Feb 22, 2020, 05:17 pm

News:

The OP.  We're getting up to speed.  Please feel free to join up and participate though.


+-User

Welcome, Guest.
Please login or register.
 
 
 
Forgot your password?

+-Recent Topics

Scifi/Fantasy - Apocolypto by Ren
Feb 13, 2020, 08:30 pm

Scifi/Fantasy - The Other One by Ren
Jan 31, 2020, 08:41 pm

Crime - The Memoirs of Theodore Chance by Ren
Jan 26, 2020, 09:11 am

Sci-fi/Fantasy - Walkabout - Chapter 3 - Test by Ren
Dec 07, 2019, 08:52 pm

Martha school: cold case mystery_chapter 1 by Scribe_siren
Nov 28, 2019, 05:58 am

Most Excellent Music vids/songs by Ren
Nov 14, 2019, 09:05 pm

'ello 'ello 'ello by Ren
Nov 13, 2019, 09:29 am

OP updates and requests for such by Wanderer
Nov 11, 2019, 01:06 pm

Dorothy vs, Oz - Parts I and II by Ren
Nov 10, 2019, 11:14 am

OMFG!!! by Ren
Nov 06, 2019, 01:46 pm

Recent posts

Pages1 2 3 ... 6
1
Interactive Stories Glade / Scifi/Fantasy - Apocolypto - ...
Last post by Ren - Feb 13, 2020, 08:30 pm
"Princess, they are waiting for you," May, her old servant, said.  May's eyes were on the floor, as was proper, but even so, Xy could feel the glare of impatience.  The princess didn't care.  She would come before her father when she was ready, and not before. It was her right!

Still, she thought, as she looked herself over once more in the mirror, even she had to admit that, finally, her attire was satisfactory.  Her long, pristine white robes hung down to her knees. A green sash was wrapped around her waist, and her simple gold necklace clung to her long, thin neck.  One thing was missing. Her main blade.  It was waiting for her in the throne room, along with the assembled court.  To be formally presented to her for her coming of age. She felt naked with only two daggers.

"Very well," she said.  "I am ready. Lead on May."

Xy stifled a rebellious titter at the servants sniff of disapproval. Using names for servants! Xy was traditional it as true, it would have been impossible not to be given her upbringing, but she also harboured thoughts of a more progressive nature.  Thoughts that, for now, she kept very well hidden. Even the next in line to the throne had to be careful when confronting the traditions that had dominated the empire for so long.

May led the way out of her chambers, and along the passage, through Xy's quarters.  Out of the doors, where two of the princesses' personal guards, both female of course, were standing at attention.  As she passed through they fell in behind her, walking in step, hands on their weapons, eyes darting left and right, ever vigilant.

Down the grand staircase, past more guards, house guards this time, and along the main corridor down to the throne room.  Those grand doors swung open slowly as she approached.  May stopped and stood to one side as they arrived, allowing her to enter.

Stepping inside the room, Xy's eyes went straight to her father, sitting on the imperial throne, dressed in all the splendour that could possibly be afforded to the Highest of the High.  His eyes met her in turn, and she thought she detected the hint of approval in them.  Her father had been her most staunch advocate through the years, to the point were he'd even taught in some of her weapon's classes.  An almost unheard of action. 

Xy glanced to her father's right, and steeled herself. Her mother was also looking at her, but this time it was a glare.  For reasons Xy had never really understood, her own mother had always hated her.  Xy's younger brother, on the other hand, could do no wrong.

The princess switched her eyes back to her father as she arrived at the base of the dais that his throne was placed on.  She fell to a single knee in front of him, and heard the collective intake of breath from the courtiers assembled for the spectacle.  Going down on one knee was usually reserved for a prince, and a warrior.

Her head held up defiantly, Xy stared at her father, daring him to say something.

The emperor merely made a very slight movement with his mouth, which she interpreted as a hint of a smile. 

There was a hiss of expelled air from the Empress, but her father ignored it.  Nodding, he allowed her to rise, which she did in one smooth motion.

"Xy, you are well come," the Emperor said. 

"I thank my Lord," she replied, dipping her head. The minimum courtesy.

Her father chuckled, obviously enjoying her show of bravado.  Inwardly, Xy smiled.  She knew him well.  He admired strength and courage nearly above all.  No matter who showed it.  It made him, in her eyes, the greatest man to ever sit on the throne.

"You are here because you are now a woman," the Emperor went on, this time in a louder voice, meant to be heard.  "Your childhood, that carefree time..."

Xy swallowed a grimace.  Hardly carefree.

"... is over.  Now you are here to proclaim your title and your ambitions."

Nodding again, this time in acknowledgement, Xy smiled.  The security this offered was invaluable to her.  With this ceremony, her place as heir would be nearly unassailable.

"Before I carry on," intoned her father, as the ritual prescribed.  "Does anyone have any objections?"

Xy held her breath.  It was unlikely that anyone would stand up, knowing how fond of his daughter the Emperor was, but even so...

The required time passed, and the Emperor nodded.  "Very well, I now declare Zheal Xy Ghlv Cha Zibath, my heir and woman proper, child no longer."  Her father looked at her.  "It is your right to demand a boon."

"My sword," she replied instantly.  No surprise there.  "And..."

"Two?" The Emperor raised an eyebrow.  "Speak on then."

Xy smiled, half mischief and half amusement.

>>>

Oh, didn't see this coming. Now it's there though, what could she also ask for?  Bear in mind she's in a very formal, rigid society. Imagine old Japan, but more so.

Let's have your ideas, assuming anyone is still here...

<<<<
2
Interactive Stories Glade / Scifi/Fantasy - The Other One ...
Last post by Ren - Jan 31, 2020, 08:41 pm
She pouted, and put a finger to her lips. 

"Oh god, please don't do that," Mike said.  "J... Just tell me what I need to do."

"You're a good boy," She said, stroking his face. "I knew you were special the first time I saw you mess your pants."  She fondled his lower regions and he whimpered.

"These so called 'nuns'," she went on, "have summoned me forth, but now they have, they keep me imprisoned here.  Isn't that so cruel?"  A tiny kiss on his cheek.  "Mike?"

"Ohhhh, yes. Yes.  Yes!" Mike replied, quivering. 

"So, I just need a little favour from you, and then we can be together.  Will you help me?"

