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Just a life
By Remi Dobbs
Intro-Father Kory
It was December 25, circa 2199. It was Christmas, though Father Kory would never tell anyone that. That would’ve gotten him in trouble. It would get him killed, knowing the date & title of a Christian holiday. Father Kory shuffled through the snow stuffed streets to his “church”, a dark and claustrophobic place, but Father Kory had the Cross to keep company with. The Cross gave him the light required, and Kory saw all that was in the room. Kory was the keeper of this Cross, and had been told by Jesus to keep it until the Saviour came. It was approximated that in one year, he would show himself. As it was a Sunday, Kory’s flock would come soon. With a knock on the door, Kory looked to confirm that, yes, it was a member of his Flock. A man by the name of Mort. “Hey father!” Said the short man. “Hey, Mort. How are matters?”
“Well, I-“ Mort was no longer Mort. He was a six-foot-two Asian New Yorkian. “Father Kory, also known as Kory Stephenson, you have preached Christianity. For this, under Un action 1219, you shall be swiftly executed.”
Kory turned and tried to sprint out of the Church that would now become a huge gravestone. He never got farther that the seven steps. A spoon moved from Kory’s table to under his foot. The Father tripped and, turning around, saw the barrel of the man that would be his Death’s pistol. “I am to be your Executioner.” The metal bullet found its way through the Preists heart, missing his Cross by three inches. The Cross would not be found by Mort, r any of the subsequent clean-up crew. It had simply vanished.
CHAPTER 1-The Ragman
Ethan Vandebret is out on New Years. No one is out at this time. (Well, no one that matters) People are in their houses, eating their soy-processed turkeys, putting their kids in bed. This was the night for the perverts, the Junkies, and the other unmentionables. Jack was 45 but looked 40. His family had a habit of aging well. He was taught at NYU and majored in both Theology and Philosophy...which, looking back, wasn’t the best choice. He could have been someone, he had gotten a 1900 on his TSA’s, and had a 220 IQ. And all of this was wasted on theology, a study that is restricted to the religions that exist, instead of Christianity. Ethan always wanted to know about Christianity, but the entire topic was banned from schools. He Who Is All would be pissed that his children would be pissed to see that his flock had strayed so far. One hundred and twenty three years ago, Christianity had been banned from all the Earth. These days, you could sodomize your child, and preaching the Ten Commandments would get you a worse punishment.
With all of Ethan’s intellect and skill, it would probably come as a surprise that Ethan was a Snoball junkie. Snoball was originally a vaccine created by Canopy corp. It was created with every single disease frozen until it was dead (hence the name). Used in high quanitities, it becomes a hallucinogen, and a strong one. All things seem like a lightly done drawing, things all taste like paper, and things even smell like rice. Ethan got into the slums.
Ethan was in “Hell’s Freezer” (named so because it wasn’t on a structure like Manhattan, so spray from the ocean got into every pore of everything), the largest (by far) district in the New York City-state, the greatest non-slave City-state, spanning hundreds of miles, encompassing Atlantic City, Buffalo, Boston, and all of the remains of Long Island. Ethan stalked down the streets, finally finding the antique children’s playground, with the swing sets and the rocket ships. Rockets are in bad taste these days since the Project Moon mission failed and killed thousands of people(not to mention raising sea level by several feet). This destroyed all of Long Island, and made it so that Manhattan was on a Sears Tower-like structure.
Greenwich Village was a very different place now, thought Ethan as his feet tapped on the concrete sidewalk. Everything was concrete, concrete, plastic, and glass. There was just such a small amount of natural things, and those that were created were created for mankind’s survival, like the occasional forest over The Great Plains area so that every single wind won’t turn into a tornado (this happened a lot in the 2130's) or plants to recycle the CO2 that goes into the environment. Ethan continued to wait for that goddamn pusher.
Eyvis was a drug dealer. Very successful in dealing with snoball. An interesting attribute of the drug is the 100% fatality of people who overdose on it. So, sometimes a dealer can...well, get back at people. The cops would never care to find out if it was the junkie or the dealer. You can add just a tiny bit more into a flask than can be acceptable to the body’s system. Eyvis never really like Ethan. Therefore, he was going to give Ethan an overdose. It’ll be great to see my handiwork in the papers again, he thought.
