The rain pummels the roof,
And the old bard shifts,
Colors offer the autumnal proof,
As then his memory shifts,
He recalls the woman in white,
Her side with blooded scar,
Loneliness stares up to this knight,
A shadow close and forever far,
To the wood he’ll meander,
To slay the demons of thought,
And to the injuries he’ll pander,
The scars time had wrought,
The flow for him is calling,
The war drums sound in water,
There is a freedom in the falling,
And a glory in the slaughter,
As leaves like compromises,
Fall gently to the earth,
The trees whisper the wises,
Or death, life, and rebirth,
He’ll go to lake so still,
And watch her rippling skin,
The lakes lady has her own will,
For those of flesh, feather or fin.
Her ghost kisses the old shore,
And calls him to the slaughter,
He has seen her face before,
Just beneath the water,
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
SKID
A GOOD KILLING
PROLOGUE
I was tracking the Gemini killer from Chicago to New York. All the evidence I could process pointed to a male early thirties, white, O positive blood. Pretty much all the usual suspects of North America. He was getting better, perfecting his craft. 12 victims so far. Same modus operandi. Whoever the killer was, he needed a place. His work took too much time. And he traveled too much. One set in Oregon, One Set in Alaska. I was looking through DMV records for a trucker. But the routes were too diverse to make sense.
We SKID’s called him the Gemini cause he took a liking to killing twins. Sometimes years apart. Always twins, identical or fraternal. None of the SKID’s had a face or a name yet..
I had found Gemini’s work earlier that day. 22 year old, black, female. Raped, flayed alive, both legs broken. She had lost her twin to a pedophile ring when she was 5.
I knew that. Accessed the phone records, federal and state databases. There was no overlying connection between all the victims.
I knew that a thought smuggler was bringing a package of repressed memories to the Gemini. It was Terrance May. A power psychic in New York. I could head home..
1.
I was waiting for the drop and my mark was waiting as well. The marks name was Terrance May.
Jared Martel was late. He was never late. He was fastidious and annoying that way. It was 4 a.m. and I was in no mood for this.
It was raining, hard in Madison Square Park. It reminded me of my first kill’s memories of New Orleans. It was a hard cleansing August rain and it came up without warning. There was a little thunder far off. Lightning flashed in the distance. The air had the electric feel of bloody anticipation. And the memories of my first kills mother in brighter days flashed across the sugar engine that I call a mind.
Rain Darlin is just the tears of God. She said.
The psychic, Terrance May waiting for the drop was getting nervous, squirrelly. I was watching. He was scanning the park looking for minds. Hoping to instill an ember of fear. My mind was a undetectable a piece of background static amongst all the irrelevant chatter of the meat that swarm in cities. I played a little Wes Montgomery in my head, Jazz guitar relaxes me. I paused took a deep unnecessary breath. And walked over.
I was dragging my 6’4 , 300 pound bulk toward the psychic. He looked up lost in the Maze of mental voices as I crashed into him. And just started hitting. I got to hit him hard and fast not allow him to focus.
Where the hell is Jared !!! I say between punches. I diamond up my skin and the poor psychic must have felt like Nemesis herself had come to collect. He tries a psyhic assault before he telekinetically pushed me off him. I went flying some 40 feet up and away, gravity is a bitch goddess and I landed with an echoing thud.
Fuckin SKID. He says as he goes into Ki Tae first form. I smile through my mop of black hair. My artificial eyes were looking for a gap in the fields of force he was surrounding himself with.
A few quick exchanges; block to the head, He hit me with quick lightning strikes to the chest. Hitting with the force of a thousand pounds. He wailed me upside my head. Rung my bell a bit. I was waiting for him to get a little over confident. His mind was trying to agitate the molecular motion of my face. But my troops hung together like always. My skin can be hard as diamond if I want it.
He then started with a flying kick telekinetically pushing himself off the ground. Never a good idea to take to the air with a rusting old machine like myself. I catch him in mid air and drive him down. Sink my fingers in his skull. And rip memories from him. Martel wasn’t coming. They wanted Blue.
Dammit
I broke his neck and took off running.
The new kills memories were being collated in my mind. Martel was a thought smuggler, but he didn’t know what the drop was. I dial Lisa in my head. No answer just a voice mail.
