I awoke on the city street, the cold night air cooling my body. My head ached, and my body was sore. Another night drinking. Another night in Stilwater. I'd been spending my nights like this. The streets were safe, well, sort of. The 3rd Street Saints had re-taken their thrown as the "Rulers" of Stilwater, and lucky for the normal citizens, despite their gang nature, the Saints were more about achieving global domination than mugging people in the middle of the night. I find it strange that a city is safer under the control of a gang then a global corporation. No one dare move in the Saints territory without their say so. That even goes for me. And I used to be one of them.
A few years ago, I was a Saint. I saw the Vice Kings crumble. Los Carnales fall. The West Side Rollers Collapse. I saw the Saints Rise to glory, than come crashing down like a lead balloon. Without a leader, we fell apart. I saw best friends kill eachother over the Saints throne. I was the lucky one. Now, I work in an office. Typing on a computer. No one knows of who I used to be, of what I did. And Im happy they don't. And Im happy I never have to go back.
I gathered myself, and stood up on the side walk. My vision was slightly blurry. My body was weak, and I wasn't able to stand, without wobbling from side to side. I felt like I was going to collapse, and pass out, any second, but I didn't. I began to walk down the dark street. It took me a few steps to realize, none of the street lights were working. Only the moonlight lit the street. As my vision cleared, I realized that the street that I was walking down was different. I was walking down a street in the New Hennequet area of the Suburbs Expansion District.
It was as if the world was broken, shattered, even. A large crack in the earth was right infront of me, and all I could see was a bottomless abyss, that seperated me from the rest of the city. It was as if the two parts of the earth had literally been pulled apart. But the creepy thing was, it perfectly seperated New Hennequet from Quinbecca.
I was stunned at what had happened. And yet nothing was being done about it. Last time something like this had happened, it was all over the news. I remember the panic. The Ultor moved in, and rebuilt everything. No Ultor this time. No police. No one. Just me. I was sure I was dreaming. I had to be dreaming. Soon, I would wake up, either in a club, on the sidewalk, or at home. I shut my eyes tight, knowing that when I opened them, I would wake up.
Suddenly, when my eyes opened, I was blinded by the sun light. Everything was the same, except now it was day time. While using my hands to shield my eyes from the burning sun, I discovered that I was wearing a wrist watch. It was an old watch, with a leather strap. I had seen it before. It was my fathers.
During my time as a Saint, I'd stolen it and pawned it. It had been converted from an old golden to pocket watch, into a wrist watch. And all of its metal components were mad of solid gold. Or, at least they were. It got me enough money to buy me some new clothes, and a gun and some ammo. My father hasn't spoken to me since.
When I looked at the time, it read "07:06". I soon noticed that something seemed to be pouring out of the crack. A thick black smog. And it began to cover the land in darkness. As it got nearer to me, I could sense something dark. Something evil. Pure evil. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. I turned, and tried to run, but to no avil. The black smog had already gathered at my feet, and kept me trapped. Slowly, it began to make its way up my body. Inch by inch, I was slowly covered. I tried to squirm, to pull away, but it didn't work. I tried yelling for help, but no one came. Soon, my body was covered. And my vision was blackened. And I passed out.
To Be Continued...
Well there we go. A new guy, and a new story. I hope you like it, and if you have any suggestions, please tell me. I write not only for myself, but for my fans.
Speaking of the fans, I have something special for you! In each chapter, I will hide a reference to the Devils number, 666, and if you find it before I post the next chapter, and I will be posting weekly, and checking daily, you will have the special chance to write a line that will appear in a future chapter!
Honestly I wasn't expecting much (Because most new writers take a few goes to get it right... I did!) but Now I feel bad and stupid because that was great and pure excellent I'm actaully glad I read it.
I liked the first chapter, the way your wrote it was perfect, the first person thing is great.
I want more...
I can't find the reference, I'll read it again later and maybe I'll see it...
I can't remember anything after that. Besides one thing; How cold and dark it was. The cold and the dark. I truely knew how it felt to be soul-less.
I awoke in a strange room, it seemed like a prison hospital.
"Hey, psst, is it really you?"
A young, hispanic voice called out. My eyes were blurry. I turned my head to the right, where the sound came from. I saw a dirty, white curtain, being held back by a young man. He couldn't have been that old. He was in a orange jumpsuit, wearing a purple beanie. I recognised him. I was weak, as if I'd survived an explosion, and been in a long coma. I some how got the strength to speak.
"Do I know you?"
He seemed to recognise me, more than I recognised him.
