Lapocalypse! cyberpunk novel
My first novel takes places in a not so distant future, Lapocalypse - takes upon the question of what is real? as main protagornist and freeloader rave dopehead; Ali Faruk wakes up from a drug and whorebot rampage in a deserted luxury hotel... Soon he finds himself being chased by various organisations, cults and gangs requering his service regarding abilities he had no idea of posessing?
The amazing cover artwork, was conducted by the one and only artist extrordinare: http://aguynamednunz.weebly.com/
Please do yourself the favour and check out his amazing underground art/music magazine as well: http://butterzine.weebly.com/
The amazing cover artwork, was conducted by the one and only artist extrordinare: http://aguynamednunz.weebly.com/
Please do yourself the favour and check out his amazing underground art/music magazine as well: http://butterzine.weebly.com/
LAPOCALYPSE
Ali fell down on the bed, as the two deluxe whorebots left the room. He had used up the last credit on the old fashioned Gold-Pod, but it had been worth it. Not because the new models where that different in skills, the way the new flex skin responded: it had the most realistic feel he had ever encountered, Since he had started to use whorebots exclusively some four years ago, however he did not care much for this improvement. ’’These new bots will become the industry standard within long,’’ He pondered, ’It will surely wipe out the remaining human whores,’’ He closed his tired eyes -Most people were so hung up on the ’’realness!’’ running a hand thru his black and blue dyed hair. He reached for a shooter on the messy glass coffee table. But it seemed like it had disappeared…? He fantasized about how good it felt when he pressed it to the left side of his neck and pulled the trigger, the soothing effect of the LIQ-THC worked immediately as it entered his mainline. Two hours of some hardcore botsex on improved Cicodrine, leaves you fatigued with a throbbing pulse and no better way to come down, than that of LIQ-THC after such a workout! Actually it had been rather disappointing: the sex! And his pulse was pretty normal? They had been way too human for his liking; one of them had even punched him, now that he thought of it? His memory was beyond clouded!
It was Ten ’o’clock in the morning, and the sun was slowly rising over La Brea, he reached for the wrap around synz-screen half helmet and slipped it onto his weary head and turned on the tres console, or at least he tried to…
A faint humming sound was the only response it gave; Dammit!! It had finally died it seemed?
It had been running almost nonstop for the seven days he had been holed up in this dirty hotel room, placed there by two over-tanned corporate looking types that had picked him up in Inglewood, after a long sweaty night of aggro-rave and hard drugs at the docks.
They had declined to answer most of his few questions. But he had figured that it was for some stupid show, that junked out couch potatoes and old people could indulge themselves in.
They had just left him at the room with an almost antique Gold-Pod with a thirty-thousand dollar credit and hook up to everything within the city of Los Angeles. Only condition was that he was not to leave the room!
Those gonzo ’let’s snatch a random guy shows’ had become quite popular lately, and were seen as cutting edge within the terms of reality TV. They usually ended with a rain of confetti and some kind of oversize check being handed to the guy that had randomly been picked up, with very little instructions of what was going to happen?
It was now five days ago that he had started his whorebot and drug rampage:
as he was randomly zapping thru the TV channels, while dosing off on some premium Xitalix that sometimes made him paranoid: he had suddenly gotten the idea that the sole purpose for his stay, was that he was supposed to go nuts and entertain!
He had done absolutely nothing but kicking back and playing the tres console after arriving.
Not to be particular spiteful towards the TV-show, or the silent suits that had brought him to the hotel room, and told him not to leave no matter what happened. But because it was what he always did more or less, at the age of twenty five, he was still practicing the freeloader lifestyle at his Mom’s house.
But the paranoia that the opium like Xitalix brought about - made him think that the suits where making their way up the stairs to replace him with a more energetic type, one who was eager to entertain the sedated masses right now! Which would result in the fact that he would lose out on a big fat check then!
He had convinced himself that the room was monitored, that there were hidden cameras everywhere; no doubt! What started as a paranoid notion, soon looked like a regular panic attack!
Damn… why hadn't he thought of it before? It was that stupid show called - Most extreme behavior… yeah that was what it was, no doubt! He jumped up from the couch reaching for the old school Gold-Pod and texsted his dealer back in Inglewood.
Telling him to bring his entire stash - haul his ass into a cab, and get down to the La Hacienda luxury hotel on La Brea, room 233. Some words were exchanged over the phone as his dealer; Diego - Had found it hard to believe that Ali was good for such credit, since he was habitually broke.
After arriving and unloading the goods, Ali's ramblings about that he was probably in some TV-show had made his dealer make for a hasty leave.
He had started to make pyramids of the various powdery drugs, shaping the bright blue color of the Zutron and the toxic green of the Quegas, into dope pyramids; He dipped his head in the two piles, leaving his face two-tone colored. Various pills where scattered all over the table, he washed a random handful down with a Cherry/Watermelon energy-coke. He then tried to locate the hidden cameras. He did not wish to be sent back to his mundane existence in the projects just yet, a credit like that of the Gold-Pod, was too good to waste, also the prospect of a possible money price at the end of his stint was motivating.
At one point he thought he heard steps outside the door? He had shouted -
¨¨No! I am partying for fucks sake!¨¨ and grabbed another handful of multi-colored pills and washed them down with some warm coke from the day before. The steps had then disappeared… perhaps it was just the Xitalix talking, ’’but you never know?’’ - He had told himself.
He then grabbed the Gold-Pod and ordered some six: generation two whorebots from: LA SIN, the best and only escort agency in town, concerning whorebots.
These last couple of days was a big blur of similar events:
Nasty flashbacks of chest pains! Followed by complete darkness…
An odd glimpse of a nurse reviving him,
An old man in a white suit hunched over him, telling a nurse to get out? Then more botsex, and an ache in his nose from sniffing too hard into the blue and green drug pyramids. He had visions of dipping some bot’ into the drugs. He saw punches being thrown, quite possibly at him? But he was not sure of anything at this point,
- Oh man, his eyelids twitched, he shut and massaged his eyes.
Another flashback - what was it he was strapped to? He imagined pissing all over himself while laughing manically.
Fuck! He had really fried his brain this time, he mused! Moving his lips without sound…
The amount of drugs on the table had drastically thinned, within the last coupe of days. -
He remembered trying to order a house gig with his favorite aggro-rave outfit: 'Chokestick'. Who never showed up? Even thou he had convinced himself that he had heard a knock on the door at one point, but had proven too paranoid to open the door at that particular moment.
Too many bots’ to remember! Too many drugs!
He felt sick and dehydrated, he had worn the same clothes for an entire week - The black and green baggy parachute pants, with a myriad of reflexes and pockets, the black ’Choke on this - tour shirt’ worn since that last dock rave, now had salty traces of a weeks sweat shoving among other bodily fluids(all of ’em his own.)
He believed the TV crew had to come through the door at any given moment now, to hand him the price! Whatever it was that he had won for most extreme behavior? He had most certainly deserved it. Hopefully it would be a shitload of cash, that he could spend on more whorebots and drugs as soon as he came down from this crazy week.
He waited for what felt like an eternity but nothing happened…? His brain was fried and his body was exhausted from the lack of sleep. Still it would probably still be at least two more days before he could get some rest, due to the amounts of drugs he had taken. ’’Dammit! What the fuck took them so long?’’ - massaging his eyes while grinding his teeth due to the amphetamine of the Quegas. One of the bots that had just left his room, had guaranteed him a refund from the company, due to his dissatisfaction of their ’’realness’’ but still, that could take a while…
He had emptied the Gold-Pod account completely this morning; he worried for a second that they were not to be trusted, since they used such an old device as a Gold-Pod? - They ought to burst in right now, and shout congratulations! While it rained with confetti…. ’’Yeah they should be here any second now…’’
His throat felt a dry as the asphalt outside the window. Only leftover flat warm cokes where scattered around the room, he had to get something to drink, right now!
But they had told him not to leave the room no matter what! ’’Well fuck it!’’ He had surely done his part and then some. It seemed that he had run out of LIQ-THC capsules as well…? he felt sick and tired, and the mere sight of the two piles of the blue Zutron, and the green Quegas, on the coffee table made him nauseas; he knew he had to get out of there!
Slightly annoyed he struggled with strapping on his 12 holed steel toed, black Sawex boots. He then flung the door open and left room 233 for the first time since he had arrived there seven days ago.
The hallway was silent and the air felt stale. Only the ringing in his ears was to be heard, from way too loud aggro-rave and harsh-trance on the stereo for hours on end for the last couple of days.
The elevator seemed broken? So he took the stairs two stories down, he did not encounter any other guests on his way.
As he walked into the lobby, that’s when it hit him for the first time.
The entire hotel was empty, except for him!
No bellhops or even a concierge in the reception, and not a single guest in sight at this huge fucking place, ’’How could that be?’’ the hotel were clearly deserted.
The atmosphere of the big white marble lobby, felt eerie; too cold and too empty for the working holidays in the middle of July, a time when it should clearly be buzzing with activity, -
’’What the fuck is going on?’’
Coke-quest
The sun mercilessly stabbed his eyes, he fumbled through the few belongingness in the many angular mesh side pockets of the parachute pants and fetched his big black fly like shades - that had saved him from many an early morning sun-ray attack like this - exiting dark abandoned warehouse buildings on the docks used for all-night raves.
He eyed a 7-eleven on the other side of the street, the early morning traffic moved like a lazy dislocated mechanic caterpillar; held together by invisible membranes as he crossed the road.
Inside the franchise the air-condition felt like ice unto his warm skin.
The amount of drugs consumed, had him sweating bullets as he started feeling nauseous again, with trembling hands he picked a cherry/watermelon energy-coke from the cooler.
The wrinkled Korean guy behind the counter gave him a disapproving look; as he drew the outdated Gold-Pod from his left back pocket, and placed it in the now rarely used ‘Pod device at the counter.
He knew perfectly well that he had cleared out of the very last cent of its credits; yet he crossed his fingers that there might be a purchase - that had not been transferred yet.
Beeps followed by more beeps and an even grumpier look from the old Korean clerk.
¨¨Ali Faruk!¨¨
He felt a firm hand on his left shoulder as he turned around, and realized the two over tanned suits stood behind him, appearing even stiffer in stature than he had remembered them.
¨¨Yeah! About fucking time!¨¨
He frowned, wrinkling his pierced brows, behind the fly shades.
¨¨What the hell took you guys so long? Now pay the chin will you, I am fucking dying of thirst here!¨¨
The suit grabbed his bicep firmly!
¨¨I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about? Now come with us!¨¨
Ali yanked his arm free and shouted at them -
¨¨Just give me my goddamn price you assholes, I am fucking fried, don’t you get it!?!¨¨
The suit slapped his face with the back of his well groomed hand, while the other drew a gun from an under-arm gun holster and pointed it at Ali.
The Korean with the skin texture like that of a raisin, hastily drew a Pumpgun from underneath the shelf, the second suit quickly relocated his aim at the clerk, and shouted -
¨¨Don’t even think about it old man!¨¨
While the other one told Ali -
¨¨Now grab the fucking coke and let’s go!¨¨
Ali took the energy-coke, the first suit grabbed hold of his arm again and yanked him out of the store, the second suit kept his aim at the old man until they were out on the street.
A white stretch limo held waiting for them outside. The suit ordered him to get inn.
Once inside the cabin, the suits took place on either side of him, he removed his wraparound shades to better adjust his tired eyes to the light.
The red leather seats were a stark contrast to the white interior of the limo, sitting opposite him; an older man - impeccably dressed as some old-time lounge entertainer: white polished shoes to go with the white suit complimented by a red bow tie, and a red rose in his upper pocket. He ran a spotted hand thru his silvery mane.
¨¨You have caused us a lot of trouble young man!¨¨
He tried to act friendly, but it was obvious that he suppressed a great deal of irritation towards Ali.
Something about the way he carried himself would suggest that he was around seventy years of age, while the plastic surgery industry of Los Angeles had provided him with a face of a fifty year old.
What gave him away in his otherwise neutral features -
Was the way his mouth vibrated, in that annoying way old people has a tendency to twitch when they get emotional.
Ali started getting nervous, the overreaction of the suit pulling a gun at him inside the 7-eleven, he became painfully aware of just how much he actually smelled after a week without a shower. Inside the cabin of the vehicle the sweat started to drip from his forehead down on his much tested T-shirt.
¨¨Look… erm? I don’t know if you guys are trying to psych me out or something, but could you just like give me my reward or whatever?¨¨
The old man gazed expressionless at him, perhaps he tried to raise an eyebrow? But the surgery prevented him for doing so, one of the suits informed him. -
¨¨Sir, he asked the same when we approached him at the store?¨¨
The white clad old timer leaned closer to Ali, eyeballing him, -
¨¨What the hell are you talking about, kid?¨¨
Ali had no idea what was going on, the atmosphere was beyond tense, -
¨¨Ok chill! Maybe I got it all wrong or something, but you guys are from that show: most extreme behavior, right?¨¨
The old timer didn’t flinch, -
¨¨Listen kiddo, you think you can wiggle your way out of this by acting crazy? Well guess again, you made a deal with the Foundation,
And Mr. McKinney wants to know what happened to the device!¨¨
Ali looked confused around. Gently shaking his head -
¨¨I don’t… what device you ar…¨¨
The tanned suit to his right jabbed him hard in the solar plexus, with his elbow, which sucked all the air out of him, he felt like throwing up.
The old man lifted his chin with his middle finger, -
¨¨Ok! Now listen up Mr. Faruk. This might be a good time for you to cut the bullshit, cause I ain’t buying it and neither will the people that I work for!¨¨
Ali’s mind was racing, he felt like shit, while the calming effect of the various drugs were wearing off.
The old man was taking notice of his deteriorating condition; the sweat pouring from his every pore, the stench coming off of him.
¨¨Listen to me kiddo! It’s very simple, my job is to bring you to Mr. McKinney. Jonsey will be here soon enough, the way I see it! You got a whole lot of explaining to do, but that’s your problem not mine.¨¨
Ali nodded, with snot running out of his much tested nostrils,
The old man in the entertainer suit looked at him with a great deal of concern, it was apparent that he was not well at all.
¨¨I’d like to offer you a scotch son, but I don’t know what you kids are into these days? but if you have something on you that would help you to pull yourself a bit together, I would advise that you take it now, cause once we arrive the pressure is on, get me!¨¨
Ali was trembling from fear released adrenaline - that now raced thru his system, he eagerly nodded, and stuttered a couple of -
¨¨Yes sir - yes sir.¨¨
He wanted to escape the hostile situation as much as possible as he searched through a couple of the many angular pockets on his dirty parachute pants, he finally drew out a couple of small ziplock plastic bags containing some pills that he had no idea what was?
He fumbled with the bags but finally drew a random combination of a green a yellow and a red pill.
He swallowed the traffic light colored toxic combination with the last of the Cherry/watermelon energy-coke, crossing his fingers that they were downers of some sort? He could not remember having tried any of them during the week?
He had never been one to go easy on drugs(especially rave dope) even thou he usually stuck to LIQ-THC.
He was oblivious to the fact, that the pills he had just swallowed had been stolen from a private funded research lab that was conducting;
What were to be the crown jewel of a top secret military program!
The white stretch-limo was heading north from downtown, towards the higher income area part of town, in which he had never sat foot before.
The car pulled up in front of a huge Caribbean-baroque white house in the hills, just as the pills were dissolving and entering into his bloodstream, affecting the nervous system and starting to connect to synapses.
The ensemble exited the limo and entered the house, the giant white marble covered hall seemed abandoned - not unlike that of the La Hacienda hotel, they led him up a staircase that spiraled in a half circle towards the first floor.
The golden railing felt good against his sweaty palm, a certain ease had come over him, now that the effect of the drugs had started to settle inn.
The hallway seemed to go on forever; he was oblivious to the fact that the green pill had started working since he was already so high strung from the stressful situation he was in.
A small excerpt of the Army laboratory log; research toxicology reports had stated - that the trademark of the green pill was:
‘’Enhanced production of adrenaline, resulting in extreme awareness, a drug developed and suitable for close up combat situations.’’
He noticed however the effect of the yellow pill - also going by the nick name of ‘’the Fly pill.’’ among the chemists that had developed it. The fly pill remarked it self, by having the effect of:
‘’Speeding up the human metabolism approximately: seventy percent’’ (this was of course extremely hard on the liver.) Giving way to muscles to twitch and contract in nano-spasms, applying the same reaction time as that of a fly, to the exposed subject.
Yet again a pill developed for soldiers in an up-close combat situation, but also suitable for level-A, fighter pilots.
The toxicology report firmly stated; that it was not recommended that: ‘the fly pill’ was to be mixed with the green pill. Cardiac arrest had been a common casualty if the two interacted.
Of course Ali was unaware of those facts, he looked down at his feet and saw them move before they actually did, as they walked down what seemed like an endless hallway to him. He thought he was hallucinating? And felt grateful, that whatever he was about to face would be filtered through some kind of recreational drug. He was not convinced yet that they were downer drugs, but he had his fingers crossed.
However…! Stressful situations are best met without the appearance of war drugs in your system.
Nothing could have prepared him and much less explained the effect of the red pill. Which was a reconstruction of a re-vamped CIA sponsored project that had explored the psychic abilities for non-verbal communication.
The CIA project had been dropped due to a completely destroyed lab and too many casualties - concerning the staff and the submitted objects (voluntary inmates.)
- Under no circumstance! Was the red pill to be mixed with the green paranoia pill.
The shit was about to go down!
They led him inside a huge bedroom, an old man lay under layers of red and golden silk sheets; in a king-size bed with ornaments on the head.
A drop of some clear liquid was attached to his left arm; a nurse who stood by his bedside was asked to leave.
The old man made a slow waving movement with his skinny liver stained hand, and the suits pushed Ali closer to the footing of the bed, so that he had eye contact with the old man.
In a hoarse whisper that sounded strained by his clearly weakened condition, the old man addressed him -
¨¨So I take that since you are here, you did get the device, but you want to renegotiate the deal, more money I recon… it always is.¨¨
Ali’s eyes searched the room,
¨¨Listen I… I really don’t kno…¨¨
The effect of the pills were kicking inn fast! He thought the bedroom looked like one belonging to a king in a fairytale, dark wooden interior decorated with gold wherever possible, suddenly he heard a voice coming from afar, saying -
‘’You are the chosen one’’
Not the kind of stuff anyone needs, when adrenaline and effects of close-up combat drugs are pumping through their body.
He registered that the old mans lips were moving but no words came out, he was tuned into the frequency of the voice - the silence of the void was deafening.
He focused, as Goosebumps covered his cold sweating body.
¨¨Who said that! What do you mean the chosen one!¨¨
Without turning around he could sense the unease spread in the room, the people behind him made small motions, he realized that he had shouted those words out? He heard the voice again -
‘’Doom bringer, ender of worlds!’’
He realized now, that the voice was only real inside of his head. He listened closely, while his muscles twitched with adrenaline all tightened up getting ready for combat.
The green and yellow pill was working in dangerous unison,
His eyes fell on the corner of the room, near a big stained glass window. A full grown albino gorilla was squatting - half covered by the shadows. Its pale blue eyes met his dilated pupils.
He realized that it was the ape that spoke those words in his head; he could see it in its clear calm stare. It was trying to get a message across to him. -
‘’Your demise is nigh, heed the warning!’’
He was freaking out in the most controlled manner also known as - paralyzed from shock.
The monkey’s eyes switched direction for less than a second towards the king-size bed, just in time for him to return his attention to the old man’s lips, that were forming the sentence -
¨¨Kill him,¨¨
The Yellow pill had by now speeded up his metabolism with the aforementioned seventy percent, which meant everything: especially movements was perceived in slow-motion hundreds of nano-seconds before they were carried out, the same way a fly senses the movement of an arm; before one can take a swipe at it with a folded newspaper.
He flung himself forward, landing on top of the weaken old man, arms outstretched wrapping his hands around his neck, before he could finish his sentence, and irrational childish reaction to an impending doom situation.
The tanned suit that stood nearest, drew the pistol from its under-arm holster, and took aim at Ali’s back; intuitively he sensed the movement from targeting danger within a quarter of a second -
Just in time to jerk his body violently backwards - the trigger finger could not stop its motion, as the suit involuntary placed a bullet in the head of the old man, instead of Ali’s back.
Before the suit could react he had wrapped his hands around the gun and moved it upwards pressing his pointing finger over the suits trigger finger. He pressed down hard, and the suit ate the bullet that came at him from his own gun! Exactly one second after he had fired the first bullet himself.
The remaining tanned suit had barely reached inside his jacket, as Ali fired the third bullet from the gun into his forehead, all the while the first suit was collapsing with the gun in his hand. The two bodies hit the floor with the interval of a second.
The white dressed oldie from the Limo, tried to make a run for the door, just as Ali picked up the gun and grabbed him by the collar reverse from behind and yanked him backwards, making the red bowtie, go snap!
He registered the muffled sound of six pair of feet running towards them from outside in the hallway. He ran backwards towards the huge stained glass window displaying a medieval octopus,
Ali dragged the old guy behind him as a shield of flesh, He fired blindly at the door, which resulted in a rain of bullets being fired from the approaching guards, at least a dozen of those hit the human shield, who drew his final breath, as Ali swung him through the stained glass window, and jumped out after him using the pivotal swing, not losing the grip of his collar at any time,
The oldie slammed face down unto the yellow-tile covered driveway in front of the house, with Ali adding further menace, by landing on his back. He rolled off and sprang to his feet as the guards reached the frame of the broken window. He ran towards the back of the house where he scaled the fence leading towards the city, and stumbled down the steep hill on the other side, he got on his feet again, and ran as fast as he could through driveways and well groomed lawns until he reached a big pink house;
That was built in classic Burton-esque gothic, he scaled the matching fence with the ease of that of a 21st century parkur artist.
He turned the corner of the bubblegum colored house - as he reached the backyard, he was startled by a loud noise, which instinctively made him run all that he could directly towards the big class window.
On the other side; a guy was kneeling while the sound of his desperate screaming penetrated through the closed sliding glass door, it was -
Josh
The twenty year old, ex Pro-skater and fast fading celebrity, screamed out in a mix of despair and grief: he had spent all morning fighting with his now freshly deceased celebrity girlfriend Jessica Wood; heir to the Stuffed inc. empire - who was the mother company of LA SIN.
She had just suffered a fatal blow to the head, by the skateboard which josh in a fit of rage, had hurled at her with full strength.
They had met each other the previous summer, at the annual Rock-Angeles tour: The event that brought the cream of the current Christian underground metal/hardcore and prime skateboarding to the youths of Los Angeles., Josh was just about to relocate the city from his native Idaho.
He was the hottest new pro skater that, Skip; the owner of Trust skateboards had signed unto his team, who again on behalf of the Pentecostal Church - was spreading the good message thru the healthy activity of skateboarding.
At the Rock Angeles shows: Josh performed street and vert trick while the main stage know as ‘the throne’ were frequented by metal bands such as the ultra conservative: Stigmata Glory and Death to Demons.
While the smaller stage at the other end of the arena featured the smaller but equally preachy hardcore bands like: XkingX and Faith or Die.
All of those bands were being released on the One’ God label. Who were equally affiliated with the umbrella organization of the Pentecostal Church.
Apart from being freshly deceased -
Jessica
Was the daughter of Dima Wood: the ruthless Romanian business mogul and the owner of Stuffed Inc. After establishing whorebot escort/brothel franchise - LA SIN some four years ago, his already budging fortune had skyrocketed and his estimated fortune was believed to have topped that of some two billion dollars.
Dima Wood had been the first to import the first Japanese produced whorebots, when no one else had seen the prospects of the market,
This had nearly wiped the sex industry clean of human prostitutes in the Los Angeles area, where over two thousand franchises had popped up.
Now that LA SIN was branching out to other cities of the US, it had proven impossible to jump on the android whore-wagon for other actors; Some claimed that Dima Wood had made an exclusive deal with the sole Japanese manufacture,(which were in fact true.) but remained to be proven in court.
Jessica and her valley friends had first dropped acid at Disneyland when she was fifteen, thereby causing her the first of many public outrages’. She was rated hottest scandal princess among Glamordirt’s subscribers, (for the 5th year in a row.)
The day she had met Josh was no different; her annoying canyon crew entourage had come to visit the Rock Angeles tour, to attract some attention towards themselves, Jessica had however dropped some really bad acid and had gotten lost from her clique.
She was wandering about when the sleazy manager of Stigmata glory had spotted her near the gate that led into the backstage area - unto which he had managed to let her inn, unseen.
