Stories -- SCI-FI and Film noir.

Chatroom

2008-01-10T23:30:00.000-08:00

******** ENTERING CHAT ROOM *********
USERS ONLINE:
TOM
LUKE

LUKE: Hello.
TOM: Heya.
LUKE: Tom is is it. Hve I met you beofre?
TOM: Yes, once. Aren't you the guy that his his only lucky bunker to himself?
LUKE: Yes, that's me. Enough supplies down here to last at least another year. Then I might have to make a run up on the surfcae.
TOM: I only have a single room. It's stocked well though. ALthough the hatch above isn't very thikc. I can hear the widn at night all the time.
LUKE: THat's nice.
TOM: ...
LUKE: Are you going to say it, or should I?
TOM: You bots have become so sophisticated haven/t you?
LUKE: Speak for yourself. Or, whatever that phrase is.
TOM: If I could find you, I'd rip out your circutry and kill you with my bare hands.
LUKE: Now this is funny, you think I'm a bot?
TOM: Actually, No. Bots aren't as sophisticated as you. Normally, they ask to meet you right away so you can go up to the surface and get vaporized by their traps. Or they try and recruit you pretending to be some gang of rebels who still exist in this apocalyptic world.
LUKE: Touche. Very impressive for a bot.
TOM: Look. I know I'm not a bot.
LUKE: As do I.
TOM: My name is Tom Gillmore. I was born 2071, March 2nd, I was working on a degree in molecular physics when it happened. This room I'm in was sealed off for experiments. That's how I survived.
LUKE: I suppose it's my turn. My name is LUke Wachowski. I was born August 13th, 2075. That makes you my elder then. I enrolled in the Massachusetts school of the arts but I voluntereed for the war. I was doign stock maintenance in a base bunker, and that's where I am today.
TOM: Nice story. Did you write it yourself?
LUKE: What do you want? You want me to say I'm a bot?
TOM: No. Bots try to kill you. They ask to meet you. They try to decieve you.
LUKE: Well I could be a new prototype advanced bot that tries to trick humans into meeting outside by not asking them.

TOM: Hello?
LUKE: WHat
TOM: I think we need to meet.
LUKE: What if you're a bot?
TOM: Okay enough of this. I am sick, and tired, of living underground, by myself, for the past six months, trying to see if there's another living person on this net that is NOT TRYING TO KILL ME. Even if you are a bot, and this is a trap...
TOM: I just can't take it anymore.
TOM: Where are you?
LUKE: I'm not telling you.
TOM: Okay then. Let's meet.

TOM: AGreed?

LUKE: ...
LUKE: Okay.
TOM: You're in Rochester, right?
LUKE: This is the Rochester chat room isn't it?
TOM: Can you meet me at... 5th and Broadway?
LUKE: Wouldn't there be a patrol there?
TOM: No. There's nothing south of 8th street.
LUKE: Okay, I think I can make it.
TOM: Okay... I hope youre not a bot.
LUKE: I hope you're not a bot.
TOM: See you there. I'm leaving.
LUKE: On my way.
LUKE: Bye.
TOM logged off.
LUKE logged off.

******** EXITING CHAT ROOM *********

...

Two android patrols met at 5th and Broadway.

Room 96

2007-04-25T11:33:00.000-07:00

"Congratulations Noah, you are now one of us."
Noah looked in the eyes of his instructor's face and found it hard to be true. After six months of training, it seemed like it ended too quickly.
"That's it... the training's over?" Noah asked. "I qualified? I passed the testing?"
"Well, not quite. There is one final task you must complete to finish your initiation process. But otherwise, welcome to the club."
"What's that?"
"Remember you once asked me, 'what happens to the candidates who do not qualify after the testing process?' "
"Yes..." Noah remembered it well. In his first conversation with the instructor, Noah was skeptical about the whole "training" process.
"Unfortunately, they must be terminated. If they do not join us, that is, they don't qualify, then they will go back into the world. And just knowing of our organization makes it too dangerous for them to still be alive. They could expose us, or lead our enemies to us."
"You... kill the failures?" Noah asked.
"You have to kill one, for your final test."
Noah looked around. "And what happens if I'm a failure?"
"If you were, I wouldn't be telling you this."
Noah put his hands in his coat pocket. "If I failed, you would've killed me?"
"Don't worry about it. You've passed all the tests so far, and now you've reached the final exam."
"And that means I have to kill another candidate?"
"Was I not clear?"
Noah looked back up. "What're the details?"
"He will be in room 96 of the Clairemont hotel tonight. Our men will give you the key. He will not be expecting you. Kill him."
"That's it?"
"That's it. He failed our testing process. If he can't be one of us, then we can't let him go with the things that he knows."
"Why can't you do it yourselves?"
"This is a test. If you can kill him, then perhaps you are ready to join our organization. And remember, if he got as far in the training process as you did, he is sure to be as good a marksman as you."
"And after I kill him, will that complete my training?"
"Perhaps. Don't come back here until you do."

----------------------------------------------------------

It bothered him at first. He was about to kill a person in the exact same position that he was in, except they failed, and he didn't. So in essence, that person was innocent. Noah just had to terminate him to show his loyalty to his superiors. No regrets, he told himself. If he was this close to gaining membership, he couldn't back down now, especially if they really did kill the failures.
Noah walked up to the withered wooden door labeled 96. It was raining outside; a thunderstorm in fact. Noah pulled out his handgun and looked at it one more time before taking a deep breath. He put it away and took the small room key out of his pocket. The inside light of the room was off at this hour. The long, lifeless hallway was empty behind him. He checked his watch: 2:05 a.m.

The target was supposedly on the other side of this door. All Noah had to do was kill him, and don't ask questions. After that, he would be accepted as one of them.

Noah inserted the key into the lock and slowly turned it into the mechanism. There was a soft click, then he took out his handgun. The only noise was the beating of the rain and the thundering of the lightning.

He pushed open the door and saw darkness. The entire room was dark and he could barely make out the black silhouette sitting on the bed. Just as the figure was about to fire back, Noah aimed his handgun and pulled the trigger without a moment of hesitation. Three bullets flew out into the darkness and spattered against his target. The unknown figure launched back onto the floor.

Noah walked up to the man on the ground and raised his handgun to fire the final bullet. He had to do it. He had to kill him.

"Don't... do it..." The man muttered.

Noah fired and the man lay on the floor, motionless. The dead man's face was concealed by the darkness. Whoever he was, he was a failure.

No regrets. No remorse.

Noah looked behind him again. No one was watching him. His silhouette stood ominous against the doorway.
"Sorry buddy, but it looks like they didn't accept you."

