the same human commander from the briefing. He stops in place for a few seconds, left hand over his ear “Shit… Hell… FUCK! Fine” he runs ahead of her closer to the shield wall “Keep holding, keep the hospital lane clear!”
Keya can just stare as the shouting from the other side of the line grows to a crescendo and… The shield line starts to move. Each and every man in the shield line is holding steady to their shields, their feet planted firmly on the ground… But the herd is moving forward with similar intensity, except with so many more bodies they have begun to physically drag the officers along.
“Attention protesters!” it was a venlil’s voice on the megaphone this time, familiar, of the same man who held the briefing “Please keep this street clear! Keep the route to the hospital open! That is all we ask!” but the cries fall to deaf ears.
“Hell… Shield line, move back! Suppression cannons!” Keya jolts as the armored vehicle beside her whirs to life, she makes space for it as it moves forward and the shield line starts slowly yielding ground. The turret on top of the vehicle turns towards the mass of protesters and- From it erupts a powerful jet of water, not unlike that from a firefighter’s vehicle, but instead of aimed at flames it is aimed at people. The powerful stream of water strikes them, causing many to stumble backwards for a bit-
But the ones behind them prop them back up, and the combined might of the herd beats off the pressurized water. She can’t see it from behind the shield wall, but the simple thought of being pressured front and back by different forces, the water- “Cannons, switch to shockwater!”
It takes only half a second, what was once a combined, mobilized force against the torrent scatters. The combined block loses cohesion, but they do not retreat- For a moment all they do is cease advancing as they huddle like a wall against the amplified assault. But a moment is all they need, no longer pressured the shield wall relaxes for just a moment, and then those at the front of the riot rush. The shields close in again, but not fast enough before a few dozen break through running forward.
Keya readies herself, flicking the selector to shockwater and lowering her stance, Aren does the same at a distance. But they’re not the first ones to move, instead Marik and the officers with him move first, bringing up their shotguns and firing. The blasts are loud- The first few runners just fall over, the impacts swiping their limbs from under them. A couple of humans had clearly been hit and continued to rush despite the crimson soaking their clothes. A venlil had to be hit five times, he stumbled at the first two hits, seemingly shrugging them off unharmed, the two next caused him to flinch and the fifth hitting a glancing strike on his head sending him tumbling down. “STAND DOWN!” the officer who fired the last shot yells, she can see Marik hollering at him but the din of battle had become too powerful.
“Shields, retreat! LRAD, active!” the human commander shouts. The shield line starts to move back, Marik and the rest of the shotgunners walk back as well- Then, a strange piercing noise erupts from the vehicle. She keeps her primary focus on the advancing riot but she can see enough to notice a pair of speakers mounted on the turret, speakers directional not unlike her own ears, and the annoying noise finally processes to her as a mere echo of whatever the real sound would be like. A couple of seconds after that realization she sees the majority of the riot just stop on their tracks, pulling ears closed and clutching their head. If the simple noise bleed beside the vehicle was giving her a mild headache, she couldn’t imagine what being in the direct cone of sound would be doing.
But another sound, much lower, attracts her attention. A sound from behind her that causes her to twist an ear back to catch it. Whistles. The periodic whistles had a very particular cadence, a cadence of whistles that everyone learns the importance of very early in their lives- After all, the sound of an ambulance is familiar to all. She chances a glance behind her to see that there isn’t just one, but multiple. Some arriving, some leaving, they’re going as fast as their engines can, unloading people inside the hospital.
But it is a terrifying bugle that turns her eyes back to the crowd that seemed disabled. The sound cannon had done its job, but there were still some people running. But in that instant something became clear: They weren’t trying to get anywhere, nor were they trying to get away from something no. It was clear where they were heading, she was their target, as was everyone else here clad in black. And there were still dozens driven by raw emotions that had overcome every weapon employed against them.
Aren had taken position beside her, the men that once held the shield line had now become separated from each other, using shield and baton to fend off rioters whose new objective was to bring punishment with their own paws. Keya flicks the selector, she’d already seen those people power through shockwater, and aims her gauntlet low.
Six, there were six rushing towards her and she couldn’t spare mental power to process even their species. She clenches her paw, grasping the trigger and firing a short stream of green fluid, the six raise up their arms expecting something else and leaving their lower limbs unprotected as the sticky substance covers feather, fur, scale and cloth. They have time to take one more step before the mess solidifies, their upper bodies lurching forward while their lower bodies refuse to move, they struggle to move to no avail resorting to their voices as their final weapon.
She spares a glance at Aren who’d been turned on by another half dozen, then focuses forward once again, Marik and his team had already retreated behind her and the shields were starting a slow retreat. Most of them had made it past behind her and Aren, their stickyfoam doing the final job of keeping people contained where the riot vehicle failed, but Lunek and a few others had remained ahead to cover against all manners of thrown objects.
The rage-fuelled burst, however, could only drive the rioters for so long and their will started to falter. The larger groups had begun to disperse, the whistles of the ambulances were starting to sound louder than the shouts, the noise of the LRAD had died out and the pressure gauge was indicating her stickyfoam tank was down to the last third. Keya felt, for a moment, that the crowd’s fury had been spent and she could relax.
And then she saw him. A man with a silver coat of fur, eyes filled with feral rage, body marred by scars new and old, twitching claws and angrily pawing at the ground. When their attentions crossed he ran at her, she aims her gauntlet low at him but he leaps, she tries to track his movement but he was too fast and lands with both hindpaws against her chest- She simply presses the trigger and swings her gauntlet up as the impact brings both of them to the ground.
Falling on her back against the backtank leaves her breathless for a moment. But Keya quickly recovers to stand back up, first assessing that nobody else was running at her- But even before she can do that the horrible gurgling sounds from the ground call her attention. The man had fallen, body partly immobilized with one of his arms stuck to his side, but he desperately claws at his face- Green viscosity covering his snout and leaking also out of his mouth.
“BRAHK!” Keya quickly kneels down beside him “MEDIC!” she shouts, pulling out the canister of solvent from her belt with a shaking paw “Stop- Stop it!” she says, trying to control the man’s frenzied free paw as she sprays the solvent on his face and mouth, before venturing her own paw between his teeth to attempt to pull the softened mass blocking the airway.
“Move, move, move!” a commanding voice comes from beside her, people with the green paw band had arrived “We got a blocked airway here, get the-” they quickly shoo her away and she’s more than happy to let the experts do their job. She stands back up and looks around, the sounds have died off save for the whistles of the ambulances.
There were people scattered on the ground, sitting on the curb, resting against walls, all of them nursing wounds. Glass littered the streets from every storefront and house in sight, no object present in the street was spared the pent up rage, and illuminating everything was the orange glow of flames. Flames, thankfully, contained to just one place.
Even from here she could see it, the front of the Regional had, in a twist of irony, taken ablaze. The flames threatened to spread further into the nearby buildings but as the rage of the riot died down people had arrived to stop it, a group was helping escort the water cannons towards the flames, one of them had already arrived and was dowsing the nearby buildings with water, wounded people refused being taken to the nearby hospital as they set up a bucket brigade to draw more water from nearby buildings to help soak the flames. Echoing in the distance were the sirens of the fire engines coming to the rescue.
Keya just stands there watching the shifting chaos, taking in deep breaths… “Hell…” is all she can say.
[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]
Even the most well organized, well prepared, demonstration can fall part. When so much wrong has been brought, when you finally have the chance to let the world hear you... Sometimes all that is left in you is pure fire and fury.
And in the end it just takes one person, and the herd follows. That is true for any thinking mind.
And always remember: Even the gentlest of blows is still a deadly strike.
submitted by JulianSkies to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]

2024.05.31 18:46 HolyArchitect Hot take: People forget that star citizen is not yet a game, but a collaborative developmental project

Constantly I see people being out raged about different issues that star citizen experiences. They talk about stability and balancing. That the servers aren’t stable and they are crashing all the time. That weapons and ships are miss balanced. That CIG doesn’t know what they’re doing or they didn’t test any of that stuff, etc.
To that I say, they’re right about what the issues are and that things haven’t been fully tested yet. Because that’s kind of the point right now. There is an entire portion of the website where people are supposed to report their issues or things that they notice. The developers then take that information and make adjustments. Whether that is for balancing issues or code, network administration and development, etc.
The problem I see is that people aren’t doing that. Because they treat this as a game that is finished. But it’s not a game, not yet. These are developmental builds that have different values and different things inserted into them, so that the developers can see on a larger scale how certain things function. The most recent outrage just yesterday about the speed of torpedoes. Now the ideal thing to do in this situation is for people who notice these things is to go to the website issue council and submit a report. Because we’re developing this project collaboratively with the developers. we are the Large scale QA. That is why PTU stands for “ persistent test universe “. That’s why it’s not called buying the game but pledging to the project. You are donating money to receive access to this project, as well as an asset to use inside that project, in the future in the project, and once the game releases for use in the game.
I understand that it has been a very long time in development. It is not the longest time a single game has been in development. It is the most money ever pledged and invested into game in history. Grand theft auto five I believe is number two at 265 million. So I understand if people are upset that it’s taking so long, and that there has been so much money invested into the game, yet it’s not finished. But it is important to remember that it is not finished, and that this is not a game yet. It is a project that we as the players and the developers of CIG are building together. So I just ask that before you get angry about something in the project, ask yourself project, ask yourself “is this done? Is this how it will be when the project is finished ? How do I think this should be fixed or changed? “And then go report it. below I will provide the link to the issue counsel which is where you can report anything from bugs to balance issues.
There are plenty of things, some of which I’ve said above, to be upset about with star citizen and cigs administrative body. However as far as the Dev team goes, they’re doing the best that they can do with the information that we are providing. And the best way to provide that feedback and information is through the issue counsel on the robertspaceindustries.com website.
Do I think the torpedoes are slow? Yeah I do and I think it’s because of a common issue with space games in general. Space games fall under one of primarily two categories. They either make it so that combat functions like fighter jets in the air or submarines in the ocean. that’s primarily due to the fact that we’ve never actually done it. I think that it is simply a perspective issue that has been persistent with all space games. Was it all just a test? Yes it was and they have said as much. Did people freak out? Yes they did, and it was way above and beyond what was necessary.
So here’s the link below, copy and paste it and report your issues. Remember that this is not a game yet, it’s a developing project. With it being a developing project, it’s going to include a lot of experimentation and a lot of issues. Am I going to get swarmed by negativity and hostility? yes because civil discussion doesn’t exist on the Internet. I am posting this with the full expectation of that. I just asked you consider everything I said above regardless if you want to slam on some random person on the Internet. Because the more the people do what I am saying we should do, and reframing the way they think of this project, the faster this gets finished. thanks for your time and I’ll see you in the verse.
https://issue-council.robertsspaceindustries.com
Edit: an individual pointed out something that is very important. I was incorrect in that I was miss directing people to post everything on the issue console as far as feedback. Issue council is primarily for bugs, however what constitutes a bug is vague. There is also spectrum, which developers are reading all the time. Spectrum is the best place to give feedback on things like balance. I know that none of the above is going to change everybody all magically into being happy friends and reacting to situations perfectly. That’s not going to happen and I have no illusions of that. However, I hope that at least a few read this and rethink the way they react. Be angry about the macro level stuff. that’s completely reasonable. Whether that’s marketing, administration, monetization, etc. that stuff is completely reasonable to be angry and I am myself I’m angry about many of these things. the micro level stuff are things like balance ships, system interactions, individual things that can be adjusted and are not systemic. Reasonable feedback, reasonable discussion, that is how we get things complete much faster. Many of us are very passionate about this game and it’s community. And I know that passion can very quickly lead to anger because we feel protective of this game project. But cooler heads prevail, so let’s do that together. Below is a link to spectrum, and if you have an account you can post in an interactive there. I recommended as you’re going to get a much quicker response and changes.
https://robertsspaceindustries.com/spectrum/community/SC
submitted by HolyArchitect to starcitizen [link] [comments]

2024.05.31 17:31 Ioading Truly Alien Flora and Fauna for Future Star Citizen Systems