The - One’ God label had settled some rape allegations out of court for him this past year, but the rumors were circulating and everyone had been told to keep an eye at him backstage.
As he was leading her to his trailer, Josh who had completed his part of skate-runs for the day had happened to walk by.
He had grabbed the arm of the manager chastening him! After some arguing between him and Josh: the manager(who was also an adorned minister in the Church) had then walked off; fuming and cursing him
Josh was then left to his own with the drug casualty, it only took him a moment to see that she was de-hydrated, with good Christian intentions he had led her back to his own trailer, the backstage security staff had stared at him, when he had carried her inside.
Josh was usually never seen around girls, least of all someone as scantly glad as her, wearing only a silver bikini top and a pair of tight faux-leather silver shorts to match her trademark silver colored hair, adorned by dark stars dyed into the undercut. He had fed her some tuna sandwich and insisted that she drank lots of water and equal amounts of sodas. Jessica had started to come to her senses again, as the orange sun had begun to settle over the Hollywood bowl.
She had found him awkwardly cute, and appreciated the fact that he had no idea of who she was? Since he had only been focusing on his skating career and spreading the good word for years…
She instinctively knew that Josh was the kind of good guy she never met in her own environment. ‘‘Those valley boys were to self absorbed and too spoiled to truly appreciate her.‘’ - As her father so often had told her.
From having suppressed his sexuality for years. It did not take much of seduction on her part, a simple sob story of how she had lost her mother, as she took shelter in his comforting Bible-quote’ tattooed arms; followed by some lightweight flirting, biting her lower lip and the sparkle in her deer like eyes.
Josh’s usually high held moral values quickly caved inn -
Until that evening in the Hollywood bowl. He had never even kissed a girl or been even remotely close to experiencing what it felt like to be inside of a girl, and even thou it only lasted a mere thirty seconds, he broke his promise of - no sex until marriage; that evening.
Afterwards she wept some to drive the guilt trip home, not only did he fall for it, he instantly fell head over heels in love with her, and at least she did so too for a while, before his downfall…
Jossica
Proportional with his love life blooming’ his Christian skateboard career just as quickly started to erode, for the remainder of the tour Jessica was more or less traveling around with him, she stayed with him in his trailer.
Soon: not only Glamordirt; but every gossip and tabloid media latched onto this odd paring of scandal party princess and heir to the LA SIN franchise, hooking up with all out - devout Christian values preaching skater.
Skip - the strategic master mind behind Trust skateboards was the first to react and drag Josh aside for a ‘’friendly’’ conversation. Josh declined the preposterous suggestion by the team captain of dumping her! Soon everyone involved with the tour was avoiding Josh and his girlfriend like a biblical plague.
As the tour paved its way through southern California, the paparazzis and tabloid press in particular hovered around the VIP premises.
Skip had slapped a ban on Jessica Wood from entering the entire backstage area, which in return had made Josh grumpy and demotivated,
Lacking his usual spark and willingness to sign boards and talk to fans.
The couple now stayed in different hotels than the rest of the touring community. But as the pressure from the tabloid press intensified, and pressure from Christian investors - threatening to pull the plug as well as angry parents increased, Skip decided to suspend Josh from the remaining dates of the tour, with the message of ‘’straightening himself out, hence‘’: get rid of Jessica!
This in turn made Josh quit the team live on camera to a horde of tabloid journalists, outside the entrance of the Fresno date: which were to become his swansong with the Rock Angeles touring circuit and Trust Skateboards as well.
He had moved in with her immediately, at her pink Burton-esque gothic house in the Hollywood hills,(a classic case of fools rushing inn, some might argue.)
Josh immediately got sucked into the celebrity lifestyle, which more or less followed Jessica anywhere she went, he was in no rush to get a new contract with a skateboard company; and actually figured that a break would do him good at this point?
He had gone from traveling South America with his missionary parents. To become a much celebrated skate star, in almost no time, it felt as if things had moved too fast.
Even before he was picked up by Trust skateboards and relocated to Los Angeles, he had made a name for himself thru the Christian skate magazines - Stoked and wheels of faith, which both had run articles on his work for the Pentecostal Church in South America where he had traveled around with his missionary parents since he was a kid.
Josh believed in spreading the word of the lord through his antics on the board, -
Giving the youth hope from being a positive role model and offering them the coping mechanisms offered in the bible, in areas of the world where life was generally tough.
He was widely accepted in those regions where the catholic customs were held in higher regards than that of the growing Mex/Marx agenda.
Josh was standing on the brink to a gradual descent into obscurity,(and soon alcohol and recreational drug abuse.)
His former employers at Trust skateboards were not slow at marketing his leave: while the ten days that Jessica had followed Josh at the Rock Angeles tour had proven a decrease’ in sales of Trust skateboards especially in their biggest market; the Midwest.
Skip contacted One’ God records - to assemble support for his next project: For the remainder of the tour the bands were asked to publicly take a stand against what had happened, since they were the most direct source to reach the youths, many of whom were skaters or at least had looked up to Josh as a role model.
The metal bands restricted themselves to mass prayers for Josh’s soul on the main stage, while It was another matter entirely on the smaller stage, where the hardcore bands became blatantly outspoken - against what was seen as Josh crossing over to the dark side; their focus laid more emphasis on the devil woman seducing him,(or demon possessing him)
Faith Or Die dedicated their song - ‘Whore of Babylon’ to Jessica Wood every night. While Salt Lake City natives XkingX had the audience chant along with them Absistence! Purity! Thy kingdom come!, working the devoted audience into a frenzy before they lashed into their hardliner song ‘Purge’.
Trust skateboards found themselves in a dilemma, the exact same month as the tour had opened, Josh’s first signature board had been launched, and looking to become their biggest seller to date, however - any future sale of this board was haltered since Josh had destroyed his image by dating the devil.
As the tour came to an end, Skip had come up with two new designs, celebrating good Christian values. He assured anyone who had unfortunately bought the Josh signature board, that they would get a ten dollar discount on any of the new boards, all they had to do: was to upload a picture on the Trust site; of themselves destroying his ill fated signature model.
A statement was broadcasted at the Trust site by Skip himself, who apologized to parents everywhere who in good faith, had spent money on the Josh signature board for their kids,
He further wished to make sure that everyone remembered that -
¨¨Not only God worked in mysterious ways, so did the devil.¨¨
Skip further emphasized that having one of the new boards mounted in the house, would serve as a constant reminder to your kid, as just how present the devil was in our everyday life, and they should stay alert. Many a parents especially in the Midwest took him up on that request.
- The first model displayed a silhouette of a scantly clad girl complete with Jessica’s two toned silver and black hairstyle, her face half female half demon, seducing a guy displaying Josh’s trademark bowl/bang haircut and broad jaw line.
- While the other model: Displayed what soon became known as the wedlock model; for another Trust skateboards rider - Benjamin Turner,
Who had confided to Skip during the tour’s end, ‘’that he had accidentally knocked up his teenage girlfriend.’’ The team captain had then threatened him - that did he not agree on his terms: he would be thrown off the team and cut all benefits.
To preserve the clean cut image of the company, Skip then had the young couple flown out to a rushed wedding in Las Vegas.
During a press conference that was held the following day, Turner admitted the wedding had been rushed, but the reason was that both he and his girlfriend needed to prove their commitment to God; following the turmoil stirred by Josh!
The damage control stunt by Skip accidentally caused an increase in teenage weddings - especially Midwestern parents having their young ones flown out to Vegas on a return ticket, since Las Vegas was the only state that allowed, less than eighteen years’ of age marriages.
Around December Josh and Jessica started to slide away from each other, the first six months of romance was slowly fading and Josh rarely left the house anymore, he spent most of his days passed out drunk on the couch, occasionally dabbling in some leftover LIQ-THC, While she quickly returned to her former all night partying lifestyle.
Her friends annoyed him and he rarely joined them for a night out, which happened most of the week for them. In return they considered him a stiff, who restricted her from the debauchery lifestyle, which the world had become accustomed to.
He had tried for a short period in the spring to revitalize his skateboarding career, but not one company had shown interest in taking him on their team, at the age of twenty! he was a washed up ex-Christian choir boy turned household pet, not an image anyone was interested in being associated with.
The pivotal point for what would become his ultimate downfall happened one night, in a despairing act of Jealousy and rejection.
He had hesitantly agreed to go with her and her obnoxious motley crew, to visit Hollywood’s newest happening place, the underground rock club - The Scum Cave, to catch a show with one of her old high school friend’s Neo-Goth band - The Skull Cracks…
Davey Duncan as he called himself was a spoiled Valley kid turned Goth kid, the ultimate ‘dead boy’ as he was described by many a groupies. But it was his blatant flirting with Jessica, and her liking it; that had made an already drunk Josh attack the obnoxious Goth.
As security escorted him from the backstage premises, he looked over his shoulder to see Jessica flipping him off while shouting that, - ¨¨he could go to hell.¨¨
Later that night the entire band, along with the valley crew and the small VIP audience had dropped, Buzzo: the freshest love drug that had just recently hit the streets - ten times the effect of old school Ecstasy, spiked with Pheromones; Buzzo simply made the user uninhibited to their most basics desires, and a compelling urge to get the dopamine reward flowing by way of the sexual act.
The Scum Cave club could have been mistaken for a rich kid’s swinger club gone mad barely two songs into the set.
After trashing some garbage cans outside the club, josh hailed a cab to take him home, they stopped by an all-night drugstore to pick up a six pack of Lion brew. Upon his return, the cabdriver started small talking, as josh cracked one open.
¨¨Say aren’t you that guy who is with J…¨¨
He got that question all the time! Usually from people who perfectly well knew that he was’ in fact the accessory to LA’s leading scandal princess,
But this night he lost his cool,-
¨¨Yes that’s right! I am the one who is fucking Jessica Wood! Happy now? You wanna know how she is in bed, huh! Huh!¨¨
An interlude of awkward silence followed, while Josh took a big swagger of the beer can, a little thrown off, the cab driver smirked, -
¨¨Yeah sure… why not?¨¨
¨¨…Well let me tell you she ain’t all that, the only reason she likes to do it in front of a mirror is because she can’t get enough of herself. You saw that ‘’stolen’’ footage on Glamordirt, right! She sent it to them herself… Bitch!¨¨
The cabdriver quickly picked up on Josh’s angry demeanor, agreeing that ‘’all women were whores’ that should not be trusted,’’ Josh did not care to comment any further on the topic.
¨¨Look hombre, I can see you’re going thru some tough shit right now, I can get you something that will take your mind of whatever it is?¨¨
Josh downed half the beer. And declined, saying that LIQ-THC, did not work out for him anymore.
¨¨Don’t sweat it, I know exactly what a hombre like you need,¨¨
¨¨Oh yea, is that right!¨¨
¨¨Si - si; you’ll forget everything I promise! I’m Jose’ by the way.¨¨
Josh reluctantly shook his hand as they headed off to little Mexico, a shadier part of town, Jose’ parked the cab outside a house surrounded by gangbanging cholos with their bandanas placed low on their forehead.
It was more or less an act of showing off a celebrity in his cab.
While Jose’ went inside to score, -
The Cholos hung around the cab making crude suggestive body moves, aimed at provoking Josh, ’’Jeez! Even gang members know who I have sex with.’’ he pondered.
- Back in the cab, Jose’ gave him a handful of vials wrapped in tinfoil, and gave him a wink of the eye, saying: it was on him.
The drug was called - ‘Rancor’ it had been made widely popular among US veterans that had smuggled it in after the short Mexican war.
Rancor was a deviant of crack and twice as addictive, hundreds of Rancor kitchen-labs had popped up in low income neighborhoods. It could be snorted but worked best smoked through a vaporizer.
Jose’ supplied him with one, as he dropped him off at the pink house in the hills, telling him that he was his main man, whenever he needed more,(which was everyday from there on.)
Josh quickly submitted himself to a complete Rancor addiction washed down with Lion brew: his beer of choice.
In some strange act of ‘I tolerate you’ Josh and Jessica lived in separate parts of the house, that was late spring.
As summer came along, the disaster that would lead up to the murder of Jessica started to take shape.
Josh had contacted his last semi-friend; Nate from React shoes - the company that had sponsored him before his fallout with the Christian community, he felt betrayed by everyone: even his parents had turned their backs on him, due to his devilish companion.
Nate had flat out declined to put him back on the team, but encouraging him to just relax since he was now a kept man, and had no worries. Josh had thrown a fit, asking him exactly what that was supposed to mean? Before he had thrown the phone at the wall.
Skate & Destroy
In the early months of summer, Josh was approached by Rob. P
The notorious owner of Liar skateboards, the counter brand you might say to the Christian based Trust skateboards. The long line of crude pranks and stunts conducted and masterminded by Rob. P was a story all in itself!
A self proclaimed hyper ADHD patient that proudly refused to take his medicine.
His latest brainstorm attempt of a brilliant idea had come to him after hearing of Josh’s search for finding a sponsor and the rumors of his supposedly - Rancor addiction?
He had called Josh up himself and proposed that Josh would get his ‘fallen angel’ signature model within a week, giving there was some truth to the rumors of his drug addiction.
A snippet from their conversation, ran:
¨¨Really God-boy! Are you telling me that there is absolutely nothing to those rumors: saying that you are strung out?¨¨
¨¨Exactly! I don’t know where you’ve heard that? I don‘t care what you think!¨¨
¨¨Arw! Come on - don’t be like that, man! You got me all wrong here? I’m not judging you; I think it’s fucking cool.¨¨
¨¨…Really! You think it’s cool that I’m strung out?…¨¨
¨¨Yea bro, way cool, all the best people are dabblers’ y’know,¨¨
¨¨You’re probably worried that I’m messin’ with ya, trying to make you admit and then pull the plug right?¨¨
¨¨That would make sense.¨¨
¨¨But its not like that, in fact if you’re not a complete Rancoon! The deal is off, buddy…. So tell me, are you?¨¨
Josh - tried through the haze of the Rancor to comprehend what Rob P. had just offered him? He considered the pros & cons for 10 seconds, before admitting to be a Rancoon: the slang used for heavy users of Rancor - leaving them with those trademark dark circles around the eyes like those of a raccoon.
Josh would join the rooster of Liar skateboards, and they would immediately start shooting a web-stream series of Josh skating around out of shape, while Rob P. - provided him with this new drug called Nude! So he could get off his ass for the show, his new team leader took it upon himself to be sponsoring his Rancor intake off camera.
The unfolding antics in the web-episodes were a vile combination of totally uninhabited behavior; caused by the energetic craziness brought out by the Nude - which resembled that of old school PCP; with slightly more controlled reactions?
However Nude combined with the laid back recklessness of the Rancor: Josh became a menace unleashed upon the unsuspecting masses:
The fallen angel was giving it his all - at first it was just the usual business of harassing rich people around the hills, skating in their backyard pools and taking a shit on their lawn; pretty harmless stuff!
But it soon involved the downtown area, which further evolved into more specific settings like Josh getting in fights with homeless people, many of whom were strung out on either Rancor or Nude like him.
Certain parental groups speculated that the show was advocating the use of Nude?
Josh even completed two dates at Rob P’s counter creation to the touring Rock Angeles circuit. Finding the most obnoxious bands on the planet, and generally creating a festival; not short on shocking political incorrect activities.
He had baptized this, his latest brainchild in usual mocking demeanor calling it the - ‘Fuck angelsforless.’
Things had gone south fast, only two days into the tour that should had lasted two weeks; when some three suburban teenagers had overdosed in the parking lot, and the main stage had burned down after a minor riot had broken loose. The following day the LAPD had put a permanent ban on any further activity from the traveling circuit.
Not long after that, Rob P. - being the ever habitual line stepper he was actually managed to take things a step too far for his own good, by messing with Jessica’s farther. -
Dima Wood
Had first set foot on US soil some twelve year prior, with his then eight year old daughter Anya Mizil, the sole survivor of his family as they had fled their native Romania, after the country had been invaded by the fundamentalist hordes of the neighboring country to the east; Turkey.
At the very beginning of the invasion that would result in the occupation of mainland Europe and its final surrender some eight years later.
Dima Mizil had been a successful businessman in his own right, - providing a steady supply of various recreational drugs, but mostly amphetamines to Bucharest; the capitol of Romania, and the various cities on the shoreline facing the black sea; which were favorite vacation hotspots for the youths of Europe’s middleclass.
Dima and his family were in their hometown of Constanta as the Turks had bordered from the sea side. Everyone, including his beloved wife Olga was eradicated. Only he and his daughter were lucky to escape in the back of an armed truck, which few hours later brought them to the airport in the capitol of Bucharest. Where enormous crowds were already gathering, hoping to escape to anywhere else.
Luckily the escape truck had included the mayor of the small coastal town, who owed Dima more than one favor. The escape vehicle took them directly to the airstrip, as soon as he had paid the bribe to a young soldier, who let anyone through the gates; flashing the right amount of ready cash.
Dima had had his fingers crossed that the patrolling jets were from the Romanian air force and not the Turkish! The jet made it out safely with its course set for America.
Because of the Saudi funded invasion, the US had severed the few remaining ties, with the Saudi coalition - especially now that new natural resources had been taken into use, and they weren’t reliant on their oil supply any longer.
Dima Mizil and his daughter were immediately offered asylum in the USA, a month later Dima changed his daughter’s name to Jessica so she would have a better chance of blending inn. He had named her inappropriately after his favorite adult star Jessica Foxze; since it was the only American female name he knew.
While changing their last name of the traditional Mizil,(which carried an unfortunate similarity to that of a missile,) to that of the strong sounding - Wood.
Having escaped Romania with only the clothes they wore. The future however looked bright, since Dima had all the codes to his emergency savings in Swiss bank accounts on his cell-phone.
The Father and daughter, had settled in the richer part of Viola Canyon. From there he started to build his empire of Stuffed inc. with the requirements of local entrepreneurs.
Especially the last four years had proven fertile; after Dima had been so visionary bold to import the first batch of Japanese produced whorebots. Each year had seen an improvement in the development of the features as well as texture, this years models featured the new human like flex skin. Especially the two he had sent out this morning had felt like regular human beings?
Of all his employed, Dima’s most reliant partner, problem crusher and general handler of delicate affairs, were the shadowy figure of -
Mr. Smith
Not even Dima Wood knew his real name, despite the fact that he had worked exclusively as his right hand ever since he came to the US, some two years after the outbreak of the war on the European continent, which would end five years later with the surrender of mainland Europe.
After having laid waste to the main capitols such as Paris and London, and a completely devastated Eastern Europe, The Saudi coalition had finally come out victorious: at least when it came to the old war for territory game.
His name and reputation had become legendary, and Dima was not soon to track him down and hire him.
Mr. Smith’s reputation was based on his acts of ruthless strikes conducted with precision and accuracy of disabling the enemy.
His fast growing legacy had started to take shape within the first months of the invasion of Eastern Europe.
From where he had been hired by concerned entrepreneurs with great money interests in the region.
What had solidified his reputation first and foremost had been the strike near the small border of where Slovakia meets Poland.
- The Islamic invasion army had prepared themselves for a severe retribution as they stood to cross into Poland;
They were however met by the complete absence of resistance, for miles into Polish territory there had been no signs of combat.
The only thing to be seen had been the occasional bi-plane spraying the crops at the surrounding cabbage fields. The first battalion had started to ease up some, still miles from the small town of - Przemyśl.
That was until a couple of those small crop spraying planes flew over them, and released heavy doses of old school napalm!
As the foot soldiers wiggled on the ground all hell broke loose: as hidden land to land missiles was fired from automatic batteries inside of well placed haystacks and barns surrounding the convoy, within less than twenty minutes - the entire battalion had been wiped out.
- This was the first sign, that there might have been a chance for Eastern Europe.
This was just the first one of Mr. Smith’s strategic surprises. His legacy steadily grew.
- But as the Balkans made a deal with the aggressors, the war was more or less over.
When Paris and London fell: Smith knew that the time was up! And instead of taking the money offered; even after he had been badly wounded. He fled to America. From where Dima Wood quickly picked him up.
The Joke’s on you!
When Rob P. got bored and needed a new antagonistic goal,
he and Josh came up with the bright idea, that they should have Josh wired with some hidden spy cam and let him pay a visit to his girlfriend’s Dad’s adult entertainment company Stuffed inc.
Josh never made it further than to the reception area, this would also prove to be their last endeavor together, as well as the last of Rob P’s antics as a sadistic prankster as well.
Josh who had loaded up on a great dose of Nude as usual, had entered the polished brass desk of the Stuffed inc. reception, and demanded that he would be given a whorebot for free; since he was the boyfriend of Jessica Wood.
The receptionist quickly grew tired of the prank that was streamed live online.
He then demanded to see Mr. Wood himself, since he had a special request for a new model, which were an exact replica of Jessica Wood herself, the receptionist’s overbearing expression changed from mildly annoyed to downright worried,
As he had shouted into his wired microphone -
¨¨Dima, do you hear me!! If you could just make it less bitchy and a whole lot better in bed, that’d be great!¨¨
It was clear on the receptionist’s expression that the joke was not funny or even tolerable anymore, she wiped the sweat off her forehead as security dragged a kicking and screaming Josh from the Stuffed inc. premises; his last words were. -
¨¨Is it because that bot already exist, Dima! And you just don’t wanna share it!?!¨¨
A while later a furious Dima Wood gave Mr. Smith free hands to do as he saw fit with Josh and Rob P. as long as he did not kill any of them.
Mr. Smith had kept his professional poker face and nodded, waiting to release his devilish smirk till he reached the elevator; where it made a secretary break out in cold sweat, as they took it to the bottom floor together, an otherwise bored Mr. Smith found himself engulfed in planning something spectacular?
- That same night Rob P. was kidnapped from his Malibu beach house, by a ski masked crew of Smith’s men.
The same happened to Josh during a trip to little Mexico, searching for drugs; since Jose’ had not picked up his phone all night?
Through a black market site Mr. Smith had gotten his hands on a fifteen year old device which was now banned under all international laws - the Mind-scraper.
Originally invented by the Israeli secret service to derive information from suspected terrorists - in hope of preventing attacks on the state.
This in the end had proven obsolete. As the holy land had been eradicated by its neighbors.
The mind-scraper device had made its way into Europe, for the war on the occupiers,(again proving obsolete.)
Mr. Smith had found it charmingly delightful, but not to much use in that particular situation.
However, now that he worked in another line of business, he figured it would be a nice throwback to re-visit.
The Mind-scraper worked as a bi-receptor mechanism. Its main job was; through the signals of electrodes - to pick your brain for your worst fears. Responding to stress signal releases while it bombarded the subjects brain with archetypical pictures of primal to those of more sophisticated fear.
In the case of Liar skateboards owner Rob P. it had marked the most crucial peak on the curve, displaying the image of an alligator!
As a kid he had grown up near the everglades in Florida, at the age of nine he had experienced the most unpleasant encounter with an alligator, which nearly had taken his leg off, till this day the fear still haunted him, with constant nightmares which he had never resolved.
Hours later, inside the studios of the some big time Hollywood film production company, a setting had been arranged.
Josh and Rob P. were both given a heavy dose of LSD - knocked out and placed in a secluded/soundproof studio location from where three steady cams were recording them, while broadcasting the direct signal live!
They awoke half covered in murky water, around them a landscape of fake yet believable exotic plant growth covered the walls entirely, and a humid heat from artificial heating had the room resembling that of a sub-tropical climate,(with two drugged out subjects inside of it.)
The cameras were rolling, just as Rob P got to his weary feet asking Josh were the hell they were?
A loud splash was heard in the far end of the room, and out of sight for its inhabitants. Rob P’s primal fear system was not soon to kick in,
It did not take more than a couple of seconds before he recognized the similarity to his childhood environment of the everglades! The thick musty vegetations, and of course his number one source of fear; the alligators which inhabited it.
These three alligators that now slowly approached the middle of the room were bio-mechanical, a well kept secret within the studio. Actually meaning that a micro-computer, had been surgically implanted into their small reptile brain which could be accessed from a direct wireless input signal, and could be switched on and off - by using the signal it was possible to take over the Alligator’s nervous system, and manipulating it from a nerve sensory circuit. - Hence there was no such thing as a trained Alligator: They were always controlled by a computer system, functioning as a remote control, except when they weren’t on set and the signal was off - the simple creature then returned to just lying around all day, as they had done for millions of years.
A skilled hacker working for Smith had accessed the Liar Skateboards web-channel and announced a brand new prank to the Josh online-series that went by the name - Lose Your TRUST - ’’or how to go down in flames’’ this special episode were to be broadcasted at midnight.
