Monday, February 21, 2011

FATE

Fate

we seek heavens answer
for something less permanent
then some callow romancer
when your last bloods are spent
dreams of love and time
in molded papers decay
lose yourself in love sublime
and live it for today
there is no tomorrow
there is only tonight
refuse fear's sister sorrow
and time's unjust sickle spite
fear serves not a man,
for lady death comes for all,
fight and love all you can
for that meeting none forestall
Live every moment for it is your last
and love just the same
for now is victim to the past
so just embrace the game

Friday, February 11, 2011

for Leonie

Leonie

God has a voice
it's accent Sout African
When devoid of choice
from one silly american
The lion roars for all to come
to tell the tales of valor
show the world none succumb
in it's darker hour
On the dry savannah plain
It is the ladies that rule the pride
the alpha male blinded by his mane
has little power to decide
beware and worship this stunning beast
it's tales never fully mtold
you might end up it's feast
as it licks blood from gold

Egypt and other poems

May god come between you and harm
in the dark places that you roam
an ancient prayer or mystic charm
where the pharohs did call home
the history in ancient
...and the sands in hourglass
but myth with histiry reinvent
as the sands do pass
Napolean robbed it's stores
Cleopatra was a greek
To Orion's belt Osiris soars
when it tis the truth you seek
Freedom call the blood
I am it's true orator
as the nile valley flood
Mubarak was our dictator
30 years of won elections,
oppression was his lot,
safe was he in our detections
from the blood of Sadat.
I wish the protecters well
for I remeber tien na min square
the powers that be know only hell
and does so without care.
In the river his brother set dismembered
and Osiris sister wife rebuilt
The mythic truth reborn remembered
when your tombs foundations are silt



Hope


Hope

There is no vacancy in the box
that Pandora opened sure
Hope remains to spite the clocks
...Hope above all is pure.
In her lonely cell is kept
The joy and disaster,
Left by her sisters she wept
but she is still there master
For all the horror Pandora release
with fiery wings unfurlled
Hope stayed an will ever increase
our place in this world
But loving hope is friend of man
we unidentified human remains
She ttells us yes you can
When the darkness reigns



winter to spring

they say that white is purity
with epic words I'll gush
but as with any surity
the snow will turn to slush
we build our mountains of white
...and dream of blankets profound
hoping the snow covers the sight
and the growing underground
but as night echoes with storm
and old Boreas doth retreat
we covet boies for moments warm
and to Persephone with entreat
mothers sadness when she depart,
to the dead god of silver helm
her initial caress of Hades chart
Springs lust o'ertakes the realm




poetic hand grenades


Pin the pin and run for cover
as the ordinace doth fly
rhyming sharpnel like no other
...with all the steely bit imply
that when a wit is shown
the crater leads to exposure
once the grenade is thrown
few things give us closure
as these metal bombs descend
one can't help but wonder
the hurts that poetry can amend
once you're blown asunder

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

man who could not be killed - part 5 - preparations and reparations by jeremy Webb

I startled awake, to a largish shadow looming over me that smelled of gun oil and coffee.



Dante- Well, don’t you just look like shit.



I sat up with a grunt, gratefully accepting the large cup of steaming coffee from the man.



Ronin- It was a tough night.



Dante sat back in the chair next to the bed, idly toying with the grips on his pistols. If he was here, I thought….damn.



Dante- So Chalice told me. You know the drill man, one of you gets hurt, I get the call. ESPECIALLY you.



I tried to stand angrily, my temper getting the better of me before my wounds caused the room to spin slightly. It almost reminded me of many a drunken brawl the two of us had had in their time. Before her.



Ronin- Take your rules and blow them out your-



Dante calmly put his hand to my solar plexus and shoved him back into the bed. He used more force than was probably needed, but given the history between the two of us, it was a scant drop in the bucket of pain he had promised me one day.



Dante- Will you just slow the fuck down! I never said you couldn’t handle it, or that you were off this hunt. What she ever even saw in your sorry ass… You’d think you would know the rules better by now…



Ronin- DO NOT bring her up now you bastard!



Of course he would bring Emma up, and why not? She WAS his sister, after all, and he still carried a white hot core of rage at me for getting her turned and then forcing me to take her down. She was always so willful, it was what drew me to her, fellow rebels. She told him to get bent and trained to be a hunter despite his demanding she not. Then I had to go and take her out before she was ready…



Dante stared steadily at me. Our past was a complex web of love, hate, betrayal, sadness and battle. One day, he knew one of us would put down the other, and THAT was going to be quite the tale.



Dante- I will bring her up whenever I fucking feel like it, I earned that right when YOU failed her. Now, I already have Seamus getting you some new kit, and Ernesto thinks he can get you on your feet today. You and I both know the leech that took the girl wouldn’t be able to feed on her that close to sunrise, so we have until sundown to find its lair and get her back.



Seamus came into the room at that moment and handed a large package to Dante with a curt nod to me. Dante accepted the package and slapped the big Irishman on the arm.



Dante- You do these up right, you dumb Mick?



Seamus nodded without rising to the bait. Dante always liked to press his buttons, it was his way of showing affection to the Irishman. Truth was, Seamus was one of Chalice’s better armourers, and was for some inexplicable reason fond of Dante.



Seamus- Aye precious, I did. Even the Viking here would be hard pressed ta break these pretties.



Dante unwrapped the weapons and tossed them into my lap. Barongs, made from Dante’s favorite ironwood Quebracho, and inlaid with silver filigree in graceful celtic knotwork. The shades were sure to hate them.



Dante- So you ready for round two?











The story so far

Prologue and Parts 1-4 with interludes

Hunter’s Tale

Rules of the game

Rules of the Game - The Rule of 3



I hate those idiots who think that vampires are romantic and tragic creatures. They dress in black and complaint about life as if Nihilism was an original concept. It's too damn easy to bitch and complain. But that nonsense stops when you are balls deep in blood. Vampires ,which we in the profession call shades, exist in some many different forms. There are as many types of Shade as there methods of predation. They've been with us from time immemorial and will outlast us until the sun goes nova. I give you this warning. If you take up the fight realize you will die violently, emotionally scarred, insane and invariably alone. When Chalice asked me to write a guide about "Monster Slaying" I relunctantly took up the challenge. I'm Ronin a masterless hunter. I broke my ties with order years ago. Sacrificing a support network for autonomy.



Rule 1 - All Shades must feed on something, it could be blood, flesh, strength, beauty, intelligence, youth, heartache, fear or a myriad of other things. Each is unique and what kills one won't necessarily kill another.

Rule 2 - Hit it with cold steel or wood till it stops moving, remove the head and heart, then burn it. In my experience this will kill 80% of the Shades out there. The method also kills humans 100% or the time, just incase you are wondering. Other weaknesses specific to them may become apparent. Do your research.

Rule 3 - Stay alive.