Recently, I have been watching a TV show called "Scavengers Reign," which portrays a planet with flora and fauna that are profoundly alien yet convincingly interconnected with their environment. This show demonstrates how life can evolve in ways that are both beautiful and terrifying, with ecosystems that feel wholly unique. With the introduction of new star systems, I believe there's an opportunity to create truly alien ecosystems, thinking beyond Earth-like analogs and imagining life forms that have evolved under entirely different conditions. Here are some ideas for unique flora and fauna, along with their interactions within their environments:
Examples of Alien Flora:
Examples of Alien Fauna:
Interactions and Ecosystem Dynamics:
Advanced Gameplay Opportunities:
I hope these ideas inspire the devs. Thank you for reading it, and I look forward to your feedback.
submitted by Ioading to starcitizen [link] [comments]

2024.05.31 09:16 xtremexavier15 TMA 10

Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper, Scott
Episode 10: Masters of Disasters
"Last time, on Total Drama Action! The world's toughest Chef used spoons to bring out Brick's killer instinct!"
“It was no thanks to Brick that Justin and Millie had the bejeebies scared out of them. Victory seemed within reach, as Brick won the scream-off. MK won the challenge for the Screaming Gaffers by not falling for any of the Grips’ feeble attempts to scare them.”
“Just as the Killer Grips casted their votes, Brick's conscience, along with a planned push from Justin, finally got the best of him. Brick called himself out as a cheater, hopped into the Lame-o-Sine, and rode off into the sunset.”
The scene flashed to Chris walking through the lot, eventually reaching the cast trailers. "How will the contestants survive without Brick's gourmet cooking? Was it coriander or tarragon he used in that casserole? Discover all that and more in another thrilling and filling episode of Total! Drama! Action!"
(Theme Song)
The episode opened with a shot of the blue and partly-cloudy sky before quickly panning down to the craft services tent. The scene zoomed in and cut inside, showing a close-up of a bowl of roach-infested gruel. Scott took a trembling scoop of the food, pausing with wide eyes as Ripper took a bite of his own.
He immediately gagged and spat the food back out. "I never thought I'd say this, but I really miss Brick," he said. "His cooking was a massive improvement over Chef's."
On the other side of the table, Anne Maria poked her food with a spoon. "Topher cooked spaghetti and meatballs for us once, and despite it being a bit soggy, I'd eat his cooking over Chef's," she said.
“Not that I care, but why did Topher of all people make something for you and how did this all happen?” Scott spoke up from his table.
“Well, if you must know, me and Topher are currently datin’ right now,” Anne Maria revealed happily, shocking the others. “What?”
“How did you two even hook up with each other that quickly?” Scott asked in astonishment.
“Remember when we were out looking for the briefcase? Me and Topher were partners, and we had a good time being together,” Anne Maria detailed. “We also managed to have some conversations with each other at the Playa thanks to you guys votin’ us out first,” the Jersey woman added, saying the last part grumpily. “And even though we started off as friends, we developed feelings for each other and eventually became an item between TV seasons.”
“But wait. Wasn't our break from competing two weeks?” Millie asked her teammate.
“I know what you're all thinking. Two weeks is too fast for a relationship to get on board, but since we'd be separated with him not competing alongside me, we decided to get together and confess our feelings before it was too late,” Anne Maria told the contestants.
Confessional: Izzy
“I'd like to call Anne Maria's bluff to her face, but I don't think she's the type to lie about juicy stuff like relationships,” Izzy explained. “And I'd likely receive a humongous blow to the face if I straight up accused her.”
Confessional: Justin
“Well there goes my plan of having Anne Maria as an alliance buddy somewhat,” Justin moaned. “With how much she's been ignoring my affections, it's obvious that she won't commit infidelity just for me.”
Confessionals End
“So yeah. That's about it when it comes to me and Topher,” Anne Maria concluded.
“I can totally see why you two would be joined at the hip, given that you're both equally self-absorbed,” MK commented snidely.
“Watch your mouth, MK,” Anne Maria warned her and then turned to Jasmine staring down at her food. “What's got you so slumped?”
“She's still upset about the alliance Brick had with Chef before he got eliminated,” Millie mentioned.
“Oh yeah. I really could care less,” Anne Maria shrugged.
“I'm not mad about the alliance,” Jasmine corrected. “I'm mad about the fact that he kept it a secret until he quit. And this came from a guy who claimed that honor was key. How can I trust Brick after that?”
“I feel you,” Justin said. “I wouldn't be impressed if someone was keeping something very important from me.”
“Exactly my point, Justin,” Jasmine said.
“Brick did do something wrong, but he felt bad enough for it,” Millie told Jasmine. “And given how Chef is, he was likely threatened into the alliance.”
“That may be true, but I don't want to focus on this subject anymore than I do,” Jasmine said authoritatively. “I'm moving on from this.”
Confessional: Jasmine
“I don't know how Canadian boys flirt or socialize with girls normally, but if telling lies is part of it, then I may call romance flawed and superficial,” Jasmine grumbled stubbornly. “But enough after that. I have to focus on opening my dream school with the money I'll likely win.”
Confessional: Justin
“To those of you that weren't already aware, I knew that Brick and Chef were in cahoots together ever since I saw Chef hold Brick back before the beach episode,” Justin said. “I started picking up the clues more and more, and now that I've turned Jasmine against Brick, I can gain her trust for the future challenges.”
Confessionals End
Ripper then spots a cup of bendy straws next to him. “Hey, does anybody know why these bendy straws are even here?”
“Nope, but if you're planning to shoot spitballs with them, don't target me, Ripstick,” MK advised.
“You never know who I'm gonna target, Brain Girl,” Ripper said, stuffing the straws into his pocket. “I'm keeping the straws, only because they seem useful.”
“More than you,” MK snorted quietly.
"Howdy folks!" Chris said as he walked into the tent with his usual smile. "Hope you enjoyed your lunch, ‘cause you won't be hanging on to it any longer," he told them with a laugh.
"And what torture do you have for us?" Scott asked with a deadpan expression.
"Oh, nothing," Chris answered mockingly. "Just that your day will be a total disaster. Get it?" he asked the room. "It's a disaster movie theme! Y'know? Like in disaster flicks?"
A dangerous and hectic tune began as the scene flashed to Chef Hatchet running against a featureless white background. "People running for their lives from volcanoes," a magma-oozing volcano dropped down onto the scenery just barely missing Chef, "earthquakes, asteroids," a fissure formed in the ground just past the volcano, expanding towards the running man before a small asteroid just missed striking him, "tidal waves," Chef ran headlong into a large wave which crashed over him and washed him away.
The scene flashed back to a close-up of Scott and Izzy gaping in their seats, followed by a similar shot of Justin and Jasmine. "The more disastrous, the better."
Confessional: Millie
"Like we haven't gone through enough disaster already," Millie groaned. "If this keeps up, I'll have to write about how being on Total Drama is more than, if not as, dangerous than bungee jumping into a volcano without a cord!"
Confessional Ends
The footage cut back to Chris standing in front of some sort of machine console as a few deep and ominous notes were struck in the background. "Your first challenge is," he said, "the Earthquake of Inevitable Pain!" The camera moved left and out, revealing the giant playing field that had been set up outside. It consisted of a platform resting at an angle on scaffolding and several pistons with a ladder set up at the high end. On top of it were a series of obstacles arranged in two identical rows: tires, traffic cones, monkey bars over a pool of water, a large metal tube, a balance beam over a pit, and a wooden wall to the far left near the top.
"Each team has to run the course," the host explained as the camera panned across the stunned faces of the cast, "challenging your dexterity," a close-up of the tires was shown, "maneuverability," a shot of the cones was added in a horizontal split-screen, "and other mad monkey skills," he finished as the monkey bars were added to the split screen.
A flash took the scene to Chef standing on top of the ladder at the end of the course. He picked a brick up out of a sack by his side and tossed it around with a vicious grin on his face, and the camera cut back to the host. "First team to the top wins! Best out of two earns today's reward."
The camera focused on the Screaming Gaffers. "Cool!" Chase said with a sudden smile. "This'll be just like the boot camp obstacle course from the first season, only this time, I get to actually compete in it."
"The course does have earthquakes though," Izzy brought up.
"An obstacle course is still an obstacle course," Chase shook it off.
"Enough with the chitty-chat," Chris interrupted with a brief frown of his own. "Take your marks!"
Both teams were shown assembled along the bottom edge of the platform. "This is gonna be easy," Scott boasted as Chase jogged in place.
"I can't wait to swing on the monkey bars!" Millie declared happily while Jasmine limbered up.
"Aaaaaannnnd," Chris said as a few deep notes heralded the beginning of fast-paced challenge music, "Action!"
He sounded a small air horn, and the shot cut to the four Grips as they ran up the platform and immediately into the tires – Jasmine in the lead, then Justin, Millie, and Anne Maria at the end. Panning over to the Grips, Izzy and Chase were out first, followed by Scott, Ripper, and MK.
"How easy is this?" Izzy asked enthusiastically after a close-up of her easily stepping through the tires.
"Are you READY to ROCK?!" Chris exclaimed with an excited cackle before pulling one of the levers on his machine console. The pistons immediately began to extend and contract, shaking the platform and causing Izzy and Chase to stumble and fall into one another.
“If you break it, you buy it!” Izzy said playfully and laughed.
Jasmine and Justin had gotten to the beginning of the cones, but lost their balance too and Justin had to yank one of the cones off his head. Millie and Anne Maria jumped up onto the Grips' monkey bars, and the scene cut over to Chef on the ladder.
"Perfect time to get rid of some old junk," he said with a vicious grin and a dark cackle, reaching into his sack and taking out a football. He tossed it from hand to hand, then reared back and threw it at the girls on the monkey bars. It hit Millie in the face with enough force to knock her back into Anne Maria and both off the obstacle.
"My face!" Millie cried out as she fell out of sight.
Chef was shown casually throwing out several objects from his bag without looking – a kitchen sink, a bowling ball, a hammer, a rotary telephone, each with appropriate sound effects when they inevitably hit something. He paused when he took out a tiny rubber ducky, squeezing it a few times and smiling at its squeak before looking at the camera sheepishly and throwing it away.
"Are you kidding me?" MK said after the duck hit her on the nose while she was on the monkey bars.
The camera briefly cut back to Chris as he smirked and pulled the lever again, putting an end to the shaking. Izzy, Chase, and Scott were shown regaining their balance at the start of the monkey bars, and Izzy groaned in relief. "Finally, a break!"
"AFTERSHOCK!" Chris exclaimed with a happy laugh, pulling the lever again. The platform resumed shaking, causing Scott to stumble to his knees behind him.
The dirt boy threw up, and looked at the puddle of vomit with a disgusted grimace. "Why was that lunch even worse coming back up?"
"Oh yeah," Chris said with a sly look, "that reminds me. It's lava time!" he announced dramatically, slamming his fist down on a button that caused more shaking and some ominous mechanical whirs that made Chase and Izzy look around nervously.
A pair of slots opened up just past the walls at the top of the course, and a steaming red liquid poured out of them. Chef bent down and touched the liquid with his fingers, taking a quick taste. "Tomato soup?" he said with a surprised look below, where the soup was being siphoned out of a large metal drum with a tomato on the side. "That was supposed to be for supper."
With the soup already closing in on the monkey bars, Anne Maria and Justin were forced to quickly jump back up to them, while nearby Millie quickly grabbed the top of the metal tube. MK and Izzy were also shown clinging to the top of the bars for safety.