- The cameras streamed the footage taking place inside the Hollywood studio directly to the masses of followers that watched and shared the episodes of Josh’s weekly escapades.
Rob P. - let out a horrible scream as he saw the three alligators that had begun circling him; the screaming became higher in pitch, as Mr. Smith ordered the guys that controlled the mechanic alligators from a control booth on the other side of the wall, to jerk the alligators around making violent splashes with their large tails! The obnoxious skate company owner stumbled around in the ankle-high murky water.
Something buried deeply within the reptile center of Rob P’s brain snapped, and launched him into a state of absolute terror, now that the alligators were ordered to roll around in the murky water, to demonstrate their characteristic killing technique.
One of them suddenly bit Rob P’s leg and dragged him into the threesome’s ferocious death rolls, the screams of terror had just turned into an out of control condition; best described as a state of shock. Making, Rob P. - cry out for his Mommy and Daddy inn between his high-pitched screams.
The scenery had left Josh paralyzed by fear. He didn’t move an inch, even as one of the alligators approached him, he calmly sat there; back resting against a fake tree with his legs spread apart, he just starred at the approaching alligator as it snapped after his crotch, he then wet and shat himself as cameras zoomed in on the area, all while the hacker that transmitted the broadcast wrote - ‘LOSER!’ in capitol blinking red letters - across the synz-screens to the thousands of viewers.
As the Alligators retreated, Josh sat there sobbing while Rob P. had passed out from the hectic death rolls and general state of paralyzing fear.
Before he could drown in the shallow water.
The transmission was cut and Mr. Smith’s crew entered the room to prevent him from drowning, the two victims were dragged out from the room;
Dima Wood himself greeted the two LSD casualties/terror-prank victims.
¨¨Wasn’t that a lot of fun boys!?!¨¨
They were still to shaken from the experience to speak, - Dima punched them both in the stomach, while he shouted things in Romanian at them; Mr. Smith gently pushed him away as Dima began to kick Josh! - Convincing his employer of the importance of not losing his head! To avoid leaving evidence.
The Hoods were placed back on their heads again, as they were returned to each of their addresses; Josh could walk into the living room by himself. Jessica who of course had seen the clip earlier, with a couple of friends,(but unaware of her Dad’s quick retribution maneuver,) rushed into the living room shouting every verbal assault she knew at him, while throwing stuff after him, Josh did not react to her aggression, - he just huddled up on the couch.
She marched out of the living room grabbing her sparkling car-keys, he was unable to fall asleep for hours; instead he lit up the crumbs of Rancor and emptied two; six packs of Lion brew before he finally crashed. That was one week prior to her murder.
Rob P. on the other hand was completely gone from the experience, the ski masked kidnappers had to open the door for him, and actually walk him inside where they sat him down on his couch before they left…
Rob P. - stayed on the couch for the next two days, before some friends came by and had him taken to a hospital: who then had him committed to a mental institute for further observation! No one seemed to be able to get through to him?
Two days after the incident - Dima Wood had invited his daughter and her strung out boyfriend; on what would prove their last dinner together.
Jessica was still giving Josh the cold shoulder, and refused to speak to him, as she would up till the day of her all too sudden death. Dima on the other hand had seemed jovial,
Telling his daughter that he was not offended by the stunt, affirming her that ‘’you had to be able to laugh of yourself if you wanted to make it in this world.’’
When she wasn’t looking, he sent Josh looks with eyes that could kill - threatening him silently.
Josh had mainly stayed home since the incident, getting drunk and high as usual, checking the web, he mostly watched old footage from last summer when things had been better, and life had seemed to be on the good side…
Last night he had nostalgically scrolled through archive footage from Glamordirt: who had run features on them, where they had referred to the young couple as ‘‘Josicca’’. It had only lasted for so long, but he had loved the contraction of their names.
The newest gossip invention used by Glamordirt reporters were the Zapruders! - ultra-nano-optic fibers within contact lenses, that could transmit a live wired signal in HDT quality to any server within a radius of five kilometers.
In other words, the receiver saw exactly what the person wearing them experienced in the manner of old styled POV.
Of course this was just the latest in a long series of spy-ware developed by the military industrial complex, for other purposes; before eventually making its way into the private market.
These new Hi-Tech lenses were worn by Glamordirt reporter Kathie Taylor as she entered the Riff Raff club; downtown.
After searching for Celebrities in attendance, she spotted Jessica Wood who managed to escape the crowd heading - for the ladies room with star of the evening: Game character turned rapper; True Thug; right behind her.
Half a minute later the reporter went inn after them,
the viewers of Glamordirt received the live stream from the reporter’s live-streaming contact lenses.
The first image that met them was that of True Thug: with his baggy red and gold jerseys around his ankles, facing towards a girl in one of the bathroom stalls, it was difficult to see what went on so the reporter approached them, making the rapper take notice.
¨¨C’mere bitch! you want in on some of this dark meat?¨¨
The reporter squeezed inside the narrow stall and kneeled beside Jessica who was already making him hard with her mouth, the two girls shared the cock, and Josh nearly choked on the Rancor hit he had just inhaled, from the Vaporizer - as he saw Jessica’s face thru the reporter’s eyes, he slammed the remains of this evening’s second six-pack of Lion brew into the huge synz-screen on the wall. He then ravaged the living room. Took a double hit of Rancor, and fell asleep on the couch that now had become his home more or less.
He woke up this morning as Jessica walked thru the door, that’s when the fighting had begun - the accusations that led to the final break up, and the breaking of her skull by his skateboard, as a testament to her final words, -
¨¨Hell yeah I enjoyed sucking his big black cock! you fucking pussy!¨¨
The art of regretting
The moment he realized what he had done, he fell to his knees, crying out at the top of his lungs, from the bottom of his tormented soul, cursing a God - which he claimed had abandoned him!
Seconds later Ali jumped thru the big glass door facing the back entrance, he rolled like a pro avoiding getting too many cuts as he hit the floor, and slammed into the kneeling Josh who shouted out for the unexpected guest not to hurt him! the level of paranoia of both guys were way above average…!
Ali assured him that he was not going to hurt him and in not very rational terms tried describing, what had happened this morning.
The storyline was too bizarre and fragmented for anyone to comprehend, (even if you weren’t high on Rancor and had just slain your girlfriend.)
Ali tried explaining that he had mistaken his crying out roar! for trying to alert the neighbors, because he had trespassed as he had ran into his backyard.
As the first shock had settled Josh shook his head, and pointed to his dead girlfriend, who half lay and half sat against the wall, with a big gush in her forehead, from where blood was streaming down her now pale white face.
The eerie angle, in which she had died, made her body like that of a rag doll that had carelessly been thrown by a bored kid.
Ali quickly grasped that it was not him that Josh had shouted at, -
¨¨Shit! What the hell? did that just happen before I broke through the window!?!¨¨
Josh shook his head, while tears streamed down his cheeks…
¨¨Fuck, man! What the hell happened, did she shoot herself or what?¨¨
¨¨No, I threw m - m - my board at her, I - I - didn’t mean to do it, I didn’t mean to hurt her, honest to God. What have I done!!!¨¨
He started to cry harder the sobbing were joined by severe trembling, as he fell to his knees again.
¨¨Well, shit! Looks like you fucking killed her dude?¨¨
As if he had hoped for it not to be true, the fallen skate-star burst into more profound soul cleansing screaming and hysterical crying.
¨¨Listen man! Shits messed up! but we really need to get the fuck outta here, like right fucking now man!¨¨
Josh had slipped into his own world of regrets and repenting thoughts of self betrayal. He emptied his stomach unto the pink rug upon which he lay. Ali tried to explained it more calmly to him, -
¨¨Ok look dude, I know this a really bad time and all? but we seriously needs to get outta here, alright. If these people who are after me finds us here. They’ll kill us both!¨¨
Josh started listening part in panic as he went for his Rancor vaporizer, and lit it up with a double shot.
¨¨No, no, I - I - can’t go anywhere I need to…¨¨
He shook his head in disbelief of his current situation, as the soothing apathetic - ‘‘I don’t give a shit!’’ effect of the drug settled inn.
Whatever precautions Ali was suggesting to him they should take, had now already become a faint buzz in the background, as the entire break-up episode was re-winding in his head.
Ali asked him if he could use the bathroom?
mechanically he pointed in its direction,.
There was no excuse for what he had done! could he run and maybe hide somewhere? He figured it might prove impossible, since he was a well known face to the general public.
He then thought of her dad, the mere thought of the Romanian psycho sent shivers down his spine and cold sweat instantly began to spread all over his body.
He knew he needed to get out of the house before Dima Wood found out that his only daughter had been murdered.
No matter what kind of jail sentence was awaiting him, anything would be better than what her dad had in store for him, once he found out.
- Ali came back from the bathroom where he had splashed some cold water on his sweaty face, he made a loud noise as a white kitten sprinted between his legs from the opposite bedroom, he glanced quickly again at the dead girl even thou it repulsed him, and he realized just how familiar she somehow looked…?
¨¨Dude! I don’t mean to be insensitive or anything, but she actually looks a lot like je…¨¨
Josh was already off the couch stuffing his stash of Rancor into his blue backpack along with the vaporizer. while Ali had visited the bathroom, he had gone thru Jessica’s pink sparkling purse and found some ready cash, and a ziplock bag containing a bunch of purple pills? he threw it all in into his backpack.
¨¨Yes! yes - I know, that’s cause she is, now lets go! Come on let’s take the car, you drive!¨¨
He tossed Jessica’s sparkling pink car keys to him.
¨¨What you mean, cause she… Do you mean she is Je..?¨¨
¨¨Yes for Christ sake! Yes - she is Jessica Wood, now can we go already!¨¨
Josh stormed out the door into the garage with Ali right behind him,
¨¨Holy shit man! You killed a fucking star, dude, what the hell?!?¨¨
Ali jumped into the drivers’ seat in the big pink sparking hummer - a 21st century vintage model, not one of those cheaply produced ones from the Chinese owned Detroit; who did re-launches of classic American cars, for the average nostalgic cheapskate.
¨¨Dude were you robbing the place, Or…?¨¨
Josh looked at him, so he could get a better look at him.
¨¨Well did you? Not that I’m judging you man, but it…¨¨
¨¨Don’t you know who I am? I’m her boyfriend for Christ sake!¨¨
¨¨Sorry man, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend?¨¨
Josh rolled his eyes as Ali hit the gas and they speeded out of the small driveway heading towards downtown, thinking to himself through the Rancor induced haze, that ‘‘Jossica’’ sure was a long time ago.
You can always go downtown!
Ali gave it another shot: trying to explain the chain of events more rationally to Josh, who didn’t seem to care much as he was dosing off on another double hit on the vaporizer.
He had asked him if it did not seem a bit weird: having an Arab guy dressed in rave gear driving Jessica Wood’s big sparkling truck?’’
Josh had hit a button on the dashboard synz-screen that had made the windows go black-toned, the filter to the outside calmed the paranoid Arab down some, as they had discussed where the hell they would go? Ali had suggested that they went back to the abandoned hotel at La Brea. It would be the number one place; no one would search for him!
The morning traffic had settled some by now, downtown seemed less busy already, and Josh explained that there was no reason to fear a trail of paparazzis following the pink sparkling hummer just yet, ‘’usually there wasn’t anything to hunt for them, that’ early in the morning.’’
They parked across the street, a good bit away from the 7-eleven.
And made their way over the warm dark asphalt, you could already sense that it was going to be a very hot day; in this dry spell that had engulfed the state for a month already.
Inside the lobby again, the hotel was just as quiet as before, they made their way up the stairs since the elevators was out, Ali took two steps at a time almost running due to the combat drugs still working his system, his black parachute rave pants could be formed into a backpack, but it dawned on him that he had actually never tried doing it?
Josh dragged himself along the rail, involuntarily acting part drunken sailor and part wounded zombie as they came to a halt outside the door of room 233.
Ali reassured him they would get some rest in a minute, plus a shitload of party drugs, they could both lie low there for a while.
The door was locked, and he realized that no one ever gave him a keycard? as he yanked the golden door handle; he scratched his temple for a second, then his twelve-holed steel toed Sawex boots gave way at the frame and the door flew inn.
The sound of a dozen guns clicked and were aimed at them.
Brotherly love
Ali was still highly under the influence of the combat pills, so without hesitating and based on pure instinct, he flung himself forwards grabbing the gun of the guy in the middle of the half circle, and put him in a headlock with his left arm, and placed himself behind him with the gun to his head - pressing himself against the wall, all this happened before anyone had time to react, as he shouted -
¨¨Drop your motherfucking guns! Now! All of you,¨¨
Josh still hadn’t realized what was going on, as he leaned against the frame of the door. No one paid attention to him either; all guns were pointed at Ali, who hid behind his second’ human shield of the day.
A voice which carried a strong Australian accent, shouted -
¨¨Stand down! everyone lower your bloody weapons, now!¨¨
All of the gun men looked alike, shaven heads, green or black flight jackets, slim rolled up jeans that displayed their heavy black boots with red swastikas’ printed on the steel toed noses. The guy shouting the order seemed to be the leader of the pack.
¨¨If he hurts my brother, I will personally kill every last one of ya! Now lower your Goddamn weapons!¨¨
There was a great deal of desperation in his voice, which made it slightly high-pitched: rather hesitant the gang finally lowered their guns, the skinhead in charge commanded Ali to let his brother go.
¨¨I don’t think so asshole! What the fuck are you guys doing in my room?¨¨
The leader quickly returned to his hard stance again, demanding him to let go of his brother, or be gunned down?!?
Ali stood on the opposite side of the drug covered glass table he shouted for Josh to cover his mouth with his shirt, while he commanded the Nazi gang, NOT! to cover their mouths or he would otherwise plant a bullet in them, he then kicked his solid Sawex boot up underneath it as hard as he possibly could, making the remaining piles of the Bright blue Zutron and the green Quegas mix to one big toxic multi colored cloud that filled the room, while he shouted for the skinheads to breathe in all they could through their noses, when the cloud settled only scarce coughs were heard.
¨¨Now you tell me what the fuck is going on! Or baldy here takes a bullet!¨¨
¨¨Alright - alright, my name is Spyder and this is my gang of proud Aryans - Satan Angels!¨¨
Ali looked baffled at him?
¨¨Why the hell do you talk like that?¨¨
¨¨Like what? you cheeky monkey,¨¨
¨¨Like that! Right there, you sound like some nasty old gay on cheap Cicodrine or something? what the hell is the matter with you!¨¨
Spyder hissed and shook his bald head adorned by a spiders’ web tattoo,
¨¨We are Australians for God’s Sake, you bloody heathen, you will show the master race some bloody respect!¨¨
¨¨What kinda fucked up names’ is that!¨¨
No doubt because of the drug particles in the air and the adrenaline pumping, he felt light in the head and did not consider what he said -
¨¨Are you trying to sound tough? Satan Angels? Spyder? Come on! That‘s fucking weak… and super gay!¨¨
Ali’s taunting, did not amuse the leader one bit.
¨¨Listen you filthy Paki-rat: we are here to bring you inn!¨¨
¨¨Fuck that, ‘no fucking way asshole! That I’m going back to the hills with you, no fucking way you hear me!¨¨
Ali called for Josh to feed the skinheads the Rancor that he had stashed in his backpack to doze them off. A suggestion he downright refused,
Saying they could have whatever those purple pills were? that he had found in Jessica’s purse.
Josh’s refusal annoyed him, but he agreed on having him pass those purple pills around to the Nazi gang.
The leader was close to losing his patience! He shook his head as the pills were handed around, Ali demanded for them to swallow two pills each, they were welcome to take some of the warm energy-coke in the cans scattered around the room.
He knew he needed to manipulate them into some other state of being, than that of the super focused cocaine - ‘‘let’s kill the Arab mode’’ they were in.
If the pills would prove to make them paranoid, he knew he would have to shoot his way out of there! just like he had done back at the house in the hills. He figured it was a fifty-fifty chance: either they calmed the fuck down, or they got more winded up than they already were?
¨¨Listen to me, for two bloody seconds will ya!¨¨
Even the skinhead in the headlock had gotten two of the purple pills, it could prove a very dangerous situation as soon as they kicked inn.
¨¨We do not work for the Foundation! we are here to rescue you from them, just as soon as you were gone? we rushed down here.¨¨
Ali wrinkled his eyebrows, asking who the hell had sent them?
¨¨Listen boy! the Prophet has taken a great deal of interest in you, and if what he has shown us so far of your abilities, I’d say you‘re the real deal.¨¨
¨¨The Prophet!?! Shown you what! What I did in the hills?¨¨
¨¨I know nothing of what business you had in the hills matey?¨¨
Spyder shook his head, telling him that they had tapped in on the monitoring system of the room, -
¨¨So what did he show you then!?! That I had a fucking party in this room for a week?¨¨
An expression came over Spyder’s face, one complimented by a smirk, like someone who knows something important.
¨¨The bloody portal jumps, mate - and the disappearances out of the blue? we all wanna know?¨¨
He had no idea what the guy was talking about, but he did not have much time to give it anymore thought,
it felt as if the Nazi he had in a tight headlock, were slightly pushing himself further up against him, increasing the pressure against him and the wall.
Ali commanded Spyder to write down the address of where he could find this so called Prophet? Surprisingly he agreed to his request, Spyder leaned over the small dinner table to write down the address on a piece of cardboard from a six-pack of energy-coke.
It seemed like he was strutting his ass, in a playful way…? Ali blinked with his eyes that still itched from the fallout from the drug cloud, to see if what he thought he saw was in fact happening?
That was when he without a doubt felt the headlocked brother of the man called Spyder, starting to grind his ass deliberately against his crotch.
Alerted - his eyes watched the Nazis to see if it was in fact some weird Australian distraction maneuver of theirs. But he only found licking of the lips and a bunch of skinheads undressing.
The headlocked Nazi tried to whisper something to him:
¨¨What?¨¨
¨¨I wnt’¨¨
He loosened his grip a little around his neck
¨¨I want you to fuck me, Paki!¨¨
¨¨What the hell!!¨¨
Ali pushed his hostage away from him, the Nazi slammed into his brother that stood bended over the table scribbling. The two brothers grabbed each other in a rough and manly way, and instantly started French kissing and grabbing each others asses.
In fact the whole room was turning massively homoerotic, what had been a perfectly normal room of aggressive neo-Nazi bikers, only minutes before they had swallowed Jessica’s stash of the purple Buzzo pills, were now turning into a fraternity of testosterone filled hard bodies that wanted to fuck instead of fight!
Ali quickly grabbed the note Spyder had scribbled on before he had indulged himself in some brotherly love?
He maneuvered through the room of bodies being caressed stroked and grabbed, nipples being twisted and half a dozen dicks were being sucked by usually homophobic Nazis. He received at least two slaps and a pinch on his ass before he made it to the door, where josh was looking on in sheer disbelief in his otherwise comfortable haze.
¨¨Is this really happening, or have I like… overdosed on Rancor?¨¨
¨¨No I’m afraid it’s going down, I have taken some strange fucking pills this morning myself, but we can’t be sharing the same illusion!¨¨
Josh pointed out that it might be a good idea perhaps if they collected the guns scattered on the floor, since the lovesick Nazis probably wouldn’t mind?
¨¨Now, fuck that! I am not going in there again, are you fucking nuts!?!¨¨
Josh in his usual state of not giving a shit, entered the room and secured one for him. they closed the door behind them as they left, back in the Pink hummer outside the La Hacienda, Josh helped him set the GPS for that address the Nazi had scribbled down; the screen map came up pointing to an area without real roads.
¨¨What the hell? its outside of town, looks like the fucking desert or something?¨¨
He told Josh that he had no intention on going home, since he remembered that those suits had picked him up near his home as far as he could remember? so he figured that they knew where he lived.
He was determined however to look up this ‘’Prophet dude’’ for some answers?
But not before he could find something that would calm him down…
Being the prototype couch slob was a harsh contrast to his current whereabouts as a fully fledged fighting machine, even thou it had proven to have its advantages.
But when you were hooked on LIQ-THC you were used to the settling effect, and that’s why he was now taking Josh with him to see his dealer, Diego in the projects in Inglewood, more specifically;
The Snoop complex, section-D.
Josh’s fingers punched inn the address, (he liked the sound of going to see a dealer.)
¨¨I would feel less paranoid I guess, if I weren’t driving around this big pink sparkling container, we look like a fucking two man gay parade!¨¨
The ex Pro-skater drew a deep sigh, as if he just wanted to be left alone in his hazy condition, but punched in a couple of commands on the in-car computer system: a color card display came up on the dashboard synz-screen.
¨¨Here! choose a macho color for yourself, kinda homophobic coming from a guy that shared a room with those guys!¨¨
(He grunted a muffled junkie like snigger) which Ali ignored, as he chose the color: Amazonas hell/light since it was army like neutral and in matte - the optic fiber plexi-glass instantly adjusted the newly chosen color onto the entire car.
What’s the score?
It was around Noon, when they pulled up to the battered twenty storied apartment complexes, owned by the trust of the Snoop foundation.
The piss smelling elevator took them to the fourteenth floor, from where they walked down the musty smelling graffiti covered hallway, stepping over various dried up liquids; most of them bodily…
Ali made a stop and knocked on a door, in some sort of code,
a strange sound greeted them from behind the door - sounding as if a robot was burping? Josh started to junkie-giggle in his still hazy condition, as he had taken at least a Rancor hit every five minutes.
Ali looked at him angrily, telling him to can the laugh along with the smirk!
There was a chain on the door that opened a few inches, the person with the tiny moustache who looked back at them; told someone called Vinnie to back the fuck off.
The strange noise drowned out, and he let them inside the terminal decaying apartment. Ali introduced Josh to Diego who had opened the door as he showed them into the messy living room, shouting -
¨¨Scram - Bitches!¨¨
A couple of overweight scantly clad Latino girls, who sat on the much thrashed couch got up reluctantly, they left the apartment in a harsh exchange of words with Diego.
Neither Josh or Ali spoke much Spanish, but the word ‘’Puta!’’ seemed to be used quite frequently, from both parties.
Diego apologized and asked them to sit. -
¨¨My fucking sisters’ esé! They think they can hang around here all day, stinkin‘ putas!¨¨
Josh noticed how the crackled wallpaper was in the same blue color and white patterns, like that on the outside of the building, he pondered how fresh it must have been, when the buildings where brand new; ‘’like living inside a giant blue bandana,’’ it felt comforting to him.
¨¨You know esé, money don’t make themselves, pimping ain’t easy!¨¨
He winked at Ali giving him a pad on the shoulder, who hated when he did that. They had grown up together in the projects, but Ali never considered them as friends, just acquaintances and nothing more than that…
Still, Diego was a reliant dealer and he often covered him some slack on his tab; from the pretence that Ali considered him an old friend.
- Diego took a great deal of pride in his seedy apartment from which he sold drugs: holographic billboards adorned the walls upon where a selection of basketball players and iconic gangsta rappers from the past century were shown and exchanged places now and then.
The strange sound had made Josh giggle, had been from his Diego’s Dog: Vinnie, who was a first edition Chinese produced British bulldog replica. From the very first production of artificial animals, and it showed! since the not very believable fur had been worn off in spots.
But the reason for Vinnie’s strange mechanic voice who sounded more like a mechanical burp, than an actual bark. Had come from a steel toed boot of a S.W.A.T team member some two years ago, when they had raided the previous place Diego had stayed in back in little Mexico,(He was just sitting it, for his cousin who was doing time in the slammer.)
But it was at that house, that he had started to realize the potential of his childhood dream of pushing dope from his own place.
The S.W.A.T raid had been over within minutes, and Diego had served a three month’s sentence scrubbing toilet bowls at a Hollywood chapter of the Würtz King franchise, so he wouldn’t be seen around his old neighborhood.
Upon his return he told everyone how he had done time in jail - showing off a couple of fresh prison-style tattoos,(that he had gotten in a laser parlor on the boulevard) while he in fact had lived with his Mom, and worn an ankle monitor.
Diego had suffered no harm during the police action, while Vinnie had taken a hard kick to the head by the aforementioned steel-toed boot, which had resulted in its voice mechanism being permanently damaged; the kick had also made one of its boggle eyes pop out!
Ever since that incident, people had shown a tendency to stare into the empty dark eye socket as if they were hypnotized by the singular red diode that lit up the dark cave: just like Josh was now staring at it.
Diego hated when people did that, -
¨¨Yo! Why the hell are you staring at my dog like that hombre!¨¨
Josh turned his head some… but did not take his eyes off the dog.
