P.P.F re:
Chapter 7: Road to Help Paved with Good Intentions 2/2 August 28th, 2018 “Disgusting!” “Accept what you are!” “How do you benefit society like this, freak?!” “I'm sorry...do you mean how do I benefit you?” Sometimes, the wound still hurt. Just above his belly button, a large line that had once been a gruesome gash laid under a blanket of gauze. Merely to hide it, of course. No sense drawing attention to it while he was on the job. As he awoke to the satisfaction of a smiling, happy customer, he realized, of course he was ranked No. 8 on the Yearning's popularity board. Because, well, someone built like the average, attractive citizen with a charming personality? Huh, sign me up! After falling back to sleep, he awoke to his clock, reading 6:00 A.M. He sighs, rolling out of bed and onto the cold, hard floor. Picking himself up, he began grabbing his clothes, from wherever weird place they'd been. “How the hell did my shirt get in the toilet?!” He groans, leaving it in the sink to dry, grabbing a black sweater. He jumped out the room door, into a hallway, large as could be, with about fifty rooms in total. He walked down the hall, slid down the stairs, and, after tripping on the last stair, landed face first in the small entrance hall. Unlike most centers, this one was much less extravagant, more like a motel from long ago. A woman in a skinny white shirt and black khakis stood at the front desk, skimming through some papers. “Morning, darling.” She scoffs at him with a little grin. “Good morning, Chris. Sleep well last night?” He grins, leaning onto her desk. “Not. A. Wink.” The woman shakes her head. “About as expected. I noticed your customer left just an hour ago. You treated her well, did you?” The man sighs. “I'm sorry, but I can't share any classified info. Sound familiar?” She chuckles. “You, sir, are an arsehat.” he laughs at her, pushing off her desk. “Well, I hope I'm your arsehat?” He points finger guns at her. “You wish. Now get out, I need to close up.” She gives him another friendly smile before he opens the front door. He walks down the three steps, stepping on a couple of cold, dead leaves. He ran a hand through his black, silky hair as his hazel eyes looked to the slowly rising sun. Most people were still asleep, or just getting out from their jobs. He let out a loud yawn as he eyed a corner store, it's lights still on. “Ooh...giggity.” he opens the door, walking inside. In front of him were two rows of snacks, and at the far back was a cashier and two mini fridges with the word “Drinks” written on them. He walked forward, grabbing a Cocoa Raspberry rope and a cold coffee bottle, placing them on the counter. The boy eyes the items. “Ten dollars.” The man sighs, taking away the rope. “Sorry, sir, but now the price is fifteen.” Chris looked above the man, seeing a combo sales sign. “Are you...fine.” he brings the rope back, pulling out a ten dollar bill. “Sorry, sir, we only take cards.” The boy was trying, and failing, to hold back a devious smile. Chris stares at the boy for a moment, reaching into his pocket-”Bap!” and sends a fist flying into the cashier's chin. “Ahh! My chin! Hey, you-” as the boy started picking himself up, the man had already left, snack and coffee gone. The boy groans, falling back onto the ground. As he rips a piece of his chocolate rope off, the tele-monitors switch from a slideshow of ads to a news broadcast. He grins as he watches his client appear on screen. “Hello. This is Veronica Falcon with the Maine News Network, bringing you the latest and greatest. Um,” she motions to someone off camera like a maniac, “Um, we'll be starting off with a rather depressing first story. 45 year old Francis Danion was found in his home, hanging from his ceiling fan. Many here at the office suspect that this has something to do with his recent encounter with “The Reformationist,” as we've taken to calling this strange person. The mayor has stated in the past that he plans to put a stop to this nonsense, but as of now, it clearly can't come soon enough. All we have is a logo and a hope this crusade ends without much more damage.” He rips off another piece of his rope. “Yeah, okay.” He takes out a small notepad, writes down the gist of what she'd just said, and puts it back, chugging down his cold coffee. “Ahh.” He throws the can and plastic in the trash, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Arriving at the end of the sidewalk, he hears a couple voices somewhere nearby. “Ooh, hello?” He pulls out his phone, tapping the camera Icon. He closes his eyes, the voices becoming clearer. He starts moving forward, turning the corner, and carefully shuffling against the wall, following the source of these gruff voices. Soon, he arrives at