Short Story Those Men Among Gods

Discussion in 'Writer's Cafe' started by Mr. Mister, Jul 15, 2016.

  1. Mr. Mister

    Mr. Mister The Mangled One

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    He sat in almost complete silence for what seemed like an hour before he decided that he needed to do something. Mr. Despair hadn't appeared to move at all in that time. The bottle was no longer in his hand and was sitting to his left as he had simply pushed it aside some time ago. He simply was resting there, his breaths shallow and barely visible in any sense. All around, the commotion had calmed down as Gloria had gone into another room and most of the crowd left with them. A few stragglers were left, mingling about doing their own things. Now was the time to act, if ever was a good time.

    Lady Lord was nearby and he simply got up and went to her. He pointed back towards Mr. Despair who had still yet to move from where he was.
    "He's had a little too much."
    "Oh, yeah. Mr. Despair tends to do that. You get used to it."
    "I understand that. But should I take him up to his room."
    "Probably a good idea. Let him get some rest."
    "I can take him there. Where is it?"

    She pointed past the bar towards a hall leading north.

    "Go down there and make a right. It's the first door on your immediate right. If you want, I can help."
    "Sure, that would be great."

    With her help, he was able to easily move Mr. Despair to his room. After carefully placing him on the bed, Lady Lord went to leave, but stopped at the door, turning back to him.

    "He'll come to in a few hours. In the meantime, how about we get to know each other better first?"
    "My room is two doors down on the left, just in case you're interested. After all Gloria isn't the only one with experience around here."


    As she said this, she moved her right hand to her crotch and licked her lips. He simply looked at her, not making any movements or putting off any signals. She soon left, closing the door behind her, and his eyelids narrowed down. He did not like these people. Too "open" and too "free." It just felt wrong. Besides, this might be a reason for him being there. He knew he shouldn't surmise why he was here at this job, but sometimes, he couldn't help it. Obviously Red knew these people, they had expected him to show up instead. But something had gone south with Red and them. Must have been awful to illicit this type of response. But that was neither here nor there. He had a job to do. He turned to Mr. Despair who was still sleeping on the bed. He grabbed the pillow off the chair set beside the bed. He carefully got on the bed, making sure to tread as lightly as possible. He positioned himself so he was centered above Mr. Despair's head. He placed the pillow so it covered his head and placed himself down on it so the pressure became more intense.

    Mr. Despair suddenly came to. He began to thrash wildly once his oxygen supply was cut off. He held firm. The more Mr. Despair struggled, he harder her held down. His feet flailed wildly and his hands were trying to reach out and pull off the pillow. But all of that was fruitless as a man whose sole purpose at this moment was to kill him was bearing down further and further upon him. He heard was sounded like a burp as well as some gasping. Within moments after that, Mr. Despair went still. He kept the pressure on him until there was absolutely no twitching from him or in any of his limbs. Once he felt secure the deed was done, he removed the pillow. The back end of it was soaked with vomit, Mr. Despair's. It seemed that burp was him vomiting and that was probably what ended him. He had inhaled some and choked on it. A little cruel, but it got the job done. And that was all that mattered.

    He stuffed the soiled pillow underneath the bed. Hopefully, he would be gone long before it was discovered. Then again, the pillow would be the least of anyone's worries. Now he just needed to find Lady Lord and cut her string as well. He covered up Mr Despair before he left, making it look like he was asleep beneath the covers to the causal observer. He looked back only once before leaving the room for good.
     
  2. Matemar

    Matemar The Crow

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    That's an ugly way to go...
     
  3. Mr. Mister

    Mr. Mister The Mangled One

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    He exited the room and looked both directions before proceeding onward. The room where Lady Lord was staying lay just ahead. He went two doors down and made a left. He stopped before knocking to make sure he looked presentable. Nothing amiss about him in any way, shape, or form. Once he was certain, he knocked three times. He heard footsteps coming towards his directions and the door opened inward. Lady Lord stood before him. She had stripped down from the clothes she had come in wearing and was now wearing a silk evening gown. Her hair hung down her back and parted at her shoulders. She smiled at him.