¨¨Wh, what?…¨¨
Diego shook his low slung bandana clad head, -
¨¨Stop staring at my fucking dog like that! You stinking puta!!¨¨
Ali butted in for some damage control, he knew his dealer‘s short fuse, especially around whites, -
¨¨Yo Rancoon! quit fucking staring at his dog like that, or take a hike!¨¨
Diego was in one of his better moods today, remembering the last deliverance he had made to Ali, he adjusted his 4-finger gold ring on each of his hands, one spelling ’Hood’ the other ’Life’.
He turned on the, tres console on the messy table, and threw a joy-pad to Josh, -
¨¨Here you stinking Rancoon! Knock yourself out with this instead of eyeballing my dog, Yo!¨¨
The game instantly came up on the Synz-screen, it was the True Thug video game: The rapper had made a name for himself some two months earlier, being the in-voice leading character of a Game called; True Thug! The story was based in what looked like rural Los Angeles, where you played the role of True Thug, who tried making it as a rapper while pushing dope, it had been an instant seller.
After the first sales had died down - some two million games had been sold in the state of California alone.
It was then decided by the label that had handled the games score - that a record would be released by True Thug, including new material as well as the tracks from the actual score.
The otherwise unknown actor Jerome Morris AKA True Thug had been thrown into the limelight with thousands of fans and sold out shows,
last night at the Riff Raff club downtown, saw the release show of his debut album.
Josh went sort of numb as he once again was reminded of this morning’s tragic event!
Diego who was a huge fan, started raving to Ali of the one clip that was circling the net: of a Glamordirt reporter giving True Thug a blowjob alongside Jessica Wood.
¨¨He’s the biggest player esé! know what I’m saying, A true dawg yo!¨¨
Ali hushed on Diego when he started making ‘‘woof - woof’’ sounds,
which in return made Vinnie chip in with some of its strange mechanic burping?
The situation was becoming too tense for Ali to handle! Josh had filled him in on the argument between him and Jessica over the Glamordirt incident last night, he figured that either Josh would freak out over the True Thug thing; or he would start laughing at Vinnie’s barking - This in return would have Diego flip out in a burst of rage! and throw them both out of his lousy drug den.
He had come there for two things! first and foremost drugs! and second; he had hoped that Diego could shed some light on his situation.
¨¨Look Diego, when you came and saw me at that hotel on La Brea, you happened to notice that anything unusual was going on?¨¨
Diego put on a serious expression, and nodded knowingly…
¨¨Yea, I did esé - now that you mention it, Some very strange thing man!¨¨
He loaded up a shooter with LIQ-THC and handed it to Ali, who pressed it to the main artery on the left side of his neck, never taking his eyes off of him.
¨¨Yeah - as you opened the door I realized a very strange thing?¨¨
He looked suspiciously at Ali; pointing his finger at him, -
¨¨You actually had the cash, you said you did hahaha!¨¨
¨¨Fuck! Diego, I’m fucking serious man, did you see anything strange?¨¨
Diego stopped his harsh put-on laughter, asking what he meant? Ali then described the hotel as being completely abandoned,
¨¨Well I dunno man, maybe they’re going out of business?¨¨
Asking him if he had seen anyone in the reception at all? questioning him if he had not found it odd - that there was no one there? did not bring him closer to an answer, just tiring the pusher’s already short attention span, -
¨¨Shit!! how the fuck would I know man! no I guess there was no one there? But fuck it; what do I know, I’ve never been to a hotel before!¨¨
Diego was getting tired of the questioning; asking him what he was doing there in the first place…?
¨¨That’s my problem man, I thought it might have been some kinda TV- show, y’know? But those people tried to fucking kill me!¨¨
Diego just shook his head, -
¨¨Then why don’t you just stay the fuck away from that place!¨¨
Telling him that he would kick his ass if he found out, that he was on either Rancor or Nude,(or pretty much any product that he did not sell himself.)
He tried to make it sound like a brotherly advice, but Ali knew that he had just lost his interest, and he was just trying to pass it off with some concerned,(I’m looking out for you homie) ghetto talk.
¨¨Ok man I see… one last question ok!¨¨
Diego rolled his eyes so they disappeared under his blue low slung bandana.
¨¨Those pills you sold me, the traffic light colored ones, what the hell were they? I’m telling you man that is some intense shit.¨¨
Diego shrugged his shoulders, pulling his lower lip over the other, -
¨¨Hell I’ dunno!! you just told me to bring everything I had?¨¨
¨¨Yea - yea… sure, you don’t happen to have more of those lying around, do ya?¨¨
Diego asked Ali to follow him into the bedroom, where he kept his ‘secret stash.’ Ali looked over at Josh who seemed to just stare at nothing in particular, not even moving the joy pad; he just sat there, lost in his own thoughts.
- He was thinking of how much he hated Jessica’s white cat - Pussy! Which she always pronounced with an annoying fake East-European accent, so it sounded more like - ‘puzzay’
It was one of the first successful biological produced animals in recent years, perhaps that’s why it had acted so damn retarded towards him?
The nasty creature had been brought to life at a Colorado lab facility, as one’ out of a batch of twelve kittens, where two of them had both died within a month; ten of those were still around.
The loving father that Dima Wood was, had paid a couple of millions for the creature, and Jessica had been thrilled! within the last six months; she had worn it as an accessory to premieres and what not. He had felt completely replaced, -
The tabloids were having its heyday:
Since Josh had become a degenerate couch potato, the gossip magazines and blogs had focused more on the miracle that the living cat represented, and quickly forgotten about him…
- Headlines such as: Jessica shows of her puzzay at premiere!’’
Or the equally retarded
- Real white fur adorn Jessica’s puzzay!’’
He had always despised her cheap sex-stuff gimmicks, he felt it was below her standard to do such stunts, but as time went on he had come to see her more in the same way; which many of her critiques were portraying her in.
As summer rolled along, the biggest trend among A to D list celebrities was to spend thousands of dollars on android look-alike cats to mimic that lab produced prime feline creature of Jessica’s.
Problem was: that a great deal of these hastily produced feline replicas, (which all had been produced in Shanghai,) and while carrying a striking similarity to the real specimen; many of them had all suffered from short circuit failure problems:
Such as the one faux-feline - which had caused a red carpet scandal, when worn by another Hollywood brat fatale: Stacy Sanders.
She had told everyone beforehand that her specimen was an authentic one.
As she had been posing with the artificial creature outside some premiere - the many flashes of the cameras had made the photosynthetic visual process receiver overload, and as it shut down under the strobe like blitzkrieg - the system short circuited, resulting in the animal started acting possessed - attacking Ms. Sanders with sharp claws.
The photos of her slamming the cat continuously into the asphalt by it’s tail, bare breasted due to the cat having ripped the top of her silky dress to shreds. Went viral instantly.
The following lawsuits had been an equal mess. Brought upon her by the PETS organization, since one of it’s members had jumped the barrier and attacked Ms. Sanders, for what she saw an act of animal cruelty.
The mechanical cat had then lashed out at its well-meaning rescuer as well, inflicting deep facial cuts. PETS had sued Ms. Sanders on behalf of their member, suffering harm from a piece of property belonging to her‘.
Stacy Sanders lawyers had in turn counter-sued PETS for assault and battery on their client.
In the end it was agreed that both lawsuits were dropped.
In the aftermath Stacy Sanders had lashed out at Jessica Wood for creating out of reach’ goals for young girls across the country.
Jessica in turn had a fresh turd from Pussy’s litter box - delivered to Stacy Sanders door. With the message, of it to be considered a charity gesture, and that she could put it to use with her next artificial animal, pretending it was a real one.
As well as wishing her a speedy recovery with the upcoming plastic surgery that should restore the damage to her face caused by the out of control bio-mechanical cat.
At some point Josh snapped out of his trance.
He felt so detached from everything, like it had all been a bad dream, but unfortunately he knew that that was not the case.
The bulky frame of True Thug character had frozen on the big Synz-screen, he fiddled through his blue backpack for a vial of Rancor.
In the bedroom Diego was showing Ali, some new re-make sneakers of a past century basketball player,
Josh discovered that a small handful of the purple pills, had spilled out into the backpack‘s front room. He quickly seized the opportunity and slipped two of them, into Diego’s soda on the burrito-box filled coffee table in front of him.
As they returned from the bedroom a while later, Ali and his dealer shot a couple of LIQ-THC capsules, Diego then finished up his soda.
They wrapped up the merchandise in a regular brown bag,
Ali had put Jessica’s money to good use and brought some fifty capsules of LIQ-THC and some regular coke in case he needed to stay awake,
he had after all strained his system for an entire week of partying, or whatever the hell had been going on?
As they left the apartment, Josh noticed how Diego stroked his nipples and his crotch just for a second; he couldn’t help but to smile by himself.
They made their way down the musty graffiti covered hallway again, as Diego’s obese sisters returned with plastic bags that reeked of deep fried something? as they passed them midway - a strange squeaking sound came from the apartment, they had just left.
The girls stopped and looked back at them; to see if they that had done something to their brother! Ali and Josh turned and looked back in direction of the apartment.
The noise that no doubt was made by Vinnie, sounded more like a robot in pain now! the sound was eerily disturbing and Ali felt the hairs on his neck stand up, the girls ran to the apartment and locked themselves in. The drug scoring duo had almost reached the elevator, When they heard a loud scream from the girls as they opened the door -
¨¨Fuuuck!!! What the hell are you doing to Vinnie!?! You freaking puta!¨¨
Ali noticed the smirk on Josh’s face, as they entered the piss stinking elevator that took them to the bottom floor.
Outside again, Ali gave him back the money he had left from buying the drugs, the sun had risen completely now, and had started its punishment of the much tested citizens.
They leaned against the hummer, while Ali asked him if he were sure he wanted to come with him to see ‘that Prophet?’ Josh noticed how the projects were flooded with billboards announcing the new Dice & Slots chain opening soon, ‘’casinos seemed to be all the rage among the poorer part of town?’’ he pondered.
They got into the now more discreetly colored hummer, Ali punched the address from the cardboard into the GPS, Josh took a double shot of Rancor, it seemed that they were heading for the desert to look for some answers from that, Prophet! located Somewhere between Los Angeles and Las Vegas.
Trip to the Prophet
As they left the busy intersection, the traffic cleared up, and before long they more or less had the long desolated road in front of them entirely to themselves.
It also became apparent to the two guys how little they in fact had in common: besides being on the run.
¨¨You know man! I could drop you off at one of those small towns that we sometime pass here.¨¨
Josh shook his head…
¨¨No, but I mean, you could lay low for awhile with the rest of cash, there’s quite a bit left, I bet no one’s gonna recognize you out here?¨¨
Josh looked disapprovingly at him. -
¨¨Are you fucking kidding me? everyone’s gonna recognize me out here!
Do you think these people have anything else to do besides, checking gossip all day long? I’d be recognized instantly!¨¨
¨¨Well… I didn’t recognize you, but whatever, dude!¨¨
Josh rolled his eyes at him again, and loaded the vaporizer with a new vial of Rancor.
He closed his eyes, -
¨¨No I’ll come with you, I really don’t care what happens, I’m already dead.¨¨
Ali glared at the Rancor casualty, as he pressed the cruise control bottom, so he could get a capsule in the shooter.
¨¨Besides I’ll have a better chance to hide back in LA; I’m just not sure what to do yet, I’ll just stick around for now.¨¨
He looked out at the barren wasteland that was the desert, it looked more prosperous to him, than his future!
Ali had made a good use of the cruise control of the hummer; he had made sure to take a shot of LIQ-THC every ten minutes at least, out of the brown bag he had placed on top of the dashboard - so he was nicely sedated when he swung the Hummer onto a dirt road some half hour later.
They kept going for what seemed a good long while on a plain old dirt road, when suddenly they were both yanked violently forward - slamming their heads into the dashboard!
Ali was still a second away from passing out as the door was flung open and what looked like a girl in a silver suit knocked him out with the grip of a gun.
They awoke minutes later by buckets of cold water being splashed in their faces. They now sat back to back with their hands tied on their backs inside a circle formed by silver clad girls, who were pointing various guns directly at them, an older guy with a graying goatee dressed in desert army fatigue gear, stepped into the circle and brutally raised them to their feet.
He bit down on a stump of cigarillo - his eyes were covered behind wraparound shades, in colors reminiscent those of petrol spilled upon asphalt.
¨¨Argh, what the hell happened?!?¨¨
They glanced back at the hummer, which had it’s front tires impaled by metal spears that had been triggered to pop up from the dusty road, the kind of old school equipment you would see at primitive third world embassies.
The man got right up close and personal to Ali, no doubt eyeballing him behind the shades.
¨¨I’m watching you!¨¨
He hissed still with the cigarillo between his teeth, poking Ali in the chest punctuating each sentence, one of the girls stepped forward, introducing herself as Lilly. Telling the sturdy man whom she called Hank to back off.
¨¨Welcome to the Spam ranch, guys! Follow me; I’ll give you the tour.¨¨
she walked in front of them informing them of the place they had entered as she kept turning around smiling like a professional tour guide, the sun came down hard while they walked with their hands tied on their backs by plastic strips supplied with a girl guard each, who gave them the occasional push to the back with the tip of a gun whenever they walked too slowly.
She introduced the silver clad weapon strapped entourage that followed them as the Dandelions, each of them named after some flower?
Lilly pointed to some strange looking objects far ahead of them, it surprised them both, that they had not been able to spot them from the Hummer…?
As they came nearer they could make them out to be in the shapes of what looked like silvery spacecrafts? who were scattered in a square like formation, it seemed like they had crashed some time ago, side skirts, wings and windows was missing and what looked like black traces caused by fire adorned most of them.
Some Bedouin like tents were scattered around the area, and in the middle some girls were working on what looked like a thirty feet tall sculpture, attaching wires to what looked like the head of the sculpture.
One of the silver clad girls walked up to Josh, introducing herself as Trish - he recognized her as one of Jessica’s annoying valley friends, remembering something vaguely about how she had disappeared months ago.
¨¨Oh my God - Josh? Is that really you, it’s so strange to see you out here?¨¨
¨¨Yeah well… I¨¨
¨¨So are you and Jessica still together?¨¨
Before he could answer, she continued -
¨¨You know, I always thought you were kinda cute in your own way.¨¨
She sounded slurry in her voice and her pupils were dilated, just like his own.
¨¨Well I dunno, err… we kinda had a,¨¨
She grabbed his arm, giving it a friendly squeeze, biting her lower lip.
¨¨Well if the Prophet says it’s okay, I’d like to fuck you!¨¨
He looked baffled at her?
¨¨Cause you know, like… the Prophet says that - fucking is the most honest way of displaying ones’ affection; it will bring you closer to divinity!¨¨
Beneath her slurred speech, she still sounded like the annoying whiny valley girl. He asked her how she had ended up out here? and she told him the story of how someone had introduced her to the teachings of the Prophet at a rave, where she had come just to score some Buzzo! So she had wanted to check out what it was all about? and she had simply never returned home,
Josh nodded as she confided that she was so much happier now!… and also the Hallucinogens and love-drugs that the Prophet produced himself, were much cleaner and stronger than anything you could get your hands on back in LA.
¨¨Come on: in here!¨¨
Lilly waved for them to follow her, the troop of silver clad girls followed inside what looked like a giant, round space shuttle,
Trish squeezed his arm, comforting him as she whispered in his ear, -
¨¨Don’t be scared ok, he’s just so full of cosmic wisdom. I think he is an alien?¨¨
Inside of the vehicle - the daylight had been almost completely shut out.
In the middle of the room on top of a giant mushroom prop, sat an obese man wearing a tie-dye whole suit, the mop on top of his head, was a mess of his own hair braided in a myriad of colors in between artificial wires.
He sat there peacefully holding a beautiful old water pipe Containing a green liquid, in one hand.
Somewhere above him four sunrays - were shining down upon him, making him out as the focus point in the room, some sort of multi colored kaleidoscopic lightshow was being looped; on the darkened walls of the shuttle. Ali wasn’t too unfamiliar with the fast hum of the Goa-trance coming from the speakers.
Josh was held back by Trish - while two of the dandelions
pushed Ali within distance, so that the fat guy on the Mushroom prop could see him. He turned his head and glanced at the confused young Arab with the baggy black and green parachute pants.
¨¨I am the Prophet! Now tell me who are you?¨¨
He spoke with an exaggerated arrogant tone. Josh started to introduce himself, which made the Prophet hold up his free hand; as to stop him from talking!
He pointed in his direction, without looking at him. -
¨¨Who are you?¨¨
¨¨Well, my name is Ali, I thought you…¨¨
The prophet interrupted him, -
¨¨Yes - yes, but who are’ you?¨¨
Ali looked baffled.
¨¨Who are you really?¨¨
He had no idea what kind of answer the prophet was looking for?
The messy rainbow colored bundle on the top of the fat guy’s head started bopping in the rays of light that was projected from holes in the ship. His obese corpus sat in motion and soon the weird fat guy, was laughing at the top of his lungs, he then slid clumsily down the mushroom that was clearly made of Styrofoam.
He went over to Ali, padding him friendly on the shoulder, searching his eyes with a piercing stare, which could not be read since he wore Blaze contact lenses, commonly used at raves; the trippy kind that constantly shifted between colors and smiley symbols -
the Prophet shook Ali’s shoulder, in a jovial way, with his big ring adorned hand. -
¨¨Come on man! Don’t you remember it?¨¨
Ali looked puzzled back at him, expecting some kind of retribution similar to the one he experienced back in the car towards the house in the hills, the Prophet waited!
Before he made a, - Ta Da!! Gesture with his hands.
¨¨Alice!¨¨
Ali just kept his alerted stare?
¨¨Alice in wonderland…yea!!¨¨
Ali shook his head slowly, still expecting some pain coming his way anytime soon.
The Prophet blurted out -
¨¨Arh damn! Those damn generation gaps!¨¨
He put his hands at his hips while shaking his messy head, sporting a wide grin, his long beard had been dyed bright orange, which supported his row of golden teeth,
He laid his arm around Ali’s shoulders in a fatherly way.
¨¨Alright man, I apologize for the rough welcome, but we had to make sure you weren’t a double agent working for the Foundation, y’know.¨¨
¨¨Look I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s a…¨¨
The Prophet raised his left hand again, as to indicate silence, -
¨¨Oh! I haven’t heard anything about you, portal jumper, because I have seen’ with my own two eyes.¨¨
He widened his eyes in a dramatic way as he stared into Ali‘s again, who got the notion of some inevitably violence from one of the young dandelions who stood nearby, but nothing happened; the paranoia pill was the last one to wear off its effect…
Carefully he asked the colorful figure, -
¨¨Seen what?¨¨
A bit tired the Prophet responded, -
¨¨Well, portal jumping of course! that’s what you did for the Foundation!¨¨
¨¨But no, I - I - don’t even remember having met those guys before, except those two suits who took me to the hotel,¨¨
The Prophet tilted his head.
¨¨Honest! I swear I don’t know why any of this is happening?¨¨
He tried his best to keep the stress under control, the prophet was taking notes; Listening patiently, -
¨¨So why did you come here?¨¨
¨¨I was hoping you could tell me that! those err… Foundation guys - I guess? weren’t into answering anything.¨¨
the Prophet nodded condescendingly, -
¨¨I want you to meet Brain, He’s our hacker; he will fill you in on things!¨¨
They went outside the spacecraft where the merciless sun treated them like ants being tortured by a sadistic kid holding a mirror glass,
they started to cross the yard where the silver clad girls were building the giant sculpture, which Ali now realized had some kind of crude resemblance to the prophet; with all those wires being attached onto its head.
The sound of banging against metal was broken by the roar of motorcycle engines!
A dust cloud arose from the dirt road from which they had been led up, and soon a dozen motorcycles were circling the premises, they came to a halt - One of the bikers threw his bike in the dirt, and ran towards the Prophet and Ali; screaming - wielding a gun, he tackled him and jumped on top of him. pointing the gun in his face shouting! -
¨¨I’ll bloody kill you, you goddamn Paki-faggot!!¨¨
¨¨Funny you should call me’ faggot? since you’re the one with sperm on your breath!¨¨
Spyder cocked the antique replica-gun at the same time as the prophet cocked his, and aimed it at the back of Spyder’s shaven head.
¨¨Drop it Spyder! You kill him, and I kill you!¨¨
Spyder was grinding his teeth with rage, fuming, -
¨¨You have no idea what he made us do? You would do the same, if you were me!¨¨
the Prophet smiled satisfied with himself, for about what he was about to say, -
¨¨No Spyder, Cause first off! I would be doing the job I was sent to do, instead of fucking my own brother!¨¨
¨¨Why, why… How did you know?¨¨
¨¨Cause Brain is still monitoring the room, you stupid Nazi-prick!¨¨
Spyder was about to say something, but the Prophet continued -
¨¨I didn’t see the Paki do anything? You’re a gang of degenerates as far as I’m concerned.¨¨
¨¨Fuck you!¨¨
¨¨Ready to go again already? no Spyder I think I’ll pass, but ask one of the baldies from your little fag gang!… our deal is still on!
But move the gun away from him right fucking now, or I’ll have my dandelions shoot each and every one of you!¨¨
Spyder looked around, seeing about the same amount of silver clad girls as there were Nazi bikers - each pointing a modified weapon at the humiliated Aryans.
He stood off - reassuring the prophet that he better keep his word! telling him to get on with his business.
The prophet helped Ali back on his feet, as he was still cuffed from behind.
¨¨Ok, now - let’s go see Brain.¨¨
They went inside a more cigar shaped shuttle, half covered in dirt - half covered in desert camouflage slur. Inside of it sat the guy called: Brain, surrounded by five old laptops, in front of him, his fingers scaled over the keyboards - spanning two of them. On the wall a stupid looking white mask with a moustache and broad smile caught his attention, the words: ‘we are legion’ was scribbled underneath.
The prophet went over and whispered something to Brain, who then addressed Ali; a bit distraught, -
¨¨Just what the hell does that mean - you don’t remember anything?!?¨¨
¨¨Well… I just don’t know what the hell is going on?¨¨
¨¨So you don’t remember if you gave the device to the Foundation or not?¨¨
it was now Ali’s turn to become annoyed!
¨¨No! I don’t know what the fuck is going on at all! why the hell don’t somebody take a fucking minute to explain it to me!¨¨
Brain removed his thick Dutch taped, black rimmed classes and massaged his eyes, -
¨¨Are you shitin’ me dude! Am I to believe that you can’t remember a goddamn thing!¨¨
Ali threw a tantrum.
¨¨Why the fuck! do you think I drove all the way out in the fucking desert you fucking moron; if I weren’t looking for answers, I damn fucking well wouldn’t be here you fucking idiot!!!¨¨
Brain looked like a man that had given up completely, as he slumped back down in the old gamer chair with the built-in monitors, the Prophet exchanged a worried look with Brain, who shrugged his shoulders, and responded, -
¨¨Well… Plan B - then I guess?… let’s give it a try!¨¨
Brain got up from the heavily duct taped chair, that seemed to be his domain alone, he put on a hat that looked like it was made of tinfoil, which looked huge against his skinny body, the fat guy winked at Ali to come along, they left the cigar shaped vehicle and headed back towards the mothership.
¨¨Don’t worry man I’ll explain everything once we get back, I believe you… just calm down.¨¨
Again he padded him on the shoulder, like they had been pals for years. He asked the Prophet, -
¨¨These space ships, how come they are just laying around, does all this have to do with aliens?¨¨
The colorful leader of the community gave him a disappointed look, -
¨¨Are you serious? do you think we’re nuts, man! These are old film props. There’s no such thing as aliens, just another government fabricated lie to detract from what was really going on?¨¨
He smiled a quick better knowingly smile.
Brain added an ‘Amen - to that!’
While Brain rolled up an old school joint outside, the Prophet talked a little about how he had been a DJ in Tel-Aviv, dedicated to the wisdom found in the combination of Hallucinogens and Goa-trance.
He had played a rare gig in Los Angeles, the day Israel had been nuked by its hostile neighbors - he had lost everything but he had started looking for answers and had found quite a bit already, after he had to make America his new home some twelve years ago, just as the war broke out in Europe.
Brain went inside the round mothership, the prophet stopped Ali; he attained a serious expression.
¨¨Listen I know that you’re confused right now, but I have faith in you, son. And I know what you’re thinking! crazy fat-ass with a crazy hairdo.
And his harem of dandelions is nothing but acid fried runaway bitches from rich families’ right?… ok, perhaps there’s some truth to that!
But it is also true that each and every one here, are true believers in your abilities, cause they have all witnessed your abilities!¨¨
Ali was still waiting for the real info.