******
Ethan was sprinting home before a cop noticed him. Problem with being a Snoball junkie is that you’re so easy to spot. If someone takes higher than the prescribed amount of snoball, they lose their fingernails. Nasty, huh? Nothing left of ‘em. Just flesh. “Hey Ragman” said a fellow Junkie, Urban.
“Hello man. You wanna go to the philosophy talk tomorrow?” Ethan was the sole philosopher, and Urban was one of his students at NYU. He was an Ethan Junkie, or so Ethan thought. Urban was such a suck-up that Ethan didn’t really care what the answer was. After hearing the expected “definitely”, The Ragman walked into his apartment.
Ethan was known as the Ragman because he was perpetually wearing a brown leather coat. This beat up thing had been slashed from the days when Ethan was a rebellious college student. He still kept this crap thing cause he couldn’t afford a new one, leather was scarce as hell. Ethan opened his apartment door. He got in as fast as he could and stuck himself with the needle through the Solar Plexus. Aahhhh....
Ethan was in a white paradise...and yet there was something wrong. Oh crap, thought Ethan as he saw static and threw up bleach. This is what happens to people when they take too much. FUCK. That bastard screwed me. Ethan fell in a heap.
*******
He woke up in a hospital...and there were no people in it. The loudspeaker chimed “All new patients, report to Doctor J’s office immediately.” Ethan moved down the hall to a gold rimmed door marked “Dr.J”on it. Ethan opened the door and saw an infinity of college degrees, there where even some on the ceiling. “Come here, my child” said a heavenly voice. Ethan took a single step and was suddenly at the end of the hallway. There was a hippie in a white suit there, a man who was about 23 and had his hair huge and in an Afro. “Hello Ethan, Messenger of He who is All.” The mans voice carried itself around the room and bounced back. “Why am I hear?” asked Ethan. His voice seemed slightly smaller in comparison to this mans voice. “You Are here because He wants you to be here. My people are at war, Ethan. You must unite them. It is you, and only you, who can save The religion I created 2200 years ago.”
“Now, if you excuse me, I have another appointment. Hello Gautama.” said The Hippie. Ethan now knew that this was only a drug-hallucination, as The Buddha himself walked in. “Hello Paul. So will we play now or later?”
“Just in a second” Gautama then stood perfectly still. No breathing. No subtle movements. Nothing. “So, Ethan, now that you have the Information you need, I Think that you should take this and leave.” Paul then threw a golden box that reflected sunlight, even though there were no natural light sources in the room.
Ethan woke up in his apartment, holding the box. Ethan got up and threw the box open. Inside of it was a metal Cross. Ethan had died last night, and now he was alive. More than alive, thought Ethan as he looked in the mirror and saw winglettes, Im a fuckin’ angel.
****
“Could we start before existence implodes, Paul?”
“Of course, Gautama. But first the pieces must be set up. You can’t play a game of chess without the pieces.”
Chapter 2-Sons of Hornacht
Jimmy was a Junkie, had been for 4 years. Being a junkie, he obviously liked vibrant colors. You can’t get these beautiful things in 2200. You just can’t. The entire world had long since been destroyed of its resources, and mankind only got by with things such as electricity and power from gigantic windmills (as there were no trees to hold the ground together, a single breeze could become a tornado within a day, so wind energy was very useful) The one place where you get some beauty and nature was at the Madison Gardens. They contained a HUGE amount of trees, grown at advanced rates due to radiation and some other sciency brik-a-brak. Point was, Jimmy was a devout worshiper of Satan, and Satan demands that one must get into ones natural roots. And to do that one must be at the Gardens. Jimmy had his fake nails on (damn cheap things) as it would be an obvious thing for someone to walk around without fingernails. Jimmy got up, having said his prayer. A cop was lookin’ at him funny. What the hell was he lookin at? Was he queer ‘r somefin? Then Jimmy noticed that his cheep fingernails had fallen off. Oh crap.