"Of course!"  he said.

She smiled, and Mike's world turned golden.

+

Mike wiped his brow as he typed.  He'd searched the local area, but there was nothing.  He had to go wider.

Glancing to one side, he took in the pile of, for want of a better word, he'd called ingredients.  They'd mostly been easy to get.  Black candles featured heavily, as had, surprisingly, chocolate.  The untanned cow hide had been a bit harder, but a visit to a local abattoir had sorted that out, and what he'd been assured was goat's blood too.  He was a bit concerned about that, as he could only see cow parts in the abattoir. Still, there was nothing to do about it now, and surely blood was blood?

Now he was searching on online, looking for an abandoned church.  One seemed harder to find than he would have thought, given the number of churches in the country. 

It took another half an hour before he found one that looked like it would suit, and most of the next day hiring a car and travelling there, and scouting the location out.

It really was abandoned, and not within direct line of sight to any dwelling, which was a definite plus.

Eventually Mike wiped his brow and stood back, taking the whole building in from the slight rise in the road where he'd parked the car. 

"This will do," he said.

+

The church, Saint Andrew's it had been called, was just outside of a small village with the unlikely sounding name of Old Marzipan.  There was no clue as to where 'New Marzipan' was.  The building itself had been boarded up for about ten years, and was suitably Gothic and old-style spooky.  If looks could contribute to demonic worship, this was the place indeed.

Mike nodded to himself as he pushed his way through the hedge carrying his supplies.  Apparently the ritual had to be done at midnight.  As a dedicated coward, Mike was not looking forward to that part.

Still, he scuttled through the graveyard (graveyard!!) and made his way to the side door that he'd forced open earlier with the crowbar he'd, with impressive foresight, brought along.

The main hall - there was probably a name for it, but as a dedicated Atheist Mike didn't know what that was - was gloomy even whilst there was still daylight, and he shivered. 

"Better get on with it," he muttered to himself.

This was his last trip ferrying in supplies, and he dropped the bag next to the rest of the stuff.  He'd already drawn the pentagram, most carefully, in the chalk mixed with the (hopefully) goat's blood, and placed the black candles at the points required. 

He pulled the cow skin out of his bag and unrolled it on the floor, smoothing it out, and then sat back. 

Now it was just a case of waiting.

+

He woke with a jerk at eleven forty five as his alarm went off.  The portable lamps he'd brought and turned on earlier lit the church around him, somehow making the darkness beyond even more terrifying. 

"Concentrate on the task at hand," he chided himself, thinking of Her. 

Taking out the lighter he'd bought at the local shop, he carefully made his way around the pentagram, lighting the candles.  Their flickering glow just added to the spooky atmosphere. 

Task done, Mike kneeled on the cow skin and took a deep breath.  "This will be worth it!' he told himself. 

He opened the notebook with the words that She'd given him, that day in the school.  It seemed so long ago now, and the whole thing had a dream-like quality to it, but it had only been a few days ago.  Still, it had propelled him forward, driven by a force that he didn't entirely understand, and yet...

Shaking his head, he looked at his watch. 

Time.

Mike took a deep breath, and spoke the seven words.  Nothing.  This was, apparently, to be expected.

He paused and then repeated them. 

Was that a breeze?

He repeated them once more, and this time there was certainly a response. 

The candles flared.  A dull, red, some would say demonic glow appeared in the centre of his pentagram. 

He stood up, stepped back and watched.  The glow became stronger, brighter, until he had to shield his eyes and look away.

There was a low hum, building up to a crescendo until, at what was probably exactly midnight he worked out later, a large, dull explosion, and a flash of red light.

Mike lowered his hand from his eyes and looked at his work.

There was a man in the centre of the pentagram. He was tall, muscular and dressed in the coolest long black cloak. 

The man looked at him with eyes that seemed to glow.  He was clean shaven and totally bald, though he was wearing what appeared to be dark red makeup around his eyes, it was difficult to see in the low light. 

"So, you're Mike I take it?" the stranger said.

"Who the fuck are you?" Mike replied.

"I'm Azerus."  The newcomer smiled.  "You're cute."

"Oh fuck," Mike said.


>>>>

So, how the hell is this 'person' going to help Mike get 'Her'?  Any ideas?  'cos I'm all out.

But WTF, at least I wrote something right? And I'm only a bit drunk.

<<<<

>>>
Edited slightly 02/02/20
<<<
3
Interactive Stories Glade / Scifi/Fantasy - The Other One ...
Last post by Ren - Jan 27, 2020, 07:30 pm
Okay then, polling!!
4
Interactive Stories Glade / Crime - The Memoirs of Theodor...
Last post by Ren - Jan 26, 2020, 09:11 am
 was feeling pretty fucking smug when I went to see Harry next time, I can tell you.  Shows what a na├»ve idiot I really was. Harry brought me down to earth real fast.

"What the fuck do you think you were doing?" he shouted at me. 

I wiped the spittle off my face and frowned. "What you told me," I replied, with the sulky face that youngsters the world over have.

"I told you to get the twat to pay up!" my boss continued, ignoring my response. "Instead you leave two cowpses, an injuwed cop and a bawwow load of cwap behind!  And no money!!  What the fuck were you thinking?"

Once I'd decoded his rant, I snarled and shook my head.  I may have been a junior employee, but I wasn't going to take this sort of thing. I've never been good with people telling me to do shit, which is both a strength and weakness. In hindsight it was probably more a weakness when I was younger and still wet behind the ears. 

"He wasn't cooperating. I thought it best to send a message."

Harry looked at me and sat down in his disgusting armchair.   He poured a large measure of some kind of brown liquid into his glass and took a deep draught before responding.

"Well," he said. "I have to admit, my boys haven't had much pwoblems with collections the last day or so.  Maybe we can work with it."

"See..."  I started.

"I didn't say you could speak!" he shouted, cutting me off. 

I shut up. Sometimes even the dumbest fuck knows when he's pushing his luck.

After taking another deep drink of his concoction, Harry nodded to himself and addressed me again.

"Go home," he said, then immediately held a finger up to stop my impending complaint.

"You need to lie low low a while.  Just follow you're usual woutine.  Keep your head down.  Let the heat cool off a bit."

This seemed sensible advice.  I needed to catch up on my studies anyway, so I nodded.