¨¨When we get inside again, it’s profoundly mandatory that you have faith in my Plan-B, alright! I need you to trust me if the device falls in the hands of the Foundation…¨¨
The Prophet shook his head in a dramatic sense, and padded him on the back to go get inside, he whispered to him that he needed not worry about the Nazi gang, since he would never complete the deal he had made with them…?
Inside the mothership, the Nazis had grouped in one corner, five of the dandelions were strategically placed, one at each corner of a big circle formed by some laser light that shot out from somewhere underneath the ceiling.?
Brain, was messing with some primitive looking hand held device, which Ali figured was the light show controller.
The prophet led him towards the center of the circle, giving him a wink of the eye, and a final pad on the back. He then crawled back on top of his kitschy mushroom prop. The room fell silent: As the prophet raised his hand - pointing to Ali, and began to speak up loudly, for everyone to hear, -
¨¨Okay listen up portal jumper! you seem to have forgotten quite a bit this past week?… However I, and everyone in this room believe that you still possess those magical powers, and I believe that under the right amount of stress you will be able to rise to the occasion, so to speak!¨¨
Ali realized that what he had just taken for a random laser-light formation was in fact a pentagram that he only knew all to well, since those were the marked portals you used to enter - into other worlds, in his favorite tres console game - ‘Dimensions.’
¨¨Now as I count down from ten! - I want you to focus, with all your might on doing a portal jump,¨¨
¨¨But listen that is crazy! fuck man, I can’t… it’s nothing but a goddamn game!¨¨
The prophet raised his hand for silence.
¨¨Or my five beautiful dandelions here, will open fire at you,¨¨
¨¨Now wait a goddamn minute, you crazy fuck!¨¨
¨¨Concentrate young man! Ten, nine, eight.¨¨
Ali shifted from one foot to another, as he realized that the dandelions guns were following his every move, furthermore the effect of the fly pill had waned off. So he was just his plain old self again, moving around in heavy Sawex boots,(which didn’t helped the matter.)
- The noisy sound of rotor blades was heard from at least two aircrafts outside, which came down quickly.
The deafening sound was soon followed by an ear splitting explosion on the left side of the mothership.
At lest two dandelions was killed by the explosion, instantly - red laser beams swept the darkened room, targeting the half a dozen armed dandelions inside, who were quickly taken out by loud gun fire that came from the transmitting end of the laser beams.
The Nazis all surrendered and fell to their knees, the violent raid was over before it had really begun; only scattered rounds were now fired outside the spaceship, and a few screams was to be heard.
A group of black clad soldiers strategically entered the ship and pacified the two surviving dandelions and the Nazi gang; soon after a command yell, rang out in the ship. -
¨¨¨All clear Sarge!¨¨
A tall man wearing a red beret entered the room, he marched towards the Styrofoam mushroom, which the Prophet who had sought shelter underneath, when the shooting had erupted.
He grabbed the edge of the prop and started kicking the tie-dyed fatman accentuating each kick with a swear word.
After a lot of screaming and begging from the mess of multi colored hair and tie-dye, he let up the punishment,
- With great determination he marched over to Ali, who he instantly punched in the guts, pulling his head backwards by way of his dark blue bangs, as he fell to his knees.
Had he had any air in his lungs he’d probably have used the strength of it to throw up spontaneously right there!
The Prophet crawled out from underneath the mushroom prop, that had been cut in half due to the ‘’friendly fire’’ by one of the dandelions that had shot at the intruders.
He began to beg the man who had just punished him to spare their lives, all the while he hysterically cried.
His crazy eyes scanned the room seeing the spread of dead silver clad girls everywhere.
The sight made him cry out -
¨¨My poor beautiful dandelions…¨¨
Josh was still sitting next to Trish, who had barely gotten up and aimed her pistol before she had taken a round to the chest, almost automatic he fished up two vials from the backpack between his feet, and loaded the vaporizer, while trembling violently - as he tried ignoring her dead body.
The man with the red beret largely ignored the Prophet and hissed into Ali’s ears -
¨¨Listen to me boy! If you try any more stunts like that you pulled earlier with my employer, I’ll pump you full of lead, you hear me!?!¨¨
¨¨You could also ask if you could pump one of the Nazis, they seem to be into that macho-pump stuff?¨¨
Still yanking his head backwards in an uncomfortable position with his left hand, he did not hesitate for a second, as he punched Ali straight out, using his free hand.
- ¨¨Pointdexter!!¨¨
A smaller soldier wearing heavy black rimmed classes and a whole lot of hardwired gear attached to his uniform, ran towards him; shouting yes’ Sarge!
¨¨Gimme a damage control stat!¨¨
The man referred to as Sarge pulled a fresh cigar from his left font pocket and lit it up with a micro blow torch, all the while - Poindexter read him the enemy casualty count, which made the Prophet sob even harder than he already did.
¨¨So what’s your analysis of the situation? Pointdexter.¨¨
He stood closer to the man, so no one could hear his words, Sarge nodded. It was clear that he was the one giving the orders, but Poindexter was the brains behind their moves.
Sarge gave Pointdexter a manly clap on the shoulder, saying well done. He then walked the room shouting for who was the leader of the Nazis gang; Spyder stood up a bit reluctantly.
¨¨I need you to do exactly as I say now, if you stray from my orders I will hunt you and your little gang down, you understand what I‘m saying boy!¨¨
Spyder nodded, he was both outnumbered and outgunned at the same time, he agreed without any trace of defiance.
Pointdexter took over and told Brain to get some white spray-paint, some cardboard and a carpet cutter; a soldier went with Brain to his shuttle to access the required items.
Sarge had returned to the sobbing, Prophet - whom he now lectured like a little scared kid, while two of his soldiers’ dragged Ali’s unconscious body towards one of the two choppers outside, in which they strapped him to a seat in the open cabin.
A couple of minutes later Pointdexter held workshop with the Nazis outside the mothership, he had made a stencil in the cardboard spelling: The Foundation’ and he now asked for the Aryan gang to remove their flights and leather jackets so he could spray the design on their backs.
While the paint dried up, Sarge lined up - a startled Brain along with the entire skinhead gang, as well as the Prophet and his two remaining dandelions who were dissolving in tears.
¨¨Now listen up you friggin’ space cakes!… none of what happened here today get’s out! Or my platoon will come back ‘pay you a visit!¨¨
He walked back and forth in front of the people lined up,
¨¨If you think you can get away with telling anyone of these events? you‘re even more wrong than this haircut!¨¨
He slapped the big bulk of hair and wires on top of the sobbing Prophet’s head,
¨¨Do I make myself absolutely sparkling clear!¨¨
The prophet had lost his confident stance from earlier; he now looked down, as he nodded like a broken man. The dandelions tried their best to hold back their tears, but seemed unable to stop from crying.
He addressed the Prophet -
¨¨Half of my platoon will stay behind, help you to bury the casualties, since we don’t wanna attract attention to our operation, do we have an agreement, or should we dig four more graves already?¨¨
¨¨No sir’… we have an agreement, mums the word, you have my word.¨¨
The prophet tried doing some ‘cross my heart’ movement that went wrong from the get go! Sarge looked at him in disbelief? shaking his head.
He now turned his attention to the gang.
¨¨And as for you’ boneheads goes; you will do exactly as I say. You now represent an organization known as - The Foundation’ do I make myself perfectly clear!¨¨
The entire gang nodded eagerly while the black clad soldiers were pointing their heavy firearms at them.
¨¨Whenever I’m through with your services, you may return to whatever you were doing, but for now it’s very important that you do as I say, if you wanna keep yourselves alive!¨¨
More nodding followed in absolute silence.
Sarge approached Spyder.
¨¨Pointdexter will provide you with spray cans and you will return to Los Angeles, where you will write; The Foundation! on the walls inside the house of - that guy!¨¨
Sarge pointed towards Josh who had almost fallen asleep against the side of the space prop.
¨¨And you will remain at those premises, until further notice, do you understand!¨¨
Spyder replied with a - yes Sir! trying respectfully to do an army salute,
Sarge knocked the air out of him, and told him off as he fell to his knees, -
¨¨Don’t try an act like a soldier, when you are nothing but a punk!¨¨
He spat in him in the face, just to let him know who was in charge.
Outside the compound Spyder freed Josh’s hands for the plastic strip, so he could hold onto him, as he would have to ride on the back of his motorcycle back to the city.
Half the platoon that was left behind, were getting the shovels out of the chopper getting ready to dig graves for the dandelions, minutes later the motorcycle gang fled the Spam ranch.
So did the chopper with the still unconscious Ali, along with Sarge and Pointdexter, the apparent mastermind behind the operation, who kept busy tapping rapidly on the customized Y-pad strapped to his wrist.
When he woke up from being knocked out, they had placed a helmet on his head, which blocked out some of the noise from the heavy rotor blades, but there was no microphone attached to it, and the inside monitor had been shut off so he could not hear what Sarge was giving out of orders to his team that nodded in agreement to what they heard in their helmet monitors?
The plastic strip that tied his hands together, had begun to work its way into his wrists, it hurt, but so did most everything else on his body, since the effect of the combat pills had waned off. He leaned back into the seat.
And cursed the day.
This morning, had proven too much to handle already,
he figured that he would just go along with it for now, and hopefully at some point they would provide him with some answers or kill him?
They sat the chopper down somewhere near a small airport near the outskirts of town, from there; he parted way with Sarge and his black ops commando squad, after they had escorted him to a white stretch limo, similar to the one that had picked him up this morning outside the La Hacienda hotel.
This one sported the exact same red leather interior, but this time equipped with a team of six tanned suits, who all had their guns pointed at him. He did not speak a word for the entire ride, as the Limo drove him back to the exact same location on La Brea, from which he had already fled from two times today.
The sense of déjà vu was tiresome, and his head hurt like it had been stomped upon.
The limo went discretely down through the basement parking lot - from where he was then escorted upstairs into the still empty lobby, where a guy in a gray pinstripe three-piece suit walked towards him, sporting thin round glasses and some blond slicked back hair.
- Ali noticed the red bowtie similar to that of the old white-dressed man he had killed this morning in the hills, he felt exhausted and instead of being stricken by fear, a blanket of soothing apathy fell upon him.
The sharp dressed man with the glasses greeted him with his hand stretched out, introducing himself as -
Jonsey
Ali shook his cold hand; Jonsey looked like a man in his early fifties and spoke with a thick British accent. He asked the suits if there had been any reports of excessive behavior from him during the ride or the flight?
As it turned out to be a confirmed negative, Jonsey asked the suits to give him a moment alone with the subject, he hen escorted him towards the kitchen for a private chat. -
¨¨Alright Mr. Faruk!¨¨
¨¨Just call me Ali.¨¨
¨¨Now tell me exactly why - in your own words, why do you think we are having this conversation?¨¨
Ali thoroughly explained Jonsey, that he thought the whole thing was one big mistake, of perhaps mistaken identity? And that he had no idea what neither the Foundation, or that Prophet’ in the desert wanted from him and most of all declined to possess any portal jumping skills?
Jonsey had inspected him closely the whole time, as if trying to read his face to see if he was lying?
Ali finished his rant,
he felt relieved that for the first time today, that someone had the patience to hear him out, instead of hitting him or trying to have him shot within seconds.
Jonsey whom had taken off his glasses, and played around with one of the spring-loaded hinges between his teeth, thought for a moment, before he addressed his subject.
¨¨Just so that we are clear on one thing Mr. Faruk…Ali.¨¨
He listened to the man with the British accent,
¨¨If this reluctance on your part has anything’ to do with the already transferred amount of money agreed, then let’s not waste each others time playing this game.¨¨
Ali shook his head, declining that it had anything to do with cash.
¨¨Cause I can easily ask my employers for more money, if you want me to? if you consider this little military intervention to get you back, I hope that you do realize that money does not run short within the Foundation.¨¨
He looked over the top of his glasses that he had put back on.
Ali just kept shaking his head slowly while staring numbly at the white tiles on the kitchen floor.
Jonsey slid down from the table from where he had sat and walked towards Ali, he raised his chin with his ring and middle finger, asking for him to look at him, Ali looked into the Jonsey’s pale blue eyes that thoroughly inspected his.
¨¨We have a big problem Mr. Faruk, the biggest problem is that I actually believe you. And I feel like I should apologize to you,¨¨
Ali drew a deep sigh of relief.
¨¨First off… I should have been to the old Mr. McKinney’s house on time this morning, I sincerely apologize for the deaths you have caused, had I been there I might have been able to avoid it.¨¨
Ali more or less shrugged it off - declining the sympathy, stating that at this point none of it felt real anyways?
¨¨And let me make it perfectly clear to you. that even thou one could say, that you are the one to be held responsible for Mr. McKinney’s death. You will not be murdered, or punished any further, even thou you killed one of the founding members of the Foundation, that I promise you!¨¨
He did not trust anyone at this point; still it felt involuntary comforting to hear it, on a day where things had stopped making sense altogether, Jonsey walked around the stainless steel table towards one of the big fridges in the kitchen, and offered him a Soda, -
¨¨Cherry/watermelon is it, Mr. Faruk…Ali?¨¨
He gladly accepted, since the dryness in his mouth had become an almost permanent condition; with his back to him, the Englishman poured him a glass from the contents of the canister and threw in a couple of ice cubes. He tried handing him the beverage as he approached him again.
He Apologized as he drew a golden butterfly knife from his inner pocket and walked ‘round the chair Ali sat on and released him from the gnawing plastic strip.
¨¨The problem Mr. Faruk is that if you really don’t remember anything like you say you don‘t? Then I am in even bigger trouble than you are. Then it is I’ who have failed. And it is, I’ alone, who will receive the punishment due!¨¨
Ali took big sips of the soda; as Jonsey seemed to run out of things to say, he seized the opportunity to perhaps finally get some answers, -
¨¨‘Mind if I ask you where we supposedly, have met each other?¨¨
Jonsey, who had placed himself back on the stainless table, raised his eye brows over the top of his round academic glasses, -
¨¨Not at all, we met at the Dimensions forum, you seemed like a nutter as we say in my Country, then we spoke some more privately in the chat and that’s where you convinced me of your ability to do time travels.¨¨
Ali laughed a little nervously, asking if he were truly serious?
¨¨So are you saying that you hung out at the Dimensions forum, looking for someone who would claim that he could do portal jumps?¨¨
Jonsey did not flinch, he surprisingly nodded and said -
¨¨Mr. Faruk would you say that Dimensions would be considered a ‘geeky game’ in this time and age?¨¨
Ali consented, -
¨¨Yeah, most people I know hate it, says its gay!¨¨
¨¨Now would you be surprised if I revealed to you that the whole financing for that game, was handled solely by the Foundation!¨¨
Ali looked a little surprised?
¨¨But are you saying that…¨¨
Jonsey stopped him,
¨¨No of course not! I am not saying that anyone who would be attracted to this game have that ability, that’d be utter nonsense I agree!¨¨
He adjusted his round classes.
¨¨And I must confess that I was less than thrilled, when I was assigned to watch over this job, to be honest; I thought it sounded…¨¨
Ali smirked, as he felt more confident now in the company of the British man.
- ¨¨Stupid!?!¨¨
Jonsey nodded eagerly
¨¨Yes chap, stupid and then some!¨¨
They both laughed out some of the tension that had been built up.
Ali took the subject further, -
¨¨I mean. I’m sorry if I have actually bullshitted you into believing in this? I do hang out a lot on the Dimensions forum talking to other geeks, and maybe I have just joked with you, y’know maybe I was just being ironic, and cause you’re old and stuff, you didn’t get irony?…¨¨
Jonsey looked down like he considered it, nodding his head and smiled a little.
¨¨¨Or you know what? I might have been totally wasted, have I come straight from a rave at the docks! I might have been totally wasted y‘know, saying all kinds of bullshit?¨¨
Jonsey surprisingly agreed with him,
¨¨¨Yes, yes I know! That’s exactly what I thought; this bloke is out of his mind what bollocks? either he’s super ironic or just plainly wasted, one not excluding the other I might add.¨¨
He smiled as they both laughed again in unison.
¨¨¨So what convinced you that I actually had such skills?¨¨
¨¨Oh, to be honest. I wouldn’t have wasted another second on you, had it not been for the fact that we met.¨¨
¨¨Really! we met? I don’t remember that, where?¨¨
¨¨When!¨¨
¨¨Sorry! Come again?…I don’t follow, when?¨¨
¨¨Yes Mr. Faruk, when’ is the question! that made me arrange for a meeting with my employers, do you think I would have gone to such great lengths with a fraud, a disillusioned kid talking rubbish on a gamer forum? get real Mr. Faruk!¨¨
Jonsey had retained a more serious expression again, Ali looked puzzled -
¨¨Ok sorry, but I really don’t understand it at all? if not where! then when did we meet?¨¨
Jonsey raised his pointing finger as Ali emptied the last of his cherry/watermelon energy-coke.
¨¨Two days before Mr. Faruk, two days before I met you online, we met in real life!¨¨
¨¨Sorry, I don’t get it?¨¨
¨¨You don’t aye!! We met before we met online cause you somehow tapped into some frequency or something, I don’t know how? and you laid a hand on my shoulder at Mr. McKinney’s house!¨¨
Ali dropped his jaw he could not believe what he was hearing?
¨¨For just a couple of seconds I looked into your eyes, as you’- in a very bragging way told me - ‘see it’s real‘…¨¨
Ali shook his head in disbelief. Jonsey seemed to be losing his gentleman coolness - as his hands went stressfully through his slicked back hair, he corrected his glasses.
¨¨It felt like some weird flashback, you were gone as fast as you had been there, but before you disappeared, you told me the amount you wanted if I required your services, and that was the exact same amount you had written to me in my inbox; right at that exact moment, Mr. Faruk!¨¨
He felt a bit delirious,
¨¨So you see Mr. Faruk, I believed you then, just as I believe you now!¨¨
The blanket of apathy had disappeared and instead it felt as a panic attack was about to take its place.
Jonsey raised his voice - as he continued explaining to him the background checks he had ran on him: About his fathers’ disappearance, asking him about what he knew of his magical skills? stating that he suspected, that the portal jumping was a skill he had inherited from his father, a skill he had not mentioned to him, but a real one none the less!
Ali declined to know anything about that, stating that his father was a failed magician.
Jonsey had become agitated, -
¨¨We monitored you the whole time while you stayed in room 233!¨¨
Ali held up his hand, asking for the Englishman to stop.
¨¨Ok then why did I even stay in this hotel? why was I in that room!¨¨
¨¨I cannot answer that Mr. Faruk, cause that was part of the deal, you required a Gold-Pod worth the credit of thirty thousand dollars, and you specifically asked for room 233 at the La Hacienda, no questions asked, so I didn’t!¨¨
They stared at each other; it was beginning to sound like the start of a regular argument. He nodded slightly as he thought about what Jonsey, who was grasping at straws; had just told him.
¨¨So are you saying, that you do remember something then?¨¨
¨¨Fuck no! I don’t remember anything, Dammit!!¨¨
¨¨What about your Father then? is he the one you got the gift from is he!¨¨
Ali was swept of his feet, getting all dry throated again, -
¨¨What the hell do you know of my Father, why the hell are you bringing him into all of this!¨¨
¨¨Oh! could it perhaps be because your Father was a spectacular magician, did he help you with this scam somehow!?!¨¨
¨¨No, no fucking way! I haven’t even seen him since…¨¨
¨¨You’re his only Son, you must have inherited some of his powers!¨¨
¨¨Fuck no man! my Father… Fuck you,¨¨
The gray clad Englishman took a deep breath.
¨¨Oi, let’s come down alright, there is no point in arguing, I’m sorry Mr. Faruk, if you say that you don’t remember anything then you simply don’t remember!¨¨
Ali was startled again but felt weary and sick at the same, he was covered in sweat again, ‘’no doubt coming from the toxins leaving his body’’ he figured.
¨¨And I will not retreat to violence to make you talk, as I stated before I believe you, but my arse is on the line here, please understand that okay?¨¨
There were deep wrinkles in his forehead as he removed his glasses to massages his eyes, Ali’s mind raced as it searched for question to answers.
¨¨Ok then let’s say that everything you tell me here is legit, ‘right?¨¨
Jonsey drew a deep sigh, to keep himself in check, as he was losing the grip on his coolness.
¨¨Just what did you see if you monitored me 24-7, anything out of the ordinary?¨¨
¨¨Oh you mean besides your crazy antics, with drugs and an array of whorebots?¨¨
He nodded impatiently.
¨¨Not much Mr. Faruk. Besides that you disappeared from the room without leaving it, for minutes at a time at least five times during your week long stay.¨¨
- ¨¨I - I - I did, you sure?¨¨
¨¨Yes Mr. Faruk and if you for some reason think I’m playing games with you please consider this!¨¨
He listened carefully,
¨¨How on earth would that crazy sect or what you’d call it in the desert, know of your antics had they not tapped into the secured crypted signal? I have no idea what they are up to, but as you might have realized they are not exactly friends of the Foundation?¨¨
Ali stared straight ahead, as he considered the information.
¨¨Bionic cat got your tongue Mr. Faruk? I see that you believe me now, just as I believe you.¨¨
He felt dizzy as Jonsey took a knee before him.
¨¨But if all this happened as you say it did, then why can’t I remember any of it?¨¨
Jonsey looked him straight in the eyes, -
¨¨I believe something happened on the last portal jump you made Mr. Faruk As I mentioned, you made five portal jumps or time travels, or whatever you wanna call it?¨¨
There was sympathy to be traced in Jonsey’s pale blue eyes, -
¨¨You made the last three of those five jumps in one single day; I believe - perhaps something might have happened to you on that last jump?¨¨
¨¨You were in some sort of shock as you returned from that last one, we had to revive you, we had a nurse here.¨¨
¨¨¨Wait - wait I do remember that… I think?¨¨¨
Jonsey padded him on the knee
¨¨Yes… but that’s just it Mr. Faruk, through out this conversation your only glimpse of a memory, is that of being revived by a nurse. It’s completely useless. It seems like you have lost all memory of the events?¨¨
Ali agreed silently, he felt strangely overwhelmed of the nature of the stories - the one of his father had thrown him emotionally off balance,
something that rarely happened, while the rest of them was just too much to take in.
¨¨Think of me what you will Mr. Faruk - but I am a man of my words, and I will take the blame for failure of this mission, it is I who have let my employers down…. I assure you that you will leave the hotel alive, no matter what!¨¨
Ali looked into his pale blue eyes, as he continued -
¨¨I ask of you one last thing. Mr. Faruk! please hear me out alright!¨¨¨
Jonsey combed his blond slicked-back hair, with his hands.
¨¨In the ballroom next to this kitchen which we are in; the very top of the Foundation is assembled to await the doomsday ritual, all they are waiting for’, is for you to fetch the missing device for them!¨¨
¨¨But I I…¨¨
¨¨Don’t interrupt me Mr. Faruk please, If you do as I say I promise that you will get out of here alive remember? Now! what is going to happen is, that in a few minutes - you and I will walk into the ballroom where you will be placed in the middle of a pentagram, from where you are supposed to do a portal jump.¨¨
Ali wiggled at the memory of the last pentagram he had found himself in.
¨¨yeah but I,¨¨
Jonsey raised his voice again -
¨¨I said don’t bloody interrupt me lad!… I am trying to save your life here, so listen up! Now we both bloody well know that your memory is scrambled and the chance that you will be able to do a time travel is well nil. But please for my sake, try to concentrate and do your best!
That is all I ask of you Mr. Faruk. If it doesn’t work, you have my word of honor that I will get you out of here alive alright!¨¨
He gestured that Ali could speak again - who consented with a yes.-
¨¨Allrighty’ then, let’s get to it old chap, and don’t be too startled by their dramatics, the Foundation is all for the flare of things.¨¨
He made for Ali to stand up, they exited the kitchen and were quickly joined by the crew of the tanned suits, as they were escorted into the ballroom. And the ritualistic ancient looking -
Ceremony
There were no windows in the ballroom, the lights were dim, and a huge pentagram was painted on the floor, this one at least five times bigger, than the one he had been placed in, at the space prop back in the desert.
In an asymmetrical pattern - some five characters clad in scarlet red drapes with hoods completely covering their faces, stood where the five pointy edges met the circle; three of the draped silent figures stood staring straight ahead. Ali thought their curves suggested that they were females?
Jonsey had told him to keep his cool but he found it easier said than done, due to the unsettling surroundings.
He felt sick to his stomach from the heavy incense and the air smothering flames coming off the black candles; that were lit everywhere.
He started to sweat heavily again; cold sweat, his worn out rave gear had been pressed to the limit of what the fabric was able to absorb of sweat and it felt stiff against his skin.