"Pheeewww, wee!" Chris exclaimed as the camera cut back to him fanning himself with one hand. "Is it getting hot in here? How 'bout a cool, refreshing, hailstorm!" The shot pulled back to show him standing on the seat of a cart-mounted gun platform which was attached to a golf cart being driven by Chef, who honked the horn with a dark grin. "Golf ball-sized hail is bad," the host said matter-of-factly as he sat down and grabbed the handles of the gun, "but, hail-sized golf balls are even worse!" He laughed and opened fire, a clear canister on the top of the large weapon feeding golf balls into it. Izzy, back on the ground, tried to dodge the balls as they dashed towards the metal tube, but the sheer number knocked her into it.
"I got one!" Chris cheered happily.
"Don't get cocky, kid," Chef told him with a smile. The host continued to fire with a vicious grin on his face, and cries of pain from nearly every castmate were heard off-screen.
"Hey, watch the face!" Anne Maria cried out before several golf balls struck her in the face, and Chris continued to shoot.
Confessional: Anne Maria
The tanned woman was now shown to be bruised from her face all the way down. "That schuck is really askin’ for a beatdown if he thinks he can bruise my body, but I still got it." Anne Maria attempted to pose for the camera, but quickly winced in pain.
Confessional Ends
The host shot off a few more golf balls, then held up a button on a cord. "After-aftershock!" he exclaimed as he pressed it, starting up the shaking once again. Izzy lost her own footing and slipped backwards into the metal tunnel. The camera panned back to the tube's beginning, where the other Gaffers were standing. To their shock, the platform began to crack and split perilously close to them.
"We have to get a move on," Ripper said.
MK ducked into the tunnel but was forced out moments later when a screaming Izzy tumbled back through it, knocking into the small woman and sending both over the edge of the crack in the platform. Chase managed to dive and grab onto Izzy's flailing arm, and the camera panned down to show that MK had managed to cling onto her teammate's legs.
"Man, did Chris go all-out with these disasters," Ripper said with worry.
"Pull us up or else I may see the afterlife!" MK cried angrily as Chase struggled to heave his teammates out of the crevice.
"Coming," Scott said before he and Ripper bent down to grab Izzy's other arm.
The scene cut to the Grips as Jasmine made her way across the balance beam, with Millie and Justin coming out of the tube and following her. Chris fired another volley of golf balls which knocked Justin off his balance, and the camera moved back to the Gaffers still at the entrance to the tunnel and also coming under heavy fire.
"We have to keep moving!" Ripper shouted while he sheltered his team. Once his teammates were in relative safety, he began to shield the entrance with his girth. “I believe someone should be yelling “fore!”,” he shot an annoyed glare at the host.
"Fore!" Chris shouted gleefully, pulling the trigger but getting nothing but clicks – he was out of ammunition. The shot cut back to Ripper, who raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and jumped into the tube.
"Chef," Chris said in annoyance, "do something!" A few beeps from the golf cart signaled the hulking man's compliance as he rapidly reversed all the way to the ladder, crashing the gun platform and Chris along with it before quickly climbing up.
He resumed throwing objects at the castmates, starting with a flower pot that knocked Millie off the balance beam just as Jasmine made it to the finish line and Anne Maria made it to the top of her team's wall.
"Hurry up. We're almost there!" Chase called to the rest of the Grips as Scott gave MK a boost over the wall. Izzy climbed down the other side, and Ripper emerged from the tunnel and narrowly dodged a blender. The rough man rushed across the balance beam to the scheming farmer on the other side.
"C'mon. I'll give you a lift," Scott told him.
“Have you seen me?” Ripper raised an eyebrow. “I'm much heavier. I'll lift you up.” He then kneeled down and held out his hands as a foothold.
“Okay, fine,” Scott accepted the boost as bricks and pliers and even a cat in a football uniform were thrown at them.
Chef viciously tossed what appeared to be some sort of bomb, though the lack of an explosion when it landed off-screen suggested it was a dud at best. Regardless, the man smiled when he pulled out the next object: a very large hardcover book. "Ahh, my unpublished manifesto," he said happily.
The dramatically fast-paced challenge music faded into something more deep, tense, and threateningly monotonous as Scott was shown hauling himself up to the top of the wall with Ripper supporting him.
"I've lived a lot of years!" Chef declared before tossing his tremendous manifesto with two hands. The music sped back up as Scott spotted the heavy book flying at him with a gasp.
The shot closed in on the manifesto, and the footage slowed down as it slammed into Scott's right arm, knocking him clear off the wall and onto his back across the balance beam. “Ugh! That hurts!” Scott groaned and clutched his right arm.
"Oh shoot!" Ripper exclaimed in shock and ran over to his groaning teammate. "Your arm is not looking fine right now."
"My editor was right!" Chef told the camera on him proudly. "My life really is dangerous."
Scott began to sit up and used his right arm for support, but then winced in pain and flopped back down with a moan.
Confessional: Millie
"Did Scott actually break his arm?" Millie asked in disbelief. "That is so unfair, even if it is Scott of all people!" She sighed and looked up. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did that to Chase."
Confessional: Chase
"I can't believe Scott just wiped out his arm!" Chase told the confessional camera. "And because of a manifesto of all things!" He sighed and looked down. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did that to Millie."
Confessionals End
As Scott continued to groan in pain on the balance beam, one of the camera men was shown approaching him for a close-up.
"Chris!" Jasmine exclaimed angrily as the shot cut back to the Grips, Chef, and Chris, the host now on the ladder and framing a shot with his hands. "Aren't you going to send the crew over to help him?"
"Yeah yeah," the host said dismissively as another cameraman walked by in front of him, "as soon as we're done getting every shot. The good news is, it looks like Scott won the challenge for the Screaming Gaffers!" He looked over to MK, Izzy, and Chase as they gave a few celebratory cheers, joined in another shot by a smile from Ripper and even a thumbs up from Scott.
"Oh no he did not!" Anne Maria exclaimed.
"Yeah," Millie added sternly. "We got our entire team across the finish line first!"
"Serious injury trumps all," Chris told them with an impish shrug.
"You're just making up the rules as you go along," Jasmine said in frustration.
Chris gave a smug look, then smiled at the camera. "I love my job!"
A close-up of a flashing red siren took over the scene, and Scott was wheeled into an ambulance on a stretcher. "The wounded Scott," Chris said dramatically as the ambulance doors shut and it drove off, leaving the four Gaffers to watch with varying levels of concern. "What will become of him?" The shot zoomed out, showing the Grips standing nearby as well looking worried. "Stay tuned to find out!" Chris said, popping up in the foreground with a grin on his face, earning a glare from the remaining castmates.
(Commercial Break)
The deep and dramatic music continued as soon as the footage cut back to a shot of a water tower, the camera slowing panning down to the film lot's waterfront area. A submarine had been suspended from the arm of a crane, which ran along the top of the screen and was supported on the right by a structure built adjacent to a dock where the cast and host stood. Two sections of the submarine's outer wall had been made transparent, allowing full view of a pair of rooms within; there appeared to be hatches on the top and bottom leading into and out of each compartment. In the water below the submarine were two inflated rafts, roughly aligned with the 'windows'.
"How's Scott doing?" Izzy asked with concern as the camera focused on her.
"Oh, Scott's fine," Chris reassured the group. "A broken bone, but it's all wired shut now. Shouldn't take more than six to eight weeks to heal!"
"Oh," Ripper said, "it's that bad?!"
"I mean," Chris quickly corrected, "he's doing fine!" None of the cast looked like they believed him.
Confessional: Chris
"That's what release forms are for," Chris whined in the confessional trailer, holding up one of the forms. "Correctamundo?" he asked the camera.
Confessional Ends
"Alright!" Chris said as the camera began to zoom out. "Now it's time for the second disaster-themed challenge." The two teams were shown to have boarded the life rafts, the Gaffers on the left and the Grips on the right. "Who's excited?"
Neither the Grips nor the Gaffers gave him any response other than an annoyed glare, and cricket chirps were heard as the camera panned from one to the other.
"Because of Scott's win," Chris continued with a smile, "the Gaffers have the advantage of getting this handy-dandy piece of paper for the second disaster challenge." He took a seemingly blank piece of paper out from behind his back, rapidly folded it into a paper airplane, and threw it over to the team who'd won it. The camera followed it as it flew through the air, passed over the heads of the four Grips, made a loop-the-loop, and eventually got snatched out of the air by Chase.
He unfolded it, showing a small string of roman numerals, and quickly furrowed his brow. "Hey, it's just a bunch of numbers! How's this supposed to help us?"
"Perhaps it's some sort of code," MK suggested after a bit of thought.
"Okay, time to get inside!" Chris announced.
"You do know that I have claustrophobia," Jasmine refused.
"Would you do it for a million bucks?" Chris asked with a sly look.
Jasmine sighed. "I hope there's enough air to last a lifetime."
The footage flashed forward, showing each team in one of the submarine's two visible compartments. "Does anybody else have a bad feeling about this?" Jasmine asked her team as her eyes darted around the room. The sound of sonar pinging in the background was quickly joined by the wailing of a klaxon as lights around the submarine began to flash red. Various shot of hatch wheels, pipes, each team's feet, and the startled faces of Millie, Ripper, and Izzy were shown.
"What's going on?" Justin asked with a hint of panic in his voice.
"It's too dark to see," Chase said. "This isn't good."
"For this challenge," Chris announced over intercoms in each room, "you've gotta get out before it's too late."
"Too late for what?" Millie asked as the footage changed to a monitor feed of the Grips, the camera pulling back a few other monitors next to it showing close-ups of Ripper, Chase, and MK. Chef was sitting in front of them inches away from the camera, looking back at the monitoring console out of the corner of his eyes.
"Oh, you'll find out," Chris told them with a laugh as Chef nodded.
The viewpoint shifted to show the host and his assistant sitting at a table playing cards in the control room. "Pick up two," Chef said, placing a card on the table himself as the handsome host drew another pair.
"You mind cranking that lever?" Chris asked, and his hulking associate quickly complied.
As soon as the lever was pulled, water began to flow heavily through a network of pipes, causing them to drip at various joints. More ominously, water started pouring into the submarine's compartments via a grate in the floor. It quickly began to pool around Justin's feet, and he looked down with shock and unease.
"What is that?" he asked worriedly.
“This is just great," Anne Maria said. "The one person who would've been able to break us out of here had to quit!"
"Well, Brick's not here," Jasmine panicked as she began trying to look around the poorly-lit room. "If we start to drown, not only will we be trapped in here, but we'll die!"
The scene flashed to Ripper trying to turn a hatch wheel on the wall to no avail while Chase stood nearby. "We're stuck in the dark, the water is filling up the place, and one of our teammates is stuck in the infirmary," Chase recapped. “How much worse can this get?”
"The water is freezing?" Ripper replied. "How are we supposed to bust out of this sub?"
"No worries," MK told him. "I've got great night vision. Side note, the things I do sometimes occur at night." She noticed a cardboard box sitting on a nearby table, and opened it up with a grin. "This should help!" she said, taking several flashlights out of the box and turning them on.
"Let's get to work everybody!" Izzy whooped as she caught the light that was tossed to her.
The scene cut to Jasmine and Millie attempting to open two of the wall hatches without success.