"Good.  Now, fuck off."

I hesitated.

"What?" he said.

"Does this mean I've got the job?"  I asked.  I was short of cash and this was what I'd come here for after all.

For a second I thought he was going to tell me to stick it, and I was half contemplating beating out his brains with his whisky glass, when he nodded.

"Yes.  You have potential.  I'll see you soon."

"Fair enough."  I fucked off.

~

After a couple of murders and a shootout with the cops, college life seemed easy, but I put Harry and other things aside and tried to actually study for a change.  To be honest, I'm not the best student in the world.  Not that I'm stupid mind, IQ tests I've taken say I'm just short of a fucking genius,  I'm just not a whizz at learning out of books. Show me something once and I have it, but if I have to read instructions I tend to nod off halfway down the page. 

Anyway, after a few days of this I was bored. I get bored easily, so sue me.

Weasel was out of town for a few day, avoiding someone he owed money to, so, practically friendless as I was, I was forced to go out on my own, which I've never really liked.

It was when I was staggering home late, well, next morning, that I heard the scream.  I would usually just have ignored it, but I was not in the best of moods. The tarts hadn't been cooperating, and the beer hadn't done its usual job of making me happy.   Basically I was fucked off.

So when I heard the cry of a maiden in distress, I decided to see what was going on.  Turns out two guys were holding down some chick with short peroxide blond hair with the intention of introducing her to their little fellows.

I was drunk, in a bad mood, and have always had a thing for peroxide blond hair, so you know what I did?

Of course you do.

I didn't have anything in the way of weapons, barring my own savvy of course, so I waited until they were, shall I say... distracted with the girl before I made my move. 

I don't really give a fuck, if we're speaking frankly (which is what I do best), about helping others unless there's something in it for me, know what I mean?  'course you do, everybody does.  But here my charitable side kicked in, and I decided to be a good citizen for a change.  Of course, if the tart had been an ugly fat slag, I'd likely not felt quite the same way, but no one said life's fair. 

So I picked up a likely looking bit of wood, and by bit, I mean it looked like a chair leg someone had discarded, and approached as quietly as being half cut on fuck knows how many pints allowed, and smacked the geezer holding down our damsel hard around the head.

I admit, I'd never beaten someone around the head with a hefty chunk of wood before, so I may have overdone it a trifle.  By a trifle, I mean the top of the chaps head came right off.  Splattered shit all over the wall and the loving couple below too.  Right ruined their evening, or morning I guess, if we're being precise.

Naturally chumley pulls out sharpish like, his attention taken away from blond chick below by the brains of his friend coating her tits.  Things like that can distract you from your loving I've found.  Anyway, he started to say something, probably some witticism like 'what the fuck' or such, just as I removed his teeth with my wooden helper.

That was a bloody good chair leg that was.  They just don't make them like that anymore.

Anyway, teeth and gums and jaw and stuff joined the bits of brain and skull all over the floor, and matey simply slid to one side and hit the ground. 

Now, bear in mind I was drunk as a fuck, but I remember me kneeling down next to the cute chick and saying something like:

"Come with me if you want to live."  Whereupon she opened her legs and we did it hard.

Of course, the problem with this memory is that it's bollocks.  I mean, Terminator hadn't even come out back then, and, well, the drunk thing.

A more accurate rendition would probably go along the lines of me slurring: "You 'k?  You're hot.  Wanna fuck?" 

I was the soul of sympathy, even then.

Trouble was, she was screaming, probably at the blood and brains and whatnot splattered all over the ground and, unfortunately, her.  Well, some people are a bit squeamish. 

It's funny that the films don't show this sort of thing, it would probably glamorize it a lot less.  Anyway, I have a vague recollection of her throwing up, before I hauled her to her feet, her arms and legs kicking, and half carried, half dragged her back to my pad, probably with the intention of sticking it up her bum.

I vaguely remember getting home, throwing my new friend onto the sofa, and then passing out, still fully clothed, on my bed.

I know, I'm such a gentleman.  Didn't feel her up or anything.
5
Interactive Stories Glade / Re: Scifi/Fantasy - The Other ...
Last post by Ren - Jan 03, 2020, 08:42 pm

 "Wh... wh... who..." Mike gave up as She wound herself around him, hands moving over areas of his anatomy like the a supercharged mars rover on a particularly interesting rock outcrop.

"I've been waiting for you Mike," she purred in his ear, licking in first.

"You have?" Mikes voice rose several octaves as the mars rover arrived at the Main Event and sent out probes.

"I knew you would come you see," she went on.  "I knew you would save me from... here." 

"B... bu... bu... but why are you... oh god," Mike, with a willpower he didn't know he possesed, pushed  her back.  "Why are you here?"

"They don't want me to have a life, or any fun."  She pouted, and Mike groaned.  "Will you help me?"

"What do I have to do?" Any remaining resistance crumbled as a tear slid down her cheek.

"Oh baby, you have to get me out of course!"

"But how?  Those nuns outside..."

"You don't need to get this body out, as such," she said.  "Just, do a few specific tasks, and you can summon me anywhere.  At the moment I'm trapped here, but if you do what I want, we can be together.  You want that don't you?" She rubbed herself against him again.

"Tell me what to do," he said.

>>>

Okay, shortest chapter ever, but need ideas!  What is the ritual needed?  Help!

<<<
6
Interactive Stories Glade / Crime - The Memoirs of Theodor...
Last post by Ren - Jan 02, 2020, 03:05 pm
"What have you done?" the brother blubbed, when I took him gently by the nuts and dragged him, limping, into the living room.   He screamed a fair bit at that, until I stuffed some rag into his mouth. 

John's brother had been where I left him, at the foot of the stairs, clutching his leg.  He was hardly a great threat on his own, but he'd seen me, which was a problem.  Still, I was still young and reckless back then, thought I was invincible.  Ah, the innocence of the young.

So I slapped him around the face a few times, which did nothing much to improve his demeanour, but helped me quite a bit.  Don't know what all these fucking therapists are on, a bit of violence helps relieve stress no end. 
 
Anyway, I was keenly aware that there was yet another defenestrated body seeping out over the garden, and this simpering cunt was keeping me from cleaning it up. I didn't dare call Harry from their phone, so it was a matter of hiding John until I could get word to the cleaner.