The gray clad Jonsey, led him to the center of the circle as he had said he would. He told him to relax as he exited the pentagram.
He heard a voice and looked towards the end of the ballroom, then felt the hairs on his arms stand straight up, it now felt as the entire room started to spin as he looked into the eyes of the white gorilla - who stared back at him from the corner of the room with its sad pale blue eyes.
On a plateau in between the albino ape and the opposite wall, on tall chairs, sat some three old men swept in scarlet red drapes, they looked to be somewhat the same age of Mr. McKinney back in that house in the hills.
He felt he began to slip in and out of consciousness, as the old man in the middle informed him that ‘they were the high priests of the Foundation and they expected him to deliver what he had promised.
He fell to his knees, panic overwhelmed him as the atmosphere got the best of him. he felt the cold sweat all over as it blended with the nausea.
Jonsey shouted at him to concentrate on doing the portal jump! he focused with all his might, his thoughts were scattered, he saw everything and nothing at the same time, everything blurred before his eyes.
‘’you will deliver end bringer, or you will die!‘’
That was the last words he heard before everything went black
Hasta La Hacienda
‘’run, run’’
Like a voice in his head,
followed by real shouting -
¨¨Don’t let him get away!!¨¨
He looked around he was on his feet again. He quickly scanned the room, he held a warm gun in his hand, two of the high priests lay on the ground; they did not move.
The big ape had a big scarlet colored spot in the chest area on its snow white fur, its pale eyes were half shut, and only three of the six suits were still standing tall, the others squirmed in pain on the floor.
He realized it was Jonsey that had shouted the order - ‘’to not let him get away’’
He tried to aim and fire in direction of the suits, but the pistol in his hand clicked empty, he threw it at them and made a run for it out of the ballroom, he could hear their footsteps behind him on the marble floor, he ran into the empty lobby and through the swing doors and out onto the busy sidewalk that was La Brea avenue this time of day.
Still a bit dizzy, as he ran across the road in between cars honking their horns, he ran all he could without looking back,(but he could sense they were following him,) some two blocks later he stumbled over his own feet in the intersection he was about to cross, all out of breath!…
Stricken by panic he looked back, he could not see any immediate followers but he knew they were close!
A small crowd had gathered around him as he threw a fit in sheer panic, imagining that one of them would suddenly attack him, that one of them was working for the Foundation.
Suddenly he felt a strong grip at his arm from behind, he tried pulling his arm free, but someone grabbed him from the front, asking for him to calm down…
Before he could freak out completely, they informed him that they were officers from the LAPD and that he was safe! he gazed at the two men that had grabbed him, as the crowd was breaking up around him.
They wore the characteristic uniforms and hats of the LAPD, they led him back to the sidewalk, as traffic slowly started to move again.
Pleading for him to calm down, asking for his name? if he was hurt or if he had been hit by a car?
He shook his head as he caught his breath in between heavy panting, he told them that he was alright - But it was urgent that they listened to what he had to say!
¨¨Is someone after you sir! who were you running from?¨¨
¨¨I - I don’t know where they are now officer? but there are others back at the hotel!¨¨
¨¨And which hotel would that be sir?¨¨
The two cops were an odd mix of what appeared to be an old Irish and a young black man, in his late twenties.
¨¨The Hacienda on La Brea!¨¨
The two cops looked at each other suspiciously, he noticed their looks, -
¨¨Why, what’s the matter! why you don’t believe me?¨¨
A short interval of awkward silence followed, except the sound of heavy panting coming from him.
¨¨Calm down sir.¨¨
The old Irish cop took over, -
¨¨We didn’t mean to say that we didn’t believe you… but are you absolutely sure, that you mean the Hacienda?¨¨
¨¨yes - yes, I’m sure its the La Hacienda!¨¨
¨¨Alright! if you say so, and exactly who are we supposed to be looking for when we get there, and why is it that someone is after you?¨¨
He had gotten the heavy panting somewhat under control by now, but he still felt strangely dizzy as he leaned against the patrol car.
¨¨You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but you’ll see when we get there, you might wanna call for backup!¨¨
They looked at him again somewhat overbearing; their enthusiasm had waned a bit.
¨¨What you recon we do O’ Reilly?¨¨
The young black cop asked his senior, as he ran a check on Ali‘s name in the records.
¨¨Let’s just take a look.¨¨
The younger cop eyed Ali, as to say that he knew his kind;(druggies that is!)
They escorted him into the police car and advised him to keep calm, as they drove straight to the hotel and parked outside the entrance with the brass galvanized swing doors, he claimed to have run out off; minutes ago.
¨¨Will you be so kind, Mosley?¨¨
The young black cop sighed as he got out of the vehicle and gave Ali ‘’a look that indicated that he believed it was a waste of time.’’
Mosley went inside the swing doors as Ali addressed the older cop behind the steering wheel.
¨¨I’m serious man! you really ougtha call for backup! they have guns and what not, and there is at least three of them still alive!¨¨¨
Without turning his head the old cop who had been around the block a couple of times, and carried the attitude of someone who was about to retire soon; asked him, -
¨¨So you say three of them are still alive, what happened to the others?¨¨
¨¨I - I - think, err… that I shot them, but I’m not sure!¨¨
¨¨Hmm… you don’t remember if you actually shot someone or not?¨¨
¨¨No officer… well yes; I’m sure I did.¨¨
¨¨So who are those people?¨¨
Much to Ali’s surprise officer Mosley returned safely from the swing doors only seconds later, he let Ali out as officer O’ Reilly joined them at the sidewalk. Asking him, -
¨¨Exactly who are we supposed to be looking for, Mr. Faruk?¨¨
¨¨Isn’t it obvious!!! Did you see the ballroom? for fucks sake man!¨¨
Officer Mosley pressed him up against the cop car waving his finger in his face, telling him to chill out or they would book his ass instantly.
Officer O’ Reilly took over, -
¨¨Ok listen pal, we haven’t got all day so let’s get this over with! You will calm down and as we go inside, you will point out whoever it is that are after you okay?¨¨
His heart was pounding as they made their way though the swing doors.
Welcome to the La Hacienda
Inside - the lobby was buzzing with activity since it was the holidays. guests were checking in, bellhops in traditional red uniforms were carrying luggage, and some faint easy listening Tafelmusak was to be heard from nowhere in particular.
He felt weak, like he was about to collapse.
¨¨Ok! see anyone you recognize?¨¨
¨¨No - No - No what the fuck? It has all changed! this cannot be?¨¨
His eyes hectically searched the marble covered lobby of random people he had never seen before, and who hadn’t been there just a while ago!
he felt sick, he heard the sound of the elevator from where an older couple stepped out, his eyes fell on the concierge; whom he pointed to as he shouted.
¨¨Look that’s him! that guy behind the counter with the slicked back hair!¨¨
The people in the lobby looked in direction of the shouting for a second, before they returned to their whereabouts, the officers gave him a suspicious look, Mosley lifted an eyebrow.
¨¨The hotel concierge you mean? the man who is checking those peoples reservations!¨¨
¨¨Yea - yea, his name is Jonsey, he’s British!¨¨
Mosley looked at Ali with an expression that signaled that he was about to boil over,
¨¨So you’re telling us that the concierge, is the same guy who chased you down the avenue, minutes ago?¨¨¨
Ali tried his best to keep his anger suppressed as he hissed thru gritted teeth, -
¨¨No not him! but he knows what’s going on, will you pleeeease!… just go and ask him, you’ll see!¨¨
The threesome approach the desk, Ali was about to get into a rage when officer Mosley lectured him yet again of the consequences!
The man had the features of Jonsey,(except for the glasses and blue eyes,) furthermore he was wearing a regular suit and tie, asking the officers: if he could help them?
O’ Reilly took the word, -
¨¨Yes sir - first off; is your name, Jonsey?¨¨
¨¨No officer - my name is Brolin, Ray Brolin, how may I assist you!¨¨
The man behind the desk seemed to speak with a slight southern drawl.
O’ Reilly pointed to Ali at his side, -
¨¨Have you seen this kid before!¨¨
The concierge took a quick look, -
¨¨No sir, I’m pretty sure I haven’t, what is this about if I may ask?¨¨
Ali threw a minor fit as officer Mosley restrained him.
¨¨His lying! ask him to see the ballroom!¨¨
Officer Mosley ordered him to shut his mouth, or he would be arrested right there! telling him that they had already been patient with him.
¨¨Are you a British citizen Mr. Brolin?¨¨
¨¨No officer, I am not, born and bred in Texas, as my accent may still reveal, came to Los Angels just after the Mex-war, no point in staying after the reds took over.¨¨
The officer nodded, asking him one more time if he was sure he had never seen Ali before? Mr. Brolin declined one more time.
Ali then accused the concierge of wearing contacts! Hesitantly: O’Reilly leaned closer to the man to inspect his dark eyes, but found, that it was yet another false accusation.
They asked permission to see the ballroom if he did not mind?
the service minded concierge had someone fill in for him at the desk, as he personally took them to the ballroom.
Only Ali was shocked that the ballroom was filled with dinning tables, a few waiters were making some final adjustments for the banquet tonight. There was no trace of the thick incense and the myriad of lit candles and certainly no white dead ape or people?
The two officers had seen enough as Ali panicked and started accusing the man of conspiring against him, shouting at him to reveal his employer: ‘that Foundation sect? officer Mosley then had enough and cuffed him.
Ali kept shouting at the concierge! demanding to know how he had done it, since the hotel had been completely abandoned for a week?
As the officers were about to drag him out of there, the man whom he had taken for Jonsey, asked the cops to wait…
Telling them that the hotel had in fact been abandoned a week ago.
The experienced Officer O’Reilly, took the word again, -
¨¨So the hotel had actually been abandoned as he claims?¨¨
¨¨Yes officer, we just opened again a week from today actually! perhaps the young man had been here during that period? we recently had an incident…¨¨
O’ Reilly folded his arms and sharpened his ears, even Ali was listening,
¨¨You see two days before the grand re-opening, we found one of the rooms had been broken into, and inhabited for what looked like quite some time, probably after the interior people had sealed off that floor. I believe it was Room 233?¨¨
Ali’s eyes flickered, his mouth went even drier than it already was.
¨¨Was there anything missing from the room?¨¨
¨¨Not as such, but we did find rather sizeable quantities of various drug paraphernalia!¨¨
¨¨Were this incident ever reported to the police?¨¨
¨¨No it wasn’t, officer.¨¨
O’ Reilly then asked him why?
As Mr. Brolin ran a hand through his slicked back hair, Ali resisted the impulse to react.
¨¨You see officer, reputation is everything in this business, if you were to re-open a prestigious luxury hotel, which held proud traditions, would you leak to anyone, that only a week prior: A junkie had broken into one of the rooms and lived there doing all sorts illegal activity?¨¨
Officer O’ Reilly nodded, - ¨¨do you wish to press charges Mr. Brolin.¨¨
¨¨No sir, besides; nothing was stolen or broken, it just needed a very comprehensive cleaning. But I do require that the young man will stay off the premises for the future, or charges will’ be brought against him.¨¨
The two police officers thanked Mr. Brolin for his time as they escorted Ali back to the police car. They put him in on the back seat again, with his hands still cuffed behind his back.
He instantly began ranting again, about how the man inside was Jonsey, how he had to be! Rambling on about some kind of conspiracy against him?!?
The young agitated cop - immediately told him to shut the fuck up!
The two officers discussed for a minute if they should take Ali downtown and book him. But it seemed like neither of them had the desire to.
Officer Mosley turned to Ali, -
¨¨Ok you are looking for answers you little punk. Here’s how I see it: you are a spoiled little dope head, who eyed your chance to take a week of from your sorry ass life, somehow catching a break to do a lot of drugs, that you had either stolen or murdered someone for, possibly both!¨¨
- He felt disoriented again, dizzy, nauseous and overwhelmed by the urge to go to sleep, to make it all disappear.
The young cop commanded him to pay attention; to what he said!
¨¨So, you broke into a sealed off hotel, and had your own little party for a couple of days… The way I see it; you’re one lucky bastard! you got away with doing it, and the hotel management did not report it. They even cleaned up your goddamn mess!¨¨
He looked down at his heavy black Sawex boots, wishing he was home, far away from La Brea and this fucked up day! He had lost the will to fight back, as the angry young officer went on, - demanding that he paid attention him when he spoke to him, -
¨¨And right now you are probably way too fucked up on the rest of your stash, so that you don’t have anything on you, that we can book your sorry ass for!?! I’m telling you punk; druggies like you are rarely that lucky, you hear me!¨¨
Ali had lost the will to argue, he just sat there in silence with hands cuffed behind his back, the strip marks from earlier had began to hurt again.
¨¨And here is one more thing, as we ran your name with the central! it seems like you still live with your Mom in Inglewood; is that correct? ¨¨
He silently nodded, staring out the window at the people who walked by.
¨¨So since the LAPD is just about the nicest police force in the entire country, what we’re gonna do is; to take you home to your broke ass Momma in the projects, without any charges being pressed.¨¨
He uttered a muffled sound from his dry throat.
¨¨However! if you speak as much as one more word of your crazy ass ramblings, I will personally beat the shit out of you, and make it look like self-defense. Do I make myself perfectly clear to you? you little punk ass bitch!¨¨
He nodded and replied a reluctant yes sir‘, as officer O’ Reilly speeded out of there and headed towards one of many projects in Inglewood…
- The cops gave a brief explanation to his Mom as he went into the small worn out house; near the big shopping mall.
He fixed himself a Cherry/Watermelon energy-coke from the fridge, and slumped down on the old worn out couch, his Mom came back in and closed the front door with the seven locks, while the cop car skidded out of the driveway.
She went over to the stove, asking if he was hungry? she looked at his sad frown as he did not respond, she asked him ‘’what’s the matter’’ and advised him semi-detached ‘’to cut down on the drugs.’’
As always she did not lecture him too much on how to behave, always trying her outmost to avoid confrontations, that would lead to arguments.
¨¨Mom… I wanna ask you something about, Dad!¨¨
A subject that was rarely brought up in the little household,
she shook her head with her back to him, rolling her eyes as she started to make some shake and bake pancakes.
¨¨Oh good Lord! now do we really need to have that same old conversation again?¨¨
¨¨No Mom, it’s not the same old…¨¨¨
¨¨For goodness sake Ali, he left us! Remember?¨¨
¨¨Mom, I said it’s not about that! would you please just listen to me for once?¨¨
She drew a deep sigh and made more noise with the frying pan than she had to.
¨¨Did Dad have some secret gift, that you have never told me about?¨¨
¨¨No dear I think I told you of all of them, like that of being a worthless - no good loser because he was a dreamer?¨¨
Back when she was twenty five, she had met Ali’s Dad in Las Vegas where her and some co-workers from the hospital from where she worked as a nurse, had held a bachelorette party during a weekend.
He had performed as a magician at ‘the Mirage.’ Where he had chosen her to be the special guest of honor for the much tried:
‘‘woman with head and feet sticking out of a box, being sawed in half’’ trick.
He had touched her hair just gently, as she had been a bit jumpy when the box had been closed shut by his professionally smiling assistant!
she thought he had been a true gentleman both during and after the performance.
He had sent her an invitation to meet him back at his dressing room, which she had accepted leaving her friends to continue the bachelorette party on their own in Sin City.
He was an old fashioned guy, he had told her how his family had escaped from Kuwait as the new regime had come into power.
He had let her in on how the magic was leaving Las Vegas, and so were the last batch of original lounge entertainers - those that did shows the old fashioned way, was becoming nothing but a mere saga…
He was completing his last stint at ‘the Mirage, and he considered giving Los Angeles a shot?
less than a month later they had moved in together at the same house, that Ali and his mother still lived in.
They had gotten married quickly and less than a year later Ali had been born.
From then off, things gradually went downhill fast. -
His premonitions that Los Angeles would become the next paradise for magicians, had turned out to be nothing but wishful thinking.
He did small hotel stints at first, while he waited for better opportunities to come his way.
The magician jobs at hotels turned into motels, which again turned into children’s birthday parties
and in the last couple of years consisted of stints at old peoples homes, combined with a second job as a taxi driver.
The little family never advanced in their living arrangements, and for the better part of those last ten years before he left the family, Ali’s mother ridiculed him a lot in front of their son, as well as behind his back to anyone who would listen.
She held him solely responsible for the failure her life had turned out to be, Ali was a true - mother’s boy, and he was not soon to reject his father’s feeble attempts at persuading his son to become something more than what he’ himself had managed.
Ali had defiantly rejected every idea his father had come up with as long back as he could remember, always looking down at him, due to his mother’s constant backstabbing routines.
He had finally left them, five years ago with only a note, saying that -
‘‘He thought he had done his best for the family, but he knew that he had failed them. He wished them the best without him being a constant burden to them.’’
¨¨You’ know just as well as I do - that your Dad was nothing but a loser! and a coward! I can’t believe that I wasted my life on him, but I did it for you… I did not want you to grow up without a Father, like all of your friends.¨¨
He nodded, on a daily basis, he was too far removed from his feelings, but today’s events along with the talk about his Father from that British man at the hotel ’’real or not’’ had stirred something inside of him.
¨¨I know that Mom, and it’s not like I want him back or anything? but something really weird happened today and I just need to know ok!¨¨
She was clearly upset as she prepared the meal for him,
¨¨I mean… I know you hate him and all, but please be honest, did he ever show you some kind of special skills?¨¨
She gave the pancake flipping a rest, asking him what exactly he wanted to know?
¨¨Like ok… did dad ever reveal to you if he could do time travels?¨¨
She looked baffled at him, hands at the hips of her nurse uniform.
¨¨Ali! Have you completely fried your brain?!?¨¨
¨¨Why can’t you just answer me, Mom!¨¨
¨¨Ok enough of this nonsense already - No Ali your Dad is the biggest loser in the world; of course he couldn’t do time travels! are you outta your mind boy!?!¨¨
He shook his head and gazed down at his dirty boots,
¨¨He couldn’t do anything! only thing he was ever good at was making me laugh, but that was in the beginning, ok,¨¨
¨¨Yeah I know, I can’t remember that?¨¨
She went back to the stove, where a pancake had almost burned itself.
¨¨You know Mom, sometimes I wonder? if had we been nicer to him, maybe he wouldn’t have left us.¨¨
She shrugged her shoulders, as she cleared her throat.
¨¨Maybe not! but he was what he was, he never amounted to anything, you know, he was a dreamer and then he became bitter.¨¨
For the first time in ages he could feel something, he had been shaken up by the events of coming so close to possibly dying. He felt saltwater forming in his eyes, his throat felt swollen as he tried to sink his spit. He took a slurp of the Cherry/Watermelon energy-coke, -
¨¨I’m not blaming you Mom, I was just as bad as you were, but we bullied him, we drove him away!¨¨
She did not turn around, -
¨¨Yes maybe we did, but if had been a real man he would have put his foot down.¨¨
¨¨I just like to think that he actually loved us both; we just didn’t know what to do with it, I mean it wasn’t his fault.¨¨
¨¨Ok - ok, Ali; enough!¨¨
Her voice was trembling, he asked her if she was crying? she waved it off with her hand, still not turning around, to face him. It struck him that it would feel weird if he had tried to comfort her, it was not the kind of relationship they had, she still treated him as her little boy.
¨¨Yeah okay Mom, I did not mean to wind you up, and I’m just saying that sometimes I do miss him, that’s all okay?¨¨
Her graying dark hair in a bun on her head bobbed, and her voice sounded strained.
¨¨Yeah, me too Ali, me too…¨¨
Before she could launch into another rant, on how he had walked out on them,(as she usually did whenever the subject was brought up.)
He got up from the couch and went to the bathroom, to splash some water on his face, and try to get a grip - now that tears were streaming down from his eyes; he did not wish for her to see him cry.
When he came back from the bathroom, she was on her way out, telling him that she was working a late shift at the hospital, and they could talk some more when she came back. He waved goodbye, still afraid to talk if his voice should crack.
He tried to eat some of the pancakes she had made him, but he felt overwhelmed by the need for sleep, he had to lie down, he went to his room and for the first time in years fell asleep without injecting some LIQ-THC first…
The Hills have lice
The skinhead motorcycle gang arrived at Jessica Woods pink house around the same time that Ali passed out from fatigue from the day‘s events.
Outside a horde of reporters from various tabloids hung around waiting for Jessica to come home, everyone was waiting for a response to last nights antics at the Riff Raff club.
The gang; now sporting The Foundation logo on their jackets drove into the small driveway where reporters jumped out of the way not to be run over.
The microphone wielding vultures immediately swarmed around Josh; the Nazis that weren’t used to that sort of attention, was shoving and throwing punches within seconds, the atmosphere had already become hostile, on a day where the relentless sun and the high humidity was getting on everyone’s nerves.
Josh fumbled thru the keys, while news reports were being streamed live. The gossip journalists were raising the question as of: ‘’who exactly were these - the Foundation! were they a rock-band or an actual gang?’’
Due to some extremely fast keyboard work of Pointdexter from a secure location - the only answer to the question was that of a cryptic, poorly done pre-set pull and drag website. With a single banner headline reading:
‘‘We are here to bring you down!’’
As they entered the House, Pointdexter immediately called up Spyder, ordering him to have three of the eleven skinheads use their cell-phones as multi angle cameras - while the others trashed the house any way they liked! as long as it looked really violent and of course remembered to use the red spray cans to write - the Foundation, on the walls,
He firmly stressed ‘’that they should be careful not to get any footage of the dead girl who’s body rested against the wall.’’
Spyder passed the orders to his gang.
Within seconds Pointdexter had hooked the cell-phone signals up to the hastily made Foundation website, spreading the link to various tabloids and every social media sites he could think off, the gang of boneheads had a heyday with the destruction, while Josh looked on disengaged.
- Outside and on various sites it was speculated just what Josh’s connection were to the ongoing mayhem? many speculated that it could be a new stunt organized by Liar skateboards, while others declined the connection, now that the legendary Rob P was locked away in a asylum; which again was speculated to be yet another stunt?
Pointdexter asked Spyder to hand over the phone to Josh; he went into the bathroom which provided some shelter from the noise of the ongoing destruction of the interior of the house.
He instructed Josh in what he wanted him to do - the mastermind of the entire operation seemed a bit taken aback, when Josh asked:
‘’what was in it for him?’’
Poindexter assured him that he would spare him the life of his parents if he did as he said.
¨¨Ok I see! so if I don’t do as you say, you will take your little army to bumfuck Idaho and kill my parents who have so clearly deserted me… wow! you really are a man of great persuasion; ‘Pointdexter‘¨¨
The way he said his name gave Pointdexter instant chills, since he had pronounced it the same way; the jocks always had addressed him in high school! taunting him because of his name and geeky stature.
The operation mastermind quickly consulted Sarge, who immediately gave him carte’ blanche - Pointdexter asked Josh what he wanted?
¨¨The thing is I don’t want anything, unless you can bring Jessica back to life?¨¨
It went silent on Pointdexter’s end of the line…
¨¨You see, as soon as her old man finds out, what I have done to his beloved daughter, he will send his men to hunt me down. So in a sense I am already dead. But I don’t give a shit anymore, you can kill my hypocritical parents, I really don’t care!¨¨
Pointdexter broke the silent intermezzo, -
¨¨I see - I see… but isn’t there anything at all you want, Josh?¨¨
¨¨Yea - drugs and loads of them! have someone bring me a ton of Rancor and Nude, and I promise you I will give you what you need, and then some!¨¨
Sarge, whom was listening inn next to him, nodded affirmatively.
Poindexter instantly confirmed his request, -
¨¨It’s a deal Josh, just hang on fifteen minutes tops!¨¨
He drew a sigh of relief; he had forgotten that he was dealing with a dissilusionised junkie, who had nothing left to lose; Sarge gave him a high five.
Barely ten minutes later one of the cities many - ‘white angels‘, which were the term used for drug delivery boys and girls using lightweight motorcycles to get around pulled up to the pink house, and handed over a brownbag to the Nazi who opened the door, the stress reducing pills the angels took to lower the high levels of paranoia,(that came with their line of work,) did not work well enough in front of the horde of reporters outside the pink house.
The bag of drugs then switched hands from a white angel to a fallen angel, as the Nazis were running out of things to destroy, and the net broadcast ratings were declining in numbers.
Josh almost overdosed on the four envelopes of Nude, it made him crazy beyond belief. He felt the urge to let out his pent up anger for the first time. He felt empowered again by the drug!
He marched out of the bathroom, ready for the mayhem he had promised.