    "Decided to take up my offer?"
    "Just want to see where this goes."


    She licked her lips, looking him up and down. He shuddered internally.

    "Oh, yes. We will definitely see where this goes. Trust me, I know what I am doing."

    With that, he crossed the threshold and the door closed behind. Unbeknownst to her, she had just sealed her own fate. She would learn that very soon.Once the door was locked and secured, he went to work. She leaned in to grab him and pull him close to her, probably to start undressing him. He let her do this and as soon as her arms went around his back, he reached for his side. Out in a flash of steel came his knife and into her throat it went. It was amazing how quickly her expression went from one of seduction to one of surprise, pain, and then terror. It was faster than a person could blink. Her hands immediately went to her throat. He flung his strength into his arm, ripping the knife out of her throat while slashing it wide open. A line of crimson blood spattered onto the floor. Lady Lord jumped back, her hands clutched at neck and stained deep red. She tried to scream, yell, or say anything, but her voice simply consisted of gurgles. Her voice was now and forever, gone. He moved forward with haste and stuck the knife upward into the bottom of her jaw. The force of this act knocked both to the ground, him on top of her. He used this momentum to drive the knife as deep in as it could go until all that could be seen was the guard and handle. The cold steel thoroughly pierced her. Her eyes bulged and pulsated with realization that she was not long for this world. He twisted the knife, right into her brain, and those eyes pulsated no more. They instead went dim, as if a light had been clicked off behind them. Lady Lord was dead.

    He rose slowly from her body and looked down upon her. She was not bad looking. But her behavior was not beautiful. For it didn't matter if a person looked physically good if they were ugly inside. Her throat was slashed wide to the left leaving pink flesh and red blood in it's absence. He dusted himself off, making sure that he didn't have any blood splattered on him. Just a few specks here and there, but nothing that couldn't be hidden. Now came the job of cleaning up. He looked at the knife in his hand. All the steel was red, but the word, "WRATH" could still be read. He went into the bathroom, stepping over Lady Lord's body to get there. In the sink he carefully washed off all the blood and made sure to clean everything so there was little to no blood that could be seen without careful inspection. With that done, he sheathed the knife and went back into the room.

    He dragged Lady Lord's body and managed to hide her beneath the bed. The frills under the mattress was like a waterfall and covered up the underside of the bed so anything underneath would be out of sight. He used this to his advantage, but still pushed her body all the way back to the wall. With the body as far hidden as he could get it, he now needed to clean up the blood. Lucky for him, the floor was tiled so all that was needed was a good washing. He grabbed some towels from the bathroom, soaked them in water and began to mop up the blood. After a short while, an individual entering the room would not be able to tell that death had been here except for the slight smell of death that lingered. He grabbed up the towels and cleaned them in the shower, watching the now pink tinge of blood swirl and go down the drain. He washed them all several times so that very little trace would be left. That done, he hanged them to dry on the rack in the bathroom. As he stepped out to leave, he took one more look around. Nothing out of place and nothing to reveal what had just occurred. Satisfied with everything, he opened the door and left that room for good.
     
  4. Matemar

    Matemar The Crow

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    Just letting you know I'm still here. :3

    Anyways, that was pretty... detailed. How do you describe his killings in such a detail? Research? I just hope the answer isn't "personal experience"...
     
  5. Mr. Mister

    Mr. Mister The Mangled One

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    He went into the hall and slowly walked towards the room that was designated as his or at least to the person whom he was here for. He opened the door, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him. This room was the same as the other two he had been in. It resembled a simple hotel room with a single bed, nothing special. He flopped down it, hearing it creak and moan as it jerked up and down from his weight. After the bed had settled down, he listened for any noise elsewhere. He could hear random noises further down the hall from his room, but that was all. Most likely, the festivities. He did not want to involve himself with them just yet. Only two names off the list and nine more to go. Why had he accepted this job?! He shook his head and closed his eyes. How had it even come to this? How had he come to have this job? How had he fallen into this lifestyle? As he relaxed and drifted away mentally, he began to recall everything.