Jasmine was focused on as she tried to force her hatch wheel to turn. She gave another grunt of exertion and slipped, falling forward into the Grips' cardboard box. "Brilliant!" she exclaimed in delight, holding up the flashlights she'd accidentally discovered. "Okay cobbers, let's get our heads in the game!" she declared, tossing each of her teammates a flashlight.
"Hey, I think I found something!" Anne Maria said as she shined her light on the ceiling hatch.
"Same here!" Millie added as she illuminated the floor hatch. "This could be the exit!"
The camera cut to a close-up of Chase turning the dial on the floor hatch while Izzy stood behind him shining her light down on it. "Bad news," he said as he finally let go, "it's a combination lock!"
"The numbers on the paper!" Izzy said immediately. "That must be the combination!"
"Oh yeah," Chase said blankly, taking out the crumpled-up note for MK to snatch it and shine her light on it.
Ripper walked up to the AV girl. "Go on, techmaster. Tell us the numbers," he told her expectantly.
"Give me a second," MK replied in annoyance as she flipped the note upside-down and back again.
"We don't have a second!" Chase said in rising panic, the water already up his legs and nearly covering the floor hatch.
"It's either...," MK squinted, "3-1-11-3-6-2," she rattled off before flipping the paper again, "or 2-6-3-9-1-3. It's hard to tell with this bad handwriting."
"Well, get cracking already!" Ripper demanded.
“Guys, now's not the time to fight right now,” Chase reminded them.
MK crouched down by the dial and groaned after looking over it for a second. "These numbers are tiny! Somebody give me a light."
"I'm on it," Izzy told her, shining an extra light down on the dial. "Now which number are we going for first?"
"Let me double check," MK told her, taking the note back out of her pocket only to accidentally lose her grip on the note. MK groaned and picked up the now soggy and unreadable note out of the water.
Confessional: Izzy
“If today's my last day in this world, I'm thankful that I'm not surrounded by loons,” Izzy told the viewers. “Well except for Ripper, but he's not risking all of our lives.”
Confessional Ends
The scene flashed over to a close-up of the Grips' dial as Anne Maria turned it back and forth and her teammates watched in silence. The water rose above her head and she came up. "This ain't working!" she said in frustration. "I can't figure out the combination with the water rising up!"
"How about we boost each other up there?" Millie suggested, her light shining on the ceiling hatch.
"Worth a shot," Jasmine shrugged. The Outback girl held out her hands to give Justin a foothold, boosting him up onto her shoulders before Millie climbed up them to the top.
She strained to reach for the hatch, but it was still too high up. "Almost…there!" As Millie spoke, she made another attempt at reaching out, but only managed to cause the three to lose their balance and collapse into the water.
"Now what?" Justin asked in annoyance just before Anne Maria emerged from the water.
"What are you all doing?" she asked them.
"We were trying to open the door on the ceiling," Millie said. "And how are you able to stay underwater for that long?"
“My lungs are waterproof, duh,” Anne Maria answered. “And if we're gonna use the hatch up there, let's just wait for the water to reach us to that point.”
"Does anybody else have a plan to get us out?" Chase asked his teammates, all four floating idly in the water.
"Of course!" Izzy exclaimed. "We forgot about that hatch!" She pointed to the ceiling hatch with a grin, and with the current water level was able to grab onto it along with Ripper.
"Open sesame!" Ripper bellowed out as he and Izzy pried the hatch cover open.
A shark stuck its head out of the opening with a roar, and the two Gaffers who had opened it quickly closed it again, eyes wide with shock.
"No good. Any other ideas?" Izzy said, backing away from the hatch slowly.
"I got it!" Jasmine grunted as she forced the wheel of the ceiling hatch to turn, and when it finally opened, she immediately shrieked and slammed it shut when a jet of fire came forth from the opening. "That wasn't safe at all!"
The scene cut to the control room, with footage of the Grips continuing what they'd been doing on the monitors.
"Fire, huh?" Chris said with a hint of nervousness. "Don't you think that's a bit much?"
Chef shrugged.
Confessional: Chef Hatchet
"Seriously, I'm just not in the mood!" Chef told the confessional camera angrily. "Busting my hump for a bunch of snot nosed…" He slammed a fist onto the table, scattering a few make-up brushes. "Don't I deserve a little me time?"
Confessional Ends
Close-ups of Jasmine, Izzy, Justin, and Anne Maria were now being shown on the monitors, each one looking with dread at the water that was now up to their necks or shoulders.
"Really, it might be time to end the challenge," Chris said with rising concern. "The water's getting pretty high, and, uh, those kids are terrible swimmers!"
"Focus!" Chef shouted. "I want my chips back," he said calmly, pointing to a tall canister on the table, "I'm starvin'." He casually tossed a single chip into his mouth.
"This is getting serious," Chris told him. "Tur-turn off the water!"
Chef reached for the lever, but it quickly snapped off in his hand, and Chris gasped. "We've gotta get the cast out of there!" he said, standing up in panic. "Simple formula! No more contestants equals no more episodes equals no paycheck, and the end of my luxurious lifestyle!"
"I don't want them to die anymore than you do," Chef said after dropping the broken lever and shuffling their deck of cards, “but the lever is broken, so it's up to them to rescue themselves.”
A shot from just below the surface of the water showed the Gaffers treading it.
"If we make it out of here, the first thing I'm gonna do is break Chris for endangering our lives," Ripper told the team and pulled out the bendy straws from breakfast, “and that's gonna happen thanks to these straws!”
“Why didn't you whip those out earlier?!” MK reprimanded.
“I obviously forgot about them, but I still remember the numbers,” Ripper rolled his eyes and stuck one straw to another. “Now do you want to complain or survive?”
“Alright! I'll help you make a snorkel,” MK took hold of the straws. She watched Ripper put a straw into his mouth and sink underwater, prompting her to stack one straw after another as he sank.
The footage cut back to the control room where Chris was watching the Gaffers with tense worry. "Brilliant!" he said with relief. "Ripper's gonna save the day! Once the hatch is open, it'll drain the water out of both the rooms, and I'll still have a paycheck!" He quickly hugged Chef, who'd been playing cards by himself and looked annoyed at the sudden contact.
An action song began to play in the background as Ripper got to work turning the handle with a serious look on his face. Chris was shown watching nervously from the safety of his control room.
The clip moved to shots of the Grips submerged in water with only their heads surfacing, and Chris was shown covering his eyes in fear and anxiety, peeking out just long enough to gape.
MK kept putting more straws onto the snorkel as the water rose up. "Come on, Ripper!" Chase cried out as his head began to sink. "There's not much time left!"
A shot of the top half of Izzy’s head staying afloat was presented, and as Ripper turned the handle in opposite directions, he adjusted his snorkel before resuming his progress.
Chris was tensely biting his nails while Chef was calmly playing solitaire. However, Ripper got to the last number of the combination, and after yanking at the hatch, it flew open. A large cloud of bubbles briefly covered the screen, and when they dissipated, Ripper signaled his team to get out, and he took off the snorkel and swam out the gap with Izzy, MK, and Chase following after.
Back in the control room, the background music came to an end as Chris started to celebrate. "Wooo-hoo-hoo! Yeah, mmm, mmm!" He cheered, doing a joyous dance around the room while Chef watched in annoyance and ate his chips.
The scene cut to the Grips as their compartment's water drained out and they were left soaking wet.
“Does this mean…” Justin began to wonder.
“Yes. We lost,” Anne Maria looked down in disappointment.
A flash took the scene to a close-up of a roaring fire outside the cast trailers. It was now dark out, and all eight who had competed in the second challenge were furiously sitting around it in bathrobes, the Grips on the left and the Gaffers on the right.
"Well, that was a pretty exciting day, huh?" Chris told them as he walked past the glaring Grips. "Looks like another reward win for the Gaffers. Seems like the Grips are a tad overdue. But," he paused to laugh, "I wouldn't hold my breath!" Jasmine and Millie glared at him and his pun.
"And now let's see what the Gaffers have won!" Chris said once he stopped laughing, pulling a card out of his shirt. "Ohhh!"
The shot flashed to Chef in his sparkly pink dress standing in front of a curtain that was quickly pulled back to reveal a scene of a city on the water, with mountains in the background and a totem pole in the fore. "An all-expenses paid trip to beautiful British Columbia!" The shot flashed again, now showing a close-up of a small cabin bathed in red light and steam, an odd and low bubbling noise in the background. "That's right, you'll be staying at the luxurious inn, 'On the Volcano'!" The camera pulled back, revealing that the cabin was indeed located so far over the mouth of an active volcano that it looked like it would fall in at the slightest provocation. "A charming lodge, teetering on the edge of a little-known active volcano, on Vancouver Island."
The Gaffers looked at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "To get you there," the host continued as the scene flashed to Chef, dressed in a traditional German costume and accompanied by an unseen yodeler, hiking up the side of a mountain. "You'll be enjoying an exhilarating eight-day hike up the craggy, treacherous-"
Both the host and the various background sounds were interrupted by a record scratch and an angry outburst from Chase. "No way!"
Confessional: Chase
"We were actually going to drown back there!" Chase said in the confessional. "These producers are insane if they want us to stay at a volcano."
Confessional: Ripper
"I was going to give Chris a thrashing, but after some careful consideration, I realized that it could get me kicked off the show,” Ripper explained and smiled arrogantly. “And there's no way I'm leaving without lording over the fact that I saved everybody's lives over their heads.”
Confessionals End
"We'll just take some snacks and drinks for our reward," MK told the host. "And make it a stash."
"Suit yourselves," Chris replied, putting the card back in his shirt pocket. "More money for my end-of-the-year bonus!"
Confessional: Izzy
"Okay, I'm not above covering myself with poison ivy, but there's no way I'm gonna go on a vacation after I almost died," Izzy confessed with rare fury. "That's just extremely messed up."
Confessional Ends
MK and Ripper clinked soda bottles together as they, Izzy, and Chase enjoyed their reward at the picnic table outside the rebuilt craft services tent. The camera quickly panned to the left past the sulking Grips, and stopped on Chris walking alongside Scott. The redheaded boy's right arm had a sling, and he was looking rather miffed.
“Remember when I said I'd sue you in the first season? That was just an empty threat,” Scott angrily whispered, frightening Chris a bit. “If this was an elimination episode and I got the boot, I would do so as soon as I got home. I have an uncle who's a lawyer.”
"Umm…" Chris whispered to him timidly, "please don't. I promise to get you compensated for your broken arm as soon as possible."
“Okay,” Scott looked at Chris suspiciously. “I'll go celebrate with my team, but you guys better provide me with benefits or you and Chef are getting a lawsuit.”
“Enjoy!” Chris regained his happy demeanor after watching Scott walk off. "And with that, we are at the end of another awesome episode. What disaster lies in store for our teams next time?" he asked the camera with a smile. "I'm your host, Chris McLean, asking you to tune in, turn on, and find out right here on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Roll the Credits)
(Bonus Clip)
“Look at all the food we won,” Scott demonstrated what was on the table - soda, chips, chocolate bars, marshmallows, gumballs, and crackers. “Why offer us a disaster themed vacay when we can just stuff our faces in?” He took a gumball with his left arm and swallowed it in his mouth. “But that doesn't mean I'm letting my injured arm go. Those guys were the ones who broke it, not me. And if I'm not treated at all, charges will be pressed on them.” He then blew a bubble, and after it got too big, the bubble exploded and the embarrassed teen had his entire face covered in gum.
Eva - 14th
Geoff - 14th
Izzy - RETURNED
Trent - 12th
Sky - 11th
Brick - 10th
Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper, Scott
submitted by xtremexavier15 to u/xtremexavier15 [link] [comments]