I sat down in an armchair and leaned the bat on against it as I sneered at the sobbing brother and contemplated the situation.  The corpse was a priority, but the hedge around the garden meant that it was unlikely any passer-by was going to spot it.  Still, it had to be moved fairly quickly. Perhaps it was time to get my friendly driver to do some actual work.  It wouldn't be a bad idea to get him implicated anyway, make sure he'd keep his gob shut. 

"Hey, fuckhead," I said.  "Is anyone else likely to come here?"  I didn't want their gran walking in on things, killing old ladies struck me as somehow wrong.  What? We all have our personal code; mine happens to be that stoving in the skulls of senior citizens is just not right.

Brother-of-John shook his head.  I wasn't sure I could believe him a hundred percent, but it didn't seem like he was lying, so I was okay going with that for now. 

"Good. So, next.  Where do you keep the sheets for the bedding?"

~

It took some doing, but I managed to recover some large sheets and then, with the help of my fat driver friend, who, I found could swear like no one else I'd ever heard, scraped up the remains of John that was splattered all over the garden path.  Then we shoved the body in the back of the car and I left the driver, whose name I still didn't know, muttering under his breath in the driver's seat whilst I went back to deal with the currently-surviving kin.

"Get up," I said. 

The miserable excuse for a person dragged himself upright.

"Right then," I said.  "You have a bank card?  For the machine?"  Remember, back then ATMs were a new thing.  Anyway, he nodded.  "Good," I said.  May as well make a bit of cash on the side.  "You have it on you?"  Another nod.

I was about to make a triumphant exit, when a loud hammering on the door interrupted me.

"Police!"  came a stringent voice through the letter box.  "We know you're in there.  Open up!  In the name of the law."

Fuck, the pigs!  What the hell did they want?

"What are they here for?"  I hissed at my injured friend.

"I don't know," he moaned, once I'd take his gag out.

I hit him on his newly broken knee.  I know, I know, needless violence right? I'm usually such a gently soul too, but having the boys in blue come knocking when I'd just hidden a body outside made me a little edgy. 

"Try again fuckhead," I growled, as the filth hammered on the door again, louder this time.

"J...J... J..."

"John, beloved brother, sadly missed," I supplied.

"J... John, he was in... into... some... some... stuff.  Cops pro... probably found out."

"And as usual they pick the perfect time to come a calling," I finished. 

The fuzz shouted through the door again, threatening imminent entry.  Perhaps, I thought, this would be a convenient way to kill two birds with one stone, or bullet.  It would mean the loss of my gun, and a bit of luck but...

Deciding not to overthink things, I pulled my precious gun out of my pack and checked it was ready to fire.  Scuttling to the front door on all fours, I took aim at the figure through the frosted glass and fired up at it. 

The effect was gratifying. 

There were immediate shouts and the shadow of the door knocker disappeared.  I found out later he survived, but lost an arm.  Better than nothing I guess.  One less pig on the street to bother innocent civilians.

Anyway, I didn't hang about, but crawled back to John's brother and took a few pot shots out of the front window, just to stir things up a bit more. Then I turned and shot the sorry brother in the head from point blank range. 

I tell you now, if you ever want to pop someone close up, make sure you're wearing something waterproof.  The blood went everywhere.  And here was me wearing my new shirt too.  That was never the same again I can tell you. 

Confusion sowed, I fired a few more times and then wiped the gun carefully down and put it in my latest victim's hand, the number of kills was really mounting up.  I squeezed the trigger with his finger, firing out of the window again and using the last round, just to get powder on his hand.  Even then forensics weren't stupid.

Task done, I recovered my gear, including the bat, stuffed it in my bag, and then made my way to the rear of the house and slipped out of the back passage, as they say.  I know right?  Seems too easy. Well, sometimes things go that way.  I didn't go out of the gate of course, but over the hedge to next door's garden, and then over the fence to their next door.  I did that several times until I judged I was far enough away, and then strolled out onto the street, cool as a cucumber. 

My fat driver friend had fucked off, no doubt not wanting to draw attention to himself, especially with a body cooling in the back, so I wrapped my jacket about the bloodstains on my shirt and scarpered home sharpish. 

Made it back just in time for my favourite TV show too.  Some days you have all the luck. 
7
Interactive Stories Glade / Crime - The Memoirs of Theodor...
Last post by Ren - Dec 30, 2019, 04:55 pm
I didn't know what I was expecting really, but with Harry blarting on about some big crime boss, it was certainly more than the reality I was confronted with.

The apartment was fairly big, but it wasn't exactly the Ritz.  A manky brown carpet covered the floor, and various items of furniture rested upon it.  I'd not heard of feng shui at that time, but if I had, I'd have known this wasn't it.

The furniture was old and mostly covered in cigarette butts or ash.  The source of these was sat in the grubbiest armchair I'd ever seen. 

Frank was a large man even back then, with a huge walrus moustache that dominated his face.  He'd probably grown it to take attention away from his features, which weren't going to earn him any beauty awards.  A large red nose sat underneath two small blue eyes, which twinkled with an intelligence that could easily be overlooked.  His head shone under the harsh glare of the unshielded lamps and, for a moment, for some reason, I was reminded of the lampshade that I'd used on Scotty.   His attire looked like something Sherlock Holmes would wear, all tweed.  In one hand he held a scotch glass half full (always the optimist me) of what I could only presume was whisky.

"So, you're the lad that Hawwy sent."  I couldn't see his lips move under the 'tache.

"Sorry?" I said.

"Don't make me wepeat myself boy." 

I stifled my giggle. Probably not best to laugh in the face of a crime boss, even a fat faced red nosed one.

"Yes," I replied, then, thinking something else was in order:  "Name's Theodore, Theodore Chance.  What's up?"

"Hawwy says you're a cool one. Is that so?"

"As a cucumber."

"Heard you killed some negwo."

"Sorry?"  I asked.

"I said," the man repeated slowly, "I heard you killed some negwo."

"Negwo?"  I asked again.  As I've said before, I wasn't all that bright at times back then.  Call it an area of weakness.

"Are you fucking with me boy?"  Suddenly he looked a lot less friendly.  And a lot more red in the face.