Interlude 1

a noir tale

“Drink’s on the table babe.” A good whiskey.

There were so many times I could have stopped it. Said no. Put an end to it. But she knew I loved the knife. Her skill in the cut and those eyes. I knew I was being manipulated. Deep in my soul. But then I would lose myself in her flesh and drive her crazy.

I knew the cuts would come. We both knew it was wrong. But we used the word love a lot for means of justification. She was in the shower. Her body had more curves than a python, she embraced just as fiercely like it was some kind of kill. She made love with a reckless abandoned and convulsed when the little death was on her. She could have any man she wanted. Curled raven locks feel to the small of her back. Her skin olive. That perfect skin when the races mix. . Her eyes which she often hid were a deep caramel. The kind of serpentine eyes that swallow you whole.

But I was dangerous. A killer. Damaged goods that could take the punishment of her departures. Her husband was rich. Abusive but rich. And the big house seemed to mitigate the pain. He was also cheating on her so he lost any moral credibility he would have had if he were an innocent victim of feminine deception.

I was hired by him to guard her. Protect her. Keep her safe from harm. The mist was rising out of the shower. She was clad only in the towel. She always hid her naked form from me. Shyly , almost coyly. She had her rules. But always wanted me to tell her I love her. She needed it in yells and whispers. The remaining wet clung to her. She wanted me to cut her. She took a long hard pull from the rocks glass.

“When…” She said with insistence.

“ Soon, luv, but you gotta get back to him.”

I inspected her for marks like in a slave auction. No bites. Nothing that can be questioned. She tried to kiss me.

“No..not yet.” I says.

“ When do you kill him?” She asked. The reptilian coldness coming through.

“ When we go to Nawlins. I got a crew down there. Simple. Easy. Just like the town.”

“You sure.”

I smiled my knowing smile. Now the time was right.

I brought her in for a kiss. She lingered. I was greedy. She was mine. But I knew deep inside she cheated on him. She’d cheat on me. Nature of the wildlife. She had never failed to get what she set those eyes on.

“ It’s an hour drive.” I says. “ Best get moving.” The cabin was secluded enough. And she been up here enough times to navigate in the dark. In the widening dark. My little viper went back out into the dark. Shedding her skin she went back to her safe life. She had her fill of danger for the evening.



That’s when it all went to hell.



I heard them. The men she hired. No sense of stealth.



Then men entered my cabin. Three of them. I keep knives always within hands. Reach. But that’s what I do. I’m a knivesman. Small area. And the idiots brought guns to a knife fight. Naked as I was I dove for my barong. Big heavy bladed fillipino knives which my guro mercilessly trained me on.

The twenty one foot rule is my commandment. To put it simply. If a person has a knife and is twenty one feet away from you and you have a gun. You can cover the distance in 1.5 seconds. I closed.

First idiot was easy. A conveininet shield. A quick cut across the back of his gun hand made it useless. Putting his body between me and the other two. Sidestep through and a cut across his femoral artery. He’d bleed out.

Idiot two started firing. Their boy took the brunt. But in the enclosed space of my cabin. Idiot three was frozen. I closed distance. Brought the blade up under his sternum and hand assisted down. The purplish gift of kali spilled on the floor.And in one continuous motion. Spun throwing the knife. Idiot three looked more surprised than hurt. As the blade stuck out of his neck.

I gathered the remains and made sure they’d be unidentifiable. An arduous task. The poison I put in her drink should be settling in. Damn treacherous those mountain roads.

Her husbands money would sooth whatever pain I felt.



a short story - Lakeside – Lake’s story

I remember them fondly, I thought to herself. I was in a brisk day in early November and the streets of Avalon ( Some call it Manhattan ) were filled with the throng of humanity. Their life pouring out of them. The tyranny of the clock cutting moments in precious breath. I looked in a window , the glass reflective. My eyes the lake which I am the lady. I remembered Lancelot the troubled by virtue and feet of clay. Dagonet the jester who had to tell his king the truth. That Gueneviere loved him as king first and as a man second. Marrok the one cursed to be a wolf. La Cotte a la Mail, the warrior who wore the armor his father was killed in. But most of all I honored them.

I saw them all. In the blade I had tattooed on my wrist, In the multi-colored scarf I wore. In the fang clasped in silver I wear around my neck and the links of crimson stained chain I wear as a bracelet. These were my knights. I trained them. Gave them sanctuary and called them when I needed them. Each had a touch of my power. As all the knights of the round table. I am the lady of the lake, the keeper of Excaliber. The hand that waits for shining armor and finest hour.

It was a good day. My long blonde hair fell about my shoulders and my lake which I keep in my eyes drank in the far off lands. But here in Avalon I waited. Waited for the king. I was hunting today. The last Pellinore was in the city. His quest finally brought him here. For I am the second lady of the lake. The inheritor.

Night fell on Avalon. The sky crimson and amber like a fresh wound. I could feel him. Pellinore and his family have since the beginning had one goal. The Beast. The questing beast. A creature they were doomed to never kill. Their family curse. I should know I cursed them.

The Pellinores were a brutal tribe of Caitiff knights. They served no lords but the hunt. They killed for sport, for pleasure. The eldest Pellinore was a hawker. He had his wolfhounds and his stable. He had his rougish knights tax his surfs to starvation and feed their daughters to his more unruly appetites.

It was a still night under a amber moon that gave their bloodline to me. Thrr times I had warned them not to hunt in my grove. Not to kill in this small patch of land. Where my animal kin and wayward knights drank of me. The eldest Pellinore hunted mercilessly. But his quarry was not bear, wolf or hart. I was a young girl of blonde hair and eyes of blue.

I was alone in the wood, when the knight snuck up on me and turned me around.

“ Just a kiss lass is all I ask.” Pellinore said.

“ A forceful hand does not ask.” I relplied turning my face away.

“ It is my right.” He pulled me to him.

“ And this is mine.”I clawed his face and pushed. The chase. Which is what he wanted was on.

I ran as his nighthawks spotted me and his hounds chased. His bows arrows whipped passed my ears. He hunted me. I hid and used the forests I knew so well. My sisters taught me the ways of herb and tree and water. But he followed wanting more than I would give him. He unhorsed and took to foot reveling in anticipation. Till I lead him to the grove.

The moonlight shone upon the lake and my blood kissed the water. And he came. Sword drawn and armored.

“ Nowhere to run, little one” He says to me through a rasp. Out of breath an hurried like an ungenerous lover.

“ This grove is sacred.” I say to him.

“ It will be tonight.” He gasped. He came towards me. Ready to take all I was. Virtue, dignity and then life. It was his rite as a lord. But he wasn’t a lord there. In the grove.

As he ventured forward I went into the water. It’s chill embraced me like lost family separated by war. Then as I inhaled the water in. It filled me.I died…………..



