Sam
Prologue
This tale takes place in the colourful, yet complicated City of Tyrell. Colourful because of it’s wide variety of people and complicated also because of it’s wide variety of people. It’s not an ideal place to live; in fact, if you were to move to the city, then I guarantee that within a week, you’d be looking at houses in another city! People don’t move to Tyrell City. People from Tyrell City move to other places in Tyrell City because other cities in the country would probably discriminate them for their origin.
I shall explain; within Tyrell City, there are four regions. The city itself is built in a small but steep valley and it’s houses spreading right out to the surrounding highlands, but stopping and giving way to a vast desert beyond. At the centre if the city is, the quite astutely named City Centre. This is where you’d find the typical shopping centres, the schools, train stations, monuments and tourist attractions. It’s a shame that the only thing that the City Centre is missing is tourists. This is in the centre of the valley, deep in the heart.
On one side of the valley, the gold of the grey city, is Boundary. Boundary is filled with big, modern houses built from pale bricks, wide, tarmac roads, black, neatly paved drive ways, posh cars, neat, well-kept front gardens, trees and, most importantly, Horizon House. Horizon House sits at the top of Boundary, gazing over the surrounding Valley and it houses the Mayor and the people who govern Tyrell. Boundary is where you would find the successful business men’s houses, the policemen’s homes, the most expensive schools and the people who are most well off and can afford their electricity bill, along with taxes and gifts for their children at Christmas.
The opposite side of the valley is called The Wynde. Looking at The Wynde, you would notice the tall, dark brown-bricked, historical buildings built extremely close together, the narrow, cobbled roads running up the steep hill like black veins, the black, slate rooves, some which had ancient gargoyles nestled in the corners. This is probably the most historical part of the city, the only part with the original, iconic, gothic buildings from centuries ago. It is here you would find the people who live in small, confined flats down narrow streets, people who have no real jobs but get income by other, more shady means, people who dress in a certain way, people who are looked down upon by the rest of the city. Oh yes, discrimination is a big part of life in Tyrell City! People who live on The Wynde live in a tight community, look out for themselves, concentrate on surviving, not luxury.
The last region of Tyrell City is the Outskirts. People out here are middle-class, normal, in-between people who aren’t defined by where they live. They aren’t defined by money or status but go about their daily lives, rarely involving themselves in the conflict between the prejudice and the survivors.
There is another part to the city, a part that people learn about in their history lessons and are told about in the form of legend. The city’s Underworld lies beneath The Wynde and spreads out beneath the whole of the city and some of the desert or wasteland that surrounds the city. It is only legend, not many people speak of it. Years ago, in medieval times, the king decided to ‘cleanse’ the city of the vermin. To do this, he decided to build a wall around the section of the city where the peasants lived and dwelled. Doing this, he entrapped the peasants and effectively, ordered his men to build another city on top of their city. Their city was buried deep beneath, the only hope for them were the people who knew better, who knew that one day, the kings plan would fail him; vermin would find it’s way back into society somehow. So a secret group was created, people who were part of the kings court were given keys to secret entrances to their underground city. These people who were entrusted to passages to the Vaults, which in turn, would allow passage to what the people called The Warrens. These people were called the Descendents. People in league with the descendents, were known as disciples. Together, they believed that one day, the people of the Warren would once again, rise and punish the king for his actions. Of course, the legend was soon forgotten about.
This is who we are. We are survivors, living against the harsh inner rims of society who call themselves sophisticated but are really just tyrannical beasts posing as human beings. Or so I say; I’ve yet to meet someone who isn’t form The Wynde, who actually accepts us and isn’t a complete bitch. People say, however, that a Black Parade will soon rise and take back the city. What once belonged to the myths of the Warrens and what was once held in hands of black and gold, of The Wynde and Boundary will be reclaimed. Those who claim they are gods, who drove the warriors beneath the city itself, will fall to it. And all it’s descendents.
At the top of The Wynde is Duskgate Mansion. My house. It sits at the peak of the hill, surrounded by trees; it’s huge, gothic structure reaching above the tallest pine trees. My parents are dead, so I inherited it. The mansion itself is only the tip of the iceberg, there are more chambers running deep into the earth, reaching the Vaults through the Archives and the Cellars, through it’s many rooms. The mansion itself rivals the beauty that of Horizon House, the two houses stand face to face, forever locked into each other’s sights. It holds authority; as do I. As my parents died, I and the house inherited the secret of the Descendents. I know for a fact that the rumours are true. I am a key holder. I see the future from my bedroom window. I can see almost all of Boundary from my bedroom window. It seems a shame that so few people can witness such a beautiful sight.
But that’s just the way things work.