    He remembered his brother. Before he could remember, his parents had died and all he had was his older brother. It was a job most would not wish to have, but one he took quite seriously. He remembers his brother teaching him to fight when he was bullied in school and being proud of him when he came back with a black eye and huge sense of pride for standing up for himself. He was his brother, but also the only father he had known. He was always there for him when he needed him to be. How he was able to take care of him on the little salary he got, he never knew. But they led a comfortable life together. So much his brother told him he never fully understood until he was older, but the words stuck with him. He remembers driving with his brother somewhere and a car had cut them off. When his brother honked the horn, the other driver let loose a stream of expletives and a hairy middle finger.

    He asked him, "Why are people so mean sometimes?"
    "Because this world has two types of people. Men and Gods. Gods are stuck in their ways, arrogant, and prideful. They believe that all should accept them and meet their needs without caring for the needs of others. Men, on the other hand, can change. They are not stuck in any particular way. They are dynamic. They see that things can and will change and change with it to survive. Gods fear men for men can see through them like looking through a glass door. They know their weaknesses. And although they never show it, gods respect men for men will outlast, they will not."
    "That is what I want you to be. A man among gods."

    The good times did not last. He remembered coming home from school early and expecting to see his brother there, waiting for him. Instead, he found two men inside the building, sneaking out the back just as he walked in. This was bad and he knew it. He immediately began to look for a weapon, anything to use to defend himself in case there were more in the home. He found his brother's military knife in the drawer near the couch. Long, sharp, and fast. He took it into his hands and began to slowly sneak about the home. Who were those men and what did they want? He went from room to room and found nothing amiss except some things strewn about. Did they rob them? As he approached his brother's room, he saw a pool of blood. He instantly forgot being stealthy and ran into the room. There lay his brother, face down in a puddle of his own blood. Tears in his eyes, he rushed to his side. He was dead and he knew that the moment touched his skin. Why? Why him? Why? He wept. He wept until he could cry no more. His brother, the man who took care of him, the man who loved him dearly, was gone. His sorrow turned to anger and then to rage. Those men. Those men who murdered his brother. He would find them. He would find them and make them pay.

    It didn't take long for him to find the men who had taken his brother from him. They were a petty street gang that had just came into the neighborhood. They typically robbed people and only killed them if they fought back. His brother never went down without a fight so they wasted him. He found their base of operations and for the first time, took human life. Using his brother's knife, he slit throats and cut into any body part they were foolish enough to get within his reach. He wanted to make sure they paid. He wanted to make sure no other boy lost their brother, sister, mother, or father to these scumbags. He wanted to them to pay with their most precious gift, their own lives. He used all his brother taught him to evade more of them before using the knife's length to shank them in the back, at an angle so their lungs were pierced and they could not call for help or even scream. He eventually found the two men who killed his brother. After disabling them so they could not fight back, he released every bit of rage he had upon them. He carved the first one's eyes out and left him screaming, blind and flailing. The second man, he disemboweled. As his intestines spilled from the cavity he had carved into his gut, he stuffed the guts into his own mouth, forcing them down until the man choked upon them. After that man passed into the next world, he finished off the newly blind man. As he finally collapsed from exhaustion, He looked upon what he had wrought. The floors were now stained crimson red and the two bodies rested upon the ground, never to rise again. A life for a life, he supposed. And since he didn't know which of the two men did it, it was best to be safe. He set the whole building on fire before he left. Fire. It cleansed everything that had been done.As he watched the fires lick and flicker, he felt his heart wrench in unimaginable pain. His brother was still gone. Nothing could bring him back. Fire consumed the building as tears ran down his face. He knew what had to be done. He wanted to make sure that no one would ever feel this pain, if he could help it. Scum like these men didn't deserve the gift of life. It was a waste to them. He was going to be a man among gods. No, he would be a man who kills gods.
     
  6. Matemar

    Matemar The Crow

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    Mmmm, interesting. Good back story. I don't approve of murder, taking a life is bad no matter the reason. I do have to agree that some people don't deserve to live.

    It's realistic, events like these can shape a human for the rest of their lives.
     