Hey lover, come behind the Barnes and Noble on 18th a Broadway.
18th and Broadway. Not far. Not far at all.
2.
I was whispering the Russian Orthodox act of contrition as I came upon her.
A gun doesn’t worry if it has a soul, Felix Seven. She says
I’m more than a gun. I said blowing the smoke from my cigarette and watching it waft into the dreary New York night. Oxidizing agent. Now all I need is to refuel with a bottle of Glenfiddach, six cups of black coffee with a ton of sugar. and all should be cooking with propane.
I know that too well my darling. She says with a kiss, Now be the big strapping Louisiana gentlemen you are and take off his head so I can have a look see. She’s a runt so everyone is big and strapping. But I’m bigger than most.
Is it always business with you, I say
We have time for foreplay later , she says flashing me a little skin.
I formed a diamond blade from the carbon in the air and with a jerk the head came free.
Lisa Blue is a forensic telepath, She can read the minds of the recently dead. She is about 5’2, dancer’s build, brunette, with wit more pointed than a stiletto, and big blue eyes that you can sail across and never find the horizon. She would be my heart if I had one.
We were tracking a Chaos Engine thought smuggler through the Maze, a psychic nightmare realm that underpins ours. It is a savage place that bleeds into the real world. Only telepaths and SKIDS can interact with the maze. Jared Martel was charming, good looking, and was a bastard who needed a good killing but someone other than us finally caught up with him.
He was flayed alive, sprawled out in a dumpster on 18th street just next to the old town tavern. But lucky for us his body was still warm. You got to take your victories when you can. He took one hell of a beating before hand. Cracked tibias, broken ribs. The flaying alive was an added sadistic flourish. I’m just pissed I didn’t get to
Ki Tae – or Mind Hand is a telepathically/ telekinetically enhanced martial art. All the telepaths learn it. One hit and you can rip the mind of your opponent. If they’re meat. But I’m not meat.
I’m a S.K.I.D., it is an acronym for serial killer interception drone. A nanotechnological Android that hunts serial killer and rogue psychics. But we’ll keep my relationship with Lisa a secret for now.
With Jared Martel’s head encased in a thin sheen of diamond. I wanted to get home, make love and psycho-print what remains of this critters mind. But I can’t do that until Lisa pulls out the package gets past the traps and the mind bombs placed there by the Engine. You see the Engine feeds on fear and violence and pushes beings with these murderous inclinations just a fraction. Then they come along for the ride. Energy beings being of pure malicious thought.
3.
This ain't right. I say as we head to her apartment on 26th and Park Ave South.
What isn’t right? She says looking up at me. Blue Eyes wide, I know deep in her soul she wished she could read my mind.
Nothin darling. Just a lot on my mind
Liar. She said smiling with a smile so indistinct the Mona Lisa would envy. Her apartment was spacious, the art pre Raphelite / Southwestern fusion With a balcony. I put Jared Martel’s head on the kitchen table and poured myself a scotch.
She never kept anything in her fridge so I didn’t bother looking. My troops the nanites that make up my body were getting restless screaming for fuel. They quieted down after the first round. Imagine your body being made up of a billion irate atomic sized robotic wolverines with surlier disposition and obsessive compulsive disorder. That is my life.
Lisa had changed clothes to a lavender camisole and panties. She was going to get the package disarmed, open the package. Then we would make love, take a shower and go to bed. At least I hoped this was the plan. The head was still warm when I uncased it from the diamond sheath I put it in. I put my hand on the back of her neck to see what she saw. And she went it.
4.
Jared Martel’s section of the Maze was a jumble of bloody images plastered on brown brick walls. Lurid and tasteless. Lisa clad herself in a blue leather jumpsuit armed with two weapon rapier and daggor. The corridors twisted and turned and even the gravity was not being cooperative.
The floors were slick with blood. Hooks on the walls. On occasion a filet knife would dart at her and she would dodge it. She paused to disconnect a tripwire. A mind trap that would have opened a pit deep into decaying his subconscious. She would have been trapped, unable for me to get to her and she would die with his mind.