My name is Cynthia, and I can see The Black Parade rising in the east; we are ready.
Part 1: Sanity
Sam stood on the edge of Boundary, ready for the raid. Strapped to his back in an X was a baseball bat and one of his collectable samurai swords; he’d grown used to hording equipment like this in his home on The Wynde, after all, this was what he did for a living. He stood at the back of a group of six; the only person who’d even acknowledged his presence was his friend, Alex. He hated this life. But he had to do what he had to, to survive.
The group in front of him were busy streaking their faces with black war paint, partly so they wouldn’t get caught on camera, but another reason was that they believed in The Warrens. They believed the people of The Warrens wore war paint like this. Apparently it was one of the ways they kept their lives a secret from the people of Tyrell. In fact, the group that the little posse belonged to seemed to idolise the secrets of The Warrens. There were all sorts of stories about what goes on down there!
It is said that the citizens of The Warrens train themselves from birth to become soldiers, to fight and to live in the darkness and the secrets. No one knew if they even existed; Sam didn’t want to know. He wasn’t sure if he believed it himself. Karl, the leader of the little group believed in a prophecy, that said that one day, a Black Parade would come and take over the city. He believed the Black Parade to be people from The Warren.
Sam didn’t believe it. 22 years of age and he wasn’t about to start believing in fairy tales.
The group edged their way onto Boundary territory, keeping to the shadows.
“C’mon Sam. We gonna take that house there.” Alex turned to him and pointed to a posh house with a Porsche on the drive way.
Same nodded and followed Alex as the rest of the group paired off and began to rob the people of Boundary.
Sam went to the back of the house, Alex close behind him and took a pin from his back pocket. After picking the lock within seconds, Sam was in the house and searching for a safe. The house was deadly quiet, the only light from the moon outside, sending tendrils of silver through the house. He found a hand bag and rummaged through it, taking money and credit cards from the purse.
“Dude, help me with this.” Alex whispered form the other side of the lounge.
“We’re not taking the TV.”
“Yeah we are, now c’mon.”
Sam hesitated. “We’re not taking that!”
“Why? You know, it’s like you don’t like getting money!”
“They’ll notice that!”
“And they won’t notice the contents of their bank account suddenly disappearing?”
“That’s not what I mean...”
“Dude, get out, ok? If you’re not gonna help, then someone else will.” Alex spat and continued to try and take the TV.
Sam went from the house and jumped the fence to the next one. He picked the lock of the back door and did the same again, and again with the house after that. Three was enough. He jumped the fence of the house behind it and made for the street, making his way to the rendezvous point.
About an hour passed before the first pair of the group showed up. Around 10 minutes later, an annoyed Alex showed up.
“Thank for leaving me there, prick!” he spat, angrily.
“Dude, you weren’t gonna take the TV! They’d have noticed straight away and it would have taken ages, probably waking them up.”
“Not if we worked together. You full on abandoned me!”
“You told me to leave!”
“Maybe you should.”
Sam paused in shock.
“Face it; no one here wants you anyway.”
Anger started to grumble in Sam’s stomach. Breathing out, he forced himself to swallow it and just walk away.
No one noticed him walk away. Only Alex. And Alex didn’t need him. Not anymore. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly got a text from Alex, stating his apology and his welcome back. And Sam always did go back. He needed the group. It was his only source of income and his survival. But his options were becoming fewer and fewer.
Sam reluctantly returned to his 2 roomed flat somewhere, deep in the heart of The Wynde; the part of The Wynde where the people that didn’t matter lived. The people that thrived on other people for their income. Survival wasn’t just a word to them. Other people on The Wynde may know of the word and may think that it is what they aim for, to rise above the oppression of Boundary, but to the people who lived on The Wynde that didn’t matter...
Survival was more than a way of life. It was something they scraped at and grasped for, but somehow, it was always out of their reach.
If The Wynde as a whole didn’t matter to the world, then who were the people who didn’t matter to The Wynde?
Sam slid his samurai sword back in it’s bracket on the wall and tried to forget about his task of carrying out fraud of the people he’d robbed in the morning. He hated his way of life; it was dirty and rotten. He felt like a walking corpse; doomed to walk this path forever, dead to the world. Dead to the vermin.
Sam opened a small kitchen cupboard and took from it a bottle of cheap whisky. He didn’t bother with a glass, just started to drink straight from the bottle.
He didn’t need a glass. He wasn’t sophisticated, or rich enough to drink from glasses. The whisky tasted foul in his mouth as he sat in his bed, leaning forwards. He grimaced at the taste.
This was what he was meant for. To die with foul whisky in his mouth.