"Hey, take it easy old timer..."  I started, but then had to duck as he threw his glass at me.  Shocking waste of good alcohol.  I straightened up in time to see that he had closed the space between us with frightening speed, right in front of me. He grabbed my collar, that shirt was never the same again I'll tell you now, and slammed me against the wall.

"I said," he snarled, getting scotch flavored spittle all over my face, "Are you twying to be funny?"

"No!  No.  Not at all.  Sir," I added for good measure.

"Good, because I don't like people who extwact the water, are we cwear?"

After a small pause to decipher this, I nodded. "As crystal."

He glared at me for a moment with those piercing blue eyes.  Someone told me once, or maybe I heard it on the TV, that everyone has one beautiful feature, and Frank, one of nature's ugly creatures, had all his charm in his eyes.   They were his only redeeming feature, at least visually.  He was sharp as a tack as well, but that wasn't immediately obvious.

"Good," he said, and let me slide down the wall.  "Because Hawwy has vouched for you we'll call that your one chance then."  He walked over to a dwink... sorry, drink cabinet and poured himself another glass.  "Want one?" he asked, all calm again.

"No, I'm good."  I was never really one for drinking at lunchtime myself, unless I was going to continue on for the rest of the day at least.  And whisky has never really been my drink of choice anyway.

"So, you don't mind a bit of violence then?"  He sat back down in his chair and pulled a cigarette out of somewhere.

"When it's called for," I said.  "And as long as it's me giving it out."

"Intwesting."  He lit the smoke and took a long pull, followed in quick succession by a large swallow of whisky. I half expected him to ignite.  "So then, a little test is called for I think."

"What do you need?" I asked.  I'd been half expecting this.  I mean, a crime boss is hardly going to only go on the word of someone else alone.  Am I right?  You know I am.

"You have a weapon?"  He waited until I nodded then carried on.  "Good, then I'm going to send you out on a little job. If you pass, you're in."

"Right on," I said. 

"There's a fellow," Harry said, sitting down in the chair again and lighting up a fag.  "He's been a good customer before, but his latest loan is overdue.  I need a chap to go along and give him a fwendly weminder.  Do you think you could manage such a task?  You awen't a vewy big man, physically I mean."

"S'not what the lasses say," I responded.  You have to have a bit of bravado in these situations, tempered with humor of course.  Everyone likes a bit of levity, know what I mean?  You and the dead clown over there.

"Vewy well. I'll see you when you weturn.  The dwiver will take you to the location."  He waved a hand and took a deep pull on his cigarette. 

"Sure thing boss."  I nodded, all confident like.  Balls of steel, that's what you have to have in interviews.

I made my way back downstairs trying to bring myself back under control. Fucking interviews, I've always hated them.  I'm sure a shrink would have said it's my fear of failure or something.  Well, fuck them, sure it is. Who the hell likes to fail?  Stupid wankers.

The same blue Ford, with the same fat arsed driver, was waiting for me outside.  I climbed in and nodded at the bloke, who didn't respond even as he started the car up.

I sang along a bit again on the journey, but my spirit wasn't really into it.  I was working myself up, ready for whatever was ahead.

I don't know if you've ever been involved in any violence, but it's best approached in a certain state of mind.  Drunk is one of course, and panic/fear are others.  But they aren't controlled states of mind.  To approach someone with aggression deliberately in the picture takes a different sort of mindset. 

Still, I figured, it's all or nothing.  Like Harry had pointed out, I wasn't the biggest chunk of meat on the pig, but then that doesn't have to be the case.  I knew a kid in school, Richard.  Skinny runt he was, skinnier than me back then even, but none of the school bullies would touch him. 

The reason for this was when Richard had been a new entry to our class, one kid, a big lad, had tried to put the screws on him. Well, Richard had just fucking exploded.  Went totally mental like. The teachers had to peel him off the-would-be bully, the little kid was biting and scratching and hitting with every available body part.  No one went near him after that.

That taught me something though.  Being mental helps, at least in certain situations.  Do what people don't.  Cross the line.  I took a deep breath and nodded to myself, just as the car pulled up at a small detached house surrounded by a bushy hedge.

"In there," said my fat driver friend. "Name of John.  He owes the boss two hundred, from last week."

"No problem," I said.  Then a thought struck me. "You have any sort of beating implement about you?  I didn't bring mine, and I'd rather save the gun for serious work."

Fatty jerked his head, and I saw a large cricket bat resting on the rear seat.  "That will do nicely," I said, appropriating the device.

Through the gate, the garden was a nice affair, reminiscent of some old lady who liked to potter about planting potatoes and herbs and whatnot.  All very pleasant.  I strolled up the path in a strange state of mind and knocked on the blue door.

Blue again.

It opened, and a tall, skinny guy with greasy black hair peered out.  "What?" he asked

I pushed at the door and shoved him on the chest, making him stagger backward, and then swung the bat as hard as I could at his leg.  It made a satisfactory cracking sound, very quickly replaced by screams.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" he cried, from his new position on the floor.

"I think you know John," I said.

"John's my brother you cunt!  He's upstairs!"

"Oh.  Sorry."  There was a lesson. Always make sure the person you're beating is the right one.  "Better put some ice on that," I said, as I made my way towards the stairs through the nicely decorated living room.

John wasn't hard to find.  He was the one trying to climb out of the window of his bedroom. 

"No!! Please!" he squealed as I stepped inside. "I'll pay double next week!" 

"Harry's more concerned about last week," I said, looking around the rather sorry environment of my target.  "Why don't you climb back inside?  You could hurt yourself like that."  John was sitting on the sill.

"I don't have the money!" he wailed. "My overtime was cancelled and I... SHIT!!!" 

The last was because I'd quickly tired of his whiney tone, which sounded like a bitch nagging, and hit him with my newly acquired bat.  Some sports implements are just great. Unfortunately this had the unforeseen side effect of causing him to lose his balance and fall off his perch to the ground below. 

"Fuck," I said, walking over and peering out.  It wasn't my day; John had landed on his head, making a big mess on the garden path.

"Fuck."  I repeated.  People and windows.  This was getting to be a habit.

After a quick evaluation of the situation I retreated downstairs, ensuring I wiped off prints from anywhere I'd touched. 

That only left John's brother, who was still blubbering at the foot of the stairs.
8
Interactive Stories Glade / Crime - The Memoirs of Theodor...
Last post by Ren - Dec 25, 2019, 09:28 pm
"I'm not messing," said old Harry.  I think he was impressed I actually had the nuts to put old Flappy down.  He couldn't know I was just tired of her voice.   