Across the horizon of the maze you could see them pouring from their towers silhouetted by the blood red sun, and waxing blue moon . The Spectres, feeding on the emotions of those few unfortunates who got lost in the labyrinth. They had almost absolute rule of the mindscape. Only a few brave souls stood up to them. But these incursions are hit and runs.
Lisa finally got to the package, a metaphoric briefcase. Sitting on a small desk, and there sat knowing he was dead was the grinning form of Jared Martel.
Lisa Blue I’m so glad you came to see me. Jared says leering
Not you sugar. I just want the package.
And. he says.
I need to know why the engine killed you.
Doors slammed behind her, windows barred shut.
Who said they did.
5.
I lost contact with her. It was a trap. I cradled her, picked her up and brought her inside my chest cavity. I figured it was the safest place. While she fought her battle. Her door blasted open and I saw the grinning face of Jared Martel.
6.
The first blows struck like jackhammers, I armored up and stood my ground. Grabbed him and took us out the balcony window to the roof of the building below. He saved himself from the fall and hovered in the air like an earthbound God. I formed a pair a diamond short blades and fell into comfortable escima form. Some cutting was about to happen.
Martel expanded his psionic form and reached out for her. Lisa Blue no stranger to Kit Tae pushed him back against the phantasmal crack house wall. She formed a swept hilt rapier and main gauche. As did he. Some cutting was about to happen.
I threw my right handed bladed and he telekinetically threw it aside like so me kind a pathetic annoyance. Then burn all the fuel I had in reserve. Leapt.
Martel’s rapier form was excellent, clean, and heavy on the thrusts. She kept disengaging waiting for the opening. His mind was split. The connection of the twin had to be severed. He drove through her center line and cut her across the midriff. He dexterity made her pull away before the weapon could really strike home. Steel flashed.
It was a good leap, 20ft straight up; I grabbed him like a long lost lover. Cutting across with the left knife grabbing his hair and ramming my forehead into his face. I stabbed several times a perfect X cut. Meat still feels pain. He threw us back down to the tar roof with a crash. Shit.
Shit ! The Maze was shaking like the Enterprise hit by a photon torpedo. Lisa almost lost her balance. Skidded fell back retreating with less than sure footwork. Disengage. Get him frustrated. He over extended a lunge cut his rest and leapt over him flipping in mid air. His form reversed itself. And grew two other arms. This was his mind. His reality, HIS UNIVERSE.
My troops were rebuilding as fast as they could. But the fuel was burning too fast for me to replace it. I had to keep Lisa safe. He levitated around me gloating.
Lisa Blue’s wound was bleeding badly. Gotta stay with it she thinks to herself.
All I have to tell you, Is that I am the purest of the Gemini. The two that are one
All I have to tell you, Is that I am the purest of the Gemini. The two that are one
Is that so, I says, Spitting up nanites. And push myself to my feet. A million atomic bodies aching.
Yeah sweetie, she says while fending off blows. You killed your twin. And kept his memories. But we are in his mind and it’s dying.
Then you go with me.
It was a bluff. I stood, bleeding. But defiant. The knife my only armament. I smile. That is where you’re wrong.
That is where you’re wrong, he says to me. In that briefcase are the combined horror, torture and degradation of all the Gemini murders. The Chaos Engine will take this gift and give me life again without form. About time you gave me something I could use. She says as she grabs the metaphoric brief case and runs. The Martel became bestial wolf or panther like and made chase running up the walls and the ceiling. Lisa Blue was running. Running for all she was worth as a universe closed around her.
The first blow shattered my left arm; I couldn’t regenerate it in time. Then as he closed I brought him into close range and jacked straight into his brain.
B, get out of there! Is all she hears as she sees the connection gate of her mind hand.
I scrambled his thoughts. Formed an edged blade out of my ruined knee and brought it straight in his.
The beast doubled over and fell. She turned and cut open the briefcase. She knew there was a mindbomb there. The pain and horror of all the Gemini’s victims flooded the hallway with faces. She saw the gate back her mind closing and jumped through the iris of her mind’s eye. Out of his head and back in her body.
Jared Martel fell.
Jared Martel fell.
The Gemini was dead.
I slowly brought her out of me. She was fine a little cut up but fine. Hey, says to me. You look like hell.
Buy a guy a drink was all I could say, before shutting down. And in the digital dream I saw girl, my goddess. And I sailed across those eyes to the horizon.