He lay back on his bed, wondering if he died tonight, if anyone would come looking. Probably not; some kids might break in because they were bored and find his body. They’d probably poke him with sticks and mess around for a bit- that was what kids did these days, play with dead bodies- and then they’d probably tell someone what they found. And then they’d burn his body and he’d be forgotten. He wouldn’t even leave a mark on the world.
Sam gulped down the rest of the whisky and went to the cupboard for another. Sam’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. Looking at the screen through the blur of a drunken stupor, he saw the word ‘Alex’, glaring out at him.
Fuck him! Sam threw his phone to the floor and reached for a packet of fags on the kitchen top.
Smoking and whisky... what a way to spend his life!
The sun was almost up when Sam finally passed out on the bed.
“Are you sure no one will miss him? I mean, like, no one at all?”
“I am quite sure. He has no family and, as far as I am concerned, no recognisable friends to speak of.”
“Good job it’s not your concern I’m worried about, then.”
Sam stirred, a the hangover throbbing it’s hello through his head. He was too numb to realise he was no longer in his flat, and the words spoken from the people around him floated past his face, brushing gently against his skin and waking him. He was too hung over and groggy to realise there were restraints around his wrists and ankles, but the prospect of him even trying to move was thankfully, looking increasingly unlikely due to the fact that Sam felt as though he’d been beaten up and then hit by a train and then beaten up again.
His surroundings were dark and gloomy, the people were but dark shapes huddled around where he lay.
“Where is she? She’s late!”
“Relax! She won’t be late for her own leaving party!”
“You mean her death?”
“Yeah, but she prefers the term ‘leaving’.”
“Typical of her. And why is she so set on calling this random guy off the streets her son? I mean, look at him. Pathetic.”
“It’s not his fault he has nothing to live for.”
“Well, that’s about to change. How ironic!”
There was the sound of a door opening, and Sam tried to crane his neck to see what was going on, but he neither had the energy, nor the will to resist the pain of movement.
“Gentlemen. Welcome. I see you found one that matches the requirements.” It was a woman’s voice. Somehow, it sounded smooth and sensual, quite the opposite of the other voices.
“Well. Time to get started. So, what’s your name?” Sam felt a hand caress his face, a cold, smooth, stone-like hand.
He tried to utter his name, but couldn’t seem to utter even a groan!
“It’s Sam.”
“Poor thing. What did you boys do? Well, Sam. I’m about to give you something. A gift.”
Sam felt something close to his face, the woman’s breath warming his cheeks.
What the fuck is this? It briefly crossed Sam’s mind that this was all just a result of his being drunk, but it felt too real...too twisted...
“Now Sam, my child, I can finally leave this world, and you are going to help me be at peace. You are the key! You are my child! And when years have passed, too many for you to count, when you finally achieve what I have achieved today, then I shall welcome you, once again, with open arms, as a mother does to a son!”
Sam closed his eyes, to hide from the blurry shapes, but mostly to try and find some way of forcing this reality into a dream; it was a dream! There was no way this was real!
He felt something soft and cold on his face...
It’s not real!
Sam felt his consciousness waning, and a warm sensation filling his body and his mind...his mind...
Somewhere beyond his closed eyes, he could sense something warm, a light, a bright light...birds singing...the cries of a girl, sounding much like the smooth, sensual woman who'd babbled a bunch of jobberish...except, her vioce was different...the opposite. he heard her scream, the first woman mumbled two words which sealed her doom.
He felt it slowly slipping away, as if walls that were there previously had been knocked down, revealing space...so much space...
Despite this, one, dark, small room remained, closed in, down in the depths. It was here Sam cowered, not daring to look out at this horrific new change! He cowered in the dark for what felt like years, with only a concept...an idea for company. It spoke to him, smiled at him, asked him how he was.
The pain...
Sam looked at the pain, and it looked back at him. He wanted to hide from it, run away, but he was so alone...
Part 2: Insanity
The darkness began to fade, and Sam was dragged, screaming from the small, dark room with the pain, back into the cold stone room where several dark shapes stood, looking g at him. Things came into focus; Sam could feel his body and move it quite well. He even managed to turn his head to where the shapes were.
“He’s come too, we should get going.” One of them said.
Sam looked more closely, his eyes coming into a sharper focus. Strange, they reminded him of the people of the Warren; black war paint, black leather, black weapons, black hair...black everything. Like shadows...
The men came towards him and pulled the groggy Sam to his feet, where they put his arms around their shoulders and, with surprising strength, they dragged him towards what Sam could only make out as a white light that stung his eyes. The men stood him up and left Sam, staring at the light, both confused and bewildered...