People don't realize it's the little things that have the biggest effect.  I mean, she may have a body you could kill for (no pun intended here), but if you have to listen to her screeching on all day, the bod means nothing.  There's a joke out there:  For every hot babe, there's a guy who's sick of her.  Well, there you go, society backs me up on this one.

And Flappy wasn't even that hot.  Loose though.  Loose and really, really twisted. 

Anyway, Harry looked at the bleeding mess of Doris and, after a few moments to collect his thoughts, nodded at me. 

"Nice," he said.  "Thorough."

I pointed the gun back at him.  "If you're fucking with me, you're next."

"No, no," he said, raising his hands.  "It's obviously foolish to fuck about with you."

"Good," I replied, lowering the gun a bit.  "And you're going to have to clean this up too."

"Not a problem, it's what I do," he said.  Then added:  "If you want to give her one final fuck, I won't get in the way."

"You sick..."  I stopped and looked at Doris.  I'd hit her in the stomach mainly.  Her tits and other vital areas were still intact.  Lot of blood though.

"It's best before they're totally cold," Harry said.  Voice of experience there.

I have to come clean, I was tempted.  Who wouldn't be?  Oh, okay, probably lots of people.  But like I've said already, I've never been altogether normal, and I'd been practically a monk for the previous two weeks.  I felt a stirring, I'll admit it.

In the end the mess decided me.

"No," I said.  "I'm good this time."

"Very well."

"So," I went on.  "You need anything?"

"Just for you not to shoot me."

I lowered the gun.  "Okay then."

He nodded again.  "Best if you got going.  You can keep the gun, but don't kill anyone else with it until I say so.  I'll deal with this.  It's what I do."

"I can see we're going to get along just fine," I said.




Chapter 3.  Employment.

The next few weeks were quiet for me.  Harry had told me to keep a low profile and just get on with my normal life, whatever the fuck that was supposed to be.  So I went to college, drank and generally hung out, which seemed to fit the bill.  Even managed to get laid a few times.

College, what a great time that is.  In hindsight I always say that college chicks are wasted on college dudes, but at the time I enjoyed it.  Ah, the innocence of youth.  Well.

Still, I was kind of bored.  After the adrenaline rush of wasting a few people you can't easily settle in to normal life.  I guess it's kind of like when you take drugs or something.  At first you're okay with coke or smack, but then you want more, and the next thing you know you're shooting heroin into you dick.

Okay, maybe I wasn't quite that bad back then, but you get what I'm on about.

I was settling down into a regular routine when Harry called me on the house phone.

"It's me," he opened with. 

"Who's me?" I asked.  Dumb shit I was back then sometimes.  Some people would say I haven't changed.

"Who do you think?  Your old girlfriend's friend, remember?"

"Oh, Harry.  What's going on?" I said.

There was a sigh from the receiver.  "Listen you stupid fuck, we try not to go about using names over the wires, okay?"

"Oh sure."  I remember thinking at the time that the dude was taking it a bit too far, but since then I've learned better.  You're only paranoid if they're really not out to get you.  "So, we on for the meeting?"

"Yes.  Tomorrow, outside your ex's place.  Midday."

"Should I..."  I stopped talking, he'd hung up. 

I replaced the receiver back on the hook and, after a few moments of contemplation, went back upstairs to my room and pulled the gun I'd taken from Flappy's place out of hiding.  Making sure it was unloaded, you can never be too careful, I spent a few minutes playing with the thing and posing in front of the mirror.  What?  You'd do it too, admit it.

"The name's Bond," I said.  "James Bond." 

God I was cool.

Then I put the gun away and spanked the monkey.

~

The next day I rolled up outside old Flappys' place at exactly noon. 

When I say rolled up I actually arrived there on foot, having taken the number seven bus.  I didn't have my own transport back then, unless you counted a pushbike I'd not ridden for about a year.

The gun was in my backpack.  Like I said, I was cool.

A car pulled up about ten minutes later, just as I was wondering if Harry had set me up.  It was an old blue Ford if memory serves.  The driver wound down the window and leaned over to me. 

"You Harry's friend?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Get in then."

I did as I was told.  Climbing in to the passenger seat.  The cassette player was blaring out Marc Bolan. 

"Hey," I said.

The driver just grunted and pulled out. 

Sitting next to him, it was quite hard to size the driver up, but I got an impression of a fat guy with a stained green t-shirt and greasy dark hair. 

"So," I said after about five minutes of silent driving.  "Where we going?"

"Shut up kid," he said.

"Fine."  I stopped asking questions, but sang along to the tape, just to irritate. Okay, not just to irritate.  I liked his music.  Still do.

"...just like rock and roll..."

"We're here."  We pulled up in front of a rather dilapidated building, interrupting my singing.

"Looks snazzy," I said, opening the door and climbing out.  "You not coming?"  Fatty was still in the car. 

"Second floor," he replied. 

I've since found that pretty much everyone in the industry tries to be cool, whilst trying also not to appear to be trying to be cool.  This includes being short to the new kid. 

"Thanks," I said.  Politeness costs nothing, as me old Gran used to say.

I must admit, the building wasn't what I was expecting.  I'd though a crime boss would have some kind of penthouse suite.   I was wrong there too.

Climbing the smelly stairs, I made my way up to floor two and the one door that was apparent there.

It opened as I approached, some kind of security system I guessed, so I stepped inside.
9
Interactive Stories Glade / Crime - The Memoirs of Theodor...
Last post by Ren - Dec 22, 2019, 01:03 pm
"Listen, just come over okay?" she said. "I need help."  Then she slammed the phone down.  Back in those days you could really slam the phone down, not like now, when we're all mobile and stuff.  I miss that sometimes, it's good to take your anger out on something, and phone calls are often a source of anger, or so I've found.  Maybe I just live a life of general non-happiness.  So it goes.

So, I considered things for a minute or two, but eventually decided to go and see what the fuss was about.  I was bored shitless mainly, but I hadn't had a good fuck since the old flying Scotty incident, and Doris, if nothing else, was not a stuck up virgin.  Hell, she was about as far from virgin as is possible to get. 

So I went.

