Friday, August 12, 2005


Chair Leg Over Miami, part 2.

As my senses cleared I found myself standing between two rows of white washed sheds of breeze block walls and tin roofs, a row of palm trees running behind them. Above a sky of sun-bleached blue streched from horizon to horizon while beneath the soles of my black-on-white spectators lay slabs of weathered concrete scattered with a light dusting of sand. The sounds and scents of a metropolis drifted in from nearby but it wasn't this that grabbed my attention.

Running towards me was a small girl; no more that ten but so malnourished I couldn't place her age precisely. Her filthy dress streamed and flapped behind her as she ran, a worn rag doll clutched to her chest. What had drawn my attention to her, other than her fearful wail, was the crimson figure flying at her heels. This gore hued woman pursued the child like a phantom, dripping claw like hands reaching out for her tangled hair.

Instinct took over; drawing my pistols before I had even formulated a course of action I sped towards the two figures. As I came within three meters of the girl I leapt upwards, arcing above her head by a similar amount and let rip with both weapons as I did so. Alternating rounds of thrice blessed hollow point lunar silver and solar gold tore through the spectral fiend which shrieked much like her would be victim. She faded like a bad dream in the cold light of day as my feet met ground once more and reholstered the guns. The girl had stopped a half dozen yards away and regrded me with awe.

"You killed her?" There was no statement about it; she wanted, no needed to know. I bent and picked up a scrap of fabric from the ground. Once it had been a deep azure now it was red and brown from innumarable bloodstains. I could feel the power radiating from it as I held it between my fingers. That had been no regular blood thirsty ghost; I recognised the aura of one of the Hire Powers. Who, or whatever, that had been they'd be back, eventually. So I asked the girl the obvious. I looked at her and she seemed to be torn between the opposed desires to run from me in fear and stay beside me for protection.
"B.. b.. B.." she stammered before regaing her composure. "If I say her name she will come for me again."
"Splendid; then I can hit her some more" I responded. "Give me her name and I can have greater power over her. I might even be able to destroy her." I crouched down so that were shared eye level and then looked into her eyes with a grin that I hoped would be reassuring. "Who is she?" I repeated.
"Bloody Mary" the girl responded. Tires screeched and an engine gunned. Only my reflexes saved her life again . We dived to one side, the girl held tightly in my arms the car sped past us, bullets raining off my suit like a brief hailstorm. I completed the twist as my back impacted against a shed, shattering breeze blocks like china tea cups. The girl sobbed in my arms as the car accelerated away. I released her and drew my shotgun, Chixulub, from the bottomless depths of my coat. It took one shot and the vehicle exploded in a fireball. A single burning wheel rolled from the blaze and a scorched Miami number plate landed beside me.

Again I crouched beside the girl and examined her. Blood ran down her arm from where a lone bullet had grazed her. I cursed and pulled out a small battlefield medipack. "We need to get that seen to properly," I told her as I treated her wound. She flinched.
"No hospitals!" she replied emphatically, "they'll send me back to the Home and then She'll get me."
"Home? What happened to your parents?"
"They're dead. I mean if they loved me and were still alive they'd come back for me wouldn't they?" I wasn't going to refute her logic.
"So no hospitals, homes or parents," I recapped, "so what am I going to do with you?"
"I have friends," she responded, "They'll take me".
"Where are they?" She told me so we went there...

To be continued.

Wednesday, May 26, 2004


Chair Leg Over Miami, part 1.

I was at my tailor's when the call came. Stan's new batch of fabric had survived another night and seemed stable enough for government work; he refused to guarantee past a week of constant use but even that was better than replacing the whole suit every 24 hours. I had just slipped into the fine Strattonester which fit my frame as well as anything from Saville Row when my holo' chimed. Answering the call I was suprised to see the weathered face of my Sifu coalesce in the air before me; I was even more suprised when I realised that he was bleeding.

"Master Chow," I gasped, "what happened?"
"You must come at once Little Gecko..." his voice trailing off as he fought to remain conscious.