It felt like days since he’d seen anything other than darkness and shadows peering down on him. In fact, the light was only thing that seemed to make sense! He swayed on his feet as the men backed away, into the shadows.
In fleeting seconds, Sam wondered where he was, what had happened to him and what the fuck was going on in this crazy dream of his; it was like he’d been floating, events happening in slow motion all around him and not being able to make sense of any of it made Sam mad.
But he was too tired for anger. The pain smiled and laughed at him from it’s dark room inside Sam’s mind. In fact, it stood before him, the shape of a person, white flesh that wasn’t really there...
It laughed. It laughed it’s shrill, high-pitched laugh that made Sam’s blood run cold, until it’s laugh became a scream of agony.
Looking back towards the light, Sam ran. Or he thought he ran.
The next moment was one that joined the room of moments that Sam wasn’t sure happened or not. Everything went black, as if someone had pulled a blind fold down over his face, but with it came the heavy sound of thunder and rubble falling. It echoed around his mind, filling ever corner and the noise was so loud, Sam retreated to the room with the pain.
And then there was nothing. Silence and the pasty face of pain in front of him, this time soothing him, like a friend.
Sam spent years in that room...years with only pain...his pain...
Several hours later, Sam opened his eyes. For the first time, Sam opened his eyes and he could see clearly; he saw the dark stone ceiling and he could feel the hard bed beneath him. This was all he felt. As for his body, it was as if it wasn’t there at all!
Pain stood over him, one hand on Sam’s shoulder and a smile on it’s face. At least Sam wasn’t alone...
Sam should have be lying on a hospital bed, with a hard mattress and a pillow with no volume what so ever. He should have a drip, IV fluids, casts on his body, since nearly all of his bones were broken, including his spine, which had been snapped in two.
Instead, Sam lay on a mattress – no bed frame to speak of- no sheets, no pillows, no IV fluids or drugs of any kind, no bandages, nothing. He lay there, a broken shell, paralysed, internal bleeding, punctured lungs, yet as Sam lay there, he felt strangely light. He felt his life slowly ebbing away, pain at his side. It didn’t cross Sam’s mind what had happened, why he wasn’t in a hospital, or who those men were. He was just savouring the sensation of death.
And when Sam breathed his last breath, what should have been the feeling of freedom, he felt trapped, inside that dark room...
“So it’s worked?”
“Yeah, she did it. Shame she couldn’t be here to see him. She’d be proud.”
“Sure, sure. But you know what we gotta do now, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Just because he’s good looking don’t mean you can allow yourself to get attached.”
“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get it over with.”
Sam listened to the voices, curious if they were talking about him. It was to these voices that Sam drifted, slowly back to life.
“So, tell me again, how is it he is still alive?”
“Because his body can’t die, trapping his soul inside. You know this; she gave her gift to him.”
“But why him? Why not one of us?”
“Because she needed some low life who wouldn’t be missed. Someone who we’d be able to throw into the depths. If it was you, would you wanna be thrown into the depths?”
“S’pose. Why do we have to get rid of him?”
“Not getting rid of him. Hiding him from people who want her power. Best let him find out for himself, not keep him here. Imagine the chaos...”
“Fine, c’mon.”
Sam opened his eyes. The same ceiling. The same hard bed. He wondered how long he’d been lying there. He looked around, testing his body, seeing if he could still move, still feel. There was no pain, so Sam sat up and looked around for the first time. In the moments before Sam got a good long look at the men before him, he saw the inside of a dark, stone room with no windows. It gave off the distinct impression of being underground; the air was musty and cold and every corner was hidden in the shadows of the gas lamps and candles. The room was empty, apart from the mattress and two chairs, occupied by two men.
When Sam laid eyes on the men, it barely registered that they were dressed in the exact same way as the legends of the Warren. That would come in next 24 hours, but for now, Sam could only gaze at their black hair, black war paint, leather, boots and heavy machine rifles.
They came towards Sam with intimidating defiance, grasping Sam by his upper arms with iron grips and hauling him to his feet. Sam staggered a little, not used to being vertical for once.
They pushing him towards a heavy wooden door, outside of which were more people, dressed in the same way, watching as Sam was pushed down a dark, stone corridor.
Sam was almost running at the pace they were going, but as the corridor sloped down, the stone went from a soft, friendly brown to a sinister grey blue.
“Wha... Wha...” Sam tried to say, but panic started to rise, choking in his throat as the corridor got smaller, narrower and deeper into the darkness.
The shadows changed, moulded, shifted from spiteful candle light, to shadows that weren’t cast by any light, but were there purely because nothing else was; they occupied the whole tunnel, they weren’t just shadows and darkness, they were what lived in the absence of light, truly evil. These were the shadows that were alive; shadows with a voice.