Then



It gave me strength I couldn’t comprehend. I was the keeper. The water flowed through me and as I opened my eyes. I saw him standing at the bank. Hawk on his arm. Hounds at his feet. And I rose and horror gripped his face. The coward backed away and stumbled.

“ A BEAST !!!” he screamed with trembling voice.

“ No more than you.” I said calmly.

“ I will hunt you till the stars burn out.”

“ Then your wish is granted but you and your blood will never kill me.” I said. And I sank back beneath the waves of the lake. They’ve hunted me ever since.



Tonight he will come to Central Park, the new sacred grove. I will be the beast. The creature of his nightmare. It was in the park he stalked me. The Pellinore family legend made them believe that only a sword could kill the beast. The creature they saw in their most private moments.

I changed to Marrok’s wolf and smelled the thousand fold scents of the city. And stalked the most recent scion. He wandered through the park. Hiding the blade under a long coat. Young and with just a little hint of madness.

I approached as the wolf and growled.

“ It is you. New Pellinore.”

He drew he had skill. He made chase and dodged into the wood. Once again taking human form. I borrowed the skill of Dagonet. The jester. Agile and acrobatic. I mocked him.

“ Young hunter swings away.”

His sword cut the air in a wide arc.

“ But tis the beast that holds sway.”

He thrusted into a tree. I came out of the shadows.

“There are many ways to miss.”

He swung I dodged and did a dive roll, standing opposite him.

“ So much sorrow for a forced kiss.”

He thrust again and hit a good hit. But La Cotte’s armor deflected it. Then without thought. I toughed the tattoo on my wrist. And the sword came to my hand. Lancelot’s sword. For I taught him the art.

The pellinore swung high , I ducked. Then cut straight down as if to cleave me in two. I parried with ease and kicked him in the chest. Air escaped him.

“ MONSTER…” He screamed and charged. A series of cavalry cut around his head and to my shoulder. Then a thrust at my eyes. I spun an cut across his stomach. He tucked in and over-swung going for the backs of my legs. I flipped over his blade and watched it stick in the dirt. Then thrust home. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t curse. He just fell. The last Pellinore of this generation. A decade of so. Another will come. I looked at him. And went back to the lake and the company of better men.



a little prep - Prologue 2

The thing about hunting monsters is that you have got to be scarier than they are. When the Shades tranforms and the veneer of reality melts away like a cheap candle, When you are facing some unknowable thing straigtht out of nightmares the best you can do is listen to your amygdala. Fight or flight.



Trust no one but your crew. Your team and contacts are what keep you alive. Chalice is good for that. Putting red herrings in the way of Shade and servitor alike. Do not get caught. Torture is an ineffective means of getting information but it is an even worse way to die. If you get caught, this isn't the movies where your crew can launch a rescue operation and get you home safe and sound before the commercial break. If you get caught and it's a choice between you and your crew. Have you crew put a bullet in your head. No one withstands torture and you will give up everything to save yourself.

You have to know what your facing and always be prepared. Always have a gun. They never work against the big bads themselves or their servents but they tend to put down those annoying humans. Mr. Colt made everyone equal. For the Shades your best bet is steel and wood. You have to know how to fight with weapon and fist. And even more annoying some of the shades don't disintergrate in sunlight. So you have the added problem of corpse removal and evidence tampering. You do not get caught. It's always good to have a legend prepared to through the human autorities off the scent. I'll get more into that later.



The madness of the job creeps in. The horror bleeds into your psyche. It’s unavoidable. We all cope in different ways.



Understnading is key. I carry a few hunting kits in my truck for just such occasions. Do not make too much of a show of yourself. Do not stnd out, until you have to. When stalking the shades it's best you make yourself the target.



I will elaborate more on preparations and the cultivation of assets later. You will learn to use money, ideology, cpmpromise and ego to extortion to turn the human against their best interest. Know your prey. Find the chinks in the armor and peel away the well designed masks. Everyone has secrets.



We are just flesh. Chalice knows this. But we made the descision to fight and they can keep you going with intel and safe houses. If there is even a suspision of being turned, crew or not. I'll kill you myself.



As you put together you gear remember. This isn't about justice, it's about revenge.











She was young, half dressed and hysterical walking down the highway. It was cold and a fresh layer of Decmeber snow had fallen on the ground. I repressed the Memeory of a a winter 20 years earlier when I heeded the call for revenge. First mission was to get her out of traffic. Careless humanity honking horns speeding passed. Some men slowing down asking if she wanted a ride. Well ride something at least. I pulled over said a short prayer and thanked my truck for holding itself together. The police would come soon and I knew she was either a vic or bait. The bites were apparent and there was a nest nearby. I could hear Calice talking to me her voice, an echoing vibrato like she was talking through a fan. Indistinct at first it became clearer and clearer.



CHALICE – Save her.



RONIN – What do you think I’m doing boss.



Traffic started to screech to a halt. A few choice words were spoken by some young touch until he saw me and promptly learned the value of silence. Sinatra Blue eyes beneath a face that looked like 10 miles of bad road. My hair blonde and graying cut short to keep out of my eyes. I wasn’t undercover so I was me for the first time in a while.



I scooped her up, she weighed nothing. She was tiny. About 24, hispanic. Tan skin peering out of a red lingerie. She was babbling in Spanish. “Feo”



I forced down my inate lechery.



CHALICE – Repress that.



RONIN – Already on it boss.



My truck is named Roxanne for the heroine muse of another ugly hero. Roxie has always treated me well. I put the vic or bait in the back. She hadn’t turned.



Chalice appear differently to every hunter. Some of us have even speculated she’s a kind of shared hallucination. But you always recognize her. She gives you some assignments. She puts people in your path to train. I have an idea of who she is. But I ain’t telling just yet.



She appeared to me, Emma’s face. White face, blooded lips and dead eyes.



CHALICE – Get her someplace safe and warm.



RONIN – Yeah boss, I figured.



CHALICE – As much as you are one of my favorites. You need to start training again. The average life expectancy of a hunter is five years. You’ve been doing it twenty. You know what the other crews call you.



RONIN – The man who can’t be killed.



CHALICE – Let’s not make liars of them, Shall we my knight.



She always called me “My knight” as a harsh reminder of Emma. To me we hunters were always somewhere between Knight, Viking, Samurai, and Gladiator. Fighting to earn our spurs and freedom from the madness. We travel fight the wars and are as much her vassals as part of her stable. Sometimes it was as much about the story of the fight and the roar of the crowd who’s cheers and boos we could hear.



Some idiots believe that humanity is secretly under the thrall of alien lizards and radio waves are a form of mind control controlled by a pro Zionist conspiracy. These bastards are perfect fodder for the shades. Yes the governments know there are monsters and yes they have been in bed with some of the more civilized shades for some time. Don't trust anyone unless they're your crew of they've been vetted Chalice. Her intelligence ops keep eyes on everything. She can give you reconassaince and targets. She also is not adverse to giving orders.



