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02-13-2022, 03:00 PM | #1 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
|
A bottle shattered against the chicken wire screen, a few glass shards spinning through, to be batted away by the burly bass player. The singer wailed, his voice rising, and he grabbed his crotch, thrusting in the direction of the "fan." Two more bottles arced through the dimly lit bar. The keyboardist's fingers ran through tight arpeggios, and the green-haired sound engineer turned a knob and adjusted a pair of sliders. Low frequency waves under-laid the rock music.
The road house owner shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling the crowd getting rowdier by the minute. He glanced at his new hire, a pink-haired waitress, loading a tray with fresh bottles. He caught her elbow and leaned to her ear. "Faster," he shouted over the pulsing music. She glanced down at his hand and arched an eyebrow. "You're slowing me down," she replied, twisting away and placing bottles on a table. She scooped up empties ahead of hands reaching out for them, intent on flinging the at the screen. A patron reached for her tray, trying to grab the bottles, but the waitress slipped away, leaving him lurching off balance, grabbing the table to keep from falling off his chair. He snarled and staggered to his feet, blinking through booze and dim light and the pulse in his head, pounding to the beat of the music. The waitress scooped up more empties from another table on her way back to the bar, nodding at a young man holding up a finger and circling it over the table. She surveyed them quickly. Not bikers or factory workers. These were kids. Local football team, perhaps. Underage, certainly, but milking their fleeting status as local heroes. "Another round," one shouted, and then with a hand out to delay her, "and who is she?" He pointed past the wire screen to the mixing board, where the young green-haired sound engineer studied her board. The other boys suppressed laughter. "Stick to cheerleaders," said Zarana. She felt movement behind her a slipped around the table, raising her tray above her head as the angry patron stumbled past her. The man blinked and spun around. That waitress needed a lesson, but as he reached out she was gone. Then she was there, redirecting his arm, leading him, like in a dance, towards the door. Momentum carried him several steps forward and he shook his head, swinging around to grab her. Again, she was gone, and then back, leading him through a pirouette around a last table, where two bouncers grabbed his arms and flung him through the door. The slamming door shut out the music and he blinked, sucking in humid air. Muttering, he stepped towards the door, then away, trying to sort through where he was. He lit a cigarette and stumbled towards the row of bikes, finding his. He collided with someone - someone leaning on his bike. "I didn't see you," he muttered, balling his fists. "They never do." There was a rush of air, he was surrounded by blackness, and felt himself suddenly rising, helpless. He heard laughter, a sharp pain in his neck, then everything faded. |
02-13-2022, 06:06 PM | #2 |
Iron Grenadier
Join Date: Nov 2009
Location: Georgia
Posts: 505
|
This is really good stuff. I hope you're going to keep it going. Is that a preview of something bigger? A first installment of a series you'll write as you go?
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02-13-2022, 09:29 PM | #3 |
Zarana & Zandar
Join Date: Aug 2009
Location: The future of GI Joe
Posts: 3,261
|
Zarana & Zandar!
I'll be keeping an eye on this story.
__________________
This is amazing! We're getting a ZANDAR figure! ZANDAR featured prominently in the Cobra Commander series! Character development! It's a great time to be a Zandar fan! Thank you, Hasbro!!! |
02-14-2022, 06:41 PM | #4 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
|
Quote:
They may not be quite the siblings you know, but I hope you enjoy my take on them (and other 'Noks). |
02-14-2022, 06:44 PM | #5 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
|
Buzzer and Torch loaded equipment in the bus under Zanya's supervision. The rumble of motorcycle engines leaving the bar slowly faded as patrons disappeared into the night. A whistle cut through the air, and she turned. A cluster of young men from the bar stood under the light over the front entrance.