Sam was forced deep into the earth, and only when the men slowed their pace did Sam notice the tunnel widen slightly and an iron structure coming into view, into the light of the two torches that were mounted to the walls. Other than these two torches, there was no other light source. The iron structure was a pair of black gates, the iron tendrils curling into intricate patterns. The padlock that held them glared at Sam, hungrily and yelled it’s harsh click as one of the men unlocked it and opened the gate.
“Wait...no...” stammered Sam when he realised what the men intended. The paused, exchanged glances and proceeded to force Sam behind the gates.
“Stop! No!” yelled Sam, trying to push back against the men and escape, somehow, but the men pushed him forwards with ease. Sam could only watch as he was pushed to the floor and as the men locked the gates. Sam leapt back up and grabbed the bars, clawing desperately for the men who stepped away, swiftly.
They gave him one disgusted look and then turned, taking the torches off the walls and leaving Sam in the darkness, the cold, with only the memory of a tiny ball of light getting smaller and smaller and smaller...
Part 3: The Depths
It was then that the full realisation of doom laid it’s heavy head on Sam’s shoulder. The tiny spark of hope in Sam’s mind, overwhelmed by fear, was trying, unsuccessfully to spurt out it’s weak light. As the only option for Sam was now to walk into the darkness, that was what he proceeded to do, feeling his way along, his breathing coming out on agonising wisps. Tears welled in his eyes’ Sam had felt hopelessness all his life, he’d grown up with it, but this was what true hopelessness was. Outside of his deep, underground prison, Sam knew he’d always find something beyond hopelessness, because he had the whole world to look through, but now, he didn’t have the world. He couldn’t search for something beyond hopelessness because he could see, quite clearly that there was nothing there. Nothing except darkness...
Time, Sam started to realise, didn’t seem to matter down here, in the depths. It felt like he’d been walking for days, yet there was no way of knowing whether it was night or day, no way of knowing when to sleep. It also occurred to Sam that they’d taken his watch, his phone, left him only with the clothes he wore- which were the same as when he’d first laid down on his bed in a drunken stupor. To Sam, it became a routine of walking, getting tired, sitting down, getting up and walking again. It was hard to tell when he slept, the minutes (if there were any) seemed to blur into one. One long second, dragged out.
His eyes soon adjusted to the darkness, to the point where he could see quite clearly. The hallways all looked the same, some had caved in, some were half filled with water, others were alive with fungi that glowed a blue, green colour.
It was incredibly hard to distinguish one place from another. Everywhere looked the same! The same long corridor, the same long minute, both dragged out forever...
The longer Sam spent in the dark, the more be began to think back, his mind grasping for some happy memory to indulge and loose itself in, but finding none, nothing but the one dark room at the centre.
Pain soon joined him, following him. Always just out of the corner of Sam’s eye, did he see Pain stood with him, smiling, laughing, comforting. It was good to have company. Sam knew he wasn’t alone.
It wasn’t long before Sam slumped to one side, leaning against the cold stone, his memories failing him. He could barely remember life before this...this...
He didn’t have the courage to call it a horrible catastrophe. Nor did he want to call it a kidnapping, or a life changing event. Nothing had really changed. He was still alone, still hopeless, still forgotten, vermin.
In fact, that whole concept amused him! Sam started to chuckle, Pain laughing along with him; his chuckling lead on to a maniacal laughter, after he thought of all the people, even Alex, who probably wouldn’t have noticed him gone!
All that was left behind was an empty apartment down the backstreets of The Wynde.
He thought of The Wynde, or what little of it he remembered...the black buildings, gargoyles, black-haired people, disciples...
Who were the people? Where was he? Whoever the people were with the black war paint, they’d pay.
Sam’s amusement turned to anger, although only momentary, since Sam didn’t have the energy.
He was so tired...so tired...
The Warrens...
It occurred to Sam, while he was sleeping. Sleeping? Sam couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not. This place just didn’t seem real anymore. He could feel his mind slowly slipping away. He’d suddenly burst into fits of shrill, insane laughter and other times he’d burst into tears, crying like a little girl. Other times, he’d be so angry, he’d launch himself at the walls, spitting, punching, kicking until his knuckles were blue and bloody! He’d scream and yell at the top of his voice, coherent words didn’t matter anymore; just the noise was proof that he was still real.
Despite this, the memories of the men who’d done this to him were crystal clear; men, clad in black leather, black war paint, heavy artillery...
The people of the Warrens! Sam pictured a man, long black hair that look like it’d had been dragged backwards through a bush and then back combed, black leather trousers, big black boots, a bare chest beneath a sleeveless black, leather coat and black paint on his face, arms and chest.