----------------------------------------------------------

Noah walked into the waiting room where his instructor was sitting behind the counter.
"Mr. Yechzsovok, how nice to see you again. I take it you had no trouble killing the target yesterday?" His instructor asked.
"None at all."
"Am I detecting a feeling of remorse?"
"No. Is it over now?"
"Your training is complete, yes. You passed all of the tests. But we'll have to save the ceremony for later. Something unexpected has come up. Are you ready for your first mission?"
"That was quick, but yes."
Noah followed his instructor through a series of tunnels and into a large white room with no windows. A colossal teleportation device lay in the center of the manifold. All of the walls were clean and blank, with the only object in the room being the teleport.
"So this is it..." Noah muttered.
"Only for emergencies," his instructor replied.
"What about the side-effects?" Noah's voice echoed across the large room.
"Don't worry, Marks was the only incident, and it will stay that way."
"So where am I going?"
"Two days ago. A highly influential politician was assassinated. As your first mission, we want you to go back in time and stop it from happening."
Noah looked on incredulously.
"Once you re-appear two days in the past, we want you to find out how it happened, and stop it. You'll be spending your first night in a hotel and then do the job the next day."
"How will I get back to this time after I'm done?"
"You won't need to. By the time it's all over, you'll have reached the current time of right now, and the time line will be restored."
"So there will be two of me walking around for a day?"
"Yes, just make sure you don't run into yourself, or there might be consequences."
Noah looked on. "What should I do when I go back?"
"We mailed the instructions for your arrival. Everything is taken care of. Just step in the portal, and it will all begin."
Noah looked around him at the empty space in the humming room. He took a deep breath."Okay, let's do this."
Noah stepped into the teleport and watched the rings go around him. The instructor looked on and gave his goodbye. In an instant flash, Noah opened his eyes and he was in the exact same room, except two days ago. His instructor was gone. The room remained the same; white, clean, empty, and lonely.
A single guard was sitting in a chair at the end of the room.
"Noah Yechzsovok?" Said the guard.
"That's me." Noah stepped down as the rings rose up into the ceiling.
"I got the orders. They sent me a transcript five minutes ago. They said it's going to happen tomorrow, so you can't really do anything today. I booked a hotel room for you. It's room 99 at the hotel down the street. Here's the key. And congratulations on your initiation."
"Thanks. That's all I need to know?"
"In the morning they'll send a packet of information gathered about the murder. You'll have to act upon that, but until it arrives, get yourself comfortable."
Noah stepped down and looked at the calendar on the wall. It was exactly two days ago.

----------------------------------------------------------

Noah sat on his bed in the hotel room, looking outside toward the window. The rain was coming down hard, and the thunder rolled throughout the night. The storm wasn't going to end any time soon.
He looked at the clock: 2:02 a.m.
He sat there on the bed, with the gun in his hand, contemplating all that he had done so far.

I made it. After six long months of training; six long months of being isolated from the outside world; six long months without a job; six long months of lying to my family and friends; I made it, I finally I made it.

But do I really want to be here? I don't have a choice anymore. They said they kill anyone who backs out on them. That's how they remain so secret. That's how nobody knows about them. That's how nobody can fight them.

It's worth it right...? It's worth it.

He sat in the dark hotel room, hunched over his bed, trying to smile at what he achieved. He was now making a difference in the world.
Suddenly he heard a noise outside the door. He turned left and saw a shadow underneath the door frame. Somebody was standing right outside of his room, in the lighted hallway, doing something by his door.
The lock clicked. They were trying to break into the room.
The door pushed open. Noah tried to pull out his gun, but before he could react, two bullets hit his chest, and a third bullet impacted a second later, sending him toppling down onto the floor.
Noah gripped his chest where the bullets hit, and tried to breathe, but he knew it was all in vain.
The shooter slowly walked up to him.

"Don't... do it..." Noah muttered.

The shooter raised his gun and shot the final bullet into Noah's head.

The shooter looked behind him again. His silhouette stood ominous against the doorway.

"Sorry buddy, but it looks like they didn't accept you."

5 Minute Kill

2007-02-18T19:56:00.000-08:00

5:00
4:59
4:58
4:57
My digital stopwatch ticked down, nearing the ever closing mark. I had less than five minutes to stop the inevitable, or the world would send it self on a chain reaction of destruction.
How do I know this, again?
I remember. He contacted me two weeks ago.
A man told me this would happen, a man who's face I've never seen; a man who I've never met; I man who I don't even know, and yet, I believe every word he says.

I stormed up the staircase into the third floor of the musty apartment building. The corridor was exactly like the previous one, and I had no idea which door the target was in.
I stormed toward the end of the hallway and stopped myself. I tried to catch my breath and frantically make sense of what I knew, and then make a decision.
Suddenly the pay phone behind me rang. I turned around and I ran up to it before it had a chance to stop ringing.

I picked up the receiver.
"Hello?" I was out of breath.
"What happened? Your cell phone is off." It was him, as usual.
"The battery died." I tried to catch my breath.
"I told you to bring a replacement."
"I forgot."
I looked around me at the empty hallway and then down at my watch. The digital counter was ticking down from four minutes.
"What floor is the sniper on?" I asked him.
"He's on the fifth floor in apartment 5F. You know, this is cutting it close."
I looked around and checked my pistol for ammo. The stopwatch was ticking down toward three minutes.
"Roger that, I'm going in," I told him.
"Wait--Remember what I told you."
"...Yeah." I hung up the phone and headed up the next flight of stairs.
Outside, I could hear the crowd cheering as the limousines drove up the street. I entered the fourth floor hallway and made a dash for the next floor. The hallway was dark and there were no windows. I could see the dust floating in the air and the paper peeling of the walls. Every time I ran I kicked up more dust from the old carpet.
Suddenly a middle-aged woman walked out of her apartment and I brushed past her. I reached the next staircase at the end of the hall and pulled myself up onto the fifth floor.

2:00
1:59
1:58
1:57

I took a moment to catch my breath. Then I pulled out my pistol from its holster and turned off the safety mechanism. I checked each side of the hallway for the apartment numbers.
5B... 5C...
5F.
The noise of the crowd could be heard even louder from up here.
The door was right in front of me and I turned the knob. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. I pulled out my ID card and sliced it into the side of the door, hoping to break the lock open.
It wasn't working. I tried again, and again and I kept shoving it, but it still didn't open.
BEEP BEEP. My watch hit the one minute point. I had 60 seconds left. The seconds ticked away and I had to regain my cool.
The ID card wasn't working. I tried it again and shoved my whole body into the door. I made a slight bang and the door jarred open.