2024.05.31 00:20 Spartawolf Galactic High (Chapter 124)

First/Previous
Jack’s vision blurred as his body felt like it was being engulfed in excruciating pain as the spell held onto him. Every nerve felt like it was on fire, and his muscles clenched in a vice-like grip as the sensation threatened to overwhelm him.
But even as the sheer agony threatened to consume him, a fire of defiance ignited within him, which bellowed out in a growl of anger that grew louder and louder, as the pain faded further and further away…
“He’s resisting my spell!” The Vivren cursed with a snarl. “Quick! Hurry up and finish him! Do it now, while he’s held!”
Staring at the Vivren woman in hatred, her commanding appearance became much clearer to Jack, looking to the deathworlder like an intimidating manifestation of pure malice. Her dark heavy armour was adorned with a sigil of a dark red star, and the many rough-looking piercings all along her face looked rusted and poorly fitted, almost by design, a sentiment echoed by the barbed wire peaking out along the neckline of her armour!
It was like this monstrosity of a Vivren represented Pinhead far more than Mrs Schlart!
“You can’t hold me!” Jack roared as he pushed through and resisted the potent spell, regaining control as the Vivren snarled in a rage of her own as she unhooked her spiked chain and lashed out at Jack with supernatural prowess…
“Aegis!” Jack yelled, raising his forearm and summoning his shield which took the blow of the powerful weapon like the striking of a gong.
‘You want to try and torture me?’ Jack snarled in his mind. ‘Let’s see how you like it!’
Retracting his shield, Jack saw nobody in the line of fire behind the intimidating woman, and that worked just fine for him.
He planned to bring a lot of fire!
“Agni!”
With a flick of his other wrist Jack activated his flamethrower, the air around his hand cracking with anticipation as flames burst forth from his hand with a roar, engulfing the Vivren in a violent torrent of fire. The air around him filled with the acrid stench of burning flesh, before Jack’s eyes suddenly went wide as he heard a cackle through the screams of pain as the Vivren charged forward fearlessly through the inferno and swiped her chain, catching Jack in the side as it caught him off balance with a strange lance of pain…
“Woof!” An angry bark sounded out as the Vivren jerked back and shuddered in a series of spasms as a continuous jet of electricity lanced out and caught the bitch full force in the back as Dante dashed into position to help the human.
Wasting no time, Jack dashed forward to prevent the Vivren from lashing out at Dante with the backswing of her spiked chain, grappling for the weapon as he snapped forward with his foot, successfully catching the woman between the legs with a bone-shattering cunt punt.
Grunting, the Vivren got to one knee and quickly thrust her palm forward as she muttered a word of power, sending Jack flying backwards with brutal force. He flailed wildly as he was hurtled towards a table with terrifying speed.
With a deafening crash Jack collided with the table, the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass echoing throughout the room as he tumbled and rolled across the floor, his body bouncing and bouncing off the wet floor with bone-jarring force. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Jack got to his feet, his muscles screaming in protest as he fought to regain his bearings.
Sensing movement next to him Jack quickly switched to his Dominator as he let off a close-range burst of photon shots that surprised one of the Regulators before another shot him, his helmet absorbing the impact and giving him a ringing in his ears as he instinctually returned fire, fortunately not hitting anyone that might have been behind them as the Regulator backed away and dashed behind one of the stone pillars near the wall.
Before Jack could even begin to think of chasing after them, he suddenly sensed a looming presence approaching from behind him. With an instinctual surge Jack pivoted on his heel as he narrowly dodged a vicious swipe from the Redeemer, who was now wielding the heavy hammer he had seen him carry the last time he saw them, with the crude metal of the massive hammer’s head ending in a bunch of blunt spikes, probably designed for tearing through armour or something.
Apparently, they weren’t confident enough to do this with their bare hands anymore…
“Come on then!” Jack snarled, taunting his enemy as the Redeemer pressed their attack, their movements ferocious and relentless as they really wanted to overwhelm Jack with sheer brute force, swinging their warhammer with reckless abandon.
Jack backpedalled frantically, agilely hopping back as he danced out of reach of the swinging arc of the hammer, narrowly dodging each time…
“Coward!” The Redeemer snarled as he tried to go for Jack’s feet, before the human backed away with a cocky grin that only enraged him even more.
“Says the guy that needs his mates to stand a chance against me,” Jack taunted back as he waited for the perfect moment, biding his time as he watched for an opening amidst the flurry of blows. It was too close to get his gun out, but he was no slouch up close…
Finally his patience was rewarded as the Redeemer roared and aimed his next furious swipe at Jack’s head, overextending and throwing himself off balance…
Within a split-second, Jack’s axe was back in his hand as he counterattacked with an explosive swing of his arm, lashing out like a coiled snake, aiming for the Ogar’s head but catching his axe in the Redeemer’s shoulder as with deceptively good reflexed they backed away with a growl, ripping Jack’s axe out of the solid plate of metal, and leaving a thick gash.
‘That got through the armour, we’re getting somewhere.’ Jack thought to himself. ‘Shit, I know we need to get away, but if I can kill him…’
That thought was immediately halted in his mind as the Redeemer dropped his hammer, shuffling back to make space and switch to their huge gun…
Where the fuck did this guy find the time to go grab his weapons?
It was the same one the Redeemer had the last time during their chase on the motorway from hell, and Jack knew all too well how potent it was. With two prongs and crackling green energy arcing between them, the last time Jack saw it fired, it destroyed half a truck…
‘Agni!’ Jack quickly yelled, as the familiar jet of fire returned, blasting the Redeemer in the face as he reeled back. Not letting up, Jack thrust out with his other wrist, blanketing the space in front of him with a torrent of twin blazing flames…
‘Now!’
Jack’s gut instincts yelled at him to move as he dove as hard and as far as he could to the side as a lance of green energy sparked out, shoddily aimed through the thick plume of fire close enough to where he was just standing, almost melting the very ground underneath where it blasted across, and definitely singeing his eyebrows.
He didn’t want to know what a direct hit could have done to him…
With a deafening roar, the searing blast of almighty energy tore through the side of the building with the force of a hurricane, sending shockwaves rippling through the building, causing the walls to tremble and the foundations underneath them to rumble as the entire bar threatened to come down all around them. Dust and debris blanketed the air in a swirling tornado, completely obscuring Jack’s vision and choking at his lungs as he fought to hold his breath.
“Aegis!” Jack spluttered out as he summoned his shield, raising it above his head as shattered glass and splinters of wood rained down from above like deadly hail.
“Guys?” He yelled at the top of his lungs in between coughs, realising that the shitty music that was playing before had died down. “Where are you?”
“Here! We’ll get to you!” He heard Nika yell out, but from where he couldn’t tell.
“Lictor! Zruul’s down!” He heard another voice yell out over the carnage, a younger-sounding male. “We’re losing too many!”
“That doesn’t matter, Klast! They’re replaceable! Target the Outsider at all costs!” the voice of the Vivren roared out angrily.
“Oh fuck…” Jack groaned under his breath. “Where did you cunts even come from…”
“From anywhere we want, Outsider!” The same male voice responded tauntingly as Jack sensed movement approaching him. “Thanks for revealing your position!”
“Won’t help you!” Jack snarled as brought up his Dominator, keeping his shield up as he shot at the blur of movement, who somehow seemed to anticipate the move, swinging his body to the side while swiping across with an open palm that glowed a faint blue, deflecting the blast of photon energy harmlessly away from him to smack into the nearest wall.
‘What the fuck?’ Jack asked himself before he dropped the gun, allowing it to magnetically clip back onto his armour as the speeding blur closed the distance, dipped to the side past his guard and attempted to grab at his shield arm, before Jack shuffled back and retracted it.
Now that he had a good look at the pale-skinned man, he looked to be an Eladrie or Eladra, older than him by several years and handsome, with flowing loose white hair managed by a topknot that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Chinese period movie. With light and tight-fitted armour he also wore the insignia of the red circle he had seen on several others tonight on his chest.
“Really, Outsider? I was expecting a challenge!” They sneered as Jack swung at him with his axe, with the male, who Jack assumed was Klast, dodging before leaping at Jack with a punch that caught him in the mouth, following through with a spinning kick to Jack’s chest that he didn’t really feel any pain from thanks to his armour, though it still knocked him back a few steps.
Klast dashed forward with a cocky grin, and Jack took a stance, preparing for another flashy fung-fu attack, before suddenly the martial artist was lit up by a volley of fire from the turrets above, smacking them in their back as Jack used the opening to charge with his axe, swinging as quickly as he could while Klast was distracted.
Realising the danger, Klast moved to spin away, but Jack scored a hit, catching Klast in the hip as he leapt away, twisting to avoid the worst of the attack but still gasping as they got hit. Jack refused to let up as he swung again at the backpedalling fighter, who quickly rallied and parried the next axe swipe at the haft, grunting slightly in pain at the strength of the blow, but still managing to halt Jack as he followed through with a backfist enhanced with that same blue glow that clocked Jack on the nose as he ducked his head back in an effort to avoid the hit.
Klast struck with another punch, before Jack threw his arm forward to parry, eating the hit on his shoulder as he closed the distance. Klast shuffled back again before he grunted in surprise and alarm as Jack grabbed a fistful of his long hair, holding him in place.
‘And that’s why my brothers kept teasing me about getting a haircut!’ Jack thought to himself with satisfaction. ‘Come on gauntlets, don’t fail me now!’ Jack thought to himself as he lashed out with a wild punch with his other fist at Klast, who moved to block it as best he could with his limited vision and movement. Jack repeated the attack again and again, being blocked by hands or armour before the metal spike that had grown on the end of his arm punched through Klast’s armour plating and slammed into his stomach.
“Help!” Klast gasped weakly as he struggled even harder to get out of the grapple as Jack lashed out again and again, before another wave of magical pain hit him as he saw the Vivren quickly dash towards him out of the corner of his eye.
Grunting with effort, Jack fought the pain again, this time throwing it off much more easily as he disengaged, with Klast twisting and squirming with all his effort as he pushed away, aggravating his injuries as his stab wounds opened themselves up even more.
Recovering much more quickly than the Vivren expected, Jack drew his plasma rifle and blasted them on full auto, which was absorbed by their armour, but caused them to lash out once again with their wicked spiked chain, before they shuddered mid-attack as they were blasted with a full jolt of electricity as Dante came to his aid once again.
Sensing movement to the side he saw Klast shuffling away, clutching his side as he called to his comrades for assistance.
“Where are you going?” Jack growled as he dashed for the fighter, who to his credit grit his teeth and put up a guard. “I thought you wanted a challenge?”
Klast grunted in exertion as dashed out of range of Jack’s axe, leaping back as their familiar blue glow seemed to surround their body before desperately snapping forward with a flying kick that Jack checked with his elbow as he brought his axe close to his chest, alert for a possible disarm attempt, backing away as Klast followed through with a frantic flurry of punches, before Jack snapped back with another vicious chop with his axe, causing Klast to jump back out of the way.
Exactly the kind of flashy move Jack was waiting for…
“Caltrops'' He whispered, summoning as many as he could into his hand, before quickly tossing them at the ground where Klast was poised to land, the fighter realising too late what had happened as a painful spike of metal went through his foot. Yelling in pain, he lost his footing and tripped, slamming to the floor as many more spikes embedded themselves into his back.
“Shit! Help! Someone!” Klast yelled as Jack drew his gun to finish him off, before he was sent flying, caught off guard with a sudden strike to his side as the force of the impact sent them sprawling. With a grunt of pain Jack landed, before quickly rallying and hopping to his feet, tightening his grip around the handle of his trusty axe as the Redeemer charged towards him, a good half of their armoured form blackened and charred from his previous flamethrower attack.
With a defiant roar, Jack met the charge with one of his own, his axe blocking the maul with the sound of a thunderclap as they collided, trying to overcome the other.
“MY KING!” The Redeemer yelled out. “GRANT ME MY VICTORY THIS NIGHT, OR I SHALL ANNIHILATE YOU FROM EXISTENCE!”
“You’re insane!” Jack growled back as he shoved back, launching a kick at the Redeemer’s knee to try and sweep him off his feet as they both struggled with their clinch, before the Redeemer let go of his maul and threw Jack into the far wall with a crash. Looking up, Jack fully expected to meet another charge but grinned as he saw a huge section of crumbling balcony crash into the Redeemer, knocking him down.
Everyone! Get to the breach in the wall! He heard Chiyo project her ‘voice’ into his mind. I think Sephy has control of the turrets!
Jack looked and saw that where the Redeemer had tried to shoot at him with that stupidly powerful gun of his had formed a decently sized hole that several of the remaining patrons were using to escape.
Looking down Jack saw the Redeemer’s maul near his feet. An unusually crude-looking weapon, it had various strange engravings and markings, almost tribal, perhaps having some sort of sentimental value to the crazed zealot. As the Redeemer got to his feet Jack got there first, and stomped on the haft of the weapon, bending and almost snapping the weapon in two, rendering it useless.
“YOU WILL SUFFER FOR THAT OUTSIDER!” The Redeemer snarled, taking a nasty hit from Jack’s axe on his forearm before he grabbed Jack and bodily smashed him into the wall with a sickening crunch as Jack’s axe clattered to the ground, before he quickly felt it clip back onto his armour. Jack lashed out with a punch that caught The Redeemer on the chin, following up with a headbutt that connected with their nose and caused the cracks on their helmet to rupture even further, before the Redeemer threw a powerful haymaker that rocked Jack back, then grabbed the human, lifting him up above his head with all his strength…
Jack squirmed and struggled to try and fight out of the grip. He could see the floor beneath him, and knew that a slam to the ground would finish him…
“Knife!” He growled as he got his hand free, closing his fist around the handle of a blade as he desperately swiped down, connecting with something as the Redeemer yelled out in pain and dropped Jack to the ground. No sooner had Jack sprung to his feet than he was bodily tackled around the waist, losing his balance as The Redeemer charged again.
Panicking, Jack frantically stabbed at the Redeemer, the metal of his knife pinging off armour plates with each strike, before suddenly he saw a crack between the Redeemer’s helm and shoulder plates where he had damaged it earlier. Aiming for that area, Jack stabbed once, twice, then finally the third time before the Redeemer cracked Jack against one of the stone pillars, before throwing the human several metres. As Jack skidded to a halt he thought he saw a glint of dark blood spatter off his knife as it scattered along the ground, before dissipating as quickly as it appeared.
Swiftly getting his bearings, Jack suddenly heard a sudden loud yelp close by, which quickly erupted into a torrent of horrifying screaming barks. Looking up he saw Dante writhing on the floor, as the Vivren pointed a wand at him, cackling as she maintained her torture spell on the ‘dog’ as he twitsted and shrieked on the floor…
“I’ll send you back to Astara a whimpering shell!” The Vivren sneered at Dante, as she unfurled her spiked chain to lash out at him…
Target motherfucking acquired!
Jack’s Ring of the Berserker flashed a deep scarlet as he charged with a bellowing roar. Sneering, the Vivren ended her spell on Dante, turning to him as Jack felt the familiar pain rend his nerves, with the Vivren’s eyes bulging in shock as Jack kept charging, his jaw set, and his eyes laser focused as he drew his axe and swiped, catching his target with a glancing blow to the shoulder as the Vivren ducked back, drawing her spiked chain to parry his next furious swipe, before he had just enough sense left to brace and get his guard up as The Redeemer caught up to him, grabbing him once again, and throwing him away from the Vivren to smash through a wooden table sending splinters flying.
“YOU DIE TONIGHT OUTSIDER!” The Redeemer roared as he brought up his huge gun to point directly at him, with the twin prongs sparking with powerful green energy…
“Oh no you don’t!” Jack yelled as with a sudden burst of adrenaline he scrambled to his feet, and in a single motion lobbed his axe straight at the Redeemer, who, caught off guard by the desperate move instinctually brought his gun up to block, which whined angrily with the blow as it began to billow a plume of thick black smoke.
“NO!” The Redeemer yelled as the weapon fell apart in his hands “YOUR REDEMPTION IS NIGH!”
Jack dived towards his axe to pick it up, before he was knocked back by a wild thunderous punch from the Redeemer, his massive fist catching him in the shoulder with the force of a sledgehammer. Using the momentum of the move, Jack clipped his axe to his back as he saw the Redeemer begin to charge him, before suddenly, they shuddered and dropped to one knee. Confused, the Redeemer put an arm down to steady themselves, feeling their strength sapped, and rapidly fading away.
And Jack saw why.
Between the helm and shoulderplates of The Redeemer’s armour that Jack had exposed, the same area that Jack had plunged his knife into was now painted crimson as The Redeemer’s blood dripped onto the ground below in a steady stream that had intensified into a torrent as the wound was ripped open wider and wider during the fight…
“OVERCHARGE!” Jack yelled, seizing the moment and putting distance between them as he pulled out his Dominator and fired. The air crackled as the powerful blast of photon energy hurtled towards The Redeemer with deadly accuracy. With a resounding boom, it connected dead centre in the chest with furious force.
Stumbling back, the Redeemer crashed into the wall behind and raised an armoured hand, now fully slick with blood to keep them standing as Jack saw the aftermath of the shot. A gaping, blackened hole now billowed with dark smoke from the charred remains of the Redeemer’s armour. Shorn and melted, Jack could see slight movements within the burned hole, telltale signs that he’d gotten through to flesh.
Placing his hand on his neck, The Redeemer grimaced in pain through wet, ragged gasps, before he glared at Jack with a look of pure hatred. With a roar the Redeemer charged again, no longer caring about the mortal, gushing wound on his neck, picking up speed as he threw all caution to the wind.
"IF I FALL, YOU FALL WITH ME! FOR THE EMERALD KING!”
Jack got his plasma rifle up and fired a 3-round burst, the heavy bolts of green energy blasting the Redeemer between his chest and left shoulder, two of the rounds going straight out the other side. Jack fired another burst as the Redeemer slowed down, aiming closer to the centre, with only one shot going all the way through. The Redeemer gasped for breath with lungs that were no longer working, before finally coming to a stop, the body no longer responding to the will of the mind.
“Redeem this!” Jack snarled, as he raised his gun further up and put three bolts of plasma straight through the Redeemer’s brain, as the dead Ogar slammed to the ground. “Cunt.”
“Jack! Nika! Come on!” Alora called from the breach, as she waved her wand and pointed it towards him, as Jack felt a wave of warm energy envelop him and numb the pain he was feeling. He saw Dante blink over to them while Sephy gave the ‘dog’ some covering fire, as he saw the Vivren lash out at one of the overhead turrets keeping her occupied. A few errant shots were sent their way, but they were easily deflected by a shield that Chiyo had summoned, with the Ilithii even having the chance to move a few of the unconscious bodies of bar patrons next to the walls out of harm’s way.
“Jack, you good?” He heard a familiar voice as Nika bounded up beside him. “Let’s go!”
“Yeah…” Jack nodded, feeling dazed as he stared at the smouldering corpse of The Redeemer, before he allowed Nika to pull him into action, forcing him to get moving while she quickly pointed her scanner at the dead body.
“Are we all good?” Jack asked as he stumbled over to the breach, spinning around to give Nika some cover, as the Kizun quickly made a detour to the weakly crawling body of Klast, swiftly executing him with two point-blank shots to the head.
We’re alive at least. Chiyo confirmed as she pulled out her Cane of Travel. Get ready to run!
“Head back to the shuttleport!” Alora called out.
Don’t actually do that, Alora’s fooling them by speaking out loud, Chiyo confirmed as she channelled power into her cane, using it as a focus to cast a spell. The thing I’m casting is a weaker version of that potion you took at ScrapHaven, Jack, but will affect all of us. Just stay close! I already cast another spell to work out the optimal route.
“Got it,” Nika replied as Jack nodded in agreement.
As Chiyo waved the cane around, pointing it at all members of the group, Jack felt much lighter on his feet, his heart pounding in his chest as they allowed Alora and Chiyo to lead the way, but not before Nika dropped a smoke grenade behind them to cover their retreat.
“I’ve got the turrets on an auto-cycle, they’ll keep the Regulators pinned down unless they have any outside,” Sephy whispered as they quickly ducked down an alleyway, easily hopping over a sleeping drunk as they navigated the maze-like streets, avoiding trouble as they soon found themselves at the waterfront.
“I think we’ve given them the slip! Now where the hell do we go?” Nika asked as they heard several yells and shouts in the distance behind them..
“Turn right!” Alora ordered, not stopping as she ran the fastest Jack had ever seen the Eladrie accomplish. “They’re at the far end!”
“You’re trusting them after that shit?” Sephy asked. “Seriously?”
The Corvin Enterprises shuttle has already left, Chiyo pointed out. We don’t have much choice if we want to get out of here. However, I think the crew were honest with us, or at least believe themselves to be.
“Guess the Run is still on, but I don’t like it.” Nika shrugged.
“Neither do I, but hopefully things will have cooled off by the time we get back and we won’t have any problems,” Jack reasoned. “I think that’s them up ahead.” He pointed up ahead in the darkness, and it took the others a few seconds for their eyes to adjust.
“Anyone behind us?” Alora asked as they got closer.
Nobody, Chiyo confirmed as the group gave a collective sigh of relief.
“Good, they look like they’re about to leave without us,” Alora noted. “Let me do the talking,” she whispered before speaking up as loud as she dared to get the crew’s attention. “Captain! We’re ready for a prompt departure!”
Captain Ripples-On-Salt couldn’t keep the surprised expression off his face. “By the gods girl, you look like you’ve been through a riptide! Get on board, all of you! Stay hidden behind cover, we’re ready to go!”
Not even thinking of arguing, the group dashed across the gangplank and immediately crouched out of sight behind the nearest low wall as the giants around them unlatched ropes and manned their stations, quickly and quietly pushing the boat into the currents, as the sounds of chaos behind them began to fade away into the night.
*****
First/Previous
The King will be most displeased...
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submitted by Spartawolf to HFY [link] [comments]