Not to get her someplace safe and warm. And I need a drink.

Interlude 2

fool's errand

My Dearest Sister Vivian,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I miss you and mother terribly, but my time in the holy city has brought me great joy. I can feels God’s presence, like it was emanating from the very stones of Rome. I wish Lionel were here to read this letter. His loss in the air over Germany was a great shock. I’ve been thinking a lot about Lionel recently. As you know I am but a humble acolyte doing my translations from the Old Latin in the Vatican archives. I sought to escape thoughts of my little brother falling in flames from the sky. I also know that both mother and father do not approve of your upcoming marriage to that American flyer from Texas I believe he’s from. They have cut you off and out of their lives. Father is the hardest heart. He will not forgive you for marrying what he sees is below our station. But with Lionel gone, myself pledged to God, Our father loses any hope of a male heir. He put his hopes in you to at least continue the line with someone proper, and English.



I know this is painful, And please Dearest Sister, understand the language and the urgency of my letter. In my studies I have come across scores of ancient confession, transcripted from heretics dating back to the dark ages.



Mind you the confession itself was fragmentary, but it dates back to the times of Emperor Lucius which is most curious. Lucius was eager to expand his influence throughout the empire especially our Fair Isle. There he met resistance to his demands of tribute. By a war leader known as Artorius. The forces of the emperor were repulsed.



Years after a wandering bard was captured and tried for heresy. Rather than fight any charge he gleefully submitted himself to the trials and begged to be burned at the stake. With this as a frame I shall do a rough translation of the lost and fragmented document.





The Fragments

I wanted to make my confession simple and accurate, Although neither is likely and I can’t simply guarantee the veracity of the words you are about to hear. The truth comes difficult to a creature like me. The truth loses its charm only if it is spoke plainly. But I shall attempt to do so. I was a knight of the round table after all.

Merlin’s father was a demon of that there can be no doubt, his mother was a druid priestess and one wise in the old ways. Sometimes being one of the few who wasn’t taken in the end makes me doubt my convictions in a merciful God. Now as Gods go, I like Rome’s all it demands is some obedience and you are spared eternal hellfire. Obedience comes second only to truth as the most difficult virtue. All you must do is confess to whatever petty evils you have done and safe in the knowledge of Mute Gods forgiveness. Then you can stroll safe and secure from the cathedral knowing that the lighting that would have struck you otherwise. Had it not have been averted by a few choice words to a celibate go between. I feel that as methods of avoiding eternal pain go that one has its peculiar merits. I also prefer my gods mute.



My name for the scholars who will no doubt be translating this from the Latin is Dagonet. I was Arthur’s jester and keeper of the secrets of the descent. I sang, I danced but more importantly I had the ears of the Arthur’s court. Merlin made me from scraps of fallen knights and pieces of wandering bards that fell to brigands in secluded woods in Cornwall or Wales. When I say I was built I am not being hyperbolic. Nor am I being extravagant or metaphoric, as we wandering Minstrels tend to be. I have the face of a Cornish Knight, the legs of a Welsh peasant, the body of a monk, the arms of brigand, the ears of midwife and my tongue well…..

I say made because I was created for one single and unique purpose. My mouth was to be the sepulchre for a forked tongue. The tongue was a vile organ which belonged to Merlin’s father. Merlin knew it to be a dangerous thing. It was prone to tales of ribald knights and lurid ladies in waiting. It also held Merlin’s true name. He needed to imprison the tongue because that name was the last word it spoke. And if the winds heard that name Merlin would be at the mercy of all the other incubi. But I am of course ahead of myself.





I was created to play the fool, Knighted by Arthur on a whim, I was to be the target of ridicule from knights like Kay the dullard, Gawain the thick, and Lancelot the Lech.

Although I liked Lancelot. He was kind in his way. He would talk with a gentle condescension that comes from rivaling perfection and making it blush. Occasionally the other knights would clash steel with me. It was those times I felt like part of the Fellowship and I felt the uncomfortable seeds of virtue start to grow. Luckily Merlin knew how to keep those weeds from his garden.

Lancelot you see he was the problem and the fulcrum on which the whole kingdom hinged. For he was the master pawn in a war a war between Merlin and his sister Lady of the Lake. The two suckled at the bosoms of a human mother and as the twins matured startling differences arose between them. Both were gifted in the old ways, the ways of the earth, sun, moon, the sky, fire and the waters.

The Lady of the Lake had raised Lancelot to be the greatest knight ever. And she did a fine job with King Ban’s son. She raised him in the waters and trained him against knights of Shells. He learned courtly manners in a palace of sand and even I must admit he was a sheer pleasure to behold. Even if both my eyes came from separate beings. A fact that might explain my apparent madness. It also may explain current trial for heresy.

Merlin of course had the sight, occasionally coupled with wisdom. He knew that virtue is a curse unto itself since it can be undone by a very simple truth. Ideals are the easiest things to fall short of. And as strong as you are, as fast as you are, gossip is stronger and faster.





A lie can be a powerful thing if treated with respect and consistency. And hence my career at court was born. I was created during the time when Arthur and the knights were about to battle the holy Roman Emperor Lucius. Lucius challenged Arthur’s right to rule but would’ve settled for a tithe. As most despots do.

The real patriarch of Camelot was a demon bard named Talesin, whose name meant radiant brow. He was the father of our esteemed Merlin. Begot during a rite of the Goddess. Everyone ran about naked in those days during rituals. I’d often see Merlin whisk his mind back there when my reports on the gossip at court would get too lengthy. Which it often did. My tongue would spin a poem of knightly valor and honor as my ears would hear Sir Whoever buggering a kitchen wench.

It figures the one time I tell the truth. The truth is definitely the most confusing of the virtues. The truth has caused much more hurt than has been a salve in soothing painful words. I never won a joust or a duel but my words have pierced hearts and severed heads. The court was my jousting field and my field of honor. None of the knights, not even Lancelot could challenge me there. The knights with all their gleaming chain mail, sharp swords, and blunt maces were mere toys as they broke against my iron wit. Arthur knew this and kept me at court to teach the knights the often forgotten virtue of humility.

I ask forgiveness. Although, I don’t expect it. And the fire from which you will purge my heresy or is it hearsay I forget; regardless the fire shall acclimate me well to my place in the next world. What doomed the greatest most just and fair nation in the world. And obviously much more fair nation then Emperor Lucius’ Rome.



There were few in the castle, both Lancelot and Guienvever were away. Nimue entombed Merlin.



All the knights were questing for the grail. It was only Arthur, Kay, and myself in the castle.



Arthur was pensive, he had heard the gossip about his young wife and the handsome Lancelot but these were rumors and he as king was above them. I was summoned to his chamber. He was weary. Arthur was never weary then. The world had never weighed on him as it did that night. With a shrug I tumbled and sang and sung him the tale of his battle against the giants of Geen. He couldn’t raise a smile, and then I asked the question that would doom us all.