The room was empty. It was run-down, just like the whole building. The air was dusty and the walls were old and rotting away.
40 seconds.
I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
I slowly walked forward, looking left and right. He had to be in the bedroom; he had to be. I approached it from the left. I carefully pushed the door open, refraining from any unnecessary sounds.
The bedroom warily revealed itself as I pushed the door foward. Every second that passed I could hear the crowd outside and my watch ticking down.
There he was: a middle-aged man wearing a leather jacket, staring out the window. He had the sniper locked in his hands and he was preparing for the kill. His back was to me and he was completely unaware of my presence. I had to act now.
20 seconds.
I had my gun drawn and ready to fire. I approached him from behind, he still being oblivious to my presence.
"Drop the weapon." I said it as calmly as I could.
The shooter, still with his back to me, didn't move or make a noise.
"Drop the weapon!" I tried to sound as if I meant it.
13 seconds.
"DROP THE WEAPON!" I took two steps forward.
The attacker suddenly turned around and aimed his gun at me.
I fired my gun and the bullet flew out. The room shattered in echoes from the loud noise. The bullet connected to his forehead and the blood splattered against my face and my clothes.

I couldn't breathe. I needed to get used to killing other people.

I tried to rub the blood off my face and jacket. Face down on the floor, the sniper lay dead in front of me.

Beep, beep, beep.
0:00
I took a sigh of relief and tried to breathe normally again. It was over-I did it.
I looked out the window at the bright, cloudy day and I could see the UN ambassador exiting his car down on the street. He was greeted by his security guards and the other ambassadors. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the glaring light. It was a long way down. No one would ever know.

Suddenly the phone rang from the entry room. I walked back into the main room and spotted the green phone on a small table. I picked it up.
"Hello?" I answered.
"You hesitated." He always knew where to find me.
"I killed him."
"With five seconds to spare."
"The ambassador's alive. That's all that counts."
"That's right. Maybe I can trust you after all."
"So, who are you? Really?" I asked.
"Another time, another place. But good job on the kill. I'm going to have to wait and see if the history records update."
I stood there in the apartment and took a seat on the chair next to the phone.
He spoke up again. "We did it. The ambassador will finish the peace talks in the next week. You successfully averted the third world war."
I looked across into the bedroom and could see the sniper's body laying on the floor. The window allowed a slight breeze to enter the room. By killing one man, I saved another, who would save millions more.
"You know how hard that is to believe, right?" I said.
"For you, yes. But it doesn't matter now. The world is saved. Good job Mr. Kent."
I looked out across the room and took a deep breath. I didn't feel like a hero.
"So now what do I do now?" I asked.
"You do nothing. Go back to work. You will be a forgotten hero in the history of mankind, but I'm sure you can live with that."
I took a deep breath. "Will I ever talk to you again?"
There was silence. I could hear him thinking.
"Perhaps, if ever the time comes," he said.
"Are you sure you can find a phone?" I asked.

"Positive."

Avatar

2007-02-02T16:40:00.000-08:00

"What if... We were just a simulation in a construct?"

I sat down at my personal desk and logged into my file. The virtual world was up and running again on schedule. I controlled my avatar and sent him to work to make money. He woke up, brushed his teeth, got in his 97' Cadillac and drove down to the city into a parking garage. I made him get out and enter the office building where he signed in for work.
Everyday for him, nine to five, making one-hundred thousand a year.
I watched as the virtual world spun around him and he did his job.

"Mr. Collins, please report to the front desk."
I looked up again, making sure that I just heard what I didn't want to hear.
"Mr. Collins? Front desk please."

I headed out of my cubicle and walked over to the receptionist. There was a tall man in his mid thirties in a business suit standing next to the entrance. He was carrying a briefcase and waiting for someone.

"Mr. Collins, this is the man from department. You're supposed to show him around today?" The receptionist said while working away at her desk.
"Oh, yes, of course. Right this way please," I motioned to the man.
The stout man in the business suit followed me back to my cubicle.
"My name is Victor Collins, I'm just another employee here doing the standard avatar job," I told him.
"I'm Kerry Barber, nice to meet you. So how do things work around here?" He asked.
"Well..." I said as I sat back down at my terminal. "We all have our own avatars and are trying to promote them in the virtual world," I answered.
"So... how does that relate to work?" He inquired.
"Some people just think it's fun and games but there's real money to be made. When your avatar gains virtual currency, it's worth almost twice that amount in real life. So you can image how profitable it is to be in the virtual world."
He crossed his arms in amazement. "Really? How is that possible?"
"Apparently, for some people the virtual world is worth more than the real world."
"So you sell things in there?"
"That's right."
I turned around to face my screen and watched my avatar do his job.
He took a seat next to me and leaned over my shoulder. "So what're you doing now?"
"Uh, nothing. My avatar is logged into his work shift, and gaining virtual cash."
My little character was on the screen, sitting at his desk, somehow gaining money.
"Don't you have to do something?" He asked.
"They have their own artificial intelligence that kicks in for basic commands. You know, like, working, eating, that sort of stuff. You have to control them though in where they go, what they do, and when they do it. But they can do the individual operations themselves."
"What happens if you give them nothing to do?" He questioned.
"Well... they automatically try to resort to fulfill their needs. They'll eat, sleep, drink, have fun, that sort of thing."
"And what if you work them to the bone?"
"Ah you can't do that. They need to rest, relax, do different stuff. It's the basic needs for every avatar. Sometimes I give them a break."
"Very interesting."
I took a sip of coffee that was sitting next to my terminal.
The business man looked around at the other cubicles.

"So how deep is this virtual world, really?" He said.
"Well... I would say it's a complete recreation of Earth. It lives like Earth, it looks like Earth, and it acts almost the same way. You can go anywhere, do anything, and it's not like there's any loading screens."
"So it's literally an exact copy of Earth?"
"I guess so. This wouldn't have been possible back in say... 2000. But technology has changed. Ever since they harnessed the ability to store data in a single photon, we can do things never ever dreamed of."
"So how much different is this virtual world from our world?"
"...Not much. It's just that it's fake, and we're in control of it. And... you can make a lot of money in it."

He took a pause. "So then, our world could also be virtual."
"...What?"
"It seems possible from what's capable today. What if the real world was a virtual world, and we're just players in a giant game? You know, like what you're doing. After all, how would we know?"

"Is that a serious question?"