"Hey girly, how about an after party?" one said. The others behind him muffled laughter. "No," replied Zanya, turning back to the bus to supervise the loading. "Come on. I can show you around town." "No." "Don't you want to compare piercings?" She snorted. "You lose Bobby, pay up," said one of the kids. Zanya straightened up and turned to examine the group. She put her hands on her hips and stared hard at them. "Oh, I was a bet, was I?" She walked to the group, grabbed Bobby by the shirt and pulled his head down to her, kissing him hard. With one hand gripping his head, she reached behind him, holding her palm up. She held it there, feeling bills slapped into it, then crunched the money into a ball and gave them the finger. She flicked her hand, not releasing the boy from the kiss until the others had left. She let go of his head and he pulled back, gasping for air. "Hands," she warned, and he smiled, pausing their slide from her back up her sides, but not letting her go. He was startled by her strength as she held him in place while his friends piled into a car and left. Zanya looked him up and down. He was fit. A little dumb. Cocky, but uncomfortably out of his depth being suddenly alone with the band. Buzzer and Torch leaned against the bus, staring at the kid until he blinked and shifted his weight on his feet. Zanya glanced at them over her shoulder and jerked her head towards the bar. "Piercings, you say?" she asked, pulling him towards the bus. Buzzer and Torch laughed, closing the cargo doors and heading back inside for a last drink, passing Zarana on her way outside. Torch reached out for her, trying to draw her back to the bar. Zarana looked at him questioningly, and then over his shoulder at the bus, already beginning to rock. "That little . . . " she started, breaking from Torch and striding to the bus. She pulled open the door and stormed in. "Hello Auntie," said Zanya, straddling the boy, whose glazed eyes fluttered weakly. Blood ran down her chin, and she licked her lips. "Not him," snarled Zarana, pointing at the boy. "People notice when high school jocks go missing." Zanya looked down at the boy and traced a nail down his chest, raising a fine line of blood. "Pity," she said. The boy looked up at her, heard a cracking as her teeth started to grow, and discovered he didn't even have the strength to scream. Buzzer watched the bus stop rocking, pulled open the bar door, and walked in. He made out Zartan and the owner sitting at a table, counting money for the gig. The floor was sticky with old spilled beer, but it was clear that no one was staying behind to mop it up. Or wipe the bar. Or the tables and chairs. He took a deep breath, chuckled at the thought of pending chaos, and leaned over to whisper in Zartan's ear. Zartan frowned and sighed. He looked around the bar, confirming it was empty. He motioned to Torch, who flashed a grin, and turned to the owner. "I'm afraid we have a problem." |
02-15-2022, 09:25 PM | #6 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
|
Hawk held the phone away from his head, the screaming voice loud enough that everyone in the room could hear.
"I don't care when scum die from drugs, but this kid's parents donated to my campaign! Church goers! He played football! Was being scouted! Do something about it!" "You just said the police and DEA denied there was a drug angle - " said Hawk. "I supported your funding at the last appropriations committee. You will support me on this!" Hawk held the phone that was suddenly silent. He sighed. "I'll go down and investigate," said Grid Iron. "I'll talk with the team." Hawk rubbed the bridge of his nose and nodded. "Take Doc. Have him visit the coroner. And the hospital, to see if there are any other such cases. Pull the police blotter." |
02-16-2022, 01:20 PM | #7 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
|
". . . You never shout at Thrasher when he starts fights!" shouted Zanya.
"Yes I do!" shouted Zarana, her temper rising higher at Zanya's sudden smirk. "And he hasn't ridden with us in months! There's a reason we left him in the Everglades. He drew too much attention! Now because of your selfish impulsiveness, Zandar has been left behind." "Enough!" barked Zartan, glancing in the rearview mirror at the quarreling women. He looked back at the road, watching for the next exit. He pulled the bus off the highway, ensuring that the motorcycles behind followed, and holding up a finger every time one of the women started to speak. He cruised over cracked asphalt, past boarded up plants and warehouses. Weeds climbed chain link fences. Crumbling cinder blocks were streaked with rust. Even the graffiti was faded. Seemingly at random, Zartan pulled into a vacant lot. Buzzer's motorcycle rumbled past and he dismounted to open a bay door. Zartan drove in, followed by the bikes. Buzzer shut the door, plunging the cavernous space into darkness, pierced by a few rays of dusty light from holes in the roof. At the first open area he pulled up and waited for the bikes to catch up. Dusty riders dismounted and climbed into the bus. "We've all fed. Tasks for tonight. Zarana: Find an alternate building. Buzzer: Scout bars. Torch: keep an eye out should Zandar catch up with us. He's laying back to see if there's