"My brother was in the Saints and he told me all about you... Listen, we gotta get you outta here,"
Carlos! He's older brother was in the Saints. A nice guy. Shortly after I left the Saints, we lost contact. I remember him bringing Carlos to the Church once. I also remember hearing about what happened to Carlos on the news. As soon as this memory filled my head, Carlos' face began to fall apart, and tear. I remember seeing his disfigured face on the news. Only one picture. Thats all the police ever released. And that is how his face was becoming. Hours of damage, happening in mere secconds. I went from one twisted nightmare into another. Because thats how dreams and nightmares work. You go from one to another. But this was far too vivid to be a nightmare. It was too real!
"Carlos, I'm sorry about what happened to you, but I have to wake up," I called out, hoping to get a reaction. His disfigured face disturbed me more than when I saw it on the news. It was as if I was looking straight at Carlos' dead body, but it wasn't dead.
"I know a way out!" His voice was twisted and warped. His young, hispanic voice was now empty, and evil. He seemed to have continued the conversation he had started earlier, completely oblivious to what I had said.
"Carlos. Hello? Can you hear me?" I felt stupid, and scared. I was talking to a talking corpse! I prayed that this was a twisted nightmare.
"I heard you were in here and I wanted to bust you out... Getting outta heres a two man job and no one else will give a try..."
This conversation seemed too, scripted. As if I was reliving someones memory, with out Carlos' zombified face. Then it hit me. I knew who's memory I was reliving. It wad that of an old friend.
"Well, bravo. Aren't you the clever one?"
A third voice called out from somewhere in the room. It was a male voice, and he spoke with a posh tone. The voice of someone who was old and wise mentally, but young and fit physically. As if they had seen all the world had to offer, learnt all it's secrets, but still had many more years left in them.
I turned in my bed, and examined the room. It was clear to me now. I had kept in touch with a few of my buddies who had returned to their purple backgrounds, and they had told me how he had escaped from the prison. MC, we called him. One of my close friends. My only friend through childhood, and I was his. As thick as thieves, they called us. We were literally thieves. He was the reason I joined the Saints, and he was the reason I left. When we were kids, we were trouble makers, but not for the thrill of it. We were rebels. We were fighting for something. But when he became Julius' right hand man, I could see him becoming mad with power. My thoughts about my old friend were interupted when a mysterious man appeard in the room.
"Well, no time too lose, I've got a job to do,"
He was clad in a black suit. With a red tie. His shoes were pointed like spikes, and he stood straight. He must've been just over 6 feet tall. His hair was combed back, and held with a sort of gel which shone in the light. He had a finely trim moustache and goatee. He had his hands behind his back, and began to walk over to me.
"This could've been you, you know? So many things, so many factors. The way the wind blows. The path you take home..."
That spooked me. Years ago, me and MC where drinking in Tee'N'Ay, and we ordered a cab. Unfortunately, when the cab arrived, we realized that we only had enough money between us to get one of us home. We drew straws on who would take the cab, and who would walk. I got lucky. I got the cab. He wasnt as lucky. That night, he got caught up in a three way gang brawl between some Vice Kings, Rollerz and Carnales. Luckily for him, he was saved by Julius Little and Troy Bradshaw. Thats how he joined the Saints. That could've been me. It should've been me.
"Do I sense a hint of jealousy in those thoughts? It should've been you? Oh, how right you are"
The man stopped near the bed, and placed a cell phone on the bed side table, before wandering over to Carlos, who had been frozen still for a while now.
"Poor boy, such a promising life. Wasted. Ah well, life goes on, well, his doesn't." The man chuckled at this.
"What do you want? Who are you?" I asked, knowing that I wouldn't get an answer.
"Questions that will be answered in due time, boy. But, for now, you can call me, Caesar."
He looked at me, his eyes seemed to narrow. Until now, I hadn't noticed thay his eyes weren't blue or green, but they were red.
"Do my eyes intrigue you? I have found that if you stare into ones eyes for longe enough, you can learn all their secrets. Now, grab that phone, you have a long night ahead of you. Trials and retributions. Reliving ones most and least favourable memories. Hope I dont spoil any of it for you. I hate spoilers. Worse than when that time I was watching sixth sense and a friend yelled that Bruce Willis was a ghost all along. Lets just say this; He's not my friend anymore." Once again, the man chuckled. "Now, chop chop" The man clapped his hands, and it was dark again.
To Be Continued.
No 666 reference in this one, and there won't be until you find it in the first one. If no one finds it by Chapter 3, I'll give up and reveal the answer. Now chop chop, you're running out of TIME.