What made Sam even more angry was the fact they were there in the first place. He should have hated the people of the Warrens. He should have hated his former friends, the people of The Wynde. All of them.
Maybe it was the losing of the ability to think rationally, or maybe the loss of his sanity, or maybe even Pain whispering to him in his ears; all Sam knew was that he hated the people who forced him to live like this, his whole life!
Boundary.
The very word felt vile in his mind! He wanted to kill them all!
And then Sam felt cold. He was sure he’d starved to death...or drowned from passing out into half-flooded tunnels. Every time anger clouded his thoughts and Sam yelled, punching and scratching at the walls of his never-ending prison, he’d come out of his rage with blood red knuckles. Every time he hit out, the evidence seemed to vanish.
Time seemed to vanish.
Was he sleeping? Was he dead? If he was dead, then how was he still here?
So cold...so very, very cold...
“Hello? Help me! Please...”
The female voice floated through the tunnels, the letters floating in front of Sam’s face. For a moment, he didn't know what they were. He didn't recognise a sound beyond the usual slow drip of water, or whistle of the icy wind.
“Hello? Please, someone!”
The voice grew louder. Sam stood up. Could it be...?
“Is someone their?”
Sam wanted to reply, but it’d been so long since he’d responded to anything other than thought. It just didn't seem...natural.
The girl stumbled around the corner, looking all around, wide eyes, her hands out in front of her, feeling for any obstacles.
Was she blind?
Sam was confused, he could see quite clearly. He stepped out in front of her.
“Is someone-” she gasped when she felt his face, then screamed, and then fell silent, her hands still on Sam’s cold cheeks.
“Who are you?” she sobbed, tears running down her rosy cheeks.
“My name...is...Sam.” Sam was surprised by his own voice. He’d not heard it in so long. His mouth was dry.
“Sam... what is this place? Please help me.” As she continued to sob, Sam noticed her hair; long and blond. Her neck was a pearly white and around it hung a silver chain with an ‘A’ hanging from it.
“Please, say something.” She sniffed, her hands moving down to his shoulders.
She smelt different. Strange. Artificial.
...Boundary...
Pain whispered to him.
...Boundary...
Sam felt the angry beast rise. He reached up to her neck. The girl gasped, her breathing speeding up.
...Boundary...
“...Boundary...”
“Yes! I’m from Boundary, yes! Please help get back there! I can’t see a thing in the darkness!” she whined.
Sam hated her whining. He hated her smell, her hair, her crying.
“Plea-” Crack!
He neck budged as he head dislocated and her spine snapped. Her body fell to the ground, and Sam could still smell her. He knelt next to the body, the scared face of a girl pasted over a skeletal frame. He ran a finger over her neck and down to her breasts. She was naked.
So this is what did this to him. The emotionless look of someone who took too much pride in their appearance. He put his face to her neck and drank in the scent. He would remember this. He would sniff out the rest of her kind, and kill every last one of them.
He sank his teeth into the flesh of her neck, and tasted her. The taste of something processed. Processed and re-heated then re-frozen and then micro waved.
He remembered the taste of her blood.
He would remember it for a long time to come.
Sam followed Pain through the tunnels. He’d had got bored of walking, walking. It was time to let Pain lead the way.
And of course, Pain led him to a dead end...
Sam was about to turn when he noticed something strange. The tunnel was angling upwards. They never did that!
What had Pain found?
Sam looked at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t sealed by a cave-in, or rubble, or over grown with poisonous fungi, in fact, he couldn’t even hear the sound of dripping.
And then he saw the tiny, while shaft coming from the ceiling.
What was it? Sam hadn’t seen this before! He reached out to it, realising he could put his hand right through it! It felt warm...
He looked at the ceiling, where the shaft of light peered through a crack. He stood beneath it, and looked back at Pain, who nodded.
Pain leapt into the dark air. There was the sound of a thump, and exploding rubble, breaking stone. All around Sam, rubble fell away from the ceiling, mixed with sand.
Sand?
He was blinded by white, his eyes stinging as he looked up, caught a glimpse of blue and white. He clamped hands over his eyes and backed off into the shadows.
So this was an escape to the desert? He could just leave now and exact his revenge on Boundary.
Wait! He shouldn’t rush this! There were things that needed settling. Not only this, but there was something new within him; a new sense of strength perhaps? Whatever it was, it kept him from desperately struggling for freedom, as Pain wanted him to do.
Sam chuckled and back away from the escape route, back into the depths, searching for the iron gates.
Part 4: Revenge.
Sam sat opposite the iron gates, waiting for the tiny ball of light to come floating back.