any heat from Zanya's stupid stunt. Now rest up," said Zartan, pointing at Zanya. "Except for you. Come with me." He grabbed her wrist and dragged her under a spear of light. Zanya winced, and struggled briefly against her father's grip. Even with the strength from the young athlete's blood, she was no match for the elder vampire. Zartan stared hard at her skin in the light, wondering how long it would be before she too started to experience the sensitivities he shared with his siblings. "Discipline," he snarled, as Zanya fought to keep her face neutral. "Discipline. We feed on those who will never be missed. And respect your elders. You're our day watch until I tell you otherwise." He dropped her to the ground. Zanya rubbed her wrist and watched her father. He disappeared momentarily into the bus, re-emerging with his bow instead of a guitar. He paced through the dusty building, kicking aside debris, and engaging in a few warm-up tumbling routines before snapping arrows into a distant door. He was brooding again, lost in past memories. Zanya sneaked a glance at her aunt, standing by the bus and chewing her lip as she too watched Zartan. |
02-17-2022, 07:15 PM | #8 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
|
Doc closed the door of the morgue and squirted alcohol on his hands, rubbing them while cursing the ineptness of the coroner. Whatever he had done would have been marked as a fail in any med school. He must have been drunk. But whatever the boy had taken had thinned his blood to the point that he was completely bled out. And the animals hadn't waited long to start eating him. Coroner had no interest in more than a cursory look. The only other deaths of unnatural causes were a biker who was a case study in crash physics, and who had also been partially eaten by animals, and the presumed owner of a local tavern that had burned down with him inside. He glanced around, getting his bearings to point himself in the direction of the diner where he was to meet Grid Iron. A bum was rooting through a garbage can, his long coat reeking of urine. A flash of pink from a scarf peeked out at the neck. Doc sighed at the local grind of poverty and handed him a couple of bills.
Grid Iron was sipping warm coffee and pushing hash browns around in runny egg yolk. He waved Doc over to the booth, and Doc slipped in across the cracked table. Grid Iron pushed his mug away and flipped through his notes. "The team played Friday night. Won. Saturday was recovery and homework. Sunday was prayers. That's when the kid was noticed missing. No one knew where he was. Body was found by the highway on Tuesday." Doc stared at Grid Iron. "You believe none of his friends know anything?" "Football players are good kids," said Grid Iron. "Good character." He glanced up at the young waitress who had appeared at the booth. She was shaking her head slightly. "What?" asked Grid Iron. "Can I get you anything?" she asked Doc. "Coffee, please." "If you're talking about the local team, which everyone in town is, then you're fools if you think they were doing homework on Saturday," said the waitress. Doc held out a hand to stop Grid Iron. "Where would they have been?" "Maybe the road house. The one that burned down Saturday night. Maybe across the county line at the titty bar. But they weren't doing homework, and most of 'em have questionable character." "Road House?" asked Doc. "Yeah. Off the highway. Lot of bikers go there. Truckers. Guys from the mill. The team. There's live music every Saturday." Doc thanked her and paid the bill. He flipped through his notes. He had a single note about the road house. The site was taped off, but barely being investigated, with the assumption it was started by a kitchen grease fire. The cops seemed determined to avoid any potential of finding anything that might cause them work. He sighed at the thought of this being a wild goose chase, and walked out to the parking lot to make a call. He ran his hand over his head while the phone rang, thinking about what the waitress had said. "Hawk. Doc. Is that Senator still calling you? Well maybe he can be useful. Yeah. See if he can transfer the body to our lab for a competent autopsy. The kid, a John Doe, and a tavern owner. The last two are long shots. I'm worried about mission creep, but the deaths were around the same day, and the kid might have been at the bar. Also, if we're to make any progress I need you to pull Grid Iron back. He's a complete jackass. Send me Barbecue. I've got a fire scene for him to look at." |
02-18-2022, 03:32 PM | #9 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
|
Buzzer and Ripper cruised the town, paying attention to the streets where pedestrians looked at them nervously, and where they were barely noticed. Ripper eyed panhandlers and, noted that the park benches were old style, without any anti-homeless rails. He licked his lips. Buzzer led the way to the edge of town, where a small strip mall marked the frontier of anything residential, overlooking fields of warehouses, cracked concrete, weeds and chainlink. A short row of bikes marked the entrance to a drinking hole. The parked and walked inside, eyes rapidly adjusting to the dim light. A few patrons shot pool while the owner organized behind the bar.