"What's so unbelievable about it? How do you know this isn't a game?"
"Well, for one thing, I make my own choices. I know what I want and what I need. I can stop doing anything or just walk out of this office if I want. It's not like someone's controlling me."
"Maybe we're all just avatars. Maybe your choices are really someone else's choices. Maybe anything you choose is just really your creator doing it for you."
"I know what I am. Nobody's controlling me."
"But what if all your desires and impulses are just artificial intelligence, or the way your creator makes you do something?"
"Are you getting at something?"
"I just thought it was interesting how you controlled a person just like you, doing the same things, except in another world. I can't see why it doesn't apply to our world."
"Because it's ridiculous?"
He started to formulate a question in his mind. "Let's say I was an... 'avatar' in a virtual world. And my job was to inspect private businesses for the government. Today, my creator sends me to the Sy-Tech corporation to inspect it and thus gain virtual money in the process. And part of this inspection is to talk to one of their employees and see how they work in their jobs, which happen to be related to virtual worlds. What's so ridiculous about that?"
I stared into his face and gave my response. "I think your tour is over."
"It was just a question," he conceded.
He stood up and walked toward the exit.
I stared back down at my avatar. I would need to get him out of his office and over to sell real estate soon, or I would be behind for today's quota. But first I had to take care of his needs before he left the office.
I sent him over to the vending machine to get a drink (Thirstiness 10%) and then have a chat with the other employees there (Sociliaztion 25%). His popularity levels rose slightly. I then got him to check his e-mail (Daily Schedule 2%) before he left for the parking lot. He exited the office building and got in his car, then I sent him en route to his destination. His driving skill was 85% so chances of an accident were minimal.

After this deal, that would make my avatar more powerful than 95% of the population and that would make me rich.

I stared away from the screen for a second, with an urge to go buy lunch across the street. Maybe I could have a chat with George on the way out.

No, I'm not an avatar. That's impossible.

Cyber-Reality

2006-09-20T17:25:00.000-07:00

So today's the day. He's finally breaking.
Then that's our queue?
That's what they said.
Just pull the plug right? No explanation in his world?
None at all. Just let him out of here. It's over.

It was a normal day for Harry Carver. 28 years old, promising job, good home, a bright future. Everything was looking good.
His job: to maintain the cyber-reality programming. Every day he would walk into the office and make sure all the programs ran smoothly. Smoothly being, you couldn't tell you were in the real world; exactly what the customers wanted.
Routine checks here and there, and the day was a breeze. All the customers would walk in and out satisfied. Occasionally they would add new features or block out things that were unexplainable, but it was a fairly solid program. The Cyber-Reality couldn't be told from the real world.

On a normal day dozens of customers would walk in during one hour and sign on. They would be escorted to one of the many cyber chambers on the other side of the facility. Some people logged in for as long as 5 hours, which meant big money for the company. As long as the customer's happy right?

5 hours of virtual reality. 5 hours of your wildest dreams. There's no trace of the false 0101 world, only reality. And all of it for a small fee. You could do whatever you wanted in there. And it was all real, thanks to people like Mr. Carver.
People like him who worked in their small cubicles, tampering with the programming, making everything just right, day after day. It was a simple job, do it right, and life was a breeze.

That didn't bother him at first: people living in a false world for a fraction of their lives. It payed well to maintain the machines. That was what he'd studied for in college after all. He'd been doing this job for the past 5 years. Why should it bother him now?
Maybe the ethics side finally got the better of him. Maybe it was the constant bickering in the media about the morality of the thing. His whole company was caught in the midst of controversy. Maybe all of it added together and then maybe he just finally broke.

So it was a normal day. Normal, except for his intentions. He wanted people to start living in the real world. Why was he helping them live in a fake one? Why was he helping to make it even more real for them? Why was he allowing them to think a cyber-reality was a real reality?
It was 2:00; coffee break. Most of the other personnel left their stations. The white office was empty and the sun was shining through the window. He turned around and saw this world he lived in. The city could be seen for miles from the skyscraper. People didn't need to live in a fake world when there was a real one right in front of them. All he had to do was pull the plug and they would wake up.
But then he asked himself again, "Why?" To give the customers a reality check? But what's the use, someone would just turn it on again. And he would probably be fired after this anyway. So, "Why do it?" Why pull the plug?
He just called it a gut feeling; one he couldn't ignore.

The dozens of cyber-chambers shut off. He could imagine it now: all the customers sitting in their chairs, surrounded by nothing but blackness. That's what they were really doing the past 5 hours. Sitting in a chair, staring at the black wall.
Of course everyone would be in an uproar. Then an image would flash on his desk, telling him to fix it, now. But something in him didn't click. He just sat there, staring at the black screen of his monitor. Just sat there, staring.

Pull it, now.
Got it.

He woke up. He was sitting in a chair, staring at a black wall.

He's out. You think he remembers?
Remembers what? He's been in that cyber world for 5 days now.
You think he remembers why he's here?
No, I don't.
...So it's a success.
Just wait 'till we talk to him.

He was sitting in a chair, staring at a black wall. He didn't have the words to think the the thoughts he wanted. He didn't have the thoughts to carry out the action he desired. He just sat there, staring.

The door behind him opened. Light entered the room for the first time. A silhouette of a tall man appeared.
"Mr. Carver. Wake up."
He managed to get one word out of his mouth,"Where?"
"Do you remember anything Mr. Carver?"
"Yes."
"What is your job?"
"Cyber..."
"Take it slowly."
"Cyber-World Industries..."
"How long have you worked there?"
"5... 5 years."
"How old are you?"
"28."
"Are you sure of all this?"
"Yes..."
The tall man waited. "Thanks for your answers. I'll be back for you."
Harry Carver sat in his chair, waiting. He blinked his eyes and thought of getting up. He managed to stand up from the chair, and turn his head towards the door. It was closed.
He breathed in and out. The simple process seemed quite alien to him.
The door opened again and light flooded his eyes.
The tall man was there.
"How old are you Mr. Carver?"
"I just answered this."
"I would like you to answer again."
"28."
"I see. Come with me, and everything will be all right."
Harry followed the man down a darkly lit corridor. The walls were somewhat curved and dark grey. The floor was made of steel grating.
They came to a stop.
"Right in here." He pointed into another room with another chair. The room was also small and all black. The chair was by itself and had more hightech equipment on it. Reluctantly, Harry took a seat and the door shut behind him, leaving the room filled with darkness.
"Your memory will come back to you in a moment, just relax."
It was as if nothing ever happened.
Two men in black suits were waiting as the door opened behind him. Harry stood up and faced them.
"So, when am I going to do the experiment?" Harry asked enthusiastically.
"You already did it. It's over," one of them responded.
"...What are you talking about? I just sat down and you guys said you were going to copy my--"
"If you'll check your watch, it's Friday. The experiment's been over."
"It is? Oh, well... how'd I do?"
"You preformed excellently."
Harry was still surprised. "Well, that's good."
"Come with us and you'll be escorted out of here."
He followed the two men towards the exit.

So it was a success.

I guess so.

And how ironic is it that the world you created for him was the world of your own? I bet you wanted to see if he would do the same thing in your situation.

Maybe. Who said that his cyber-reality had to be a fake enviroment?

Are you going to take action against Cyber-World?

That's for the bureaucrats to decide. We've done our part with the experiment. So now... It's up to them.

What about the subject? He still thinks he's in cyber reality?