Jimmy slowly walked into the subway, watching the copper in the reflection of his antique watch. Jimmy walked faster into an empty cab. Ah, the police-guy was gone. Thank He Who Is Under. Jimmy turned around and there was the man. Officer Dave(as it said on his side) grabbed Jimmy by the neck and hoisted him up. “You are under arrest for the ownership and use of an illegal quantity of Snoball. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or-“Jimmy kicked Dave in the knee, causing him to fly backward from the force of Jimmy’s drugged body, and ran. “Ok so we’ll do it the hard way. I can take that.” Dave hit the ground of the train and sprung up, suddenly not Officer Dave. The holo-unit on Jake Orinuto’s jacket turned off through brain signal, and Jack was shown as the man he was. He was 6'0", with the Asian complexion of his dad. Jack watched calmly as the junkie sprinted away and into the next station. Jack jumped through the dab door and got his MM.180 out. Jack jumped down the 20 yard jump to the sidewalk, were the Junkie was. The junkie smashed Jack’s arm into a metal gate with an inhuman strength, which, needless to say, broke his steel grip on the pistol. Junkie grabbed the thing up and shot into...the air were Jack once was. Jack was tiring of this. This guy was a junkie, and a Satanist by the talisman around his neck. Jacks quicksilver nails lengthened to the point were each was a miniature sword, straight into Mr.Junkie’s chest. The man dropped the pistol and ran for his life. Good. He will run to his cult and then the Commando’s would get him.
*****
The Commandos. Each had their body augmented by several bionic parts in their day. Jack was they Sargent of the most efficient police force ever conceived. He had his fingernails replaced by quicksilver nails, He his entire body had been taken up a notch. Reflexes-Well, the entire brain had been modified. Combat-Jack has had 12 yards worth of sharp as hell quicksilver. Jack’s life was a story of oppression. He had been born a couple years AfterFall (what the old people called the days after the Apocalypse), as a poor Japanese kid. At that time, his father (A man living by a false name, an American by the look of it) allowed his mother to be tested on by scientists with life-lengthening drugs, anti-viruses, etcetera. He was the only kid who it worked on. The rest were horribly mutated and deformed. He then spent 20 years working to get a ticket to America, and 20 more to move to New York to meet his mother. Lucky him, it turned out that she was dead. Not only that, but before the Fall (what the textbooks would cal the period in which humanity almost died) she had been a prostitute. Wow. The next hundred years would see Jack moving through the world, seeking Enlightenment. He learned on this journey twenty different martial arts, and he became a black belt in 8. Jack never knew what compelled him to learn so many martial arts, though, when he was doing it, he felt as if he was preparing himself for something. He finally gave up and moved back to New York. The City-State Patriarch, Henry Jones, had chosen him as leader for the Commando’s
*******
It was One AM, and the nightly rituals at Abandoned Building #13 were almost over. The Sons of Hornatch were finishing their prayers, and Hornatch himself was coming to the occult place to speak. With the excitement, it was easy for seven extra cultists to get in. “Jimmy” looked at his watch. Good. Fifteen minutes. The Culties shuffled into the main area, a place that looks like a huge cave with a podium, walking in one step. Ten minutes. They all stood still, and praised the god Horoc’hek. Five. A man in gold robes started moving towards the podium. Four. He raised his arms. Two. He screamed a high pitched note. Zero. A loud crack went through the air and the man fell down in a heap. Jack and the Commandos got up, suddenly not disheveled culties, but men dressed in carapace armor and wielding horrific weapons of death. Jacks three foot nails sliced through the peasants with astounding ease. Jamie, Jack’s greatest friend and team Telekinetic was using objects around him to create a whirlwind of death. Lory and Mariscu, twin pyromancers and females (which makes all the difference to Jack, cause if they were men Jack would be gay) were frying the milksops right & left. Jack was a machine of death, his bladed fingernails slicing through the helpless Sons of Hornatch. Each death was a step toward a crime free New York, a step towards a greater civilization of man, one without cults and junkies. And so Jack fought with renewed vigor time and time again, he was exhausted but still giving his all. The very moment all the junkies were dead, the Commando’s heard a huge roar. Hornatch himself walked through the door. He was eight feet tall, and filled to the brim with muscular tissue. He looked like a sumo wrestler, except in shape and on steroids.