"Got any openings for a band?" Buzzer asked. The owner put down a glass and eyed the newcomers. "We don't do live music. Too many problems in the past." "You sure about that?" asked Ripper. The owner stared at Ripper. "I think you can make an exception for us," said Buzzer, pushing his sunglasses onto his head. "We play loud. Can't have problems when the music is loud, can you." The owner shifted his stare to Buzzer. A couple of bikers noticed and started making their way to the bar. The owner stared into Buzzer's red eyes. He shuddered slightly at the startling colour and blinked. He looked Buzzer and Ripper up and down. They were more biker than musician. Scars, dirty broken nails, and they seemed to be expecting him to just change his mind. He picked up a rag and glanced at his regulars, closing the distance. "No," the owner said. "No live music. If you're not buying a drink, the door's over there." Buzzer and Ripper exchanged glances and looked around and the bikers surrounding them. They exchanged hungry grins, but Buzzer put a hand out. "Not yet." He turned to the bikers and made a mock bow and turned to the door. "We'll dance some other time." "Gar," muttered Ripper. "How does Zarana do it? She just stares at them and they change their minds." "Forget it mate. There's a bar downtown that might do." *** Doc leaned against the chain link fence, watching the football team run through drills. A stray ball bounced in his general direction, and a player chased after it. He scooped it up, paused, and bent down to re-tie his cleats. "You're with that clown who was asking about Bobby," he muttered. "Yes. Coroner said it was an OD," said Doc. "Bobby was no junkie." "Well if the cops start thinking there are drugs on the team you're all going to get tested. What gets passed around the locker room? Other than the pain killers and steroids you're all going to show." The player checked his other shoe. "That's what Coach is scared of. Bobby was at the road house. Made it with a chick from the band. Maybe she knows something." "What was the band?" asked Doc. A coach blew a whistle and hollered at the player to get back in drills. "Cold Slither," he said, straightening up. "They were terrible." Doc checked his watch and pulled out his phone. "Hawk. Doc. I may have a lead. Some band called Cold Slither. Can we hand this off to the cops now?" |
02-19-2022, 04:54 PM | #10 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
|
Barbecue walked around the perimeter of the fire scene, comparing his position to the plans he'd pulled from the town hall. Yeah, definite signs of grease fire where the kitchen had been. This was the likely start point. But, there were signs of accelerant elsewhere. He squatted and ran his hands over the debris.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say someone took a flamethrower to this place," he muttered. He tossed burned scrap to the ground and dusted off his hands, looking around at the mess. "Too bad. I think I might have enjoyed drinking here!" Several hundred yards away, motionless under a canvas sheet smeared with diesel and mud, Zandar peered through binoculars. He lowered the binos and fingered a bowie knife, imagining drawing it across the throat of the investigator and lapping up the blood. The edges of hunger were starting up again, sooner than normal. Perhaps it was stress from being separated from his sister. He picked up a camera and took several shots. This was enough. It was time to rejoin the clan. Barbecue looked at his watch. There was nothing else to see here, and it was time to be going if he was to meet up with Doc before dark. He climbed into his pickup and checked his map, noting the location of the truck stop where they'd agreed to meet. The drive was bleak. Scrub, the odd derelict shack. Not even the strip of pawn shops and liquor stores and bait and tackle places closer to town. He shifted in the seat to keep his butt from falling asleep. The truck stop came up, and he pulled in, glancing around the lot. A line of trucks was marshalling to leave together. And, of course - there was Doc leaning against a trailer with a neon cross on the roof, shooting the breeze with a local. He pulled up beside them. "Padre," he said, tipping his cap. "They always run in convoys like that?" he asked, jerking his thumb at the trucks. "Like I was telling your friend," replied the minister, "a lot of these drivers have got superstitious about some of these routes. Only run 'em by day. Or, if they have to go at night, they do so in packs. Too many trucks have crashed for no reason on some of the routes. Or just disappeared." "Well, maybe they should slow down a little," suggested Barbecue. "Or not drive so many hours at a stretch," said the minister. "I say the same things. But the drivers prefer supernatural reasons. Strange rumours take hold. They even whisper of cannibal cults. So I sell them medallions of Saint Christopher, and we talk of Proverbs 30:14." Barbecue glanced at Doc. "'There are those whose teeth are swords, whose fangs are knives, to devour the poor from off the earth, the needy from among mankind,'" Doc said. "Ah," said Barbecue. "Yeah - that one. Well listen, if you don't mind, I gotta talk with Doc here about some routine arson." "Just a moment," said Doc. "You wouldn't happen to remember where and when some of these disappearances occurred, would you?" |
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