2024.05.30 21:59 CIAHerpes I was a security guard at an island where the global elites meet to sacrifice to the ancient gods.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.
submitted by CIAHerpes to mrcreeps [link] [comments]

2024.05.30 21:59 CIAHerpes I was a security guard at an island where the global elites meet to sacrifice to the ancient gods.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.
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2024.05.30 21:59 CIAHerpes I was a security guard at an island where the global elites meet to sacrifice to the ancient gods.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.
submitted by CIAHerpes to creepypasta [link] [comments]

2024.05.30 21:58 CIAHerpes I was a security guard at an island where the global elites meet to sacrifice to the ancient gods.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.
submitted by CIAHerpes to scaryjujuarmy [link] [comments]

2024.05.30 21:58 CIAHerpes I was a security guard at an island where the global elites meet to sacrifice to the ancient gods.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.
submitted by CIAHerpes to TheDarkGathering [link] [comments]

2024.05.30 21:57 CIAHerpes I was a security guard at an island where the global elites meet to sacrifice to the ancient gods.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.
submitted by CIAHerpes to LighthouseHorror [link] [comments]

2024.05.30 21:57 CIAHerpes I was a security guard at an island where the global elites meet to sacrifice to the ancient gods.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.
submitted by CIAHerpes to ZakBabyTV_Stories [link] [comments]

2024.05.30 21:57 CIAHerpes I was a security guard at an island where the global elites meet to sacrifice to the ancient gods.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.
submitted by CIAHerpes to horrorstories [link] [comments]

2024.05.30 21:56 CIAHerpes I was a security guard at an island where the global elites meet to sacrifice to the ancient gods.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.
submitted by CIAHerpes to Horror_stories [link] [comments]

2024.05.30 21:56 CIAHerpes I was a security guard at an island where the global elites meet to sacrifice to the ancient gods.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.
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2024.05.30 18:24 Dot200 [The Last Prince of Rennaya] Chapter 61: Complete Isolation