What troubles you my lord?



“ Fool . ” he said sadly “ I need no game and I need no song. And please kind sir no jest ”



“ What would you have me do sir? ” I replied cautiously.



“ Speak plainly ” He said his voice near a stammer.



“ As always, “ I replied, “ My Lord ”



“ Does my wife love me, Dagonet ”



“ We all love you my lord. ”



“ Not as a king, but as a man. ”



“ I would not know the contents of a persons heart, especially the queen’s.”



With that he drew Excaliber from its scabbard and with a stroke brought it to my neck.



“ Does she love me AS A MAN!” he screamed at me. His eyes mad with hurt and doubt and





jealousy.



I paused gauging my answer, then I spoke. “ You are a king, and as such you have no parallel on this world. But you are not your own. As a man in this world is his own. His own body, his own blood, only his soul to God.”



“ DOES SHE!” He lifted me off the ground. Tears streaming down his cheeks soaking his bearded. “ I feel like a man,” He shouted



“Yes ‘tis true.” I answered.

“ Hurt and bleed like a man”



“ Of that I can attest my Lord” I answered.



“ And I will die like a man.”



“ True my lord, but you are a king” He dropped me and I fell to the ground. “ No one can love you



as a man , My lord, because you are more than a man. You are chosen by God to be above these things.



Love, my king is the apple in the Garden of Eden; for a king to possess love is to know all and be cast



from paradise. ”



There was a silence between us, and with a gesture from his hand I turned to leave.



“ You know I envy you fool, to be loved as you are.”



“ Envy is a sin that doesn’t well suit a king.”



“ Neither is the love of his wife.” He said to me as the door slowly shut behind me.



Soon after his suspicions were realized and the kingdom decayed from the inside. Like an overripe apple in an untended orchard. The worm called Mordred had eaten to the core. And with that the Lady of the Lake won the contest with Merlin. And I shouted Merlin’s true name to the winds because I knew then all was lost.



End of Fragment



That my dear sister I hope would be of interest to you. And if even a fraction of it is true.



Love my dear sister is the most transcendent and miraculous thing we humans share. And we can



even pity kings who live without it.



Love Your Brother,



Roger





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.





Part 2 -

the man who could not be killed part 2 - lover's promises

Roxanne my reliable chevy blazer moaned. I petted her gently on the dash and made all the promises neglectful lover’s make.

RONIN – I promise baby, this is the last time. I’ll fix you up.

My truck new I was lying. But she loved me.

I have to get the girl to Ernesto. One of the safe houses. The snow and icy rain pelted Roxanne like a million little fists. The cars and trucks were spinning out of control. The power was going to fail soon. I shoot down route 112 towards Port Jefferson. It’s on old town, by long island standards and older than most people know. It had a hand in the Setauket spy ring during the American revolution. Ernesto is former black ops, more specifically psyche ops. He’ll mess you mind nine ways to Sunday and you’ll still say a prayer for him.

The lights finally went out as the mist rolled in off the great South bay. All horrors seem to come from Conneticut. The Shade was feeding on children. This was not unheard of. But this one was feeding on youth. A vampiric pedophile that kepts his innocent playthings immortal. So they’d never grow up. Never age, never be too old for him.

Then I felt the thumps on the roof. It sent a few of it’s puppets at me. I plowed into the woods with the girl babbling in Spanish. The puppets are servitors, feral Nosferatum dead pale alabaster skinned with verticle mouths up the center of their peeled skeletal faces. Their eyes, black as a sharks, no discernable nose. Their limbs appear as a skinless corpse of muscle, flesh and exposed bone. They were robed in black and strong as Johnny Walker blue but without the smoothness.

My truck skidded as it hit the wood. The two flew off. Bounced off the trees none the worse for wear. I was lightly armed, one Barong, and my Cavalry sabre. I thought of the duel I fought in Port Jerrson son long ago, and I thought of Emma.

One was going for the girl, One for me.

The one going for the girl smashed my side window and was truying to pull her out. I was more worried about the the smarter one. It would skin me and wear my flesh. After of course feeding on me for it’s master.

It fought with a katar and scimitar. It swung the scimitar hitting Roxanne on the hood with a loudish clang. I dodged. Lunged then took to the air with a cavalry cut. It swept under with the katar and we spun giving me enough of an opening to clip it on the back of the head. The hit would have killed a human. I just managed to irritate it. It backhanded my sending me into the trees about twenty feet. It looked at me and charged. It came at my in prima. I went to quarta. It swung. I parried and splayed down. It was commiting too much to the thrust, not out of carlessness but opportunism, it was biting at my chest. I pommeled it onn both sides of it’s head, and then brought my blades across. Taking off it’s head.

The sun would get rid of the evidence. The girl was gone but now I had a trail.





Part 3 – Earth and Sky

Gods it was cold. Following the trail in the snow. Then I saw the blood. Dammit it was mine. I grabbed my cell and with numb fingers dialed Ernesto. I couldn’t afford to lose conscoi………….



GABRIEL/BETH - Chalice speaks to you in whispers.



So cold………



He was the definition of solidity, as if no other form of matter could define him. She was his complimentary antonym. Ethreal, intangible



RONIN – I am a fortress.



GABRIEL – Castles isolate.



Parry, dodge.



GABRIEL – And all eventually fall under siege.



As part of this I got to describe thr training. I'll do it in three words. It ain't easy.



Chalice will tell you what she can of her champions. My teacher was Gabriel Cross and his wife Beth. Gabe was strong, surly, mean and gifted. He always told me.



GABRIEL - You got the hands of a pianist, too bad you got the ears of a stone.



RONIN - Don't have the makings of an artist.



GABRIEL - Then all you'll ever be able to draw is blood.



He was a jazz musician and everything came from him in waves of geometric improvisation. Beth ,his wife, was the devout one. They split the tasks of my education. He taught me the blade and she taught me to see. Gabe had the titanium balls for a black man to marry a Jewish girl against both their families wishes in the 1930's. Beth could lay down a beating as well as any. As a team of hunters they were forthright and meticulous. But beth always the more spiritual one always called me to her"golem". I was always more mehcanical in my faith a construct of clay and rage. She knew from the first day that I loved them. But knew I would never admit it. Except in prose where I could chalk up any sentiment to scotch.



Smoke wafted through their brownstone in Harlem. SHe respecting my gift for language and bearing teeth for my lack of self discipline.



RONIN - I was beginning to think my name was big ugly white guy.



Parry - ripost - hit - dammit.



GABRIEL - I'll just call you high yellow.



Then Beth would train me.



SHe whacked me on the back of the head. I used to think that it was Hebrew for Affection.



GABRIEL – GET UP!!!!!



BETH - If you die because of your recless abandon.



RONIN - That's hurtful.



She lands a punch to the solar plexius.