an alleyway. He taps record, peeking behind the corner. Inside were two guys, dressed in red suits, talking to some teenage kid. “Come on, surely you have more than this.” The boy shakes his head. The man groans. “Thank you, Jerry. You can go.” Chris backs away, pretending to be absorbed in his phone as the boy passes him. He returns to his original position, recording the men as they start talking to each other. “Okay, has the request for that job in the Yearning gone through yet?” The other man nods his head. “Yeah, but they seem kinda hesitant. They don't seem as interested in our services as others.” “Okay…let's throw in a couple thousand. God knows they need the money.” the two nod. “They want to meet up today. I scheduled us for around three. Sound good?” The man stops recording, speed walking back the way he'd come. He waits a few moments, praying nobody had followed him. After a few moments, he peers behind him. The men were walking in the opposite direction. He sighs in relief. “Well, good ol Ronie should appreciate this.” He enters his messaging app, taping Veronica's name. As he's about to send this to her, however, he ponders for a few moments. He backs out, tapping another name. “Hey, Hermes!” “...what?” “Your girl still doing that reformer crap?” “Oh god, what? Someone say you have a baby carrot?” “No...that's not what this is about. I think I found some investors.” “?” “Interested? ;)” “A wee bit.” He sends the video. “Hmm...I'll consider it.” “Alright. TTYL.” “Hope not.” He puts away his phone, looking up at the sky. The sun had risen. … It was easy to tell when they'd arrived in the downtown area. The annoying sidewalk ads were replaced with actual cement, the tele-monitors were instead the occasional billboard, and the area was strangely deserted. Well, okay, not all that strange. The population of this area consisted mostly of teenagers or adults working for centers. Hotels here had free housing for them, though that housing was extremely limited. “We almost there?” Anely asks. Ben nods. “Yeah, just past here.” As the two turn the last corner, the cozy building finally meets their eyes. Strangely, unlike the brick and steel buildings uptown, this one was actually built with wood, with only two stories and some fancy looking letters painted above the door. She was tempted to call it cozy looking, but holds back. Right next to the door was a man with light brown skin, wearing a black sweater and black khakis. The man was whistling, fiddling with a coin. “You think he's one of them?” Anely whispered. “Let’s just ask. Hey, mister-” she slaps him in the face as the man turns his attention away from the coin in his hand. “Oh, hello there.” He hums those last few syllables, throwing the coin in the air, opening his coin pouch and catching it. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” She groans, speeding her way over to him. “First, who are you?” She points at him. “My name is Chris. Anely, right?” Her stomach drops. “H-huh? How did you-?” He cuts her off, holding a finger in front of her lips. “Hush little child. I'll have you know Herman is very forthcoming with information.” It begins clicking in the girl's brain. “Oh, I see. Your Herman's-” “Yes, informant. Glad you're catching up. So, who's ready to kick some investor butt?” Her eyes go about as wide as dinner plates. “Wait, we? I mean, I see me and this guy, hi Ben, but, I'm quite sure no one invited you.” The man laughs, slapping her on the shoulder. “Get your disgusting, grimy hand-” he interrupts her again. “I'm pretty sure you're gonna get a lot farther with an o-ficial employee compared to without. What do ya say?” She grabs his arm, kneeing him in the balls. “Ahh!” He falls over, curling up into a ball. “My moneymaker…” she makes a show of wiping off her shoulder, calling Ben to follow her as she opens the door. Once inside, she makes sure to close the door before taking in her environment. To the left, a staircase leading up to the second floor, a table with a bowl full of mints, a large window covered by curtains, and to the right, a fireplace with a lit fire, a large table with booth seats, a hallway with a sign above it, showing the bathroom icons, and right in front of them, a soft looking carpet with a desk, and a woman, her legs crossed on the table, staring down at a book. The two walk on, Anely tapping the lady's foot. “Hrm?” she looks up. “No teens in the afternoons.” Anely feels her toes tightening. “Ma’m, please.” She ignores Anely's plea. “Damnit.” She whispers, looking for a blunt object. “Jessie, don't be so rough with the kiddos.” the woman looks up again as a man puts his hands on these two teen's shoulders. “Chris, you know the rules as well as I do. It's out of my hands.” The