You ever have a moment you can actually recognize changed your life?  This was probably one of mine.  What the fuck am I talking about, there's no probably about it.  Life changing moment.  You really don't get many of them, and this is talking from experience here. 

So off I pop.  Get on the bus, no car for an unemployed student, and, half an hour later alight near the place that Doris called home.  Others would call it a shithole.  Maybe I was one of them.

I wandered along and pushed on the door to her house, which was open.  Security can sometimes be having nothing anyone wants to steal.

I wandered upstairs and knocked on her door, which swung open.  Carefully I stepped inside.

You know what Man's weakness is?  Women.  Without women we'd all have a great life.  Alright, it would be a gay life, but sometimes the cost is worth it. 

Anyway, inside her shithole, and I'm talking about her apartment here, rather than her more personal one, was Doris, standing over a bleeding Harry Smith, who was lying on the floor on a mat with many colored spots on.  The mat was ruined, covered in his blood as it was.

Old Harry wasn't out of it though.  When I walked in he was quick to engage in conversation.

"You!  Help me!  Get me away from this crazy bitch and I'll make it worth your while!  I know people!  I have money!  Just take her out!"

He gestured at old Flappy, and I looked over at Doris.  She was standing there, stark bollock naked, which affected me in a number of ways, holding a fucking gun on old Harry. 

"He's threatening to dob us in about Scotty." she wailed.  This is the problem with women.  All emotional.  Can't get on top of a situation unless there's a cock on it.

"What the fuck is going on here then?" I said.  Can't say that I was very happy with Doris waving a gun about.  I mean, women, they don't really have the limb control of men, know what I mean?  Just look at their driving.

Well, they both started off, shouting at me at the same time.  Doris though, with the gun, won out.  She kicked old Harry in the leg and he shut up.  Okay, that's not true, he wailed like a guy with a red hot poker up his arse, but he stopped talking. 

"He's threatening us on the whole Scotty deal," said Doris. "He's going to betray us!"

"Indeed?" I said.  I remember I raised one eyebrow, James Bond style.  I always thought that was kind of cool, and this was just the kind of situation that called for it in my opinion.

"Indeed?" shrieked Doris. "Is that all you have to say?  We could all go down for this!  He needs to be taken out!"  She waved the pistol about, and I winced.  Like I said, women don't have great control over their bodies.  It was time to take charge.

"Ok babe," I said.  "Just give me the gun alright?  I'll sort this.  Come on." 

What can I say?  Women, they just melt when I turn the charm on.  Anyway, Doris, a bit hesitantly I'll admit, handed over the gun.

I'd never touched a gun up to that point.  It was heavier than I thought, though I have to say if felt kind of... right in my hand.  'With this,' I thought, 'I could do things.'  Oh, how right I was.  Sometimes I embarrass myself how good I am. 

Anyway, about then old Harry starts jabbering again.

"Listen, I can tell you're a man of resolve," he said.  "I have contacts.  I can help you.  Just ice the bitch and we can talk."

I must admit, I didn't really like the look of this guy.  He looked sleazy and then some.  Turns out I was so right.  Sometimes it's hard being right all the time.  Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself, all that shit comes later.

"Go on," I said, curious.

"Don't listen to this cunt!" screamed Doris.  "You don't know..."

I cut her off with a quick slap around the head with my spare hand.  I do hate hysterical women, don't you? 

She wailed and fell back on her bed, cursing me.  These whores have some language in them, let me tell you.  I was almost shocked.

"Go on," I said again, giving Doris a Look.

"I know people, people who need good men with no morals..."  I cut him off right there.

"Who the fuck says I've no morals?" I said.  "I've plenty of them, you twat."  A quick kick to his leg asserted my standing in this area.  Always kick a man whilst he's down I say, 'cos that's when he's less likely to kick back.

"Alright, alright!" Harry said.  "You have talent, I can see that.  The people I usually work for need men of talent, and they have a lot of money to pay for it too.  You ice this bitch and I'll give you and in, an I mean right at the top."

Well, let me tell you, this sounded pretty nice.  Of course, Doris started up again.

"Why are you listening to him?" she wailed.  "Just do him!  Do him!  I'll do anything you want.  Anything!"

Well, can't say that I was surprised at that offer.  Old Doris had proven herself in the fucked up pervert department already.  Maybe that was what made my mind up.  I mean, I'd already sampled pretty much all she had to offer.  On the other hand, this Harry guy seemed to be connected, and what he was talking about made sense.

There's a saying these days, "Bro's before Hoe's".   I didn't know it back then, but if I did it would have been pretty spot on. 

"No!" shrieked Doris, as I turned the gun on her.  "No!"

Do you know what I hate about most guns?  They're fucking loud.  I learned that that night, hence my penchant for silencers these days. 

Anyway, the shot was much louder than I thought it would be, maybe because of the small room or something. 

Of course the first one missed totally.  Sheesh, I was such an amateur then.

In the end it took four shots to put the bitch down.  What a fucking mess.

When it was done though, I looked a Harry, who was holding his leg.

"You better not be messing me about," I said.  "Or you're next."

Damn, I'm cool sometimes.
10
Interactive Stories Glade / Crime - The Memoirs of Theodor...
Last post by Ren - Dec 19, 2019, 12:07 pm
She was a cool one, this whore, I'll give you that, though you could have probably guessed as much by the: 'Someone's just been killed and I'm horny' response. 

She just shrugged and bounced over to the phone next to her bed (before cellphones here remember) and picked up the receiver.

"I know a guy," she said. 

"Lots of guys apparently," I remember replying.  What?  The beer was wearing off. 

 "Shh," she just said, dialing someone on her phone. 

I picked up my own jeans, which were thankfully blood splatter free, and pulled myself carefully into them (I was a bit tender in certain areas, if you know what I mean), then wandered over to the window and peered out at Scotty's cooling corpse as she spoke to someone with the unlikely name of Harry Smith. 

"...hurry up then, he's in the open," she finished with, and hung up.

I turned around.  "So, what's going on then?  Shouldn't we be scraping chumley up and finding some large plastic bags?"  I pointed with my thumb over my shoulder.

"Told you," she grinned.  "I know someone.  Funny thing is, Scotty was the one to introduce me."

"It's an ironic old world," I said evenly.  "Do you have anything to drink?  I'm feeling dry."