PROLOGUE
I was tracking the Gemini killer from Chicago to New York. All the evidence I could process pointed to a male early thirties, white, O positive blood. Pretty much all the usual suspects of North America. He was getting better, perfecting his craft. 12 victims so far. Same modus operandi. Whoever the killer was, he needed a place. His work took too much time. And he traveled too much. One set in Oregon, One Set in Alaska. I was looking through DMV records for a trucker. But the routes were too diverse to make sense.
We SKID’s called him the Gemini cause he took a liking to killing twins. Sometimes years apart. Always twins, identical or fraternal. None of the SKID’s had a face or a name yet..
I had found Gemini’s work earlier that day. 22 year old, black, female. Raped, flayed alive, both legs broken. She had lost her twin to a pedophile ring when she was 5.
I knew that. Accessed the phone records, federal and state databases. There was no overlying connection between all the victims.
I knew that a thought smuggler was bringing a package of repressed memories to the Gemini. It was Terrance May. A power psychic in New York. I could head home..
1.
I was waiting for the drop and my mark was waiting as well. The marks name was Terrance May.
Jared Martel was late. He was never late. He was fastidious and annoying that way. It was 4 a.m. and I was in no mood for this.
It was raining, hard in Madison Square Park. It reminded me of my first kill’s memories of New Orleans. It was a hard cleansing August rain and it came up without warning. There was a little thunder far off. Lightning flashed in the distance. The air had the electric feel of bloody anticipation. And the memories of my first kills mother in brighter days flashed across the sugar engine that I call a mind.
Rain Darlin is just the tears of God. She said.
The psychic, Terrance May waiting for the drop was getting nervous, squirrelly. I was watching. He was scanning the park looking for minds. Hoping to instill an ember of fear. My mind was a undetectable a piece of background static amongst all the irrelevant chatter of the meat that swarm in cities. I played a little Wes Montgomery in my head, Jazz guitar relaxes me. I paused took a deep unnecessary breath. And walked over.
I was dragging my 6’4 , 300 pound bulk toward the psychic. He looked up lost in the Maze of mental voices as I crashed into him. And just started hitting. I got to hit him hard and fast not allow him to focus.
Where the hell is Jared !!! I say between punches. I diamond up my skin and the poor psychic must have felt like Nemesis herself had come to collect. He tries a psyhic assault before he telekinetically pushed me off him. I went flying some 40 feet up and away, gravity is a bitch goddess and I landed with an echoing thud.
Fuckin SKID. He says as he goes into Ki Tae first form. I smile through my mop of black hair. My artificial eyes were looking for a gap in the fields of force he was surrounding himself with.
A few quick exchanges; block to the head, He hit me with quick lightning strikes to the chest. Hitting with the force of a thousand pounds. He wailed me upside my head. Rung my bell a bit. I was waiting for him to get a little over confident. His mind was trying to agitate the molecular motion of my face. But my troops hung together like always. My skin can be hard as diamond if I want it.
He then started with a flying kick telekinetically pushing himself off the ground. Never a good idea to take to the air with a rusting old machine like myself. I catch him in mid air and drive him down. Sink my fingers in his skull. And rip memories from him. Martel wasn’t coming. They wanted Blue.
Dammit
I broke his neck and took off running.
The new kills memories were being collated in my mind. Martel was a thought smuggler, but he didn’t know what the drop was. I dial Lisa in my head. No answer just a voice mail.
Hey lover, come behind the Barnes and Noble on 18th a Broadway.
18th and Broadway. Not far. Not far at all.
2.
I was whispering the Russian Orthodox act of contrition as I came upon her.
A gun doesn’t worry if it has a soul, Felix Seven. She says
I’m more than a gun. I said blowing the smoke from my cigarette and watching it waft into the dreary New York night. Oxidizing agent. Now all I need is to refuel with a bottle of Glenfiddach, six cups of black coffee with a ton of sugar. and all should be cooking with propane.
I know that too well my darling. She says with a kiss, Now be the big strapping Louisiana gentlemen you are and take off his head so I can have a look see. She’s a runt so everyone is big and strapping. But I’m bigger than most.
Is it always business with you, I say
We have time for foreplay later , she says flashing me a little skin.