man sighs, taking out a ten dollar bill. “How about now?” She bites her lip, her hands trembling. “Oh, fine.” She takes the money. “Check Room 17. I think there may be some patients In there.” The three thank the woman, who was guiltily taking the bill into her hands, before walking up the long staircase. Once they reach the second floor, the man sighs, a satisfied grin on his face. “Well, that sure was easy.” Anely grabs his jacket, holding a fist up to him. “Ah, ah, ah. I think this means you owe me, and nobody beats up the people they owe.” She looks at him like he's a nutjob. “Fine. I won't beat you up this time.” she pushes him back, and he lands on his backside as the two start walking down the hall. “Why are teens so friggin mean?” Chris grumbles, getting up. As they walked down the hall, they started to notice the strange decorations littering the walls. Pictures of pleasantries from long ago, like old libraries, cafes, and...she stops In front of a picture of a group of teens. “Hey, Chris, how old are you?” The man smiled. “Stupid question. Yeah, that's me.” He pointed to the boy giving the boy in the middle a noogie. “Huh. Band of Losers?” he chuckles. “Sure.” Three other girls, and three other boy's, and they all stood together in a cafe. “When was this?” The man doesn't answer. “You can take that with you. I don't think Jessie would mind.” She shrugs, throwing it in her bag along with Herman's stuff, and the three continue down the hall. “...so much...so much food…” they stopped outside room 21. They could hear multiple voices talking to each other inside. The voices were low, and thus hard to make out. Nonetheless, Anely bashed through the door, meeting three surprised men, all wearing red suits. Two of them had white skin and short, blonde hair, while the other had black skin with no hair, all three wearing black sunglasses. They all stare at each other for a few, awkward moments, before the men ask who they are. “Not important. Who are you?” Ben retorts, receiving Anely's silent approval. “Um, well, we're representatives from the Youth Protection Program. You heard of it?” Anely laughs. “How ironic, considering we find you here of all places.” One of the men with blonde hair get up. “We've told you who we are, now you return the favor.” Chris goes first, giving them a sly tongue click. “Hey...you're the guy who was stalking us before. Right?” The dark skinned man nodded. “Great. First you broadcast our private meeting and then you bring in some teen brats for us to deal with. Thanks a lot.” Chris rolls his eyes. “So, please, enlighten us on what “morally righteous” people like yourselves are doing here, in the one place where youths are daily treated like clay.” the men seem confused on how to answer. “Well, what better way to make money?” The girl was caught off guard. “Excuse me?” The men seemed to nod at each other. “Yeah. Investing in a relief center is the easiest way to make bank. We do them favors, give them money, and they pay us and we use that to fund the Youth Center. That makes sense, right?” The girl felt disgusted, and her face showed it. “What do you mean?! Don't hide behind those kids like cowards!” They didn't take the bait, remaining calm. *Okay, different tactic.” She snaps her fingers. Time around them seems to slow. The three men look at each other, confused. “H-hey, what the hell-ahhh!” The man talking jumps back. Where Anely had once been standing, there was instead a cloaked figure, with its hood down, revealing a bleached white skull. “W-what the hell are you?!” She raised her hand, summoning a dark aura, which formed a long, dark scythe. “Now, are you ready to admit your wrongs?” The figure's voice was deep, raspy, and turned the world cold. “What are you talking about?! All we've ever done is for those kids!” She tilts her head. “Do you really think that?” They all nod frantically. “Then I guess there's nothing I can do.” She jumps forward, landing on the table. “No, please!” She raises her blade. “H-hold on, crazy!” Chris grabbed her arm, looking the same as he had. “Let go of me!” He turns his attention away from her, focusing now of the men. “And you three, I can't believe how stupid your excuse is!” They looked clearly confused. “Your watching over a good amount of kids, yeah? Teaching them they can be whatever they want, and then turn your back on them by supporting exactly what you told them to fight! They didn't emote, didn't move, they just stared. She pulls out of Chris's grasp. “Don't you dare intervene in MY work!” She turns back to the men, seemingly evaluating Chris's words as she plunges her blade deep into one of the men's heads. The other two scream, trying to get up, but to no avail as she twists and jams her knife through her first victim's head and jams it into the other man. The last one remaining bolts past her, going for the door, meeting an upsetting end as Ben, now without a face, jams a kitchen knife into the man's stomach. He lets out a few utters of pain before falling to the floor, dead. She snaps her fingers once more, the two teens returning to normal, and the three men lay unconscious on the couch. “High five, Ben.” The boy high fives her. “Now, Chris, please elaborate-” the man was nowhere to be seen. “Chris?” no response. “Geez, selfish much?” She chuckles in satisfaction, grabbing the bag she'd dropped. “Ready, Ben?