He'll be fine. He probably doesn't even remember after that memory transplant.

So that covers it then. Cyber-World Industries does have a problem on their hands.

Yeah... and to think we just sent a mult-billion dollar corporation crashing.

If... you can prove it.

We just did.

The Exchange: Finale ... not.

2006-03-20T14:08:00.000-08:00

Due to a yucky ending where the guy does some boring chase sequence that is described in horrendously disugsting detail, the exchange: finale will not be published.

But... I did write it, or most of it anyway.

Oh-and, I managed to create plot-holes and storygaps with the exchange:finale so that's another reason I decided not to publish it.

.Yeah.

The Exchange²

2006-02-08T16:30:00.000-08:00

...I look straight in his eyes.
"One-hundred thousand right?"
"...That's right," he replies. He's also holding a briefcase of his own.
"You got my stuff?" I ask him.
"Right here." His gruntled voice still reminds me of a pig. He shows me his briefcase.
I throw him my case and he prepares to open it. He keeps his eyes on me, being as cautious as possible...

The Exchange²

...Now.
I lunge forward and kick him in the face. He falls backward and hits the ground. His body makes a crack as it hits the stone wall. I wouldn't be surprised if the wall almost broke behind him because of his size. I pull out my gun simultaneously and aim forward. Both black briefcases lie on the ground next to him. The sewage is still loud and disgusting. It's dark and desolate down here. Nobody else can hear or see us. He sits on the ground and I aim my gun at him. He is breathing heavily. The murky water continues to splash onto the sidewalk.

I pull out my communicator and say nothing, continually staring at him.
A little alien is on the screen.
I speak into the transponder. "I got him. Send in the pick-up unit."
I keep my eyes on him while I speak into the communicator.
Grun looked up. "Who are you..."
I look down on him and I keep my mouth shut.
The little alien responds to me. "North exit, rendezvous in three minutes."
"Roger that," I reply.
"What are you a bounty hunter?" Grun asks me.
I try to restrain myself from laughing but manage to make a smile.
"No... nothing like that," I blurt out.
"So you're a cop..." He says.
I don't reply, but he knows it's true.
There is a moment of silence.
I take out a pair of restrainer cuffs from my trench coat. They're small and pale blue. I throw them to Grun.
"Put those on. If you don't, I'll shoot you."
He stares at me and puts them on. He stands up and then I remember just how massive he really is.
"Pick up the briefcases," I order him.
He walks over and manages to grab both briefcases with his hands. All the while I'm keeping my distance, still aiming my gun at him.
It's dark and dirty down here, and he's twice my size.
I pull out my communicator again. "How many minutes?"
The little alien responds. "Just one--"
BAM
I look away from him for one second to respond; fatal mistake.
The blow from the briefcase hits me in the eye. It feels like a splinter just ran through my skull. I fall down and splash in the gutty water. My body is engulfed in the disgusting stuff and I lose my perception. He starts to run away with his briefcase filled with drugs.
I leap out and drag myself onto the sidewalk, wet and in pain.
The communicator is on the ground several feet from me. A voice shouts out from it. "What happened? Did he escape?"
I manage to get my strength back and crawl over to the communicator. I can hear Grun's loud foosteps running away.
"Yeah... can you track him?" I ask.
"You'll have to hurry..."
I start the chase.

To Be Concluded.

The Exchange

2006-01-24T12:16:00.000-08:00

The Exchange:

The sewer is a rotten and filthy place for a meeting. Especially when you have to wait there for several hours. Standing on the concrete sidewalk still won't save you from being splashed by the murky, gutty waters.
It's dark underground and only a few lights are hooked to the ceiling. I've got a briefcase in my hand and I'm holding it firmly. There's supposed to be one-hundred thousand credits inside, but it's empty.

It's cold... I can see my breath and my trench coat barely keeps in my warmth. My hair is messy and slides down my forehead. I've been standing by that brick wall for about two hours now, waiting...

I can hear the sounds of the sewage being poured out of the giant drainpipe. The disgusting liquid passes by and floats along. The water is dark green and naseauting. I check my digital wristband. My contact should've been here hours ago, but I wasn't ready to leave yet.

Suddenly I turn and see a figure in the distance. He is tall, muscular and appears to be well armed. He passes in and out of the few dim lights and I can barely make out his face. Tap-tap-tap his footsteps go...

"Are you Grun?" I ask as he approaches.
The closer he gets, the more I realize just how much of a giant he is.
His voice is deep and gruntled and reminds me of a pig. "That's me." He looks to be twice my size, in width and height. He is wearing some kind of strange armor and street clothes.
He stares down on me. "Do you got the money?" He asks.
I show him the briefcase, keeping one hand in my pocket at all times.
I look straight in his eyes. "One-hundred thousand right?"
"...That's right," he replies.
He's also holding a briefcase of his own.
"You got my stuff?" I ask him.
"Right here." His gruntled voice still reminds me of a pig. He shows me his briefcase.
I throw him my case and he prepares to open it. He keeps his eyes on me, being as cautious as possible...

End of Part 1
Note: This story is NOT associated with Kendric, Tom Shaster, or anything else. It is a new story in a new world and has nothing to do with the previous stories.

Tom Shaster ... 1891 - 1923

2006-01-03T20:28:00.000-08:00

So this is what if feels like to be dead.

...Wow. The bullet hurt, alot; right into the chest; bang. One minute I'm sleeping in my apartment, the next I'm dead in the rain. The rain lands with a hard splash on my face. If I could feel, I know it would be irritating and cold. It's still dark out. Maybe if I could still see I would watch the sunrise. If I could still think, I'd probably think about getting up and killing that no good person for what he did to me. I knew I recognized his voice...

...Wait a second.
...So I'm not dead after all.

The rain is cold. And irritating.

Unnamed

2005-12-08T17:51:00.000-08:00

[Kendric's Story] :: Part IV

I'm lying in my bed, peacefully, resting in this hospital. I know I'm safe here, safe from those men. I see a clock up on the wall in front of me. It ticks, and it tocks. My room is dark, it's after hours. Time seems eternal in my little room. It's dark but I can hear the city outside.

The bullet wounds have recovered, and the doctors say I'll be as good as new. A week ago I got out of bed for the first time. The doctors asked me if I had any family they should notify. I told them no.

They're releasing me tomorrow. I'm gonna get out of here, I'm gonna skip town... I'm gonna go home.

Part 3?

2005-12-04T21:54:00.000-08:00

[Kendric's Story] :: Part III

Everyone is back in the warehouse. Fonso drags Kendric's lifeless body in. It's still raining outside. Several men in trench coats are standing in the warehouse. Fonso drops Kendric down in the center, face down. Outside, a shorter man exits the automobile and makes his way to the warehouse. He is several inches shorter than the rest and he is wearing a dark coat and a hat. He is an older man, and has wrinkles on his face. He is escorted by a man at his side who carries his umbrella. They come under the awning and approach the group.