Pain had showed him the way here. The gates had always seemed to evade Sam, but Pain knew the way. Pain was his only friend. Pain knew what to do.
It was hours before Sam died again. Whether it was from hunger or exhaustion of lack of sleep, Sam didn't know. He didn’t even know if he died; he just felt the breath slowly fade. In fact, he felt more efficient not breathing. He could only manage it for a few hours though, before he had to sleep for a bit.
Sleep? Death? They were the same thing to Sam.
No matter how hard he wished for death, it never came.
Something told him it never would come. He’d have to find that out, later.
Pain nodded eagerly.
“C’mon, you little rapist!”
Sam tensed at the harsh voice. Could this be...?
“No! No! Please, I did nothing!”
“You’ve been sentenced to die in the depths. Accept your fate.”
“But I didn't do it!”
“You mean you didn't push her to the ground and stick your dick into her pussy? You mean you didn’t force you little cock into her arse! Course you did! We all have, one time or another! Some of us are just better at keeping it concealed!”
The small body of a boy was pushed against the gates and Sam stood slowly, unnoticed.
“But I didn’t...!”
“Yeah, yeah!”
There was the sound of the jangle of keys, in a lock, opening...
Sam still wasn’t noticed.
“Now, get in there!”
The gates were open. Sam leapt, taking the boy to the floor with him to the side, slamming his knee into his neck. The boy was still and Sam looked up at guard. To him, it looked like something had grabbed the boy and pulled him into the darkness.
On the contrary...
Sam stood and walked, calmly towards the guard, who flinched in fear.
“Y...You...”
The guard backed off, out of Sam’s way as he strode from the depths. As he emerged from his grave, Sam rose, triumphant, looking around at the stone corridor- something he had not seen for... he didn’t know how long he’d been dead for, but now, he was alive. So alive!
Sam strode through the tunnels, passed the ancient carvings he’d not seen the first time he’d been here. Pain was behind him, always with him, always overshadowing him. More people started to appear.
These people seemed different from the other people Sam had spent so long around. It was like he was noticing them for the first time. Some dismissed his presence, totally ignoring him, but others looked at him in fear... utter and complete fear.
They were all dressed the same; black leather, black boots, exposed skin with black war paint. Their hair seemed akin to that of The Wynde. Black, some spiked upwards, fringes covering half of the face, big, long hair. All black. Most people carried heavy, black guns. Sam even spied a girl as young as 12 carrying a combat rifle that was almost as big as her.
Maybe it was a way of life. But Sam sensed in them something stirring. Just walking among them he could feel anger buried beneath, deep down- sadness, rage, a wildness that was waiting to burst free. Not only that but a collective consciousness, as if they were all part of some revolution, they all wanted freedom but together, they would attain it through destructive, revolutionary means that would shake up the entire city.
More and more faces of fear turned his way as Sam reached what looked like an underground city; the ceiling of the tunnels broke away to reveal a cavern- buildings set into the rock rose on all sides and building built from stone bricks rose up in the middle. Walk ways and catwalks were strung everywhere- shops, bicycles, groups of people, young girls giggling together, a man hurrying along who looked like he was late for work. A twisted sense of normality weighed heavily over the city. All dressed the same. All carrying some sort of weapon.
Sam walked through crowds that stopped and started, through the busy city street. The streets all seemed to be headed the same way, towards the centre. A huge courtyard stretched out before him, the lights from fires in braziers and gas lamps illuminating the attempts at growing grass, park benches and statues of griffins; all bowing down before what looked like a huge temple, nestled around the skyscrapers. Excitement brewed in Sam’s stomach.
The temple was made from the same, grey stone. The doorway was elaborately decorated with ancient carvings of griffins and markings that looked like strange symbols. Sam passed through the doorway, the sounds of chatter and talking immediately died down as almost everyone present came to stare in his direction. The interior was huge, almost akin to the cavern itself. Statues and carvings rose up on all sides, a huge stain glass window depicting the same, black-dressed people was on the wall opposite. In the middle was a statue.
The statue was of a girl, naked but for a small robe. Her body was split into two halves; one half was smooth, unblemished and in her hand she held a set of keys on a key ring. The other half of her body was maimed and cut and bruised- in her hand she held a bloody knife. Her entire face was taken up by a brass mask, also split into halves. One side was perfectly smooth and polished, the other half, scratched and leaking from the black eye and the mouth. The hood of the robe was pulled up over her head.
Sam was suddenly aware of someone approaching him from behind. Before he could turn, something cold and metallic was pressed against the back of his head.
“You.” The voice was flat and cold. “How did you escape?”
Sam didn’t answer.