"Some vodka by the bed."

I'm not usually a vodka kind of guy, but it had been a long day, so in this case I made an exception and took a healing swig direct from the bottle.  I know, I know, I can be a pig sometimes.  Manners cost nothing is what me gran always said, may she rest in.

Suitably refreshed, I turned to my new partner in crime.  "So then, should I be worried?"  The lamp was still an option, but I was willing to wait a bit if some dude would clean the mess up for me.

She didn't get my drift.  "Harry's a stand up guy," she said, pulling on her top.  "He owes me a big one, so don't worry about payment."

"A big one eh?"  I raised an eyebrow and took another fortifying slug of vodka.  "Kinky bastard is he?" 

She gestured for me to pass the drink over, and I complied.  "Yeah.  Seriously.  I'll tell you sometime."

"Super."  I took a deep breath and looked around at her shithole of an apartment.  "So, now we just wait?"

"Well, we could pass the time in other ways."  She smiled and glanced down at my jeans.  Well, what can I say?  I was still young and fit back then. 

I smiled back.  "You're on top then."

~

Harry turned out to be some middle aged fat fellow with glasses and a lop-sided smile.  Totally someone you'd not notice on the street, which I guess is the point.  When you're young you  just want to show off how cool you are, go bragging about the shit you gone done, but when you get on a bit more you realize that's all a load of bollocks, and the trick is to look like a no-one, or even better, everyone.  No one notices an everyone.  Maybe that's how Harry had got away with... what he did... for so long, and no, I'm not just talking about the dead body cleaning service here.  We'll come back to Harry later.

 "Hello Doris," he said, panting from the short climb up the stairs, and finally providing me with a name for my shag. 

'Jebus,' I remember thinking.  'Doris!?'  Funny old world.

"Hello Harry," Doris replied.  She didn't move from her position on top of me.  Not a shy girl our Doris.  "He's outside.  Took a dive into the parking area.  You need anything?"

"I'm good my love," he said, walking over to the window and peering out.  He had a large black bag with him, which he put down as he looked around the room, lingering a moment on Doris, who was busy bouncing away.  I was a bit turned on if truth be told. Who knew I was the kinky type?  Well, okay, I did, but not that sort of kinky.  We live and learn I always say.
 
"When you're done,"  Harry said, "You can get the sheets and anything else with blood on and pile it in the middle of the room."

"Sure... thing... Harry," said Doris.  We were getting close to the big finale. 

The cleaner climbed outside, or maybe he went down the stairs, I was a bit busy shooting my load to take much notice, but by the time I'd wiped myself off and donned my garments, our good friend Scottie had vanished, and there was only a scrubbed area where he'd bled out that was noticeable.

"He's pretty efficient," I said. 

"Yeah," Doris replied, doing up her blouse.  "I took another swig of vodka."

"So listen, you may as well fuck off," she went on.  "I've got your number right?"  She didn't, so we swapped.   
 
"You sure..."

"Best you're not around Harry too much," she said, which I thought odd at the time, but I was fucking knackered, and my bed seemed a good idea about that time.   So I nodded and spent the next hour trying to find a way to get home.

It took me the better part of two days to get over that night.  Firstly, vodka doesn't really agree with me.  Secondly, vodka really doesn't agree with me after ten pints.  That and I'd been going at the booze pretty hard over the previous few weeks. 

I decided to take a bit of a break from the party life, give the old liver a break, and actually do some of my college studies, which I'd been neglecting.  I wasn't really bothered about this, college was just somewhere for me to be at the time, I'd joined it more because of the chicks than wanting to further myself academically. 

Still, it was something to do when bored, and some of the stuff was actually pretty interesting.  I've never been one of these people that don't care about the world around them.  You learn stuff, you learn how the system works, you learn how you can get around it.  Know thine enemy I always say.

So the next week or so was pretty quiet.  Old Doris didn't phone me, and I didn't call her either.  I just went to my classes, stayed in at night and generally caught my breath.

Still, always at the back of my mind was old Scotty, and our favorite drug dealer, as well as  the mugger guy I'd done for.  Three people had died at my hand.  I was kind of waiting for the guilt to kick in.  Ever seen American Werewolf in London?  Good film, check it out.  Anyway, spoiler alert, his victims come back to haunt him, literally.  I was kind of expecting the same, but you know what?

Nothing.  Total absence of guilt.  Or rotting corpse ghosts come to that, which was almost disappointing.

I wondered if this was normal, but then I guess killing people isn't really normal to begin with, unless you're in the army or something.  And it wasn't like I could go to a shrink of anything, even if I could afford one.  I was fairly sure they'd dob me in if I went blabbing on about killing three people. 

Then there was Doris.  I was a bit worried about her, but I reasoned that she was in it as much as I was, so the chance of her calling the cops was pretty much close to zero.  Still, when she didn't call it began to niggle.

So I called her.

Yeah, desperate much? 

Then again, I'd been a choirboy for two weeks, and there's only so much a body can take, or not take, before release is needed.  So yeah, I called her.  Bite me.

Anyway, turns out this wasn't the best idea in the world.

"Hey Doris?  It's..." I started.

"Oh thank fuck!  Come over right now, I need you!"  She sounded upset some.  Crying and all that.  I hate crying bitches.  Nearly hung the phone up there and then, which could have changed history.

I was a stupid twat though, and didn't.

"What's up babe?" I asked.

I had to go and ask.  Idiot.
Pages1 2 3 ... 6

Shoutbox

Feb 13, 2020, 08:31 pm Ren says: New episode of Apocolypto is now up! Woot. [

Jan 31, 2020, 08:45 pm Ren says: Another episode of The Other One is posted!

Jan 27, 2020, 07:31 pm Ren says: Right then, The Other One is now polling!

Jan 26, 2020, 09:12 am Ren says: Another episode of Theodore Chance is now up!

Dec 31, 2019, 07:00 pm Wanderer says: I don't think I did anything with the snowflake colour!  Anyway, Happy New Year to all![color]

Dec 30, 2019, 04:57 pm Ren says: Happy New Year to everyone! - More of Theodore Chance has been posted! [/b]

Dec 26, 2019, 02:23 pm Scribe_siren says: yeah, thanks for making darker snowflakes....  :o

View Shout History
Powered by EzPortal