BETH - Which hurts more? You sholudn't be throwing around your metaphors like that.



GABRIEL - The boy invites disaster.



BETH – You can’t rely on fortitude, there is also agility.



I continued.



RONIN - If I die.



BETH - When you die. be specific.



RONIN - WHen I die. It better not be because of carelessness.



BETH - Carelessness is cowardice of planning.



RONIN - SO when I die.



GABRIEL/CHALICE – GET UP!!!!!!



BETH - Don't bother to haunt me. Ghosts are easy to ignore.



Well some are anyway.



RONIN - I'm gutted that you said that.



She tipped her head and looked up at me with those big brown animae eyes, drawing a steel Hibbon Claw lightly across my engorged stomach.



BETH - Be glad I gutted you with words.



There was a kiai. Then I lost consciousness.



The training and basic information takes about a year. Wisdom takes longer. After one too many raps to the head he'd gently yet forcibly grab my by my once ample hair.



GABRIEL - Your head although you don't use it for a damn thing, is only good for a hatrack if you keep giving it to me.



Then I lost consciousness.



They introduced me to Emma and knew that she was the one person I couldn't bully, fight, outthink, or fuck my way passed.



GABRIEL - Some day you'll learn.



BETH - I just hope we'll be around to see it. Oh the mockery that would ensue.



RONIN - Alot of mockery?



GABRIEL - Mockery, In buckets and barrels, flooding the lowlands and filling the gullies.



RONIN - You wound me.



I said jokingly. Then I lost consciousness.



Rince and repeat.



GABRIEL/CHALICE/BETH – GET UP!!!!!!!!



I awoke to Ernesto and Calico. The safehouse. Calico was curled up ficklely at th foot of the Bed.



ERNESTO – Big Dumb ass Viking. You are a bitch to carry.



CALICO – He’s been complainy all night.



ERNESTO – And you don’t complain.



CALICO – I’ve accepted my divinity.



RONIN – I don’t mean to blaspheme then. But where is the girl? I don’t even know her name.



ERNESTO – You speak six languages and you don’t speak Spanish.



CALICO – Same reason he doesn’t read Harry Potter, false non conformity.



RONIN – Good to see you too Kitty.



ERNESTO – You lost her, It’ll be daybreak soon. We can search for her then.

Part 4 – Disposal

Calico was tracing the scars on Ronin’s chest. With a long nail. She was one of Gabriel and Beths’s as well.

CALICO – It’s like a roadmap to Hell.

RONIN – You are a sweetheart. And if I recall you gave me some of these.

CALICO – Only a few. I plan on adding more.

RONIN – So it’s a work in progress

Calico kisses him gently on the center of the chest. Followed by a gentle bite. Like a signature. She had luxiorius long brown hair this daughter of Bast. The eyes were golden like the luster of sunlight on the ocean. She was grace.

CALICO – Lake will see you soon, she needs you to crack the cypher on that document for her.

RONIN – The one from the vatican archives?

Calico turned away and gleefully hopped up the stairs two at a time.

Ronin got to his feet. He heard the stacatto rhythym of Ernesto’s cane as he went down the stairs. An echo of memory came. Emma, blood, snow, the snow had has a shining surface from frozen rain the night before. It gleamed, like a knife. She was begin dragged.

DANTE – SHE’S TURNED PUT HER DOWN RO!!!!!!!!!

Ronin shuttered at the memory as Ernesto came. The leg ravaged by an old battle. The cane beatifully hand carved.

Victim number three is on the table if you want to look. They had found the body a few days earlier near a dumpster in Bellport behind a clsed down diner. SEX written in purplish spraypain on a dark green dumpster. A starved german shephered mix on a choker also tied to it. It had been sick and dying gnawing on the corpse. The corpse was also small, youngish, south american most likely. Sold into prostitution. She was being forced fed, methanoll alchohol for evidence removal. To keep her from changing. This vamp. The Vampire peophile was most likely using the coyotes to bring illegals across the border and keeping them as slaves. Undocumented and unmissed, he self lost in uncaring and delibearely blind translation.

Having seen enough autopsies. He knew the drill but the smell assaulted his senses like a cult leaders incessent rants.

RONIN – What’s that smell.

ERNESTO – Formaldyhyde. Mehanol metabolizes in the body as formaldehyde. As you can see she has massive eye damage. If you look ather damaged liver and kidneys as well.

RONIN - Christ.

ERNESTO - Bless yourself you heathen.

I did as I was told. A well trained catholic.

RONIN - Moonshine, wood in the mash.

ERNESTO - Whomever this is has a still.

RONIN - How was it ingested.

ERNESTO - Most likely alcohol bath and force feeding.

RONIN - How long.

ERNESTO - gotta get to her, soon.

Ernesto muttered something in spanish. All i could get was that in was a Hail Mary. I may not have Spanish but I have enough italian to make sense of it. Enresto studied to be a priest in his younger days. The dogma sloughed off like old skin but the colloid faith was apparent.

The feeding was ritualized, jugular and femoral. The master vamp was concerned only about turning a few but not all.

ENRESTO – The master vampire wants them clean. The cleansing of the inside as well as the out. She was most likely blind and half mad from the poisoning. Like whatever it is tried to purge the original sin from her. She’s been dead too long for Blue to read anything from her.

RONIN – How’s Roxanne.

ERNESTO – She’s putting herself back together.

RONIN – my gear.

ERNESTO – Safe and secure.

RONIN – You called him didn’t you?

ERNESTO – Both of them.

RONIN – I got no issue with the Mic but ……..

ENRNESTO – You need a crew again. Start training and teaching again.

RONIN – Chalice has me writing….

ERNESTO – You’re out of it. Hit the sack. If I’m right and that’s a given, you’ll be storming a slave brothel by tonight We might as well use the power outage to our advantage.



END OF PART 1

Sunday, February 6, 2011

man who could not be killed part 4 - Disposal

Calico was tracing the scars on Ronin’s chest. With a long nail. She was one of Gabriel and Beths’s as well.

CALICO – It’s like a roadmap to Hell.

RONIN – You are a sweetheart. And if I recall you gave me some of these.

CALICO – Only a few. I plan on adding more.

RONIN – So it’s a work in progress

Calico kisses him gently on the center of the chest. Followed by a gentle bite. Like a signature. She had luxiorius long brown hair this daughter of Bast. The eyes were golden like the luster of sunlight on the ocean. She was grace.

CALICO – Lake will see you soon, she needs you to crack the cypher on that document for her.

RONIN – The one from the vatican archives?

Calico turned away and gleefully hopped up the stairs two at a time.

Ronin got to his feet. He heard the stacatto rhythym of Ernesto’s cane as he went down the stairs. An echo of memory came. Emma, blood, snow, the snow had has a shining surface from frozen rain the night before. It gleamed, like a knife. She was begin dragged.