* The boy nods. “Of course, master.” … She arrives at home, Ben already gone for work. She enters through the alleyway door, smiling and taking a deep breath. In the kitchen, Herman was chopping up some veggies, Brownie was destroying a toy, and Chris was sitting at the table, fiddling with a coin. “Ah, Anely. Chris told me how it went.” She sends him a glare. “Told me it was a job well done. Good on ya.” her glare is replaced with a curiosity. “Um, yeah. Took them down like a boss.” She congratulates herself, sitting at the table. Herman leaves to go grab some stuff from the fridge. “So, spill the beans, what do you want?” He looked at her with an almost mournful look. “Clearly, nothing you can provide.” She still motions him to answer. “I keep thinking if I tried harder, I could have convinced you to give them a chance to change.” “Wow, I thought age gave you wisdom. Bad people don't change, and they were bad people, hiding behind children like a shield.” the man holds his face in his hands. When Herman comes back, Herman fakes a smile, whispering under his breath, “You're wrong.” The words are enough to change Anely's grin into a neutral look, as she watched Herman cook. 24 Days Until God's Summoning
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P.P.F RE
Chapter 6 Road to Hell Paved with Good Intentions 1/2 August 28th, 2018 “Round table!” The man sipped from his coffee mug, thinking dreamily of his soft mattress. A teenage boy, his blonde hair dangling over his grey eyes, played with a little puppy, which was trying to snatch a treat out from between his fingers. The girl was tapping her fingers on a clipboard, giggling with glee. The man was named Herman, the boy Ben, and the girl Anely. “Okay then, this better be quick.” the man states first off. The girl rolls her eyes, responding with a quick nod. “Alright, now that we have Ben back, I want to talk about our next target.” The boy nods his head in respect to the little , who succeeds in stealing the treat from his hand. “After a lot of consideration, I've decided to go with caution, and taking this one slow. So...let's go after the Verion.” The man stops sipping from his mug, puts it down, claps his hands together, and says, “Excuse me?” “The Verion.” He nods his head, tapping her on the shoulder. “You know our building goes up pretty high, right?” She throws a scrambled egg at him. “Haha. I'm pretty sure it's in our capabilities.” “No.” Herman lays his answer out almost immediately. “W-what? Why?” He holds his head, considering all of his life choices. “The Verion was the third most popular relief center right behind the Pen, but that was just for quality of humans. We're talking about some of the most iron tight security in this entire city...you don’t think there's anything intimidating about that?” She cocks her head. “Well, I mean, we could go about this incognito like. Maybe I could just-” “No, no, no, hey, did I mention NO?!” the girl mimics his mouth movements, holding back a laugh. “Can you not?” She shrugs. He taps his temple. “You just took down one of the biggest relief centers in the whole city. Can't you settle, just for a little while?” “No.” Her response was immediate, like his, and cold. The man gives in. “Well, I heard that some big investors hang out in a lower level center, if you wanna check that out.” The girl seems to ponder this for a moment, then makes a motion to tell her more. “The Yearning, I believe that's the one they said.” Anely sighs. “Better than nothing. Thanks, Herman.” She grabs her bag. “Ben, let's roll.” The boy stops playing with the dog. “Yes, master.” He grabs his own bag and the two walk out the door. Alone, the man calls the puppy over to him. Stroking his fingers through it's fur, he looks over to the door they had just walked out of. He whispers her a little prayer. Now outside, Anely smiles as the soft, Autumn breeze comes to blow her worries away. Walking about were thousands of other people, most dressed the same as one another. Students were given the option to wear whatever they pleased, but more often than not simply chose to wear the uniform the