I formed a diamond blade from the carbon in the air and with a jerk the head came free.
Lisa Blue is a forensic telepath, She can read the minds of the recently dead. She is about 5’2, dancer’s build, brunette, with wit more pointed than a stiletto, and big blue eyes that you can sail across and never find the horizon. She would be my heart if I had one.
We were tracking a Chaos Engine thought smuggler through the Maze, a psychic nightmare realm that underpins ours. It is a savage place that bleeds into the real world. Only telepaths and SKIDS can interact with the maze. Jared Martel was charming, good looking, and was a bastard who needed a good killing but someone other than us finally caught up with him.
He was flayed alive, sprawled out in a dumpster on 18th street just next to the old town tavern. But lucky for us his body was still warm. You got to take your victories when you can. He took one hell of a beating before hand. Cracked tibias, broken ribs. The flaying alive was an added sadistic flourish. I’m just pissed I didn’t get to
Ki Tae – or Mind Hand is a telepathically/ telekinetically enhanced martial art. All the telepaths learn it. One hit and you can rip the mind of your opponent. If they’re meat. But I’m not meat.
I’m a S.K.I.D., it is an acronym for serial killer interception drone. A nanotechnological Android that hunts serial killer and rogue psychics. But we’ll keep my relationship with Lisa a secret for now.
With Jared Martel’s head encased in a thin sheen of diamond. I wanted to get home, make love and psycho-print what remains of this critters mind. But I can’t do that until Lisa pulls out the package gets past the traps and the mind bombs placed there by the Engine. You see the Engine feeds on fear and violence and pushes beings with these murderous inclinations just a fraction. Then they come along for the ride. Energy beings being of pure malicious thought.
3.
This ain't right. I say as we head to her apartment on 26th and Park Ave South.
What isn’t right? She says looking up at me. Blue Eyes wide, I know deep in her soul she wished she could read my mind.
Nothin darling. Just a lot on my mind
Liar. She said smiling with a smile so indistinct the Mona Lisa would envy. Her apartment was spacious, the art pre Raphelite / Southwestern fusion With a balcony. I put Jared Martel’s head on the kitchen table and poured myself a scotch.
She never kept anything in her fridge so I didn’t bother looking. My troops the nanites that make up my body were getting restless screaming for fuel. They quieted down after the first round. Imagine your body being made up of a billion irate atomic sized robotic wolverines with surlier disposition and obsessive compulsive disorder. That is my life.
Lisa had changed clothes to a lavender camisole and panties. She was going to get the package disarmed, open the package. Then we would make love, take a shower and go to bed. At least I hoped this was the plan. The head was still warm when I uncased it from the diamond sheath I put it in. I put my hand on the back of her neck to see what she saw. And she went it.
4.
Jared Martel’s section of the Maze was a jumble of bloody images plastered on brown brick walls. Lurid and tasteless. Lisa clad herself in a blue leather jumpsuit armed with two weapon rapier and daggor. The corridors twisted and turned and even the gravity was not being cooperative.
The floors were slick with blood. Hooks on the walls. On occasion a filet knife would dart at her and she would dodge it. She paused to disconnect a tripwire. A mind trap that would have opened a pit deep into decaying his subconscious. She would have been trapped, unable for me to get to her and she would die with his mind.
Across the horizon of the maze you could see them pouring from their towers silhouetted by the blood red sun, and waxing blue moon . The Spectres, feeding on the emotions of those few unfortunates who got lost in the labyrinth. They had almost absolute rule of the mindscape. Only a few brave souls stood up to them. But these incursions are hit and runs.
Lisa finally got to the package, a metaphoric briefcase. Sitting on a small desk, and there sat knowing he was dead was the grinning form of Jared Martel.
Lisa Blue I’m so glad you came to see me. Jared says leering
Not you sugar. I just want the package.
And. he says.
I need to know why the engine killed you.
Doors slammed behind her, windows barred shut.
Who said they did.
5.
I lost contact with her. It was a trap. I cradled her, picked her up and brought her inside my chest cavity. I figured it was the safest place. While she fought her battle. Her door blasted open and I saw the grinning face of Jared Martel.
6.