“What have you done to my religion, my soul, my life!” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. “Weel, Hornyatch, I would have to say that we may have downsized it” said Jamie, always the sarcastic by-blow. “Hornatch, also known as Erik McMace, under code 1291 of the United nations, you are under arrest for the use of Biblical terms and phrases.” Hornatch was a slight reproached after that, then seemed to make up his mind. He slowly walked towards Jack. The walk became a run. Run became sprint. Hornatch punched Jack head on. Jack flew back twenty yards before hitting the farthest wall with the wet sound of bones breaking. Jack crumpled up. Then an even wetter sound came from deep within Jack’s body, while Hornatch attacked the other Commando’s. The leader of the Commandos raised a hand and crawled away, and as he did so his back straightened to its usual length. Jack got up, once again a fully grown and healthy man. Hornatch screamed in uncontrollable rage. He jumped the distance between himself and Jack. He threw a punch, but the super-natural being walked out of the way of the blow. Jack was getting tired of this. It takes a lot of calories to regenerate, and it takes a quadruple amount to heal a broken spine. Jacks fingernails shot out into the mutated cultists body, and continued extending, to practically the breaking point. When Jack’s quicksilver fingernails diminished to a normal humans length, Hornatch’s skin collapsed, for that was all that was left of it. Nasty, huh?
“Lets go to the Farm, guys. This place of death sickens me.” said Jamie, who had been seriously bruised, while the corpses of the fallen around him were broken up in unnatural angles.
Jack looked back at the corpse that was a skulking, eight foot tall monstrosity. He had led a sinful life. This death was excusable. This wasn’t anything on Jack’s conscience, as he had slain fifty two innocents in this abandoned building. Oh well, thought Jack, I’ve learned to stop caring a century ago.
Chapter 3-The All Seeing Eye
When Ethan woke in the morning, he didn’t remember what had happened for several minutes. After one of the winglettes (which was nought but nerve at the this point in this stage of metamorphoses) he remembered what had happened after the bastard Eyvis had given him the overdosed Snoball. He got his clothes and started walking to the closest Barnes & Nobles. Ethan put the brass cross into the area between his skin and his shirt. Ethan moved out of his Apartment house, and into Greenwich village. As he walked, the small cracks between the blocks of concrete started growing grass. This had been the first piece of organic material in Greenwich for a hundred years. Once Ethan walked into the Barnes & Nobles, he went into the CDX-10K area. After his thirteenth step into the music laden section, all things became transperant. Ethan not only saw all in front of him, but saw at a Three-hundred & Sixty Degree angle. Seeing in such a way is something that surpasses the writers imagination, as it is impossible to describe. It was a sickening sight for Ethan. He closed his eyes, but the lids over his pupils would no longer hold any protection for him. He stumbled back to the street, and the concrete broke from the trees growing spontaneously out of it. The man, passing out from his AllSight and the trees coming out of the ground, slowly walked hose. “Hey Man!” Heard Ethan. “How much hav’ya got?” Ethan heard a switchblade. He saw the man, a brute with several friends. Ethan turned around, his hands bursting into a blue flame. Ethan backhanded the first opponent, elbowed the next two, and landed an immensely powerful punch to the Jaw. “Dude...DUDE! HOLY CRAP THIS GUYS A CHRISTIAN!” said the would be thief as his friends broke into smoldering ash. Ethan walked slowly into his apartment and threw up
*********
Henry Jones was a Mason, and a high ranking one at that. Of the 320nd rank, a templar. He was the real reason that New York had been so successful over the centuries. The Masons were a powerful society once again, and, once again, they were allied to the Illuminati (once again). The meeting of Horosho, the current leader of the Illuminati and a high ranking kingpin of the Yakuza (Yakuza and Illuminati being synonymous words these days) It was 12:01 AM when Henry plugged in. The years had not been as kind to Henry as they were to Jack, and Henry Jones right now was hardly anything more than a corpse in a Vat. Of course there were holographic projectors around him, making him seem like your average magistrate, but under his “feathery skin” and “beautiful, if greasy, hair” Henry was nothing more than a corpse in a vat. Henry came in as the twenty year old he had been, not the Two-hundred-and-forty he is now. They were in the Victory Gardens, a virtual maze depicting the Fall. The purposeful overdose, the apocolypse, the super-humans, the fight of Rock and Marie, which was broadcasted around the world. This is a garden of secrets. This is the Garden of conspiracies. Henry was proud, for a sure sign of civiliztaion is hiding needless information from the complete idiocy that is the masses. Horosho appeared as a black-jap in a full out samurai body suit, without the helmet. “Henry Jones, Mason of the Three-hundredth and twenty seventh degree, it is good to...see you”
“yes Horosho, lord of the Yakuza, high Shogun of the Illuminati.”