Well I didn't need telling twice; I nodded to Stan, shucked on my long black coat decorated with bullet holes from the death of my clone brother, and reached out with my Will. Space and time churned about me like wax in a lava lamp. In much less time than it takes to say it I was stepping into Gambles Den down by Newlands Wharf. The Chinese Restaurant come Casino come Martial Arts Dojo was a complete pigs ear and not of the crispy fried kind either. Sifu was slumped by the Holo' looking like some mad whittler had been having a go at him; which I guess wasn't too far from the truth. I called for an ambulance and knelt beside him.

"Master," I asked, "who did this to you?" His eyes flicked open as he looked up at me.
"Little Gecko," he muttered, "..there is a war amongst the Hire Powers..."
"Master, you are hurt," I responded, "conserve your strength. I will get my answers when you are able to give them..."
"NO! I had heard of her... the Scarlet Harlot... One of our number driven mad.. who has violate her own Nature.. seeking to destroy The Holy... You are Our best student.. you have mastered the Gun-Fu and.. your own nature makes you an Adept of the secrets of the Wuxai. You must go; stop them... They hold the secret of your friend..."
"My friend?" It didn't need two guesses to figure out whom Sifu meant, "what's their connection to Rodney?"

Rodney was a friend in many ways; Maitre'd of the cocktail bar I owned he was also the Hire Power of Bar Stewards. Despite being the omnipotent inhabitant of his own demi-plane he had stuck beside me through thick and thin right up until recently. Suddenly he had vanished; retreated into D-Space and closed all the gates behind him. Something had terrified the eldritch horror and, having seen him wrestle his portfolio back from Bacchus, I knew that he didn't scare easy.

"All will be made clear Little Gecko.. even for you there is little time you must go..."
"Where Master?" He told me. His words filled my senses; overwhelmed my defences and sent me spinning across space-time like a sycamore seed in a whirlwind.

Tuesday, May 18, 2004


Hello? Is This Thing On?

Okay... "The following record should only be read by beings of the third level of stabillity; so if you're not some god-like intellect stop reading now". Yada yada yada... You don't think that's pretentious do you?


Oh the whole "secrets herein will melt your brain to mush if you're not some kind of super-being" slant; I mean this is my first journal and here I am cutting my readership down with the initial post. What's the point of me doing this if the only people who can read it are those who have their own ways of discovering it?


That's your real problem you know; having never been human you have no idea what you're talking about when it comes to us... I mean "them".


Yeah and you're the super computer that simulates the multiverse so accurately that not even reality can tell the difference... bet you can't experience the human condition. You might be the computer that thinks it's God or God thinking it's a computer but for all your omnipotence you can't narrow your focus down to a single individual without destroying yourself in the paradox.


Ahah! See I know what I'm talking about! "Wise and terrible" that's me.


Go on then, slope off in a sulk; see if I give a flying monkey!

Right. Now that the WHIRLOGOG has departed to nurse it's wounded ego; how can an omnipotent being have an ego to wound in the first place? Now I can... Has anyone else noticed that the moment there's an open mic in front of you suddenly you're all Keyser Soze? That's Turkish for "verbal diarrhoea"...

Anyway. The fact that you're reading a transcription of this means that at least one of the quantum entanglements between this terminal and the interweb of your native continuum was successful. That means that anything this terminal transcribes will appear on yours despite the fact there isn't an actual physical connection between them. No I don't really understand how that works either and I use it to get to work every morning...

Ah, my work; now we get to the crux of the matter. I'm a super being; I would say "hero" but that's a matter of opinion. I "Moderate", that is to say "Police", a pocket universe populated with all the dangerous intellectuals you thought the secret masters of your world had liquidated. Oh and all the rivals they didn't want to kill just incase they became useful. So not only to we have all the overly curious bookish types but also the baccian demipowers, crazy Cthuloid cultists and psychotic twelve foot long shape-shifting lizards as well.

I'm doing it again... and that's the 'emergency' signal.

Look, the reason I'm keeping this journal is because I'm terrible at keeping secrets so I've decided to keep a record of events and my thoughts and sharing it with whomever cares to listen; which seems to be you. Some of this stuff may not be true in your continuua or may be so true as to turn your brain into a grey mush; Cavate Lector.

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