  7. Mr. Mister

    Mr. Mister The Mangled One

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    He awoke suddenly. His sleep had been rather uneventful, with no dreams to speak of. That was unusual, at least for him. As he sat up, the bed creaked some more. He listened once it had stopped to see if anything can be heard elsewhere in the building. Nothing, but silence. It was now prime time to scout out what he could and plan his next moves. After all, there were still quite a few names left on the list. Names that needed to be scratched off as soon as possible. The less time he spent here, the better. He felt incredibly uncomfortable around the people here. There was just something about the atmosphere that adorned this place and these people. The open abandon at which they sought their desires made him shudder internally. He couldn't explain it, but he know what he felt. And it wasn't comforting at all.

    He strode into the hallway and began walking through the expanse, taking note of everything he could. Every entrance, exit, hiding spot, you name it. He knew how to get around by the time he reached the end of the hallway and looked out the window that took up the whole wall. A sheet of white, soft snow fell and was clearly visible against the dark expanse of the night sky. The night was so peaceful, so calming. His mind relaxed just looking upon it. He felt a peace, an ease that he didn't feel very often. He closed his eyes and placed his right hand upon the glass. It was cold to the touch, but soothing to him. He knew that this moment wouldn't last long. Before long, he would have to end more lives. So much more blood to be spilled. Although he was good at what he did and he would go into willingly, he never truly enjoyed it. It was a chore and he dearly wished it didn't have to be like this. But this is where he found himself now and he had to make the best of what he had.

    "I'm so sorry, brother. So very sorry for everything."

    With that, he pulled his hand away from the glass and went back down the hall, into the main hub. He went down another path, making more observations as he went along. No one seemed to be out at the hour of the night. That was good for him, less to deal with. As he neared the end of this hall, a man stumbled out from what appeared to be a door to an emergency exit. The man closed the door then looked up, noticing his presence. He said nothing at first, but simply smiled at him. He didn't like that smile of his.

    "I would go in and get some if I were you, while the getting is good. They are nice and rowdy right now. Took some time to get them warmed up."

    He just glared at him before approaching the door the man exited from and entering. It appeared that this door led to an outdoor room. It was a stable of sorts, you might say. There was even hay on the floor and in stacks. He looked left and right before looking straight ahead and seeing what the man had been talking about. Around about three horses were several men and some women. The three horses were being mounted by other men and the observers were doing what came naturally to them in this situation. No shame, no honor among them. The basest and purest form of primitive nature. He felt like he was falling. That deep sensation in the pit of his stomach. It only lasted for a few seconds before it happened. Rage. Burning, intense rage. Wrath in it's full form from him. He didn't even think, but simply jumped into action. He began to stride quickly towards the disgusting scene. One of the observers turned around to face him, pants down around his knees.

    "Well hello there. Are you waiting for a tur....?"
    The man never finished that sentence before he plunged the knife into open mouth. He eyes widened with shock. He twisted the knife, jerking it to the left, tearing open his face in a jagged, gory pattern. Kicking him aside, the other observers stood, trying to take it all in at what just happened. He gave them no time to make any choices. He leapt at the closest one, slashing their throat open, fresh blood splattering open the hay. They gasped and grabbed at their throat. One man tried to come up behind him and take him by surprise. Big mistake on his part. He whirled around and jammed the knife deep into his gut before ripping it upward, tearing open his stomach and causing copious amounts of blood to spill forth. Before the man could even reach to his now newly made hole, the knife jabbed into his eye, piercing it fully before it was torn from him. Pandemonium now gripped the others present. But they were dead now. They were all fucking dead to him. None could escape. One even tried to hide behind the hay stacks. He dragged him kicking and screaming from the hiding spot. As he began to beg for his life, He plunged the knife into his chest cavity, piercing his heart. A sputter of blood and the man fell dead and was forever silent. The horses had long run into the corner to escape the carnage. They now came towards him and one gently sniffed him. He reached out his blood-stained hand and pet her on the nose.

    "You're good now, girl. You're safe."
     