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The Final Chapter of Volume 1
Winds had started to pick up at alarming speeds all over the planet, while large chasms and crevices cracked open, filling up to the brim with lava. Continuous series of disasters rampaged all over the world, as tectonic plates crashed into each other and slowed down to a halt. Rennaya's temperature rose at a rapid rate, as every volcano on the planet erupted and placed the surface in an irreversible state.
Akio had completely sealed the planet's fate. He looked up at the ashe-colored sky, wondering if he had done enough. "My sons... Hopefully, we will meet again soon."
His heart, connected via iko to Rennaya's core, stopped, simultaneously signalling the detonation. The Elder's body, lifeless, an empty husk, began to crumble apart like clay but was soon engulfed in a blazing fire and light as the world around them began to collapse. With multiple series of earthquakes and eruptions, all preparing for the last.
Mado and Atlas, struggled to cut down their restraints, tying them to the dying planet. After another second of futile attempts, they both looked at each other, in despair. The same thoughts crossed both of their minds at the same time and without a word, they nodded, then proceeded to free each other, with beams of ice, freezing the ominous hands holding them down. In less than a second of being free, they both teleported, instantly going their separate ways.
On Galaico's island...
Calypso had just arrived, smirking as she walked up to her brother's body-less head on the beachside the uninhabited island, which, he fortunately landed on. However, confused and regretting his decisions more than ever, the island was now on fire and beginning to fall apart. Lava streamed all over the island, closing in on him.
"I thought, you would have been washed away by the waves by now." She teased.
The prince scoffed. "Please, stop with the remarks already. I'm not in the mood."
She picked her brother's head up, and hugged him, making him suffocate a little. "Aww, is poor little Gali, in a bad mood? I'll make you feel better."
Galaico was losing his patience, but he decided to keep calm, for there was no telling what his sister would do to him. "You're... Hurting.... Me."
She smiled and raised him to eye level. "Hahaha, oops, my bad. Let's get you a new body, as soon as possible."
Suddenly, the ground began to shake and rise, violently. Calypso glanced around, confused. "What's going on?"
Galaico spoke up earnestly. "I've been dreading the worst, but I've been sensing, strange iko at work, affecting the planet, although I'm not sure, who's doing it and what they aim to do. However I can tell, this planet does not have much longer."
The princess cursed, realizing that she had been too distracted. Frantically, she threw her senses all over, realizing what he was talking about. Then jumped up immediately, and leaped into the sky, just in time as the planet began to explode. The island they were standing on, had erupted upwards, along with waves of ocean water, then lava and debris from continental plates.
Calypso flew, as fast as she could, trying to escape to the sky. The atmosphere had begun to leak and started dissipating, making, it hard for them to breathe. She reinforced herself with iko, then yelled out, cursing her powerlessness, as the blast closed in, and was about to overtake them, with fatal speed.
In the nick of time, Atlas appeared before his children. They cried out in relief and despair at the same time. But more relieved as he grabbed hold of them, shifting into third gear. Then, teleported out as fast as he could, aiming for the Pandora. As the blast, continued to destroy ships of allies, and enemies alike, all around them.
Mado was facing a much similar situation, as he tried to escape the explosion at his top speed, teleporting when he had the energy. However, his side effects were taking over, hindering him at the worst moment.
The blast scarred his back, and his life began flashing before his eyes. He was close to the Alzora, the Kirosian command ship, but would not have the strength to reach it.
"So this is how I die." He chuckled to himself, as he was thrown off by a delayed shockwave and watched, the fire reach for him in the stratosphere. However, appearing, out of nowhere, Rael manifested riding a large, black dragon.
"Brother!" He yelled, while the dragon, grabbed hold of him, just as the blast engulfed them whole. However, at the same time, cracks appeared all over their vicinity, allowing them to teleport away in the nick of time.
Seven minutes before Rennaya's destruction...
The Hashin carrying the Novas met up en route and made their way together to the new coordinates. Expecting to meet up with their comrades, Thirteen and Nine. However, his life force was nowhere to be found. Instead, they were met with forces of Ceria and Kiros engaged in deadly combat. With occasional drones crashing in from overhead.
They felt their mission difficulty, had just skyrocketed. Some of them wished to go back and join Akio and Roku. However, they were devout to their orders and would stop at nothing to succeed.
The three of them, began to rise to a higher altitude together, turning their cloaks invisible, to avoid the drones and aircrafts flying overhead, from seeing them. Yet, they underestimated the advancements of Cerian tech, as several aircrafts, spotted them with hi-tech radars. Then, began tailing them, firing away, and giving away their location.
The Hashin tried to outmaneuver and lose them. Three raised pebbles into the sky, lodging them in their exhausts and engines, crashing a couple of them into the ground. Seven shot ice pikes at the remaining, as Twenty-one made sure the way forward was clear.
However, they could not outrun, the speed of the Cerian aircrafts, as more joined in to stop them, on Alcra's orders. Three-spoke up, as over one hundred jets and drones tailed them, firing an onslaught, of bullets, missiles, and laser fire. "We won't be able to shake them!"
Hordes of Kaycers, screeched the sky, numbering thousands and raced towards them, for their next meal. Several generals of the Kirosian army wondered what was going on high above them, and ordered anti-artillery to begin shooting all of them down.
Three continued. "You must make sure, they get out of here safely. It's his last order. Seven, hold on to our allies and let Twenty-one clear the way."
Both of them glanced back at him, their throats going dry, as Seven caught, the domes he threw at her. "No! Stick with us!"
Three shook his head, as a massive Kirosian ship spotted them from overhead, and began launching missiles. They were being bombarded from all sides, and only Three's titanium barriers protected them as the others fired back.
"This is the only way... I've treasured our time together, my comrades." He concluded as he clasped, his hands together, crossing three fingers over each other and the middle, index, and thumbs pressed, facing each other. "Forbidden Art, Kaze's Ritual."
With him as the epicentre, a large mountain instantaneously rose up beneath him. Then as the tips touched his toes, high up in the air, a massive volcanic explosion incinerated their assailants, and many soldiers fighting below, as the colossal mushroom cloud, blocked out the sky.
"Three!!" Seven yelled, screaming at the top of her lungs, while the winds pushed the two Hashin, further into the sky. They heard roars, shaking them back to their senses and wondered where it was coming from. Then suddenly, there was a loud gunshot, from a little over 2 kilometres away, with a bullet whizzing right through Twenty-one's left arm.
"Ahk!" He gritted his teeth, while holding his wound, and quickly produced a stone dome, around them, reinforcing it with iko.
"There's no way, a normal bullet, could have harmed you!" Seven, cried out, quickly coming to his aid, and frosting over his wound. She was now, holding on to all four of the domes, carrying Tobi and the Novas.
Twenty-one grunted as she sealed his wound. "No it has to be him, Jurgun, a Dai Hito they call the Sniper King. So he's most likely not nearby. Keep your guard up."
They heard another, roar, shaking them down to their bones. Then suddenly, Twenty-one pushed Seven back, while breaking the dome, open in half and sending her and the allies up with all of his might. Just as an emerald green dragon, chomped through the remaining and grabbed him by his left arm, as it soared past, with incredible speed.
Twenty-one, couldn't believe they existed, but he knew this wasn't the time to be shocked. He concentrated a beam, into his motionless left arm, lodged in the dragon's teeth. "Forbidden Art, Beast Mercy."
It was difficult for him to move, at the speed and winds, the dragon was producing, however, in moments, it began to plunge, down, as lava coursed through its innards, burning it from the inside out. He was finally able to free himself before crashing as his arm had burned off. He cauterized the stub and looked to the sky, hoping Seven was alright, as another loud, but saddened roar ripped through the sky.
Twenty-one cursed. This was the worst-case scenario. Immediately, he took to the sky racing for Seven, as she looked back hoping to see him okay. Only to see jaws, fading in and out of reality, then manifested the full picture of a violet dragon, about to swallow her comerade whole.
"Watch out!" She called back to him.
He couldn't hear her, but seeing her panicked expression made him look back, then instinctively speed up, igniting small rocks under his feet, to rocket faster and escape its jaws, on time.
It roared once more in frustration, and then phenomenally, its scales began to ripple and shimmer in a wave, from its tail to its throat, and out of its mouth as a large sphere of purple fire, began to take shape. A core of violet magma kept it stable, as it gained more heat, supporting the inferno.
Twenty-one looked back at Seven, giving her one last smile, as she got further and further away. "You can do this Seven."
He placed his remaining hand in front and ignited, the last rocks he had around him. They were up in the air and he wouldn't be able to summon more on time. However, he still persisted and sacrificed bits of himself, to continuously charge up his attack.
Suddenly, broken stones began dropping in his vicinity. He caught them, before they could fall any further, realizing Seven, broke apart the rest of his dome, and sent it back. They came overheated, with her help.
He smiled, knowing he wasn't alone, as the sphere grew bigger, breaking and combining together to form a miniature sun, rotating in front of his palms. Just as the violet dragon, released its flames.
He grunted, yelling out to the wind, as he poured in all of his might, for Seven, was still in range. "Forbidden Art, Star Torrent!"
The miniature sun, instantly grew four times bigger, and then cracked open, spilling a beam that collided with the violet flames of the purple dragon. He yelled at the top of his lungs, as he shifted into third gear, then slowly started to ascend to the next with his veins, flashing from orange lavaish marks to a near red and black.
The beam slowly began to eat away at the dragon's wave, however, Twenty-one was beginning to burn up, and his body, would not be able to make it. He knew the dragon had much more stamina than he could handle.
Suddenly though, there was a loud bang, leaving a hole opening up in his chest. He began to drop, not before twisting his beam, to erupt a massive explosion. Engulfing the dragon and his corpse whole, while Seven yelled out to the wind once more.
Jurgun, a middle-aged looking man at an average height, but carried a stubborn expression, floated, 1 km away, holding his sniper over, his shoulder. "That's another Hashin down. Now where did the other go."
He paused to teleport as the shockwave reached his previous position. "Well, no use looking for her now. Something strange is happening, I better order the troops to retreat."
Near the stratosphere, with Seven holding onto the allies...
Frantically, she raced towards space, finally about to reach her destination. Then, she suddenly felt immense wind and pressure reverberating through the atmosphere, causing intense turbulence on her journey. Rennaya had started to self-destruct.
She looked back, seeing cracks, devastating the face of the planet, as it entered the final stage of an end of a world. She then glanced back up, as a shuttle, sent by Commander Ba'jin, appeared out of its camouflage, opening its bay doors, as Azurian soldiers beckoned her to hurry up.
They were just over a kilometre above her. However, Rennaya, could not wait, exploding at the worst possible time.
"No!" She screamed, as she instinctively threw the four domes ahead of her, using ice to maintain her trajectory, as she tried to outrun the blast. One by one the domes crashed into the shuttle, and took a few of the soldiers in, as they tried to catch them, shaking the shuttle off course, just as the last one whizzed by.
The Hashin cursed, unable to believe what had just happened. The shuttle immediately took off as the shockwave continued to throw it off balance.
She knew, she had failed her comrades, their last order to get everyone out safely. Now as the dome, drifted off into the abyss of space, she was terrified everything was in vain.
However, she could not give up, her will wouldn't let her as she clasped her hands together and covered herself in iko, just as she was about to run out of air. "Forbidden Art! Limit Breaker."
Her eyes began to glow, while her hair flashed full silver and then settled, however, her skin began to burn from the planet's heat. In split seconds, she hopped off a platform of ice aiming to touch the dome, as it spun out of control, constantly being hit by the blast and debris.
She reached out to touch it. Inching as much as she could, till finally, her index finger graced it. She screamed, although she could no longer hear herself, and poured in all of her might, pushing the dome further into the abyss of space. "Forbidden Art, Complete Isolation!"
The dome, frosted over, thousands of times, filling air and maintaining heat within, while protecting, the occupant from the cold of space. Seven had often heard, that iko, could, sometimes maintain itself, even after its user's death, depending on their instructions.
She had never believed it. Seeing only explainable circumstances, however now more than ever. She was praying for it to be the case.
She trusted her comrades, to have made their domes capable to withstand space, as they have often done in training for recovery missions. However, it was all up to the victim's luck, if they would be able to survive and find a habitable planet.
Tears, rolled down her cheek, as Rennaya's gravity pulled her back in and engulfed her in its flames. She hoped, she had done enough, as she watched the dome float on. Escaping the blast and spinning, lost in space...
Thanks for reading this far, any critic or feedback are welcome. The next chapter 'Somber Solitude,' will drop on June 29th. I'm trying to make it my goal to write at least 5-8 more chapters in that time, wish me luck!
I also decided I'll post the timeline tomorrow, which covers up to the Dark King's arrival so that you can stay up to date.
Previous First Chapter Patreon Royal Road Next
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2024.05.30 18:10 Dot200 The Last Prince of Rennaya 61 Complete Isolation