“He who the Jade Flower would help is upon us, you know this, do you not?”
“Yes, we know.” Even though Ethan Vandebret’s escapade with the thieves was several minutes ago, the two world leaders both knew the entire situation within and without. They also had noted that, for the first time in a hundred years, there was organic material on the pillars by which Manhattan resided. This was a thing that could destroy the upper-class island, rusting the metal and collapsing the city.
“How are we to act?”
“The Son Of Nathan will take care of him.”
********
Jesus moved his queen to the farther right, taking a pawn. The Buddha looked upon the board. Two-thousand, One hundred & eighty years have taught him nothing of chess.
Chapter 4-Caleb the Jew
Ethan wandered through the Greater New York Area for months after that. He jumped on a couple of Hobo Trains, getting to the man he had known when he was twenty-Caleb. The way was freezing, Ethan being stuck in the cargo section of a train, a part never meant for human inhabitants. Ethan got out on the twelfth stop, a town known as Forgotten Hill. It was a shantytown, with the huge Mount Sinai above. This is a hugely rebellious society. He walked to the pawn shop, a place known as “The Silent Stop” This was a place known for its shady customers and its shopkeeper, Caleb. Caleb was a jew, which went against the ban on Christianity. Fortunately, Ethan had never known someone who had disappeared suddenly. This was soon to change.
“Hey Caleb!”
“It’s the allmighty proffesour! Wha woul bring ya here, ma’I ask?”
“Well, it’s a funny story”
********
“So now...yoh’ been sent ba’ gawd?”
“yeah. I guess that is it.” Calebs voice then shifted from Upper NY bum to the strong Brooklyn accent he had as a teen
“Well then, Oim giong to have to get the weapon racks out, arein’t I?”
Caleb went into the shop and got several drums filled with old metal-assault weapons. “These are the things that’ll bring your holy war to a swift end. I have enough weapons to stock millions, billions if I ally with the other dealers of The Stop. You see, we’ll-“
“Caleb, also known as Caleb Fuitilez, you have served a Christian related religion. For this, under UN action 1219, you shall be swiftly executed.” Said a Japanese man with a plastic pistol in his hand. “I am to be your exectutioner.” Caleb only had time to turn around and pick up a rifle, before he was headshot twice. Ethan then heard the screams around him, as enforcers killed the heretics, destroying they’re property and salting they’re crops. Two of the oppressors came in, and, with their cheap weapons, shot Ethan five times in the chest. Ethan turned around, looking at the enforcers. His eyes glowed a bright blue. The flame once again rushed around him, incinerating the wood closeby. Ethan’s shirt broke open as his wings grew to full length, spreading and showing they’re radiant beauty. The wings enfolded Ethan and rushed back to their original pace, inflaming the warriors. The Jap wasn’t around any longer, but the two had a score to settle. Caleb had been Ethan’s little brother, and Forgotten Hill had been his birthplace
********
Ethan flew over the mountain, until he found the place he wanted. It was a granite hut, built to survive the cold of Sinai. Inside he walked to the exact center. This had been the council house, until the apocalyptic weather had forced the townsmen to stay in the valley. Ethan sat. Around him, the world changed.
********
Flowers blossomed first, in the cracks of the floor. Then trees, outside the cottage. It was like viewing Nature in fast foward. Roses bloomed before travelers eyes. Urban, in paticular, as he moved closer to were Ethan had been going. Urban heard of the stories in which ethan had killed an entire regiment of Enforcers without touching them. This was the stuff of legend. Urban wanted in on this. Mount Sinai was becoming the Gardens of Sinai. Billions of bums, heretics, christians, and cultists flocked to the banner of Ethan, a man they may never know.
********
A tornado was flying at high speeds towards the overgrowing Crusade. It would kill billions of humans and destroy Mount Sinai. The warriors began to tremble. When the force of nature was almost upon them, an amazing this happened. Over Richmond, a huge torret of water flew to Sinai. The water destroyed the tornado in a blase of dust and rain, bringing even more followers to the cause of Christianity.
MORE SOON!
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