DANTE – SHE’S TURNED PUT HER DOWN RO!!!!!!!!!

Ronin shuttered at the memory as Ernesto came. The leg ravaged by an old battle. The cane beatifully hand carved.

Victim number three is on the table if you want to look. They had found the body a few days earlier near a dumpster in Bellport behind a clsed down diner. SEX written in purplish spraypain on a dark green dumpster. A starved german shephered mix on a choker also tied to it. It had been sick and dying gnawing on the corpse. The corpse was also small, youngish, south american most likely. Sold into prostitution. She was being forced fed, methanoll alchohol for evidence removal. To keep her from changing. This vamp. The Vampire peophile was most likely using the coyotes to bring illegals across the border and keeping them as slaves. Undocumented and unmissed, he self lost in uncaring and delibearely blind translation.

Having seen enough autopsies. He knew the drill but the smell assaulted his senses like a cult leaders incessent rants.

RONIN – What’s that smell.

ERNESTO – Formaldyhyde. Mehanol metabolizes in the body as formaldehyde. As you can see she has massive eye damage. If you look ather damaged liver and kidneys as well.

RONIN - Christ.

ERNESTO - Bless yourself you heathen.

I did as I was told. A well trained catholic.

RONIN - Moonshine, wood in the mash.

ERNESTO - Whomever this is has a still.

RONIN - How was it ingested.

ERNESTO - Most likely alcohol bath and force feeding.

RONIN - How long.

ERNESTO - gotta get to her, soon.

Ernesto muttered something in spanish. All i could get was that in was a Hail Mary. I may not have Spanish but I have enough italian to make sense of it. Enresto studied to be a priest in his younger days. The dogma sloughed off like old skin but the colloid faith was apparent.

The feeding was ritualized, jugular and femoral. The master vamp was concerned only about turning a few but not all.

ENRESTO – The master vampire wants them clean. The cleansing of the inside as well as the out. She was most likely blind and half mad from the poisoning. Like whatever it is tried to purge the original sin from her. She’s been dead too long for Blue to read anything from her.

RONIN – How’s Roxanne.

ERNESTO – She’s putting herself back together.

RONIN – my gear.

ERNESTO – Safe and secure.

RONIN – You called him didn’t you?

ERNESTO – Both of them.

RONIN – I got no issue with the Mic but ……..

ENRNESTO – You need a crew again. Start training and teaching again.

RONIN – Chalice has me writing….

ERNESTO – You’re out of it. Hit the sack. If I’m right and that’s a given, you’ll be storming a slave brothel by tonight We might as well use the power outage to our advantage.



.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

man who could not be killed part 3 - Earth and Sky

Gods it was cold. Following the trail in the snow. Then I saw the blood. Dammit it was mine. I grabbed my cell and with numb fingers dialed Ernesto. I couldn’t afford to lose conscoi………….

GABRIEL/BETH - Chalice speaks to you in whispers.

So cold………

He was the definition of solidity, as if no other form of matter could define him. She was his complimentary antonym. Ethreal, intangible

RONIN – I am a fortress.

GABRIEL – Castles isolate.

Parry, dodge.

GABRIEL – And all eventually fall under siege.

As part of this I got to describe thr training. I'll do it in three words. It ain't easy.

Chalice will tell you what she can of her champions. My teacher was Gabriel Cross and his wife Beth. Gabe was strong, surly, mean and gifted. He always told me.

GABRIEL - You got the hands of a pianist, too bad you got the ears of a stone.

RONIN - Don't have the makings of an artist.

GABRIEL - Then all you'll ever be able to draw is blood.

He was a jazz musician and everything came from him in waves of geometric improvisation. Beth ,his wife, was the devout one. They split the tasks of my education. He taught me the blade and she taught me to see. Gabe had the titanium balls for a black man to marry a Jewish girl against both their families wishes in the 1930's. Beth could lay down a beating as well as any. As a team of hunters they were forthright and meticulous. But beth always the more spiritual one always called me to her"golem". I was always more mehcanical in my faith a construct of clay and rage. She knew from the first day that I loved them. But knew I would never admit it. Except in prose where I could chalk up any sentiment to scotch.

Smoke wafted through their brownstone in Harlem. SHe respecting my gift for language and bearing teeth for my lack of self discipline.

RONIN - I was beginning to think my name was big ugly white guy.

Parry - ripost - hit - dammit.

GABRIEL - I'll just call you high yellow.

Then Beth would train me.

SHe whacked me on the back of the head. I used to think that it was Hebrew for Affection.

GABRIEL – GET UP!!!!!

BETH - If you die because of your recless abandon.

RONIN - That's hurtful.

She lands a punch to the solar plexius.

BETH - Which hurts more? You sholudn't be throwing around your metaphors like that.

GABRIEL - The boy invites disaster.

BETH – You can’t rely on fortitude, there is also agility.

I continued.

RONIN - If I die.

BETH - When you die. be specific.

RONIN - WHen I die. It better not be because of carelessness.

BETH - Carelessness is cowardice of planning.

RONIN - SO when I die.

GABRIEL/CHALICE – GET UP!!!!!!

BETH - Don't bother to haunt me. Ghosts are easy to ignore.

Well some are anyway.

RONIN - I'm gutted that you said that.

She tipped her head and looked up at me with those big brown animae eyes, drawing a steel Hibbon Claw lightly across my engorged stomach.

BETH - Be glad I gutted you with words.

There was a kiai. Then I lost consciousness.

The training and basic information takes about a year. Wisdom takes longer. After one too many raps to the head he'd gently yet forcibly grab my by my once ample hair.

GABRIEL - Your head although you don't use it for a damn thing, is only good for a hatrack if you keep giving it to me.

Then I lost consciousness.

They introduced me to Emma and knew that she was the one person I couldn't bully, fight, outthink, or fuck my way passed.

GABRIEL - Some day you'll learn.

BETH - I just hope we'll be around to see it. Oh the mockery that would ensue.

RONIN - Alot of mockery?

GABRIEL - Mockery, In buckets and barrels, flooding the lowlands and filling the gullies.

RONIN - You wound me.

I said jokingly. Then I lost consciousness.

Rince and repeat.

GABRIEL/CHALICE/BETH – GET UP!!!!!!!!

I awoke to Ernesto and Calico. The safehouse. Calico was curled up ficklely at th foot of the Bed.

ERNESTO – Big Dumb ass Viking. You are a bitch to carry.

CALICO – He’s been complainy all night.

ERNESTO – And you don’t complain.

CALICO – I’ve accepted my divinity.

RONIN – I don’t mean to blaspheme then. But where is the girl? I don’t even know her name.

ERNESTO – You speak six languages and you don’t speak Spanish.

CALICO – Same reason he doesn’t read Harry Potter, false non conformity.

RONIN – Good to see you too Kitty.

