Sam

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Sam

Post by PiEdude on Sat Jul 31, 2010 12:01 am

Well, it's finally started.

Here's that story about the SA-12.


Sam - Prologue

Few noises disturbed the frigid air of late March.

The street was far from silent. The sounds generated from distant traffic rolled subtly from the city as it trickled through the air and into the outskirts. It was complemented by an orchestra of ambient noises ranging from crickets to upset dogs. Buildings on either side of the unmanageable street were riddled with chipped siding, and shards of broken glass underlying many an empty window frame. Each lot held a patchy lawn littered with stiff, uneven grass. Some were the bountiful estates of the local rat population, the hunting grounds of the homeless population, or in one case, and the perfect place to disappear for the less-than-lawful population.

By the curb in front of one of these abandoned homes sat a slightly dinged up white sedan with a single occupant. A triangular sign on the roof marked it as a pizza delivery car. In the driver’s seat a tall man sat watching the green numbers on the clock. The moment they shifted from 2:59 to 3:00 he went into motion. He reached over to the passenger’s seat to pick up a hotbag containing two empty pizza boxes. He checked the pockets of his blue Domino’s jacket and opened the glove box to reveal a hat with the restaurant’s logo on it. He used the rear view mirror to straighten the hat before stepping out of the car.

The pizza man held the hotbag in one hand, and kept the other in his pocket as he stormed across the lawn, showing false signs of someone who wished to escape the cold or the neighborhood. His head shifted right and left, and he forced himself to shiver. The pizza man knocked on the door the second he made it past the two steps leading up the porch. There were no lights on in the house that were visible from the outside, and most sane people would have simply left after the first few minutes with the excuse that they had assumed nobody was home.

The pizza man knocked again. Rotting floorboards cracked underneath his unmoving feet as he waited. Finally, after nearly fifteen minutes, heavy footsteps came from the inside the house. The door did not feature a peephole and the porch could not be seen clearly from any window. The door swung open to reveal a man with bags under his bloodshot eyes. The pizza man spoke, “I’ve got two pepperoni for a…” he stopped for a moment to read something written on a piece of paper taped to the hotbag, “170-”

“You got the wrong place.” The other man interrupted.

The pizza man gave a confused look, before turning his head out to the mailbox back near the street. The iron numbers going down its post were one, seven, and zero. “Isn’t this Forest Avenue?”

The other shook his head. “This isn’t even the right neighborhood man. I think you should go.”

He tried to close the door, but the pizza man put his foot in the way.

“Could you give me some directions then?”

“No, I can’t. Now get out of here bef-“

“Alright, alright, just wait a sec,” The pizza man interrupted. “One more thing,”

The other one rolled his eyes. “What?”

Two pops from a silenced pistol rang out as shots exploded through the hotbag. The man in the house dropped to the ground, blood soon flowing from the two fresh holes in his forehead. There was no exit wound.

The “pizza delivery man” shook the hot casings from his jacket pocket. He felt the fire retardant material that he’d personally sewn in to ensure it had held against the heat. He checked to make sure that the body did not obstruct the path of the door before closing it. The pizza man lightly set down the damaged hotbag, taking care to avoid the growing pool of blood that seeped from the other man’s face. He pulled the pistol from his pocket and felt the top of the suppressor to ensure that the air was still hot on the inside.

He did a quick once over of the room. It was largely devoid of any furniture small enough to be easily carried out the door. There clearly wasn’t much beyond it. No lights had been on, eliminating the possibility of any activity on the rest of the first floor. The basements in these abandoned houses were nearly always flooded, neutralizing that option as well. The pizza man proceeded towards the staircase facing the front door. He moved slowly and deliberately, listening intently for any out of place noises, stopping every time a step creaked beneath his feet. When he reached the top, he aimed his weapon slowly around the corner to find nothing but a pitch black hallway. He walked undeterred through the dark, peering through each open door and seeing only empty rooms.

He looked up to the ceiling to find a hanging chain. He pulled it causing a metal staircase to the attic above to unfold downward. There was a light at the top of this one, and an odd, chemical smell rapidly filled the hall. The man steadily ascended the stairs, keeping his pistol aimed ahead of him. Each step upward caused a steel plank to bend. The air was deathly still, and warm. Just as the pizza man’s head rose above the attic floor, a loud BANG reverberated through the tightly enclosed walls.