“So, you rose from the depths? You must really be the son of Ana.”
“Who?” asked Sam, not turning. The gun slipped from the back of his head. He heard it cock, then a man appeared from behind him. He was dressed in the traditional way, except for his hair. There was one streak of white in his gelled fringe.
“Ana. I suppose you don’t know. She gave her gift to you so that she could die.” He gestured to the statue behind him.
“Why me?” asked Sam, a hint of sadness in his own voice.
“We’re not here to answer your questions. Your presence here is a sign. The Black Parade is near. Now, back to the depths with you.” And with that, then man cocked his gun at the speed of light, putting a bullet between Sam’s eyes.
When Sam awoke, he was back in the cool, wet tunnels. He knew he couldn’t stay. Pain nodded in agreement. It didn’t take long to find his escape again, but he only paused in his journey because he’d once again stumbled across the body of the female he’d encountered. The girl from Boundary. The place he so wanted to destroy. There was a story here, however, so he reached down and grasped the silver ‘A’ around her neck. Tucking it in his pocket, he escaped into the light.
Alex and the gang had just finished another raid on a house in Boundary. He’d come away with a good haul; several credit cards and some pure silver cutlery he could sell. Things had been much easier lately, he’d been able to keep up with the group, not having that baggage of a human being always following him everywhere. Alex split form the group, making his way back to his modest apartment. Yes, things were going to get better now that he was free.
His apartment was silent when he got home. Alex dumped his bag down, making for the kitchen where a beer waited. It was as he entered the kitchen that a black shape appeared from behind him, knocking him to the floor with a beer bottle. The bottle had broken, shattering around Alex as he tumbled onto the nylon, but he didn’t lose consciousness.
Getting up, he threw a punch into the darkness! It was so damn dark! The apartment fell silent again. Sensing the slightest movement behind him, Alex swung out once again, hearing a twisted laughter. A familiar laughter...
The laughter made him falter, giving a vital gap to his opponent, who lunged; a huge sinister shape engulfing him and knocking him from consciousness.
Alex stirred. He was sat on the floor of his apartment, his hands tied behind his back and a wet sensation in his thigh. Looking down and seeing blood drenching his jeans, he flinched at the pain. The laughter sounded again.
“Sam?” gasped Alex, unable to believe what he was hearing. Out of the darkness came the tall, muscular Sam, the same mop of black hair sweeping his face, the same hostile stance. Something was different, however. His eyes were dark. Something scary lurked beneath. The way Sam moved was not...quite normal. Not quite...human?
“So, he crawls in from a raid, and gets raided!” Sam chuckled.
“Sam, what the hell? What are you doing?” Alex cried, not scared, pure, cold, stone fright enveloped him.
He heart crashed against his ribs.
“You know, you were a prick. A real dick. But now that I can hear the fear in your heart, I find it pleasing to know that your death will be unnoticed. Just like mine.”
“Sam, look...buddy...”
“Buddy? BUDDY? Fuck you, Alex, I was never your fucking buddy!” spat Sam, suddenly close to Alex and gripping his thigh, digging his thumb into the wound.
“Argh! No, it’s not...”
Sam suddenly stepped away, his movements erratic. My god, he’s gone insane!
“And it seems you’ve already looted my apartment. You don’t hang around, do you?” Sam pulled a samurai sword from it’s sheath strapped to his back. Alex saw the blade glint in the moon light.
“Look, you were missing, I hadn’t seen you in months! You know what it’s like! It’s trying to survive!” Alex pleaded.
“Selling out your friend for what? Cash. Oh, wait, you were never my friend!” and with that, Sam swung down with the sword, a new, steel-like strength in him that Alex had never seen before. Alex could only watch as his leg was swiped from his body.
Am watched in amusement as Alex screamed.
“So, I will leave you with this; no one will notice you’re gone. No one will come looking. But unlike me, no one will find you and give you the gift of immortality. No one will teach you what you are, and how to find a new life. Something to fight for. No one will care.” Sam came close to Alex’s face, whispering in his ear. He could hear him breath. Cold breath.
Cold, lifeless breath... beads of sweat dripping from his face...
Silence...
“You’ll fade into the darkness, and never come out...!”
Sam pushed the blade into Alex’s heart.
Moments later, Sam was out on the street in the cold night air, breathing deeply. His new freedom was strange. It was like, he was alive... so alive!
He looked around, coming to gaze upon the huge, iron gates that rested at the top of the hill. He was somehow drawn to that place. As if it was where the next fight awaited.
Sam made his way to Duskgate mansion, thinking of the Black Parade and the golden streets of boundary running black with blood.
Impressum
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 04.06.2013
Alle Rechte vorbehalten