Pointdexter had called him up on Spyder’s swastika adorned cell-phone asking him if he was ready yet?
Josh told him that he wanted to give a speech; he flipped the phone around so that he filmed his own face.
He was on a vendetta suitable for someone who had been kicked out of the garden, he was about to become a piece of negative history of the Hollywood hills,(like that of one Charles Manson a good century before him.)
He handed the phone back to Spyder ordering him to film him no matter what happened. He took a Smith & Wesson pistol out of the hands on one of the demolition crew/biker-Nazis.
He then placed himself against the wall next to where Jessica’s dead body rested.
- All over Los Angeles people were asking each other if they had actually just witnessed a dead Jessica Wood live on camera? as Josh’s hyper stoned faced was transmitted online, he greeted whatever couch slots and degenerates that might be watching this broadcast! telling people - that this was the day of reckoning, -
‘’That this was the first day of the last, as in that of: times of the last in the bible!’’
He informed the people of the city of Los Angeles, that they were going to pay for their sins, the nude removed every last barrier of normal behavior.
He then got a fresh idea, and went to the front door and called for Latisha Williams - the top reporter from Glamordirt, to take a cameraman with her and get inside the house, where the Nazi gang were tripping around, not really knowing what to do next?
As Latisha Williams saw the body of Jessica Wood; sitting against the wall she cried out in horror! She started to tremble hysterically - Josh went over to her and put his arm around her, while the Glamordirt cameraman provided the footage that was broadcasted live on the Glamordirt online channel, parallel to the signal on the Foundation site; which came directly from the footage off Spyder’s cell-phone.
Pointdexter could more or less lean back in the chair, josh was doing a way better job than he was even aware of?
¨¨Now - now, calm down Latisha.¨¨
He waved with a gesture of one who had prepared a special treat, and now proudly presented it:
¨¨You see this is where the Purge will begin? Los Angeles is infested with rodents and I’m not talking about those small creatures of God’s who lives in the sewers of this filthy city…¨¨
Latisha Williams tried to regain her calm, the best she could. adjusting her wig that was already perfect, as she smiled into the camera, as josh engulfed in his own venomous thoughts; rambled on, -
¨¨The way that I’ see things and the way God’ sees it is the same! Look at these fine shaven gentlemen here? the very prime of the white race and soldiers of God!¨¨
She was clearly scared, now that she realized that Josh was wielding a gun in his hand, while still having his arm around her in a chummy way.
¨¨It has been a longtime coming, my fellow Christians, but the revolution is here, and it’s being led by none other than my good old friend Skip - from Trust skateboards, our little public feud was nothing more of a media stunt, so I could get close to the cream of the hierarchy of Hollywood’s trash elite, you might say!¨¨
He smiled and winked into the camera, -
¨¨What I want, you to do now is; head down to Trust skateboards where Skip will provide you with an automatic weapon, or as Skip and I call it, a trash canner, cause all cans are trash, y’know. Mexi-cans, Afri-cans,¨¨
As he pointed the gun at Latisha’s temple,
He spelled out the exact location for Trust skateboards, twice…
Pointdexter wasn’t soon to pick up on the hint, and wrote the address on the quickly made Foundation site, inserting a blinking Crucifix and a Uzi.
¨¨We are about to kill the first can’ of the day; ‘you people!¨¨
He began to wind up the Nazis chanting - White power! soon the room was fist pumping while shouting the tired old slogan.
People around the city looked on in disbelief, just a week ago: white LAPD cops: had killed a jeep full of black teenagers and the city that was about to boil over, needed just one more excuse!
just one drop of blood spilled the wrong way could light the fuse. Everyone knew it, especially - Pointdexter: mastermind to the plan that Josh was carrying out to perfection - for rolling cameras direct to TV stations and online streaming.
Skip who had just been alerted, rushed into the conference room where he saw his ex-team member, repeat his name over and over, talking all kinds of Nazi nonsense mixed with quotes from the Bible.
Cold sweat broke out, due to the fact that Trust skateboards were placed in a dominant poor black neighborhood, because of the low rent.
Pointdexter was having an easy Job; Josh worked out beyond his wildest dreams, after he had gotten the Nude in his system.
The viral enforcer updated the Foundation site where he changed the top banner to:
‘’The end justifies the means. Go purge!!!’’
Links were rapidly sent to all important news sites.
Josh went on a rant about bringing down the debauchery of the upper class that people so falsely worshipped - ‘’like that golden bull from the first testament.’’
He made sure that the camera was now zooming in on his dead girlfriend and that people knew the address of the Trust skateboards headquarters downtown.
He then went on to explain how Jessica Wood resembled the whore of Babylon(of course comparing Hollywood to Babylon.)
He picked up the bloody skateboard that he had thrown at her and ultimately killed her with, and signed it with a marker handed to him by the cameraman‘s shaking hand, he told him to zoom inn on Jessica.
¨¨Send me footage of the first nigger or celebrity kill of the day, and you can pick up this board, as your price as a righteous Christian, fighting for a white God… oh-yes’ God is’ white, and he want’s you to wipe out the scum of this city, in which there are no angels.¨¨
¨¨Let’s start now, in the name of Jesus and Hitler, my men - we are legion, Valhalla awaits!!!¨¨
By now his ramblings had stopped making any sense at all?
Josh then pushed Latisha into the half circle formed by the chanting Nazis,
Spyder shouted -
¨¨Stomping time!!!¨¨
A violent beatdown then ensued in front of thousands of TV dinners, making some of them come up again! Josh had the gun pointed to the temple of the cameraman the whole time, forcing him to film the abuse of his colleague, after minutes of screaming, shouting and begging for her life, Josh stepped up, and emptied the entire chamber of six bullets into Latisha’s badly beaten body, spelling the word nigger with each fired shot. -
Blam - N
Blam - I
Blam - G
Blam - G
Blam - E
Blam - R
The reporter’s body spashmed for each bullet that hit her, until she lay silent next to Jessica’s dead body.
Josh switched to a fresh gun with one of the Nazis, and headed for the front door again where he randomly fired the replica Smith & Wesson at the assembly of reporter who was barricading the pink fortress.
Spyder’s cell-phone rang, it was Pointdexter congratulating them on a job well done, ‘’if they would just keep the jackets on until they had left the city, their score was settled and they would not hear from him again.’’
He then asked for Josh, who had just returned from his random shootings at the door, ‘’congratulating him on a job well done and that he was now freed from his obligations,’’ Josh told him to - ‘’go fuck himself.’’
He grabbed a blue backpack and threw his recently delivered supply of Rancor and Nude into it, zipped it. He took one last regretful look at Jessica before he entered the back yard: through the broken frame that Ali had thrown himself through some hours earlier.
Out on the lawn in the backyard he looked over the city whose citizens he had just condemned, as he scaled the fence leading to the downhill slope on the other side, facing the city - Screams were coming from the other side of the Burton-esque house, where the Nazis now ran out the front door to fetch their bikes; while shooting randomly at the mob of scared journalists.
People were horrified of the snuff-TV that had come direct to their synz-screens courtesy of the Glamordirt channel!
Even without the recent events of the killings of four black teenagers: people were as usual fed up with the LAPD. The despair factor had been growing for nearly a decade; not only police violence, but the level of political corruption and scandals.
The recent prosperous statistics that showed an increase in the economy, had not eased the disillusions and the tension, despite the promise of thousands of new jobs, due to the building of Casinos all over the town, by the state owned Slots & Dice chain, as promised by the newly elected governor H. G. Lambert - who had come into office and as the first thing raised the ban on organized gambling in the state of California.
The lifting on the ban followed in the wake of the March scandal of Los Angeles mayor Jim Farrell. Who within months of his embassy had spent a substantial fee of the state’s budget, alongside his old friend and union man Powell; on the very whorebots that he had so furiously raged against; in his nomination speech leading to his election.
The ban he had promised to slap on the LA SIN franchise never even made it to a proposition in the senate.
In the end it had been an accountant at city hall who had leaked the numbers, that he was supposed to make look like something else? He had sent all the relevant information to - ‘The Los Angeles Tribune’ and from there the scandal had snowballed, leading to Governor - Jim Farrell leaving the embassy only two months after his election ceremony. Trading his office at city hall for a jail cell.
Which in turn also lead to the firing of the once leading union man Powell, with the nickname - ‘’The Bull’’ due to his perseverance during negotiations.
Sometimes Governor Farrell and Powell had been on the whorebot rampage together, the point where the partying had gotten out of hand, just one week into his job.
When some rich-kid intern from the valley, had handed him a bag of the purple Buzzo pills. He had shared it with his old union friend Powell, They soon realized that with the intern’s connections, they could get their hands on all sorts of drugs they wanted, as well as improved Cicodrine combined with the Buzzo. Hotel bills for the entire staff that joined the orgies, soon skyrocketed and was easy to prove in court,
beside spending cash that was not theirs to begin with, a good portion of the union strikes had to be cancelled due to the financial scandal being revealed, Powell had equally drained the union funds, that should have supported the dock workers on strike.
Powell had retreated to massive alcohol consumption, which was still the favored drug of the working class, supplied with subscripted pills for falling asleep and some for getting out of bed, now living on welfare in a suburb next to Inglewood with his daughter:
Melissa
who had always looked up to him before his fall…
Her Mother who had always seemed emotional unavailable to her, had left them right after the scandal. In the recent year, her coming of age and searching for a new role model, had seen her almost obsessed with; Jessica Wood.
Whom she had gotten a rare hug from, as she had made a court ordered appearance at her high school, ‘‘for being DUI’’ - one too many times during the driving of her pink hummer.
Jessica had held a short preppy speech about: ‘’believing that you could be anything that you wanted to be, and if you wanted to be remembered for doing something totally awesome, you’d have to make that happen yourself!’’
It was those words that rang out in Melissa’s head, now as she sat on her bedside looking at the direct footage coming from the pink house in the hills on her pink synz-screen, with tears was streaming down her cheeks.
She reached for her sparkling cell-phone and pushed his number, it had been weeks since she last spoken to -
Ahmad
Who picked up the phone while he turned down the blasting emo-tunes of his favorite band - Crush Love. He spoke softly trying to repress the joy of her calling him up,(he failed miserably but it did not matter,) he listened to what she said.
- He flicked on the synz-screen and zapped to LBN who constantly looped the horrifying footage of the deceased Jessica Wood, alongside the beating and ultimately the murder of news reporter Latisha Williams!
only to be interrupted by semi-professional/self proclaimed experts: who were commenting on the events.
Live footage from a LBN helicopter downtown showed a motorcycle gang caught in the Mullholland intersection having a shootout with the cops.
Thru her sobbing voice Ahmad noticed for a second how much the stenciled logo on the backs of the biker gang, who were referred to as a chapter of some organization called; The Foundation, reminded him of the one worn by Claude; the singer of Crush Love in their most recent video. He had styled his look with lots of dramatic eyeliner after Claude. Something his religious uncle disapproved greatly of.
Ahmad lived with his uncle who was a strict follower of the teachings of the Koran, and he often held Koran study groups at his house, which more or less were a bunch of guys sitting around dry humping each others fantasies; of bringing down western civilization!
It was at one of those meetings that Ahmad’s Uncle Ishmael, had slapped a permanent ban on him: having any further contact with Melissa.
- The group had thought Ahmad was out of the house, as blueprints of city hall and the 1st precinct police station downtown, had been laid out on the low Arabic styled coffee table with the faux gold ornaments.
Explosive devises who had been smuggled in from Syria, was being examined along with the easy to set’ timers.
The Koran study group had been beyond exited of their requirements‘,
and just as they began chanting: Allah Hu Akbar!
While the young couple had been fooling around upstairs, with wrap around synz-screen half helmets on, oblivious to the antics downstairs,
Ahmad had chased Melissa down the stairs wearing only her Puzzay’ tank top and panties, himself wearing only his birthday suit.
The teens over ecstatic giggling had come to an abrupt halt,
as east had met vest in an unusual awkward way!
The very epitome of the behavior they despised stood looking at the blueprints for their planned terror fantasies. -
His uncle Ishmael had shouted at him while trying to do some sort of damage control, that seemed beyond repair…?
even thou neither of the teens cared what the group was up to.
Ishmael saw fit that they were not to spend any more time together, even trying to persuade Ahmad to join their group, but he had give up on him after some basic tutorials of how the explosives worked!
he seemed too disengaged to show any interest in the teachings of the Koran.
Ishmael had him swear in front of the paranoid study group - that he never would reveal any of what was going on in the house during those ‘’studies.’’
The ban on seeing Melissa was however sustained. It was now the middle of the summer vacation, and this was the first time he had heard from her.
She asked him if she could come over, and since his uncle was out of the house he agreed, she asked him ‘’if he truly loved her’’ and he said that ‘’there was not a thing he would not do for her.’’ Just to prove his point; He quoted a couple of Claude’s lines from a Crush Love song:
‘’If we still read books I’d carry them through the hall
Not seeing you for a day, sucks as the decaying fall.’’
She asked him if his uncle still had those bombs or whatever lying around?… He showed her the basement, where they were kept in sports bags, and told her that he knew how to operate them, with the timer settings.
She told him how she was almost certain that she loved him, but now that Jessica was gone! she really had no reason to live anymore, since nothing would ever be the same…
He mentioned to her, that next week his uncle would send him to Syria to be re-educated in the Muslim way of living.
They both knew that they would never get anywhere near a college, him: because of his religious nutcase uncle and her: because of her alcoholic whorebot addicted Father. They both agreed that their short lives had turned into complete tragedies.
¨¨You know that day Jessica spoke at my old high school, the one I was bullied out off, because of my Dad,¨¨
He nodded and corrected his dramatic bangs.
¨¨She told us that we could be anything we wanted to be! and if we wanted to be remembered, for something totally awesome! it was our own responsibility, right… I wanna be remembered!¨¨
He looked her deep in the eyes, -
¨¨I’ll do anything for you’¨¨
She sat on the workbench in the basement.
¨¨I don’t know if I will go to heaven for doing this, but I think I might meet Jessica afterwards, cause everybody always said that she was a bad girl.¨¨
He nodded semi-detached, as he began to carefully set the timers on the C-4 explosives.
¨¨What do you think happens when we die?¨¨
He shrugged his shoulders… -
¨¨My uncle says you go to heaven!¨¨
¨¨Perhaps it’s not such a cool place, if it’s filled with guys like Josh; her boyfriend’ cause he was really religious y’know?¨¨
He frowned, -
¨¨Yea, or people like my uncle, he’s always talking about how he wanna blow up this and that! and so are his fucked up friends.¨¨
¨¨Perhaps if we die together, we’ll go somewhere where it won’t be filled with douchebags like them?¨¨
He shrugged his shoulders one more time, adding a maybe?
Telling her that his uncle could be home any moment, so they better get out of there.
They lifted the four heavy sports bags out of the basement, and into the trunk of his uncle’s car, he usually took the bus, since he was convinced some government agency was monitoring all Arabs, and he did not want to alert them of his whereabouts, when he was out looking for escape routes or laying plans of important places his group could blow up!
The two teens headed towards the downtown area, as the early evening was projecting its orange skies above the overheated city of Los Angeles, small groups of angry black teenagers were setting cars on fire here and there. As they drove through Inglewood, ‘Ahmad made a remark about how - ‘’there was a strange feeling in the air tonight?’’
They reached downtown some twenty minutes later, to the blasting emo-tunes of Crush Love. Smaller groups had gathered around the downtown area where window fronts now were being smashed, a vast majority of police were present, trying their best to prevent the unfolding destruction, they drove towards city hall - but they had to turn around due to the barricades,
Jessica looked worried at him.
He told her not to panic, since the 1st precinct was only two blocks away, they still had time to secure her place in history!
He swung the old van around and headed for it, he checked the watch on his phone, there was five minutes left before the counter on the C-4 explosives would reach zero. Soon after the old van pulled up in front of the police station.
¨¨Hurry up Ahmad,¨¨
she said as she pulled off her black star adorned leggings,
¨¨Open your pants, I don’t wanna die a virgin!¨¨
He fumbled with his fly zipper, but managed, there was thirty seconds left on the timer, as she got on top of him in the drivers seat.
¨¨This one’s for Jessica and me!¨¨
She slid down over his shaft just as the red digits reached zero!
A second later and the entire 1st precinct in the historic 21st century building was no more! neither was the relatively new lawyer firm Pascalli & Dupont across the street, or for that matter the entire area of Clooney square - downtown.
The blast could be heard more than five miles away!
The strategic effect of the blow was immense, as every off duty officer within the Los Angeles area, had been called in to a briefing and was about to hit the streets, just as the explosives went off.
Nitty Gritty
Ali awoke to the roar coming from downtown, even thou he had exhausted his body for the last week or so, he had found it impossible to get into a deep sleep, the heat was unbearable since the air-condition was broken, not to mention there was a lot of noise coming from the outside; (even more than usual.)
He rolled out of bed, still fully dressed in his dirty black and green raving gear and with the big black Sawex boots still strapped on, he tried not to think of how much he reeked, pondering how, ‘’a shower would be nice’’ but he realized that he was hungry as hell.
He nipped at the now cold sloppy stack of pancakes his mom had made him before she had went to work, but opted instead to grab some money from her ‘’secret stash.’’
He went outside on the battered porch of the house, checking his parachute pants, if he might have been so lucky that a LIQ-THC capsule, had made its way into one of the many side pockets - but no such luck he had lost them all, (and his second shooter today) back when the hummer had crashed in the desert. He only found one ziplock bag which contained the weird traffic light colored pills, which he most certainly was not in the mood for.
He was in no mood either to look up Diego, before getting something to eat first, his stomach growled back at him with the voice of a cartoon monster! He thought that the atmosphere on the streets seemed unusual hostile; ‘’even for a Friday night in Inglewood!’’
He noticed how smaller groups were heading in the direction of downtown, as he headed in direction of the O.J. Mall.
He was in the mood for a schnitzel burger at the German fast-food franchise; Würtz King, as he approached the entrance, mall security was escorting a Rancoon from the premises, telling him that ‘’he would be tasered if he returned and it was his luck that the police had enough at their hands already.’’
He went inside the giant O.J. Mall, and up the escalators towards the first floor. Placed between a Dutch headshop chain named: HeadSoup, and a beauty/laser-tattoo parlor lay the Würtz King with it’s easily recognizable green and red tartan logo sporting the centered pointy helmet.
The slogan: Würtz King über alles, said a pleasant voice above the doors,
as soon as he stepped into the franchise where he was greeted with the comforting smell of the deep-fried Schnitzels,(what he feared the most was instantly confirmed!) He saw that Denise was working the register just like she did most nights…!
As usual he got into another line, but as soon as she spotted him with her hawk eyes, she waved him over to her register, making him skip the line, much to the dismay of the other customers, he dreaded that she would leap into one of her usual brain-dead rants, and tonight was no exception.
Even for someone as immature as him, he thought that, ‘’it seemed like she had never matured beyond high school?’’
where she had gotten knocked up, during their last year.
It was as if she was forever stuck in ninth grade? he had no idea of as how, she managed to keep up with the businesses of their former classmates, he only kept in touch with Diego ‘’and that was strictly because of his dealer status.’’
He drew a deep sigh, because he knew he was in for the long haul when Denise first got going…
‘’she was not exactly good at multitasking either,’’
He kept starring at her annoying implanted finger nails that constantly changed color like a Christmas tree, while they faintly played a melody of some current hit converted to some kind of deranged elevator muzak.
Those damn fingernails was what annoyed him the most, it was like she was taunting him with her steady rap about people, that he either couldn’t remember or never did care for in the first place! while she was provoking him with those annoying fingernails that almost pressed the button for ordering the double deep-fried Schnitzel burger menu, he so craved with onion rings and a huge cherry/Watermelon energy-coke.
she wasn’t exactly a genius to multitask.
Every time she was about to hit the button, she threw up her hand in some kind of overly dramatic pose of - ‘’oh my god‘’ or some kind of snapping movement, with made the annoying nails skip a synth-beat.
Never once did she notice, how he never paid the least bit of attention, while he was thinking of how myths such as the one about people who worked in fast food restaurants - got sick and tired of the food they served within weeks, so they never craved it? ‘’was so untrue in the case of Denise.’’
She was yapping on about something of how the O.J. Mall would probably be torn down, due to the building of one of the many new casinos and the possibility that she might get a job there?
He was sweating toxins due to the amounts of the xitalix, Unitron and the Quegas as well as all the stuff he had snorted smoked or shot this past week among other things, and he did not feel up to her ramblings today.
All of a sudden he just lost it:
¨¨Will you just shut the fuck up! you fat fucking retard and give me my goddamn order, already!¨¨
Denise looked shocked at him, she then started to sob, as she quickly pressed his usual order. Her lower lip quivered, the coral blue lipstick made it look like a cartoon dolphin in death spasms he thought, as she continued.
¨¨I-I-I just wanted to tell you how Michael was doing.¨¨
¨¨Michael who? I don’t know who the fuck Michael is!?!¨¨
¨¨Michael m-my kid, his operation went f-fine, but you don’t care you asshole!¨¨
An awkward moment later, his order was ready.
He looked down as he took his plate of food, past the rest of the line, that looked disapprovingly,(yet relived at him,) he found a booth all to himself except for the Rancoon, who had passed out in the stall opposite him.
He savored the juiciness of the deep-fried Schnitzel, a boy of Arabic descent, German fast food served in an American mall. it was the holy trinity of trash culture right there! for a few blessed moments…
After he had finished his meal, he considered for a minute of apologizing to Denise, but on the other hand, she might just have gotten the message tonight.
Besides it was not like she ever gave him credit anyways.
He now felt more normal again, semi-detached to his feelings just the way he liked it. Urges however was another matter entirely!
He felt like he was up for a whorebot, and made his way down the escalator and outside again.
He could faintly spot pillars of black smoke, arising from the downtown area, to where the scattered mobs had ran, there were all kinds of sirens coming from everywhere, serving as a constant soundtrack to this strange Friday night in Inglewood.
But those sirens all seemed fairly distant to him, like those annoying melodies that came from Denise’s fingernails.
He walked towards the LA SIN franchise on the corner across the mall, the main door could first be opened after completing the eye-scan to make sure you were not a banned customer; one of those who caused damage to the properties.
He had never made any trouble, even when he had been really wasted,
after a good rave or a fight with his mom, in fact he had never understood those types who got themselves kicked out of there?
once you paid you got exactly what you ordered, just like at the Würtz King - LA SIN never failed to deliver, simple as that!
Both places felt like a more comforting home to him, than most other places.
Once inside he went to the menu board, which stood monolith-like,(as one of those old speaker chairs) in the small foyer, he scrolled through the menu of bots available at the moment? he usually chose the same model which kind of embarrassed him.
The LA SIN franchises were divided into the context of the clientele, which meant that in poor neighborhoods, there were no - trailer trash models, since most unemployed or low income men fancied the rich Hollywood hills like models resembling the wealth they would never have their share off, and since most of the Hollywood hausfrau looks were designed around the slightly advanced 21st century plastic surgery disasters, the ghetto franchises: relied heavily on second or third season models. In richer neighborhoods such as Beverly hills, the newest models always replaced the older ones.
Ali lived up to every stereotype that LA SIN conducted their business practices after, he usually ordered:
Betty
Sculptured upon the image of his earliest teen crush,
Betty Mansfield from the Beverly Hills hausfrau soap - Living Large,
portrayed by the long gone actress Simone Andre, the combination of her snobbish attitude and rather dominating ways that slightly resembled those of his mother… Betty was not the most talkative model, mostly due to her being a first generation whorebot customized by a Japanese company for the American market.
But that was exactly what he liked about Betty!
He had been there many times, so he knew the drill as walked down the corridor of the establishment - with it’s red velvety carpet that was no doubt meant to resemble that of old times gone by, he never understood the patterned walls with the fake dark mahogany frames center top and bottom.
As he stood outside the green door waiting for the buzz, he thought of the day’s events that had been beyond crazy - he still had no idea what to think about it all? and that was alright, since he had come there to forget.
After his encounter with Betty, he would swing by Diego, who hopefully would not give him too hard a time about what he suspected was that Josh dude, having spiked his soda this morning - ‘’yeah right!’’ He figured that after some persuasion and explaining to him, - ‘’that he had no part in doing in it!’’ he was certain that Diego would sell him some LIQ-THC capsules, and throw in a new shooter for old time’s sake?
His main worry revolved around what kind of game he would put on the tres console, once he returned to his mothers house, since he did not feel like ever playing - Dimensions again!
The muffled buzz of the door sounded.