In the attic, a small pale man pumped an empty shell out of his shotgun. The barrel shook as he kept it aimed towards the space he had just shot. He was breathing heavily, and in gasps. His heart raged in his chest, seeming to rip it apart from the inside. He wiped some sweat from his face. His jittery, vein-filled eyes never left the opening in the attic floor.

The seconds passed like hours. The only sound the pale man could hear was his own shallow breathing, and the massive amount of ringing from his lack of ear protection. His mouth was dry. Finally, after what could have been a decade of waiting, he lowered the gun, satisfied. This changed immediately when the man he’d just shot returned to the top of the stairs. He stepped up through to the attic as he had before, this time getting his entire body in place at the top of the stairs. “NO!” The other man screamed as he fired again. A dozen tiny holes exploded into place on the man’s blue jacket, but he hardly seemed to notice.

The pizza man turned to the man with the shotgun, and kept walking, his pistol hanging loosely in his hand by his side. The other man kept firing, a third shot, a fourth, a fifth, and so on, but only met the same result. He pumped shell after shell out of the gun, and soon seven shells sat on the floor next to him. By this time, the other man was only two or three feet away. The front of his jacket was now shredded, bits of white stuffing jutting and hanging out.

The attic man prepared to pump out another empty shell, but this time the front of the gun was grabbed by the pizza man, and the stock of it was shoved violently into his nose. He lost grip of his gun as the pizza man effortlessly ripped it from his arms. He turned it around and aimed it squarely at his face. The pizza man dropped his pistol and pumped out the eighth shell.

“You think you can solve all your problems like this?” The pizza man asked, waving the shotgun around loosely in his left hand. “You people are all the same. You think you can just aim a gun at your problems and make it go away. Well guess what Jon,” The other man’s eyes opened even wider at that. He knew his name. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed the barrel of the shotgun to Jon’s forehead. “But you are.”

The pizza man pulled the trigger, but knew his own problems could not be dealt with as easily.
_______________________________________________________________

Half of the pizza man’s ride home was silent. By the first red light, when he no longer felt it necessary to hear outside the car, the pizza man turned on the radio. He didn’t know the station, but the song that came on was just starting, and it was one he knew well. The strings began in an elegant rhythm, quickly rising and falling to create a melodic beat, before being joined by the lyrics, and percussions:

I used to rule the world,
Seas would rise when I gave the word.
Now in the morning I sleep alone,
Sweep the streets I used to roam.

Almost unconsciously, the man began to tap his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the familiar melody.

I used to roll the dice,
Feel the fear in my enemy’s eyes.
Listen as the crowd would sing:
“Now the old king is dead, long live the king!”


He was humming it now.

One minute I held the key,
Next the walls were closed on me.
And I discovered my castles stand,
Upon pillars of sand, pillars of sand.


At this point he bobbed his head slightly. He sang the next part out loud.

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing,
Roman cavalry choirs are singing.
Be my mirror, my sword and shield,
My missionaries in a foreign field.
For some reason I can’t explain,
Once you go there was never, never an honest word.
That was when I ruled the world
.”


Last edited by PiEdude on Mon Feb 07, 2011 4:44 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Re: Sam

Post by tiny tim on Sat Jul 31, 2010 1:19 am

Nice story so far. Keep it up!

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Re: Sam

Post by XNate02 on Sat Jul 31, 2010 8:22 am

Keep goin!
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Re: Sam

Post by Offensive Bias on Mon Aug 02, 2010 6:18 am

You had me at "Roman cavalry".

But seriously, the story was superbly written. The description of the neighbourhood was excellent, it gave its image rather well. The action sequences were the right length, nothing dragged on. But! My only complaint is the song lyrics. They were in there for longer than necessary.

Awesome job, PiE!
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Re: Sam

Post by Gold Spartan on Mon Aug 02, 2010 9:47 am

Offensive Bias wrote:You had me at "Roman cavalry".

But seriously, the story was superbly written. The description of the neighbourhood was excellent, it gave its image rather well. The action sequences were the right length, nothing dragged on. But! My only complaint is the song lyrics. They were in there for longer than necessary.
Awesome job, PiE!
Funny, you loved those in Lord of the Rings.
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Re: Sam

Post by Offensive Bias on Mon Aug 02, 2010 9:49 am

That's because Tolkien is a genius of literature. Coldplay aren't.
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Re: Sam

Post by RX on Fri Aug 06, 2010 11:54 am

Great story so far ^_^
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Re: Sam

Post by PiEdude on Mon Feb 07, 2011 4:45 pm

Revised the prologue.
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Re: Sam

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