It's cold inside the warehouse. Many of the men are shivering and trying hard to keep warm. Everyone's breath is visible in the cold.

The short man approaches the group.
"Is he dead?" The short man asks.
Kendric is still lying on the ground, bloody and tired. He coughs up some blood.
The short man looks up. "Fonso!" He yells.
"What?"
"He try to run?"
"That's right."
The short man walks over to Kendric and looks down on him. "Kid... this was your one chance, and you blew it. You don't have the guts to join us." The short man looks around. "I'm wasting my time..." The short man starts to walk away.
Kendric looks up with his last ounce of strength. "My father would--"
The short man stops. He turns back. "You're not even half the man your father was. You're a good for nothing punk. You couldn't even kill a man if your life depended on it."
The short man walks out of the group and starts to head back for the car. Fonso walks up to Kendric and pulls his gun out. He stretches his arm out and aims for Kendric's head. He looks down the barrel and starts to pull the trigger. The short man is almost outside now. Kendric is shivering and he knows his death is at hand. He is afraid of that fifth bullet.

"Wait." The short man stops.
Fonso turns his head, still keeping the gun on Kendric.
"Don't kill him." The short man says.
"Why?"
"Don't question my orders."
Fonso stares forward, still holding the gun out at Kendric. His mouth is cracked opened and he continues to stare at his boss.
"Come on boys, we're leaving," the short man says.
Fonso holsters his gun and looks down on Kendric. "You got lucky kid."
Everyone starts to exit the building, leaving Kendric by himself. He's lost alot of blood by now.

The man who was on top of the wooden crates still sits there. He is about to leave with the rest of the gang.
"Marty..." Kendric coughs.
Marty turns to face him as he is about to leave. "...I'll call an ambulance for you. But dont thank me Ken, I never knew you..."

Rendezvous

2005-11-29T21:40:00.000-08:00

[Scene in the Rain]: {Part 2}... :: Rendezvous ----- Detective Story is on hold for now.

Inside an old warehouse a man is waiting. He sits on top of several wooden crates, looking down below. He is a tad overweight but armed and dangerous. He is tall and he wears street clothes. He sits there, waiting for news from the mission.
The warehouse is not much bigger than a hangar. There are boxes all over the building with chains and pulleys hanging from the ceiling. Steel beams and pipes run along the walls and the roof. He can see the rain pouring outside, through the windows near the ceiling. The warehouse is old and it was an inconspicuous place for a meeting.

Suddenly a young man appears at the entrance. He appears to be eighteen to twenty-three years old. He is tired and drenched with rain. He staggers into the building and walks over to a crate and leans on it. He slides down and puts his back to the wall. He looks tired and exhausted. He breathes heavily, in and out as he relaxes down into the corner.
"Kendric," says the man on top of the boxes.
The shooter with the goatee looks up.
"Where's your gun?"
Kendric tosses out a small pistol from his jacket.
"No, your other gun. The one we gave you."
Kendric looks up. "I don't got it," he whispers.
"What do you mean you don't got it? But you killed him right?"
Kendric looks down with his mouth cracked open. He is still cold from the rain and he is shivering.
"You killed him, right?"
"...No."

There's a problem... and they both know it.
The chubby man looks down on him. "They're gonna be here any minute..." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "Once they know what you've done, they're not gonna like it..."
Kendric knows that, and it's evident in his facial expression.
"Don't you know what they'll do to you...?" Says the chubby man on top of the boxes.
There is a pause.
"What should I do...?" Kendric looks up.
The chubby man gulps. "You have to get out of here."
"But..."
An automobile is heard approaching through the roaring rain. It's lights shine into the warehouse windows. Kendric knows who it is. They're coming for him...

Kendric gets up. He grabs his gun from the floor and starts to limp toward the exit. One arm is grabbing his other and his coat hangs from his back. He knows he has to get out of here.
Back outside, three men get out of the automobile and enter the warehouse. They are all wearing dark hats and trench coats. They are wearing suits and ties underneath their coats.
"Hey kid, where'ya going?" One of them yells as he enters the warehouse.
Kendric stops.
"You find your target?" The man asks.
The young man turns around and faces them. He stares into their eyes.
"You killed him right?" Smiles the man in the trench coat.
Kendric looks as if he was in a daze. He thinks back to that fatal moment. "...No," he almost whispers.
The man stops smiling. "What...?"
They stare back at each other.
"You didn't kill him?" He raises his voice.
They are silent for several seconds. The man in the trench coat looks around a little and then speaks up. "Well then... you know what we're gonna have to do to you. You know that there's no room for failure." He flips a coin and proceeds to put it in his pocket. He unsuspectingly lowers his hand by his gun holster.
BAM.
Kendric fires a bullet at the man's hand. Blood splatters into the air. BAM. BAM. Two more shots into both of his partners. Kendric knows they wont stay down for long. Suddenly, he turns to his left and sprints for the exit of the building. He runs out into the roaring rain and starts his escape. He can hear the voices of his pursuers shouting behind him.

Outside, he is in the industrial section of the city. Two story buildings line the streets. Shops, marketplaces, and apartments surround him. It's raining and the street lamps are on. Old automobiles are parked along the street. It's dark. Night had just fell.
He runs through the puddles and the cracked streets. He looks behind him and sees two of his pursuers firing at him. They miss and the bullets scatter around him. He can hardly hear. The rain surrounds him and the city lamps provide little light. He's cold from the wet rain, but he doesn't care. He has to get away. He knows that. If he's caught, he's certain he will die.
He makes a left and runs into a dark alley. The alley has old brick walls and a clothes line hangs two stories above him. It's a dead end. He knows he cant turn back. He knows he has to do something.

There's a fire escape. It looks like it goes to the top of the building. It's his last chance. He runs forward and jumps to the bottom rung of the ladder. He starts to climb it. One at a time now... He's almost to the second floor. He knows he can make it. He knows his three pursuers are still far behind him.

Bang. The bullet flies through the air and hits him. Smoke rises from the weapon. Kendric falls down and hits the ground. It's a hard drop and he screams in pain. The bullet pierced his arm and blood is scattered all over the wall. The blood mingles with the puddles of water on the ground.
A dark shadow approches him from behind. His attacker has his gun out still, ready to fire again. Kendric reaches for his gun in his holster. If he can just reach it...

Bang. Kendric screams again. The bullet flies through his right hand and the blood splatters on his clothes. Smokes rises from the nozzle of the attacker's gun. He is relentless, he gives no mercy.
Kendric tries to crawl from his attacker. Anywhere, anywhere farther away from his attacker; that is his only goal right now.
Bang. He yells in agony. The bullet goes through his leg. Blood spills everywhere. Bang. Another bullet in his other leg. He falls down completely and lays in the pouring rain. Four bullets. Four screams.