school distributed to them. Adult men would walk by wearing the same black suit, a single pen hanging in the pocket, looking as though it was plastered to them, showing off the celebrated muscular physiques hidden underneath. Women were treated about the same, with the skinny, uncomfortable outfits to boot. No one could be blamed for this, though, considering the comfortable attire was placed on a shelf practically impossible to get to without a ladder, and the price was jacked up so high, no student could afford any of it, even with a full three month's pay. Needless to say, she planned on changing that ...sooner or later. “Come on.” She taps Ben on the shoulder. “Yes miss.” The two enter the large crowd of people, becoming invisible from view. … The day passes by with little incident. Like every day, Anely writes down whatever her period's teacher puts up on the board, listening to what music or podcast she'd downloaded that morning. It didn't matter what class, what teacher, it was all the same thing. “Ahh! How am I supposed to learn anything if nobody even bothers to care?!” She complains as the lunch bell rings. “Huh?” Everyone had already left by the time she was done whining. Besides Ben, of course. She walks over to the boy, slumped over, eyes closed. “Hey, wake up.” His head immediately turns to look at her, sending her flying back. “I'm sorry, master, did I scare you?” “What do you think?” She asks, moving the desk she'd fallen into back where it belonged. “Oh, I suppose I've slept through the bell again. Oh well.” She lightly taps the back of his head. “Hush, naughty boy.” He looks down at his hands. “J-just joking.” The boy looks back up in realization. “Oh...ahahahahahaha!” He forces a monotone sounding laugh. “Let's just go.” She allows the clueless being to go before her as they each walk up to the door. The hallway just in front of them had lots of students walking by, separated in two, neat lines, going in opposite directions. The two walk through the first hole they find, getting into the other line. “What do you think they're serve-” “Turkey, rice, and peas with salt and pepper.” The boy responds. “Y-yeah, thanks.” She slaps his back. After a little more walking, they arrive at a staircase. While beginning their descent, aperson suddenly falls down the stairs, slamming into a group of other students. “Ahhaha! Looks like I got a strike!” Anely looks up to see one of her upperclassmen bursting out in laughter. “Well, Charlie, I'd say he seemed a little out of it. Surely that isn't worth normal pay?” Another boy adds. The two chuckle to each other. “Alright, sorry bud, looks like you're getting a pay cut.” The boy pulls out a few dollar bills, throwing them up in the air. The kid he threw down the steps ran toward the floating money, reaching out for it. “Oopsie!” The upperclassmen rams the boy, sending him flying back down the steps. “Sorry bout that. Even a few wasted dollars would have my dad throwing a fit. But, you should be expecting to see me tonight, though.” This older boy hopped down the rest of the steps, his accomplice collecting the bills landing on the steps, slapping his victim's cheek before walking off. She'd remembered seeing such behavior before. At first, she'd been so disgusted by the sight she would have to turn away. Now, all she felt was...well, she didn't know what to call it. Nevertheless, she at least helped the boy up, who thanked her graciously, before getting back in line, like nothing had happened. She had a look in her eyes most would consider condescending. Of course, no one did notice. “Master?” She jumps again at her friend's touch. “Dang it, Ben, quit calling me that...well, here at least.” She whispers the last part with a cocky grin, walking forward. He soon follows after.. … “Alright, class, please take out your assigned book and start reading.” A woman sitting at the desk at the center of the room, with long, curvy hair, stares aimlessly at the back of the class, clearly bored. “Well, this isn't much better.” The girl mutters to herself, regretting what she'd done to her original teacher. “Probably won't mug me, at least.” She opens up her playlist, hitting shuffle, leaning back into her chair, hiding her face with the book she'd been given by the librarian. Honestly, the book wasn't all that bad. Time traveling teens and existential horror? Damn, it just can't get much better. Still, the outside world was grabbing her attention. Outside, it was pouring. The occasional person would pass by under an umbrella, but besides that, the world was basically dead. The sidewalk ads were covered by a retractable cement cover, the large tele-monitors were covered by giant tarps, and most stores were closed, their windows shuttered