Previous First Chapter Patreon Royal Road Next
The Final Chapter of Volume 1
Winds had started to pick up at alarming speeds all over the planet, while large chasms and crevices cracked open, filling up to the brim with lava. Continuous series of disasters rampaged all over the world, as tectonic plates crashed into each other and slowed down to a halt. Rennaya's temperature rose at a rapid rate, as every volcano on the planet erupted and placed the surface in an irreversible state.
Akio had completely sealed the planet's fate. He looked up at the ashe-colored sky, wondering if he had done enough. "My sons... Hopefully, we will meet again soon."
His heart, connected via iko to Rennaya's core, stopped, simultaneously signalling the detonation. The Elder's body, lifeless, an empty husk, began to crumble apart like clay but was soon engulfed in a blazing fire and light as the world around them began to collapse. With multiple series of earthquakes and eruptions, all preparing for the last.
Mado and Atlas, struggled to cut down their restraints, tying them to the dying planet. After another second of futile attempts, they both looked at each other, in despair. The same thoughts crossed both of their minds at the same time and without a word, they nodded, then proceeded to free each other, with beams of ice, freezing the ominous hands holding them down. In less than a second of being free, they both teleported, instantly going their separate ways.
On Galaico's island...
Calypso had just arrived, smirking as she walked up to her brother's body-less head on the beachside the uninhabited island, which, he fortunately landed on. However, confused and regretting his decisions more than ever, the island was now on fire and beginning to fall apart. Lava streamed all over the island, closing in on him.
"I thought, you would have been washed away by the waves by now." She teased.
The prince scoffed. "Please, stop with the remarks already. I'm not in the mood."
She picked her brother's head up, and hugged him, making him suffocate a little. "Aww, is poor little Gali, in a bad mood? I'll make you feel better."
Galaico was losing his patience, but he decided to keep calm, for there was no telling what his sister would do to him. "You're... Hurting.... Me."
She smiled and raised him to eye level. "Hahaha, oops, my bad. Let's get you a new body, as soon as possible."
Suddenly, the ground began to shake and rise, violently. Calypso glanced around, confused. "What's going on?"
Galaico spoke up earnestly. "I've been dreading the worst, but I've been sensing, strange iko at work, affecting the planet, although I'm not sure, who's doing it and what they aim to do. However I can tell, this planet does not have much longer."
The princess cursed, realizing that she had been too distracted. Frantically, she threw her senses all over, realizing what he was talking about. Then jumped up immediately, and leaped into the sky, just in time as the planet began to explode. The island they were standing on, had erupted upwards, along with waves of ocean water, then lava and debris from continental plates.
Calypso flew, as fast as she could, trying to escape to the sky. The atmosphere had begun to leak and started dissipating, making, it hard for them to breathe. She reinforced herself with iko, then yelled out, cursing her powerlessness, as the blast closed in, and was about to overtake them, with fatal speed.
In the nick of time, Atlas appeared before his children. They cried out in relief and despair at the same time. But more relieved as he grabbed hold of them, shifting into third gear. Then, teleported out as fast as he could, aiming for the Pandora. As the blast, continued to destroy ships of allies, and enemies alike, all around them.
Mado was facing a much similar situation, as he tried to escape the explosion at his top speed, teleporting when he had the energy. However, his side effects were taking over, hindering him at the worst moment.
The blast scarred his back, and his life began flashing before his eyes. He was close to the Alzora, the Kirosian command ship, but would not have the strength to reach it.
"So this is how I die." He chuckled to himself, as he was thrown off by a delayed shockwave and watched, the fire reach for him in the stratosphere. However, appearing, out of nowhere, Rael manifested riding a large, black dragon.
"Brother!" He yelled, while the dragon, grabbed hold of him, just as the blast engulfed them whole. However, at the same time, cracks appeared all over their vicinity, allowing them to teleport away in the nick of time.
Seven minutes before Rennaya's destruction...
The Hashin carrying the Novas met up en route and made their way together to the new coordinates. Expecting to meet up with their comrades, Thirteen and Nine. However, his life force was nowhere to be found. Instead, they were met with forces of Ceria and Kiros engaged in deadly combat. With occasional drones crashing in from overhead.
They felt their mission difficulty, had just skyrocketed. Some of them wished to go back and join Akio and Roku. However, they were devout to their orders and would stop at nothing to succeed.
The three of them, began to rise to a higher altitude together, turning their cloaks invisible, to avoid the drones and aircrafts flying overhead, from seeing them. Yet, they underestimated the advancements of Cerian tech, as several aircrafts, spotted them with hi-tech radars. Then, began tailing them, firing away, and giving away their location.
The Hashin tried to outmaneuver and lose them. Three raised pebbles into the sky, lodging them in their exhausts and engines, crashing a couple of them into the ground. Seven shot ice pikes at the remaining, as Twenty-one made sure the way forward was clear.
However, they could not outrun, the speed of the Cerian aircrafts, as more joined in to stop them, on Alcra's orders. Three-spoke up, as over one hundred jets and drones tailed them, firing an onslaught, of bullets, missiles, and laser fire. "We won't be able to shake them!"
Hordes of Kaycers, screeched the sky, numbering thousands and raced towards them, for their next meal. Several generals of the Kirosian army wondered what was going on high above them, and ordered anti-artillery to begin shooting all of them down.
Three continued. "You must make sure, they get out of here safely. It's his last order. Seven, hold on to our allies and let Twenty-one clear the way."
Both of them glanced back at him, their throats going dry, as Seven caught, the domes he threw at her. "No! Stick with us!"
Three shook his head, as a massive Kirosian ship spotted them from overhead, and began launching missiles. They were being bombarded from all sides, and only Three's titanium barriers protected them as the others fired back.
"This is the only way... I've treasured our time together, my comrades." He concluded as he clasped, his hands together, crossing three fingers over each other and the middle, index, and thumbs pressed, facing each other. "Forbidden Art, Kaze's Ritual."
With him as the epicentre, a large mountain instantaneously rose up beneath him. Then as the tips touched his toes, high up in the air, a massive volcanic explosion incinerated their assailants, and many soldiers fighting below, as the colossal mushroom cloud, blocked out the sky.
"Three!!" Seven yelled, screaming at the top of her lungs, while the winds pushed the two Hashin, further into the sky. They heard roars, shaking them back to their senses and wondered where it was coming from. Then suddenly, there was a loud gunshot, from a little over 2 kilometres away, with a bullet whizzing right through Twenty-one's left arm.
"Ahk!" He gritted his teeth, while holding his wound, and quickly produced a stone dome, around them, reinforcing it with iko.
"There's no way, a normal bullet, could have harmed you!" Seven, cried out, quickly coming to his aid, and frosting over his wound. She was now, holding on to all four of the domes, carrying Tobi and the Novas.
Twenty-one grunted as she sealed his wound. "No it has to be him, Jurgun, a Dai Hito they call the Sniper King. So he's most likely not nearby. Keep your guard up."
They heard another, roar, shaking them down to their bones. Then suddenly, Twenty-one pushed Seven back, while breaking the dome, open in half and sending her and the allies up with all of his might. Just as an emerald green dragon, chomped through the remaining and grabbed him by his left arm, as it soared past, with incredible speed.
Twenty-one, couldn't believe they existed, but he knew this wasn't the time to be shocked. He concentrated a beam, into his motionless left arm, lodged in the dragon's teeth. "Forbidden Art, Beast Mercy."
It was difficult for him to move, at the speed and winds, the dragon was producing, however, in moments, it began to plunge, down, as lava coursed through its innards, burning it from the inside out. He was finally able to free himself before crashing as his arm had burned off. He cauterized the stub and looked to the sky, hoping Seven was alright, as another loud, but saddened roar ripped through the sky.
Twenty-one cursed. This was the worst-case scenario. Immediately, he took to the sky racing for Seven, as she looked back hoping to see him okay. Only to see jaws, fading in and out of reality, then manifested the full picture of a violet dragon, about to swallow her comerade whole.
"Watch out!" She called back to him.
He couldn't hear her, but seeing her panicked expression made him look back, then instinctively speed up, igniting small rocks under his feet, to rocket faster and escape its jaws, on time.
It roared once more in frustration, and then phenomenally, its scales began to ripple and shimmer in a wave, from its tail to its throat, and out of its mouth as a large sphere of purple fire, began to take shape. A core of violet magma kept it stable, as it gained more heat, supporting the inferno.
Twenty-one looked back at Seven, giving her one last smile, as she got further and further away. "You can do this Seven."
He placed his remaining hand in front and ignited, the last rocks he had around him. They were up in the air and he wouldn't be able to summon more on time. However, he still persisted and sacrificed bits of himself, to continuously charge up his attack.
Suddenly, broken stones began dropping in his vicinity. He caught them, before they could fall any further, realizing Seven, broke apart the rest of his dome, and sent it back. They came overheated, with her help.
He smiled, knowing he wasn't alone, as the sphere grew bigger, breaking and combining together to form a miniature sun, rotating in front of his palms. Just as the violet dragon, released its flames.
He grunted, yelling out to the wind, as he poured in all of his might, for Seven, was still in range. "Forbidden Art, Star Torrent!"
The miniature sun, instantly grew four times bigger, and then cracked open, spilling a beam that collided with the violet flames of the purple dragon. He yelled at the top of his lungs, as he shifted into third gear, then slowly started to ascend to the next with his veins, flashing from orange lavaish marks to a near red and black.
The beam slowly began to eat away at the dragon's wave, however, Twenty-one was beginning to burn up, and his body, would not be able to make it. He knew the dragon had much more stamina than he could handle.
Suddenly though, there was a loud bang, leaving a hole opening up in his chest. He began to drop, not before twisting his beam, to erupt a massive explosion. Engulfing the dragon and his corpse whole, while Seven yelled out to the wind once more.
Jurgun, a middle-aged looking man at an average height, but carried a stubborn expression, floated, 1 km away, holding his sniper over, his shoulder. "That's another Hashin down. Now where did the other go."
He paused to teleport as the shockwave reached his previous position. "Well, no use looking for her now. Something strange is happening, I better order the troops to retreat."
Near the stratosphere, with Seven holding onto the allies...
Frantically, she raced towards space, finally about to reach her destination. Then, she suddenly felt immense wind and pressure reverberating through the atmosphere, causing intense turbulence on her journey. Rennaya had started to self-destruct.
She looked back, seeing cracks, devastating the face of the planet, as it entered the final stage of an end of a world. She then glanced back up, as a shuttle, sent by Commander Ba'jin, appeared out of its camouflage, opening its bay doors, as Azurian soldiers beckoned her to hurry up.
They were just over a kilometre above her. However, Rennaya, could not wait, exploding at the worst possible time.
"No!" She screamed, as she instinctively threw the four domes ahead of her, using ice to maintain her trajectory, as she tried to outrun the blast. One by one the domes crashed into the shuttle, and took a few of the soldiers in, as they tried to catch them, shaking the shuttle off course, just as the last one whizzed by.
The Hashin cursed, unable to believe what had just happened. The shuttle immediately took off as the shockwave continued to throw it off balance.
She knew, she had failed her comrades, their last order to get everyone out safely. Now as the dome, drifted off into the abyss of space, she was terrified everything was in vain.
However, she could not give up, her will wouldn't let her as she clasped her hands together and covered herself in iko, just as she was about to run out of air. "Forbidden Art! Limit Breaker."
Her eyes began to glow, while her hair flashed full silver and then settled, however, her skin began to burn from the planet's heat. In split seconds, she hopped off a platform of ice aiming to touch the dome, as it spun out of control, constantly being hit by the blast and debris.
She reached out to touch it. Inching as much as she could, till finally, her index finger graced it. She screamed, although she could no longer hear herself, and poured in all of her might, pushing the dome further into the abyss of space. "Forbidden Art, Complete Isolation!"
The dome, frosted over, thousands of times, filling air and maintaining heat within, while protecting, the occupant from the cold of space. Seven had often heard, that iko, could, sometimes maintain itself, even after its user's death, depending on their instructions.
She had never believed it. Seeing only explainable circumstances, however now more than ever. She was praying for it to be the case.
She trusted her comrades, to have made their domes capable to withstand space, as they have often done in training for recovery missions. However, it was all up to the victim's luck, if they would be able to survive and find a habitable planet.
Tears, rolled down her cheek, as Rennaya's gravity pulled her back in and engulfed her in its flames. She hoped, she had done enough, as she watched the dome float on. Escaping the blast and spinning, lost in space...
Thanks for reading this far, any critic or feedback are welcome. The next chapter 'Somber Solitude,' will drop on June 29th. I'm trying to make it my goal to write at least 5-8 more chapters in that time, wish me luck!
I also decided I'll post the timeline tomorrow, which covers up to the Dark King's arrival so that you can stay up to date.
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