  8. Matemar

    Matemar The Crow

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    Still here. This one was pretty brutal. The main character seems like a good man who's life took a wrong turn somewhere. While he felt anger for the people showing their... primitive nature on a harmless animal that did them no harm, he himself used it as well, in the form of predatory bloodlust and rage.

    Unlike them however, he wasn't using it on a innocent living being.
     
  9. Mr. Mister

    Mr. Mister The Mangled One

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    This story has been on-going for too long. I think it's time for me to push through my ideas and get this thing finished at last.

    Once he was assured that the horses were now safe and secure, he exited the room, closing the door behind him. He paused for a moment before leaning forward and vomiting. It was all so fast, so soon, and too much for him to take in at once. He was used to the worst that human nature had to offer, but this hit him harder than he thought it should have. His stomach kept lurching, sending more of it's contents out onto the floor. Even after it had expelled everything it had inside, his stomach kept contracting, causing him to flinch from the pain. He kept himself doubled over until it had completely ceased. He wiped his mouth and all at once, he realized what an error he had made.

    He had killed too many to cover it up for the rest of the time he was set to be here. This many missing persons, someone was bound to notice. Besides, he had no idea if any of those people were on his list. He had gone off the rails and that was not the place one ever wished to be. He had cornered himself with that decision he had made in there, no matter how right it felt, even now. There was only one way to correct this, to make this right. His contracts had to be fulfilled and these people, all of these people here, had to die. They may not have all committed the crimes, by being here, by being involved with this, they bear the weight of the crime. "Birds of a feather flock together." They were all here for a reason, out in this place in the middle of the wilderness. They want to hide. They want a place to fulfill their deepest desires, no matter how wrong, away from prying eyes and in the company of those who wish to do the same. There was a reason for all of this and he saw it now. Was the contract just an excuse to get him here, to see what excesses this people were willing to go to for the fulfillment of self-gratification? Even if it wasn't, he would not let this lie down. He couldn't. Something had to be done.

    He hurried quickly down the hall, into the main lobby area, and finally outside. He went towards where he had hidden his weapons stash. It was now or never. He would take them by surprise. They had no clue as to what his intentions were and he was going to use to his advantage. He found the spot at last, or at least a spot that looked remarkably similar. He wouldn't know until he started digging. He began to do just that. It wasn't long before he discovered he was correct about the spot. He quickly tossed the spade aside, got onto his knees, and retrieved his weapons. The 9mm's with their accompanying silencers, the .45 caliber, and the folding rifle. He grabbed all the ammo containers as well and quickly shuffled himself out of the snow and into the main lobby. As he entered, he looked in every direction, hoping to avoid anyone. The place seemed deserted at the moment and that worked for him. Down the hall, into his room, and he was good. He spent the next few moments loading the weapons, checking every magazine to ensure that they were stocked, and planning out his next moves. He had to get people either alone, in small groups, or in one large area that he could confine them into. Because once this started, there would be little room for improvisation. This had to go off perfectly or else this will have been an utter failure.

    "I cannot even let one person get away. Not a single one." he told himself in a hushed tone.

    He then remembered the paper he had been given to him. He fumbled with it, hoping it might help. He then turned it over and it held the answers. On the back was the list of activities and what times they would be occurring. In big bold letters near the top, it said,

    "Welcoming Rave" 12 Midnight in the Auditorium

    He looked at his wristwatch. It was 11:45. That means the rave would be starting soon. Most, if not all the people here would be there as this was the first major get-together this weekend. This was good, this was very good. But there was still much to do. He had to keep the people confined inside once everything started going down. He had to cover the escapes well. A trap perhaps? He let that thought stir in his mind a while before coming to a conclusion. A wire trap. But better than that because that might stop one person. A rigged wire trap? But rigged with what? What could stop people in their tracks? It came to him almost immediately. But he needed supplies first and foremost to make this work. He stashed his loaded .45 and rifle under the mattress before he even did anything else. He went to leave, but made sure his 9mm's were on him, fully loaded, and with silencers fully attached. Now was the time to make this all happen. He opened the door to his room and left.
     
  10. Matemar

    Matemar The Crow

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    I wonder how he'll manage to kill all of them...,
     

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