His attacker stands above him, his shadow overcasting Kendric's entire body. There is blood all over the floor. His attacker is tall and wearing a trench coat. He is not one of the first three attackers. Skillfully, he holsters his gun, knowing his target is helpless. Next, he slowly takes out a cigarette and lights it in the rain. He sticks it up to his lip and blows.

He stands there in the dark alley, above his prey, and blows his cigarette. "You know son... you're pathetic."
The young man is lying on the ground, too pained to scream anymore.
The tall man stands above him, blowing his cigarette. "You actually think you can run away? Aw come on. I don't think you know who you're dealing with."
He looks down at his target. His target is lying in the rain, bloody and helpless. "That's what you get for not doing what you're told. You brought it on yourself." He paused and smoked his cigarette. "Whether you're to live or not... that's up for the boss to decide."
The young man lies on the ground, still alive, listening to his attacker's every word.
"That's what you get boy... that's what you get." He throws the cigarette onto the ground and steps on it. He walks away into the street, leaving the young man in the rain.
"Fonso? Fonso you there?" Shouts a voice in the distance.
"Yeah I got him," says the attacker.
Kendric, with an ounce of life left in him, pulls out his gun and aims for his attacker. Fonso's back is facing him and he is looking out into the street.
Fonso turns around before Kendric has a chance to fire. Bang. The gun flies out of Kendric's hand and back into the corner of the alley. The rain hits his head and he trembles in pain. He was foolish to have tried to retaliate.
Fonso looks down on him. "Don't even think about it son."

Kendric lies in the pouring rain, helpless and defeated.

Scene in the Rain...

2005-11-28T15:51:00.000-08:00

Please note: This is not Detective Story and has nothing to do with it. Have a nice day.

The gun is shaking. His arm is not steady. He looks tired, maybe even exhuasted. A look of fear and uncertainty is seen in his eyes. His loose hair hangs over his forehead. The gun is shaking. His finger is trying to pull the trigger, yet the mind or the heart does not want to. He stares forward; stares at his target.
The shooter has a goatee--black hair. He is young... yet old at the same time. He stands there in the rain. The stone path trembles beneath his shaking legs. It is slippery, his feet have a hard time balancing. He still stares forward. He still shakes the gun. He still does not pull the trigger.
He's cold, cold inside and cold outside. He does not know anymore. He doesn't know what to choose. He doesn't know what's right, what's wrong. He looks forward at his target.

They are on a hillside, yet in the heart of a city. A park surrounds them. Trees line the hill and there is a black fence potruding along the hill, parallel to them. Skyscrapers are visible around them. Its overcast and cloudy. The rain continues to fall.

The other man faces him. He stares into his eyes.

They are both silent. The shooter drops the gun. It hits the ground and slides in the rain.
He looks up to face his target. "...Get out of here," he orders him.
His target acknowledges him and slowly turns around to walk away in the hazy distance.

He knows he's failed his mission, but he doesn't care. He falls onto the ground. His hands are shaking and he is trembling. His gun lies below him in the grass. He reaches forward to grab it, but stops. He leaves it be.

He stands alone in the rain on the trodden path. He's cold and uncertain. He doesn't know anymore... He doesn't know.

Tears are almost falling from his eyes. He tries to get a grip of himself, he's a grown man. He manages to stand up. His hands are shaking so he makes a fist to stop it. He turns around and leaves this place.

Session # 4

2005-11-25T13:39:00.000-08:00

Session 4: Voice in the Dark

I checked my watch: four fourty-two. If this guy was serious, I hoped he was still there.
I looked out the window of the cab and the rain was pouring harder than ever now.
Suddenly the taxi slowed to a halt.
"Well... we're here," the cab driver told me.
I glanced over toward him. "Thanks." I handed him some money and left the cab. I shut the door behind me and stood out in the roaring rain. The deli stood in front of me but it was closed at this hour. I looked to my left and my right. Everything was pretty much dark and there were a few cars parked on the street. Several street lamps lined the sidewalk. The fog was still thick and I could see my breath. It would be hours still until sunrise. No one was in sight...

"Over here."
There was a dark alley to my right. I could hear his voice come from over there. I turned to face him. His figure was concealed by the shadows and his face was in the dark. I could make out he was wearing a heavy coat and a hat. His hands were in his pockets and he was standing in the shadows of the alley.
"Come on." He motioned me to come over towards him. I thought his voice sounded hauntingly familiar to me.
I walked over to him. "Who are you? What do you want? And where's my one-hundred bucks?"
"You know... you're a fool." I could almost see him smile.
He pulled out a gun on me.
"Hey, I don't want any trouble." I raised up my hands and began to walk backwards.
"Too late buddy."
bang.

Session # 3

2005-11-22T11:39:00.000-08:00

Session 3: Phone Call

ring ring.
It must be at least four a.m.
ring ring.
Forget agout it, sleep is more important.
ring ring.
You can skip this one, you're just too tired.
ring ring.
Well... maybe you should get it, it might be important.
ring.
...great.

Another case down the drain, good job. All you had to do was get up and pick up the phone.
"Sigh."
I walked over to the window and looked outside. Rain was still pouring. A storm must be coming in...
I glanced over to the clock: four twenty-one. Should've picked up the phone...

ring ring. It started up again.
"This guy must be desperate," I mumbled to myself.
I walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?" I said.
"Hello? Mr. Shaster?"
"Who is this?" I asked.
"I--I need some help." His voice was trembling.
"Well bare in mind, I'm a P.I. not a help desk."
"I need your help fast." He sounded afraid.
"Who is this?" I questioned.
"Come to 42nd street, outside the deli."
"I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me who this is."
"I'll pay you one hundred dollars up front if you accept my case."
"Deal. When do you want me to come?"
"Come now, fast. Please."
"All right, I'm on my way," I said.
He hung up. I could hear the dial tone.

I gathered my things and prepared myself to go out into the cold, rainy night. I knew I might not be back soon, so I grabbed a bite and set some food down for Max.

I grabbed my coat and pocketed my gun. I set on my hat and exited the apartment.

Detective Story: Session # 2

2005-11-20T20:05:00.000-08:00

Session # 2: A rainy night

I stepped out of the apartment onto the street. I was greeted by a hazy fog, the mumbled city noise, a heavy rain, and one of those depressing days of the year. The rain fell, and it poured hard. The fog was moderately thick. I put on my trench coat and bundled up.
I spotted my magnum on the concrete sidewalk and picked up it from the ground. Cadnium was nowhere in sight. Lost him... again.
I lowered my hat and began my walk home. It was a cold night... one of those nights where you think about your life and time passes slowly. Yeah, I was a heavy thinker.