and doors barred. “Verion or Investors?” She whispers to herself. The idea of taking down another center was tempting. What was stopping her? Worst comes to worst, she could just get Ben to defend her. But getting rid of their investors…that might bring down morale. Less money, less motivation, easier target.” She argued with herself like a game of ping-pong going on inside her head. “Hmm...whatcha got there, honey?” She looks up from her book, to find her teacher pulling down Ben's book to get a good look at his face. She narrows her gaze. “Oh, It's Sherlock Holmes. I remember my peers telling me it was interesting.” The woman nods her head. “Well, I can agree it's a good choice. I remember reading that one myself when I was younger.” Anely felt herself gripping her book tightly as the woman began prodding at his cheek. “I'm sorry, miss, but may I ask why you're touching me-” she tells him to hush, digging into his cheek with a forceful thumb. “Your skin has such resistance. Even more so than the toughest boys here. How do you do it?” The woman yelps as a book hits the side of her head. She feels for any blood, finding none. She immediately turns to Anely, who had her face buried in her book. Confused, she reaches down, picking up the book from the ground. A history book. She glares at the girl from across the room. “I expect to see you tonight. The Pelliot, right?” the boy nods his head and she gives him a warm smile, walking away from his desk. Anely makes an eye at her, zipping up her bag. … “I don't understand.” “It's easy. Transfer. Now.” as the two students walked out the front door, Anely made this absurd request. “But why?” “Cause...rgh, that teacher is friggin creepy, that's why! What if she carved out your spleen and make you eat it?” He ponders it. “That does sound kind of gross.” “Yeah, see? More reason to transfer, since you won't even quit.” she folds her arms. “Well, unfortunately, transfers take a month, at minimum, so, that just defeats the purpose, right?” She grumbles, looking down. “I'm sorry. I have no control over requests.” She punches his arm. “Ow?” Giving up, her shoulders slump. “Whatever. It is what it is, I guess.” He looks away, guilt creeping up his spine. The two stop at the crosswalk, waiting from the light to switch. “You don't need to worry about me. I'm the one who should worry about...you.” she looked into his eyes with a chilling look that anybody worth their stock would cowering at. She responds, “The only reason the people who put their hands on you are still alive is because they have no soul to begin with.” He didn't respond, but the message still got across. The light changes. “Um, the light changed.” Anely looks over to the rusty streetlight. “It seems it has. Come now, buddy. We have a long afternoon ahead of us.” She grabs his hand, leading him along. He'd spent a long time with this girl, but, for the first time, he felt a strange feeling well in up inside him that made him almost sick. He did his best to ignore it, but no matter how he tried, the feeling wouldn't go away. He tried to bring it up, but was promptly interrupted by a small figure pouncing onto him. “B-Brownie!” The dog licked the boy's face with glee as Herman, dressed in a sleeveless tee and red shorts jogged ip to them, holding a red leash. “Well, on time today, I see.” The girl chuckles, chats with the man for a few moments, before he produces a string bag. “Well, here you are. Six mixes, two sandwiches, and…” the man reaches into one of his pockets. “Aw, crap. Dropped my knife.” “Knife?! Sir, I-I had no idea you hated the park ranger that much. I thank you for feeling comfortable enough to-gah!” The man karate chops the boy's head. “Enough of that! I'll have you know I have done no such thing...as of yet.” Herman calls Brownie over to him. “So, you said the Yearning, right? Appropriate name for a place like that.” The man nods his head absentmindedly. “I'm sure you know how to get there.” The girl nods. “Yeah, we just, you know, go down?” The man facepalms. “Don't worry, I know how to get there.” The girl gives him a dirty gaze. “Of course you do.” He sceat he's the back of his neck, unsure how to respond. “Yeah…you two have fun.” The man holds the puppy in his arms, running past them and down a nearby alley. “Did you really say go down?” She sighs. “I never told you to use my smart talk against me.” The two chuckle as they walk down the sidewalk, the light drizzle tapping against them. |
AuthorGriffin Gryphon is the author of many stories that will hopefully never see the light of day. When he's not writing (most of the time :(...) he's watching Youtube, and stressing out about everything. Archives
January 2019
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