ERNESTO – You lost her, It’ll be daybreak soon. We can search for her then.

man who could not be killed part 3 - Earth and Sky

Gods it was cold. Following the trail in the snow. Then I saw the blood. Dammit it was mine. I grabbed my cell and with numb fingers dialed Ernesto. I couldn’t afford to lose conscoi………….

GABRIEL/BETH - Chalice speaks to you in whispers.

So cold………

He was the definition of solidity, as if no other form of matter could define him. She was his complimentary antonym. Ethreal, intangible

RONIN – I am a fortress.

GABRIEL – Castles isolate.

Parry, dodge.

GABRIEL – And all eventually fall under seige.

As part of this I got to describe thr training. I'll do it in three words. It ain't easy.

Chalice will tell you what she can of her champions. My teacher was Gabriel Cross and his wife Beth. Gabe was strong, surly, mean and gited. He always told me.

GABRIEL - You got the hands of a pianist, too bad you got the ears of a stone.

RONIN - DOn't have the makings of an artist.

GABRIEL - Then all you'll ever be able to draw is blood.

He was a jazz musician and everything came fro m him in waves of geometric improvisation. Beth ,his wife, was the devout one. They split the tasks of my education. He taught me the blade and she taught me to see. Gabe had the titanium balls for a black man to marry a Jewish girl against both their families wishes in the 1930's. Beth could lay down a beating as well as any. As a team of hunters they were forthright and meticulous. But beth always the more spiritual one always called me to her"golem". I was always more mehcanical in my faith a construct of clay and rage. She knew from the first day that I loved them. But knew I would never admit it. Except in prose where I could chalk up any sentiment to scotch.

Smoke wafted through their brownstone in Harlem. SHe respecting my gift for language and bearing teeth for my lack of self discipline.

RONIN - I was beginning to think my name was big ugly white guy.

Parry - ripost - hit - dammit.

GABRIEL - I'll just call you high yellow.

Then Beth would train me.

SHe whacked me on the back of the head. I used to think that it was Hebrew for Affection.

GABRIEL – GET UP!!!!!

BETH - If you die because of your recless abandon,

RONIN - That's hurtful.

Punch to the solar plexius.

BETH - Which hurt more. You sholudn't be throwing around your metaphors like that.

GABRIEL - The boy invites disaster.

BETH – You can’t rely on fortitude, there is also agility.

I continued.

RONIN - If I die.

BETH - WHen you die. be specific.

RONIN - WHen I die. It better not be because of carelessness.

BETH - Carelessness is cawardice of planning.

RONIN - SO when I die.

GABRIEL/CHALICE – GET UP!!!!!!

BETH - don't bother to haunt me. Ghosts are easy to ignore.

Well some are anyway.

RONIN - I'm gutted that you said that.

She tipped her head and looked up at me with those big brown animae eyes, drawing a steel Hibbon Claw lightly across my engorged stomach.

BETH - Be glad I gutted you with words. There was a kiai. Then I lost consciousness.

The training and basic information takes about a year. Wisdom takes longer. After one too many raps to the head he'd gently yet forcibly grab my by my once ample hair.

GABRIEL - Your head although you don't use it for a damn thing, is only good for a hatrack if you keep giving it to me.

Then I lost consciousness.

They introduced me to Emma and knew that she was the one person I couldn't bully, fight, outthink, or fuck my way past.

GABRIEL - Some day you'll learn.

BETH - I just hope we'll be around to see it. Oh the mockery that would ensue.

RONIN - Alot of mockery?

GABRIEL - Mockery, In buckets and barrels, flooding the lowlands and filling the gullies.

RONIN - You wound me.

I said jokingly. Then I lost consciousness.

Rince and repeat.

GABRIEL/CHALICE/BETH – GET UP!!!!!!!!

I awoke to Ernesto and Calico. The safehouse. Calico was curled up ficklely at th foot of the Bed.

ERNESTO – Big Dumb ass Viking. You are a bitch to carry.

CALICO – He’s been complainy all night.

ERNESTO – And you don’t complain.

CALICO – I’ve accepted my divinity.

RONIN – I don’t mean to blaspheme then. But where is the girl? I don’t even know her name.

ERNESTO – You speak six languages and you don’t speak Spanish.

CALICO – Same reason he doesn’t read Harry Potter, false non conformity.

RONIN – Good to see you too Kitty.

ERNESTO – You lost her, It’ll be daybreak soon. We can search for her then.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

the man who could not be killed part 2 - lover's promises

Roxanne my reliable chevy blazer moaned. I petted her gently on the dash and made all the promises neglectful lover’s make.
RONIN – I promise baby, this is the last time. I’ll fix you up.
My truck new I was lying. But she loved me.
I have to get the girl to Ernesto. One of the safe houses. The snow and icy rain pelted Roxanne like a million little fists. The cars and trucks were spinning out of control. The power was going to fail soon. I shoot down route 112 towards Port Jefferson. It’s on old town, by long island standards and older than most people know. It had a hand in the Setauket spy ring during the American revolution. Ernesto is former black ops, more specifically psyche ops. He’ll mess you mind nine ways to Sunday and you’ll still say a prayer for him.
The lights finally went out as the mist rolled in off the SOund. All horrors seem to come from Conneticut. The Shade was feeding on children. This was not unheard of. But this one was feeding on youth. A vampiric pedophile that kepts his innocent playthings immortal. So they’d never grow up. Never age, never be too old for him.
Then I felt the thumps on the roof. It sent a few of it’s puppets at me. I plowed into the woods with the girl babbling in Spanish. The puppets are servitors, feral Nosferatum dead pale alabaster skinned with verticle mouths up the center of their peeled skeletal faces. Their eyes, black as a sharks, no discernable nose. Their limbs appear as a skinless corpse of muscle, flesh and exposed bone. They were robed in black and strong as Johnny Walker blue but without the smoothness.
My truck skidded as it hit the wood. The two flew off. Bounced off the trees none the worse for wear. I was lightly armed, one Barong, and my Cavalry sabre. I thought of the duel I fought in Port Jerrson son long ago, and I thought of Emma.
One was going for the girl, One for me.
The one going for the girl smashed my side window and was truying to pull her out. I was more worried about the the smarter one. It would skin me and wear my flesh. After of course feeding on me for it’s master.
It fought with a katar and scimitar. It swung the scimitar hitting Roxanne on the hood with a loudish clang. I dodged. Lunged then took to the air with a cavalry cut. It swept under with the katar and we spun giving me enough of an opening to clip it on the back of the head. The hit would have killed a human. I just managed to irritate it. It backhanded my sending me into the trees about twenty feet. It looked at me and charged. It came at my in prima. I went to quarta. It swung. I parried and splayed down. It was commiting too much to the thrust, not out of carlessness but opportunism, it was biting at my chest. I pommeled it onn both sides of it’s head, and then brought my blades across. Taking off it’s head.
The sun would get rid of the evidence. The girl was gone but now I had a trail.