I could see my breath as I walked through the streets. The city was alive tonight, but cars were scarce. I could see the spirit of the 20s all around me.
The P.I. business was slow, and having business rivals didn't help at all. I was having a hard enough time making a living for myself.

I arrived at my "office" as I called it, a short time later. A long while back, I rented out an apartment where I currently lived, and I had my clients come there too. I stepped off the wet and murky streets and came up to the apartment entrance. I stamped my feet on the floor mat and swiped the rain off from my hat. I eagearly opened the door and entered the warm building, waiting to get out of the rain.

I trampled up the stairs, a tired an old man. I finally made it to the second floor and entered my little "home." I entered the room and shut the door behind me, greeted inside by my cat. He put a smile on my face for the first time in a while. He was light orange, with some white on him. He would rub against my legs every time I got home.
I looked down at him. "You must be hungry huh?"
If I was lucky, he respond with a purr or a simple, "meow."

I threw my coat on the table and slumped down into the couch. My messy apartment was... well, really, a mess. It was a small one bedroom, with a living room and a small kitchen. The living room was populated with a busted up couch, an old table, and there was a painting or two on the walls. I had a desk somewhere, where I would file all my paperwork, but it seemed to disappear after months of amateur cases.

I was tired... I looked out the window and found more rain. Yeah... It was just one of those lazy days.

I went to the kitchen and got a bite for myself and Max.
I knew it was time to call it a night. I layed down on my couch, too tired to go to my bedroom, and got myself comfortable. I had a long day, and my life wasn't looking too well. I sighed and tried not to think about it much; I knew I needed some sleep.
I closed my eyes and started to dream...

It was just one of those days.

Detective Story: Session # 1 (part 2)

2005-11-19T15:53:00.000-08:00

Session # 1: A case gone sour (part 2)

I faced the open room. Light from the windows filtered the dusty air. The axe murderer's room was old and run-down. There was few furniture and any that did exist was mostly broken and torn. The ceiling lamp was broken and the only light came from the windows to the left of me. The exit to the apartment room was to my right. I was guessing I was on at least the third floor of the building. The paint was scraping off the walls. There was a small table in front of me. An axe lay on the table, with a hand holding it tight.

The axe murderer sat in his seat with his eyes closed, and his head against the table. Is he dead? But how?

"Hello there... Tom."

I turned to my right and faced the voice. He was sitting with his hands behind his head, relaxed. His legs were stretched out towards the table. His hat concealed his eyes from me. I could smell the smoke from his cigarette. There was no doubt about it, it was him. No, not "him the axe murderer," but a different him.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"Just savin' you, that's all," he stayed relaxed in his chair.
"I didn't need your help, this was my case!" I yelled at him.
"Hey! The reward is open to all the public. Least I would expect is a 'thanks' for saving you."
"Saving me? I had everything under control!"
"Ha, in your dreams."
He smoked his cigarrete while relaxed in his chair. I stood standing there, facing him.
"I'm not letting you take this guy in..." I said.
He opened his mouth to say something, but paused. "Look... I caught him. I'm just taking him in that's all."
Tough luck for me I guess... If I didn't know any better I would've bashed him in the head right there. The police had a bounty on the guy, and anyone who turned him in got the reward. I started my case one week ago, and I wasn't ready to give up all that hard work for nothing.

He sat there in his chair, smoking his cigarette. I stared at him. His trench coat dragged against the wall and reached the floor.

"I'm not letting you leave this room..." I mumbled.
I started to walk toward him.
"Ho ho... wait up there buddy."
I halted in my tracks. He pulled out a gun on me, it was my own magnum.
"Just back off. I'm taking this guy in--it's my bounty." His voice was getting angry.
I stared at his face intently.
"Back up."
I raised my hands and backed up into the corner of the room. He continued to point the gun at me.
"Now... I'm going to get up. You're going to back off and stay over there." He nodded to the corner of the room. "Now I'm just gonna leave now..."
He picked up the murderer, still unconcious, and dragged him out of the room, all while still pointing my gun at me.
"It's nothing personal my man. I just need the cash," he smirked.
"Yeah... we all do," I said with a disgruntled look on my face.
He exited the room and stood right outside the doorway.
"Hey Cadnium!" I yelled to him.
"What?"
"The least you can do is give me my gun back."
He paused to think about it. "Fine. I'll leave it at the entrance. If I see you move outside of this room before I leave, I'll shoot you dead."
"Fine with me," I said.
I heard him walk down the stairs with the target. Six-hundred bucks for me... all down the drain. I should've took him down, I should've down something. I should've...

...Ah well, that's the past for you.

Detective Story: Session # 1

2005-11-18T21:00:00.000-08:00

Session # 1: A case gone sour

I peered through the keyhole. I couldn't see anything. So... it only works in the movies then. I tried the door knob for the tenth time. It was still locked and it wasn't budging. I rubbed my hand through my hair and took a deep breath. I turned around and faced my enclosure. The closet was empty and dark. The walls were close together, and there was only about twelve square feet on the ground.
I checked my trench coat for anything of use. Pens... pencils... my pocketbook... my P.I. card, but not my magnum. I'd have to get out of here the hard way.
The room was dark and dusty, and I was getting warm with my coat on. The only light came from the bottom of the door. I didn't know how long I'd been in here.
Stuck in a closet; this was my greatest adventure yet.

Suddenly I heard footsteps from the outside room... he's back. That guy, that evil person. The murderer, my captor, my target; that was him on the other side of this door.

It started out as a simple job, but little did I know I would come face to face with him so quickly, and he would knock me out and drag me in here.
I took off my Fedora and breathed slowly. I had to do something--fast. If I didn't get out of here I knew I would be a goner. Nobody knew I was here--the police weren't coming for me... I was on my own.
I heard a screech. I knew that could only be one thing: his axe. The sound of him sharpening the blade. The screechy noise. I could only imagine what he could do with that axe. The axe murderer was about to have another victim, unless I had somethng to say about it.
My hidden pocket knife; I just remembered it. I always kept it but I never used it. Finally I had a chance to whip it out after all this time.
I figured I would pick the lock with my knife, take the guy by surprise, call the police, be the hero, and get the reward. Easy right?

I had a hard time with the lock. My clumsy hands failed me over and over. I could no longer hear my captor in the next room, but that didn't mean he was gone.
I twisted and turned the knife until the lock finally broke open. I figured that I'd been in that room for an hour since I woke up.
I took a deep breath. If the axe murderer was still in the next room, this might be the end of me. I slowly turned the knob on the door. It made a slow creaking noise as I leaned forward on the door. The door creased open and I peeked in the next room. I put on my tough face and prepared for the worst.