The first blows struck like jackhammers, I armored up and stood my ground. Grabbed him and took us out the balcony window to the roof of the building below. He saved himself from the fall and hovered in the air like an earthbound God. I formed a pair a diamond short blades and fell into comfortable escima form. Some cutting was about to happen.
Martel expanded his psionic form and reached out for her. Lisa Blue no stranger to Kit Tae pushed him back against the phantasmal crack house wall. She formed a swept hilt rapier and main gauche. As did he. Some cutting was about to happen.
I threw my right handed bladed and he telekinetically threw it aside like so me kind a pathetic annoyance. Then burn all the fuel I had in reserve. Leapt.
Martel’s rapier form was excellent, clean, and heavy on the thrusts. She kept disengaging waiting for the opening. His mind was split. The connection of the twin had to be severed. He drove through her center line and cut her across the midriff. He dexterity made her pull away before the weapon could really strike home. Steel flashed.
It was a good leap, 20ft straight up; I grabbed him like a long lost lover. Cutting across with the left knife grabbing his hair and ramming my forehead into his face. I stabbed several times a perfect X cut. Meat still feels pain. He threw us back down to the tar roof with a crash. Shit.
Shit ! The Maze was shaking like the Enterprise hit by a photon torpedo. Lisa almost lost her balance. Skidded fell back retreating with less than sure footwork. Disengage. Get him frustrated. He over extended a lunge cut his rest and leapt over him flipping in mid air. His form reversed itself. And grew two other arms. This was his mind. His reality, HIS UNIVERSE.
My troops were rebuilding as fast as they could. But the fuel was burning too fast for me to replace it. I had to keep Lisa safe. He levitated around me gloating.
Lisa Blue’s wound was bleeding badly. Gotta stay with it she thinks to herself.
All I have to tell you, Is that I am the purest of the Gemini. The two that are one
All I have to tell you, Is that I am the purest of the Gemini. The two that are one
Is that so, I says, Spitting up nanites. And push myself to my feet. A million atomic bodies aching.
Yeah sweetie, she says while fending off blows. You killed your twin. And kept his memories. But we are in his mind and it’s dying.
Then you go with me.
It was a bluff. I stood, bleeding. But defiant. The knife my only armament. I smile. That is where you’re wrong.
That is where you’re wrong, he says to me. In that briefcase are the combined horror, torture and degradation of all the Gemini murders. The Chaos Engine will take this gift and give me life again without form. About time you gave me something I could use. She says as she grabs the metaphoric brief case and runs. The Martel became bestial wolf or panther like and made chase running up the walls and the ceiling. Lisa Blue was running. Running for all she was worth as a universe closed around her.
The first blow shattered my left arm; I couldn’t regenerate it in time. Then as he closed I brought him into close range and jacked straight into his brain.
B, get out of there! Is all she hears as she sees the connection gate of her mind hand.
I scrambled his thoughts. Formed an edged blade out of my ruined knee and brought it straight in his.
The beast doubled over and fell. She turned and cut open the briefcase. She knew there was a mindbomb there. The pain and horror of all the Gemini’s victims flooded the hallway with faces. She saw the gate back her mind closing and jumped through the iris of her mind’s eye. Out of his head and back in her body.
Jared Martel fell.
Jared Martel fell.
The Gemini was dead.
I slowly brought her out of me. She was fine a little cut up but fine. Hey, says to me. You look like hell.
Buy a guy a drink was all I could say, before shutting down. And in the digital dream I saw girl, my goddess. And I sailed across those eyes to the horizon.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
joy
The morning air is chilly, the pipe full of Manhattan Twilight tobacco. I wonder for a few moments about the future. The training is going well. No cigarettes, no drinking, miss my people. The day beckons on. A splinter of light in the black. The rains washing the old soul. Nourishing it like a meal of peasant food. Often ignored for more hearty repast. This simple act of consummation. Gives me some elusive hope. The codes of chivalry and bushido mention these moments of clarity of purpose. The fianna understand in the rhyme there is a subtle perfection. She’s got a way, the way is in the geometry of shapes, the equation in the improvisation of a well turned phrase. Words are numbers, numbers are words, and my blessed rain always brings me back to her. In the quiet secret moments. When there is only me smiling as my laughter dances with raindrops. I find her. Joy.
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