¨¨Hurry before my husband get’s home!¨¨
It was the usual rant, coming from the invoice of the Betty model whorebot; it reenacted a now classic scene from the soap opera - the one where she has a quickie with a waiter after a high society cocktail party. This fantasy was something that had been voted the most popular through several analyzes of the optional services.
Ali thought he remembered that in the beginning there had been another optional fantasy for the Betty model, but he was not sure? it could have been one of the other bots he had tried out in the beginning.
The bot undressed itself a bit hasty, kicking the stilettos off while freeing itself of the black satin cocktail dress; finally it took of the fake pearl necklace. Saying the usual sultry line of, -
¨¨The only pearl necklace I wanna wear tonight, is one of the working class.¨¨
It closed it’s eyelids half shut and slid down in front of him on the bed to make him hard, while he undressed himself. He kicked off his heavy Sawex boots that smelled sour, while the Betty prototype spread its legs placing the pelvis area close to the bedside.
That was usually how he liked to finish the intercourse, but perhaps after all these visits, its rather limited hard drive, had skipped a few steps? and since he was there for the release, he had no objection to it!
LA SIN guaranteed the most professional high maintenance on their products, meaning - that in between customers their models were enacting in self reparation procedures: An anti-germ gel, was released from a membrane in the pelvis section, which was flushed through the area between their legs; afterwards a anti-septic dry steaming covered their entire body. In other words they were completely sterilized like the needles at old fashioned tattoo parlors, the same went for all other openings of the models, another reason why they had almost completely swiped the market of human prostitutes in the LA area, there simply was no risk taking involved.
Ali kneeled down in the white furry carpet that adorned the floor of the room that was an exact replica of the one that had been used in the old soap. The bot spread it’s legs further apart(holding the ankles were optional.) He preferred that it laid it’s hands around the back of his neck as he was thrusting himself inside of it.
It was a nice change of scenery he thought from this morning’s event. The moaning and compliments the bot gave him was the usual clichés.
it seemed now as it had all been a bad dream?(he closed his eyes, as he focused on not ejaculating too early.)
As he opened them again he looked into a pair of pale blue eyes resembling those of the white gorilla, or was it the British guy?…
before he could pull out he felt an excruciating pain - as volts flashed through his groin!
The whorebot’s defense system had kicked in: a metal-membrane locking device had wrapped it self around his stiff member from the inside, and the more he tried pulling himself out, the harder the grip became - while it shot stabs of volts through him, like a vaginal taser mechanism!
The pain made him let go of all his bodily fluids right there on the furry white carpet. He cried out loud as it gave him a double shot, never once removing it’s folded hands from behind his neck.
the device was meant to be preventing a client from damaging a whorebot, as violent customers were tasered till they could not move; another clever invention from its Japanese developers - LA SIN had taken their own spin on this mechanism.
At the very first registration of the alarm in the whorebot going off, an online rooter-connection device instantly broadcasted the scene taking place on the Stuffed inc, website where subscribers to this app were notified instantly.
They could immediately see the footage on their cell-phones or computers, it usually took somewhere between five to eight minutes for the whorebot - to pacify the customer and throw him out on his bare ass, forever banning him from the premises, the whorebot would then usually return to the clients wallet, drag out his license or whatever personal information he had on him and show it to the cameras.
- The support team at Stuffed inc. Department then took the information and linked to whatever social media site the client was using,
so people could easily log on and ridicule him(given it was an open account?) the police was kept entirely out of it.
The personal belongings was then sent to the address of the client within twenty four hours.
Tears of pain streamed down his cheeks, as it gave him yet another shot of high voltage and tightened it’s grip on his flailing member to keep him locked. He hoped that he would pass out, as it asked him, -
¨¨Where is the device doom bringer?¨¨
¨¨I-I-I don’t know, I-I don’t know anything!¨¨
He cried in a most begging way, as snot was preventing him from breathing thru his nose.
¨¨We know you made another portal jump, before you returned to the
hotel earlier. Now!… where have you hid it?¨¨
He was just about to receive another shot from the pleasure device, turning torture device, -
as the door to the room was kicked inn, and a Pumpgun was aimed at the whorebot, he felt a deafening sound as a shotgun blast rushed over his bowed head, and took that of the Betty model’s off!
The vaginal defense mechanism ceased to function and the bot fell back onto the bed, luckily for Ali without any short circuit twitching.
He fell down on top of it covered in cold sweat, and now sensing the vile smell of his own feces that had landed between his calves on the white carpet.
¨¨Get up you perv! Put your clothes on we got company already!¨¨
He recognized the man with the shotgun as… Hank? the guy that had greeted them with buckets of water, earlier in the desert.
His fatigue desert cammo and the sharp graying crew cut that was bolding on the top, still sporting the petrol colored wrap around shades.
He fumbled with his dirty; week old clothes as
Hank told him to grab his boots; he could put them on later, they could hear the sound of muffled feet running on the velvet carpet in the hallway, as Hank threw a stun grenade out the door:
The flashes went off and the two henchmen fired their guns in panic, Hank leaned against the frame of the door and pumped them both full of lead.
He approached the one’ that screamed the most, as he re-loaded the modified shotgun and took the head of the other’ henchman.
He promised to let the screamer live, if he told him who had sent them and where they could be found? In between coughs of blood the henchman managed to tell the address to his attacker - who thanked him before he shot him dead.
He then yanked the still weakened Arab raver who had gotten most of his clothes on, out of the brothel.
A dirty dune buggy awaited them with the engine running. Hank placed Ali in the passenger seat next to him, ordering him to put on his boots as they speeded out of there, heading towards the hills.
Bad shit
Josh had stumbled through the hills, running a snake trail between backyards and avoiding the laser fenced houses. He had reached the foot of downtown underneath the new-Mullholland intersection, where the homeless and crazies lived a life in the shadows, most people preferred not to know of.
He took a much needed pause as he leaned against one of the big concrete pillars that supported the highway,
He enjoyed the roar from the highway above him.
The few barking bio-mechanical dogs that had startled him as he had run thru the hills had been a blessing, since he found the solitude deafening.
He dragged out the vaporizer and loaded it up for God knows what time today? the Rancor drew a nice blanket of much needed apathy over his strained mind, the effect of the Nude together with the Rancor, was the most empowering state of mind he knew of, it made him feel invincible and not giving a shit, at the same time. He knew it was time to move on as some of the shadows had started closing in on him; he realized that he needed a place to hide, but where?
Office Rage
Dima Wood had ravaged his office, even the illegal heavy black ebony desk, which he sat behind at all times had taken a tumble,
he was taking a break from shouting at everyone and everything.
Mr. Smith was waiting for his boss to calm down enough, to make him a suggestion. He feared that his employer would go into a complete state of apathy as soon as the shock had settled, simply making him dissolve in tears at any moment now!
he knew the human nature well, and the state of grief usually followed that of anger.
He laid a comforting hand on his employer’s expensive white suit, just before he sensed he would burst into devastating sobbing, but for once he was wrong? the owner of Stuffed inc, brushed his hand away angry.
¨¨Mr. Smith, do not underestimate me! we have worked together, for many years now, no?¨¨
He nodded and replied with a formal - yes sir’
¨¨In all of that time I have never asked for your sympathy! and I don’t need it now, I need your skills, your expertise, Mr. Smith - is that perfectly clear!¨¨
He was breathing heavily thru his nose, like an aggravated bull, as he raised his finger at the ever cool, Mr. Smith. Who nodded in agreement and apologized to him.
¨¨Now, Mr. Smith I know you could make my daughter’s murderer disappear and you could give me the info of how you tortured him. But I want that Christian son of a bitch to suffer for all to see in public!¨¨
Smith nodded and reassured his employer that he would make it spectacular.
The Romanian business mogul then shook his hand, and notified him ‘’that they might not see each other again? so just in case he should get caught on camera…’’
He handed him a briefcase he had for emergency situations, containing two million dollars in ready cash, just like the one he had carried at his side, when he and his now dead daughter had escaped Romania twelve years ago.
Mr. Smith thanked him, as he left the office for the last time.
Dima Wood sank down in the white chesterfield leather couch, the only thing that was still standing in his office, he shouted for someone to bring him a new synz-screen and some Vodka. He would look forward to seeing what Smith had in store for his daughter’s killer.
Déjà vu
Ali had finally gotten his heavy Sawex boots back on, he was on the verge of breaking apart at this moment, his crotch was completely numb and he smelled even worse than before, Hank who was behind the wheel of the buggy looked at him with a smirk.
¨¨So… old soap opera queens huh! Well to each his own?¨¨
Ali did not even as much as glance at the ex-marine, who tried to lighten the situation, as they drove fast thru the midtown section past the new-Mullholland intersection, under which Josh had lit up the Rancor in the vaporizer only twenty minutes earlier, the driver of the buggy asked Ali if he wanted to know how he had found him?
That old unbeatable high
The city was more or less a full riot now, tipped over cars where burning everywhere and the looting of stores was in full effect, clashes between angry mobs and the police were increasing - Blacks fought Latinos who fought Whites, and everyone fought the Asians!
In a worn down part of Inglewood a mob of angry black activists and mainly white teenage girls in Jessica Wood - puzzay trademark T-shirts, had Joined rare efforts in dragging out employees, from the Trust skateboards and One God records who shared the same cheap rent - headquarters.
Most of them were beaten to death by the angry mob, while others were dragged into the streets and shot at close range, while being filmed by a myriad pink sparkling cell-phones.
Skip the owner of Trust skateboards; proved the most successful in getting away, he managed to make it two blocks; before he was tackled and soon after hung from a lamppost. His dangling body spashmed while at least some sixty cell-phones uploaded the footage on various black justice sites and hastily made Jessica Wood memorial sites.
In a non-smoking penthouse suite; twenty five stories above the riots, Sarge lit up a well deserved cigar while offering a very self-assured Pointdexter one as well. Their paid for’ suite at the Hilton were about to turn into a party, as the black ops crew could celebrate a job well done and a fat bonus from their employers. As the commando squad chose to hit the hotel bar to pick up some women to celebrate with, Pointdexter stayed behind making some final adjustments, before he took the elevator to the roof, where a helicopter waited for him.
Helter shelter
As the buggy took them through the better part of northern Hollywood, Hank slapped him on the knee.
¨¨Ok, loosen up will ya! I can feel you’re dying to know how I did it right?¨¨
Ali looked at him for the first time since they had gotten into the vehicle,
¨¨After those black ops had confined you in the helicopter, back at the ranch, I came out from my hiding and put a micro transender underneath the tracks of your boot, clever huh!¨¨
Ali gave him a tired look, -
¨¨Listen Hank, what is your interest in all this? I take you’re not an acid fried casualty like those weirdo girls that hung around that Prophet dude?¨¨
Hank shook his head, confirming that he was far from it;
Ali confided with him, -
¨¨I don’t know what to think of all this shit, I can’t really remember the last week very clear and today. I don’t know if there is anyone i can trust, I’m not even sure I trust myself anymore?¨¨
The driver looked at him, -
¨¨So you want some easy answers to all of this, am I right!¨¨
He nodded and Hank told him to ask whatever questions he had?
¨¨Ok first off did you see me do the any of that portal jumping stuff while I was at the hotel?¨¨
¨¨Well I saw the highlights!¨¨
¨¨What’s that supposed to mean?¨¨
¨¨Meaning that Brain watched you constantly, either him or the Prophet.¨¨
¨¨Ok but don’t you think they could might have edited it? cause I really don’t think or remember anything about it…¨¨
Hank considered it for a second, and then agreed with him.
¨¨Yea, I would expect the Prophet to be mad enough to do so - to impress his harem of rich runaways - sure. But you have to consider two things then!¨¨
He waited patiently waited for him to explain, -
¨¨Brain is my main man from way back, and he’s a straight up conspiracy detective, he’s into exposing the truth! not to make up lies, even if he worked with a nutcase like the Prophet!¨¨
He waited for the second clue, -
¨¨Someone put you in that hotel room for a reason, it was not the work of the prophet, and it wasn’t easy for Brain to find you either?¨¨
Ali considered the options for a while, -
¨¨But besides that, have you seen any evidence of any of this - device bringing stuff? I have a hard time dealing with if any of this shit. One moment the hotel is like a scene of a ritual or whatever and the next, it was never there I dunno!?¨¨
¨¨Ok, first things first! as the remaining platoon left the Spam ranch, Brain hooked into the signal of the hotel again, but it was only filming from the ballroom, that’s all we could see!¨¨
¨¨Ok! and what happened then, tell me exactly what you saw!¨¨
¨¨I saw some creepy shit man, there were these high priests that Brain identified as the leaders of the sect, and what appeared to be a white monkey?¨¨
Ali blurted out a little too fast that it could talk, which made Hank give him a strange gaze, that did not let up as Ali tried to explain, ‘’that it was only inside of his head, that you could hear its voice.’’
Hank swung the buggy round the winding road, while he commented on the weirdness of the situation.
¨¨Ok Hank, one last thing, did you see me do any portal jumping there! as I was returned to the hotel, I tried my best, but I don’t remember anything?¨¨
Hank drummed on the steering wheel with his thumbs,
¨¨Yes you did! I am absolutely sure that you did.¨¨
¨¨So what does it look like! Is there a dark hole emerging or some sort of portal opening, like in the game?¨¨
Hank shook his head, -
¨¨No! not like that… Brain has a theory that you must be tapping into some other dimensional frequencies or something like that, whenever it happens… you just disappear? there’s a scratching in the footage for a second or sometimes it blacks out for a moment, but I think that when you do those time travels; it causes interference with electronic devices?¨¨
Explosions could be heard from far away, the evening sky had turned darker.
¨¨I saw what looked like you passed out in the middle of that circle, the signal was blacked out by static for maybe ten seconds, when the footage came back on it looked like the high priests… some of the guards and the ape I think, had been shot and you just stormed out of there!¨¨
They finally reached the destination of the GPS - which were the huge Caribbean-baroque white house in the hills, that he had escaped that morning.
¨¨So why are we here now! what’s the point?¨¨
I think we need to get this over with, sooner or later they will get to you, they are way too powerful, when I was in the marine corps, we had a saying - ‘’attack is the best defense!’’
¨¨They do not expect for you to come at them.¨¨
¨¨But I really don’t wanna come at them?¨¨
Hank laid a hand on his shoulder, telling him to listen to him. He explained how the Foundation, would possibly use his mother as bait, if he tried to disappear.
¨¨Does Brain know what that thing is that they want me to get?¨¨
¨¨As far as we understand, it’s a mythical doomsday device, meaning something from an ancient time or so, he said he found some crypted files on the net about it, it was mentioned in chapters that were excerpted from the old Testament, it was also mentioned in the Necronomicon and other ancient scripts. But as many other relics sought out to be mere a myth!¨¨
They got out of the buggy and walked towards the big Caribbean baroque house that Ali had escaped from earlier today.
Return of the Prodigal son
He found downtown to be one giant war zone, a hell hole of whites, blacks, Hispanics and Asians fighting each other and the police all at the same time.
Stores that were getting looted and cars set on fire, storefronts getting smashed, the soundtrack was one of constant sirens and gunshots in between screaming and shouting, the Rancor did only little to soothe his shattered nerves.
The adrenaline had him pumped by way of the energetic Nude.
without realizing it he walked almost - tippy toe style, in his clouded yet paranoid condition, much like those early morning junkies heading into town to cop their first hit of the day, looking like some zombie ballerinas trying not to attract attention, yet their impatient bodies gets the best of them, failing not being able to restrain the passionate urge for their drug of choice?
He was cold sweating from the fear of being recognized, but he kept his head down until he saw his chance to snatch a baseball cap from a broken store front; he quickly turned away from the rioting strip,
wishing that he had kept the gun even thou he had emptied it at the paparazzis.
The basic survival mechanisms had set in, taking over for the apathy he had felt earlier in the day. As in some weird twist of fate, he had made a series of turns and he now stood in front of the Pentecostal church downtown, only five blocks from the strip where all hell had now broken lose, because of him.
He skipped up the stairs and knocked on the big wooden oak door. An old black priest looked at him thru the window in the door, he begged of him to be let in, the priest assured him that if he was a looter, there was nothing of value inside!
Josh swore that he was not trying to rob them, and even opened the backpack to show him that he had no weapons, he turned around and lifted up in his Liar skates t-shirt with the giant middle finger print for further proof, and stated that he was alone,
the priest opened the heavy oak door and let him inside, where a small congregation was seated on the front row - ‘’probably
only the most devoted or desperate like himself,’’ he pondered.
The priest returned to the altar where he fumbled through the pages of a bible, he had clearly been at it for a while, since he seemed to have run out of comforting words to tell his small worried congregation.
Josh kept his head down as he took a seat in one of the back rows; he placed his blue backpack between his feet and leaned forward, lighting up the vaporizer with a hit - trying to shove his head half inside the bag.
The people at the front row was a bit startled by the appearance of the sweaty odd looking white boy, a nicely dressed white man in the front row turned his head and asked for him to get up there and said he should not fear, ‘’everyone was friends here!’’
A line of gunshots rang out on the other side of the heavy wooden door, the shock made Josh cough the second lung of Rancor out; that he had just inhaled.
The old priest in the purple robe waved at him to come sit with the rest of them. Stating that he would be safer, not sitting so close to the entrance.
Still with his head bowed and trying to walk normally he walked up the isle, as the groom in some crack head wedding, and placed himself beside the only other white person there.
Josh almost dosed off - as the Rancor hits pulsated through his veins.
The well dressed white man to his left addressed him
¨¨Rough day huh!¨¨
He nodded off, as the man gave him a gentle jab on the shoulder.
¨¨The city has gone mad, it has finally lost it’s sanity,¨¨¨
¨¨Uh huh - yea… guess so?¨¨
¨¨Guess we all have some sins to confess, don’t we?¨¨
¨¨We always do - we are born as sinners.¨¨
He yapped through the old rant, as he had done with his parents countless of times, as the man gently interrupted him, -
¨¨Yes, we certainly are! For instance; what would be the perfect punishment for the person who incited these riots?¨¨
Josh looked at him, trying to figure out if the man knew it was him?
The man looked at him as he smiled a in a coy way, as someone who have just revealed a secret he was not supposed to let out, he leaned closer to Josh and almost whispered to him, -
¨¨I’m sorry! I had planned on being more cool, but the adrenaline just got the better off me and with all the excitement going on outside…
Josh waited for more,
¨¨¨You see, I have been wrecking my head for coming up with something spectacular? but I didn’t feel inspired before I saw you stagger up the aisle, you seemed so weak like you were carrying a heavy burden, it almost made me laugh out loud!¨¨
The well dressed man shook his head as if he had found his own lack of inspiration ridiculous now, he padded Josh comforting on the knee, as if he needed not to worry, he then drew a sigh as he uttered.
¨¨Ok let’s get to work!¨¨
He got up and yanked the little black girl sitting next to josh by her braided pigtails, she screamed out loudly as he pulled her towards him, and drew his Russian customized silver chrome strontium gun from an under-arm holster inside his pinstriped suit jacket with his free hand.
The little girl’s father who had sitting next to her, instantly flew of the bench, flinging himself at Mr. Smith who calmly pointed the gun straight at his face, replying -
¨¨I won’t hurt your daughter as long as you do exactly as I say! now get your ass to work and get that cross down from there!¨¨
He pointed to the crucifix that hung behind the priest with the man-size figure of Jesus Christ on it.
The little girl wept for her daddy! as he struggled to pull the cross free from it’s hinges.
Mr. Smith assured the small scared congregation, that they would be out of there in no time, if everyone just stayed put in their places, reminding everyone that calling the police was futile since they had their hands full outside.
While reassuring everyone that he would do his outmost, not to inflict any pain on the black man or his daughter and that his only business, was that of Josh’s, whom he pointed to with the shiny gun, that looked as fake as some of the props on the Spam ranch.
The black man had finally gotten the cross free and asked if he would let him and his daughter go now? Mr. Smith shook his head and
ordered the priest to get all the rope they had and hand it to the man.
He waved the gun for Josh to get on his feet and hold cross as they waited for the old priest to return with a large roll of rope.
Mr. Smith then begged everyone a good day, as he ordered the small ensemble down the isle, Josh carrying the cross of a God he felt had deserted him, the little girl kept on weeping. It looked like some post-modern play of the walk to Golgotha, performed to a soundtrack of sheer tension.
The priest was repulsed by the incident and shouted - ¨¨You white devil!¨¨ at Mr. Smith who briefly looked over his shoulder and smirked as someone who has just gotten a huge compliment.
¨¨Oh, you bet I am!¨¨
He winked with his eye at the priest, as Josh carried the heavy cross down the aisle.
Outside the church a couple of looters instantly met their end - by way of the silvery gun, as they were about to break into Mr. Smith’s black; BMW - X500
The black man was telling his daughter not to be scared, as he strapped the man-size wooden cross, to the top of the car. Minutes later the odd ensemble skidded out of the church’s parking lot heading for
The Hills have lies
Hank and Ali walked carefully towards the house he had fled under the influence of experimental combat drugs earlier.
They could see from the yard, that there was a light on at the top window on the right side of the house, Hank opened the front door by kicking it inn.
Inside the hallway was dark and the house felt deserted? The darkness followed them as they made their way to the top of the staircase, and down the hall to the right, from where the light came.
Ali noticed that same smell from earlier, the harsh incense from the ballroom at the hotel, that had contributed to making him nauseas, they slowly approach the room from where the light came, the door was open and some five persons laid in red drapes scattered across the floor.
A man sat in the middle of the big room, inside a red painted pentagram clutching a gun.
Hank aimed his self modified tec-9 at him - ready to fire!
Ali wrinkled his forehead when he recognized him.
¨¨Jonsey…?¨¨
The man looked up, and dropped the gun without Hank even having to ask.
¨¨What are you doing here, lad?¨¨
¨¨Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that!?!¨¨
Jonsey looked confused; as Ali demanded to know what the hell that stunt was all about, that one of the Texan Jonsey at the crowded hotel?
¨¨I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, mate!¨¨
¨¨I shot those priests? and the monkey!¨¨
Jonsey shook his head, -
¨¨Now, why would you do that?¨¨
¨¨Cause you guys were about to fucking kill me! I don’t know why? But you fucking lied to me, saying that I would make it safe out of there!¨¨
¨
Jonsey adjusted his round glasses -
¨¨What happened was that you made the portal Jump, The device dropped through the portal some ten seconds before you came back, one of the high priest’s killed the two others as well as some of the guards and the Gorilla.¨¨
Ali looked suspiciously at him, Hank stood with the Tec-9 still pointed at Jonsey, but listened carefully!
¨¨So why did I hold a warm gun as I came, err… Back!¨¨¨
¨¨You didn’t! you picked it up; right in front of you.¨¨
Ali was shouting at Jonsey who was losing his British cool,(again) -
¨¨Yeah! So why was it warm then?¨¨
¨¨Cause the guard that had just been shot dead, in front of you had fired it twice as he fell to the bloody floor, are you daft or something?¨¨
¨¨Ok - Ok, Alright, but tell me this: why did you shout for them to get me huh!¨¨
¨¨Because I promised you that I would get you out of there alive; stupid! I didn’t want to see you dead, even thou I begin to have second thoughts on that now!¨¨
Jonsey drew a deep breath and let it out, to calm himself down.
¨¨The high priest had made a run for it, only ten seconds before you ran towards the lobby, he could have been hiding out there, and you could have been shot dead.¨¨
Ali’s eyes started to flicker, he ran his hands through his jet black undercut with the blue lines, releasing an - argh! of frustration.
¨¨So you’re saying that they chased me down the street, cause they wanted to prevent the high priest from shooting me dead!?! That doesn’t make any sense! You’re fucking lying and messing with my head!¨¨
Jonsey put his glasses back on, -
¨¨No one was chasing you in the street?¨¨
¨¨No fucking way! I could feel I was being chased,¨¨
¨¨Right lad… tell me if you once turned around and saw that someone was chasing you?¨¨
¨¨No I didn‘t! b-but I’m sure I could feel it…¨¨
Jonsey asked Hank if he would mind, if he got up from the floor. He was bleeding from his left arm, Ali walked back and forth, like an animal showing stress symptoms in a cage, shouting accusations at the round-spectacled Englishman, wanting to know how the hotel could become fully packed just minutes later, and what was up with that Texan version of him?
Jonsey lifted his voice shouting back at him, that he did not have time for this!
¨¨Listen to me, Ali. I do not confess to know every detail or any in fact about your skills. I cannot explain that scenario you describe at the hotel, ok!?!¨¨
He was clearly irritated, -
¨¨Perhaps you did another time travel? Or perhaps we all exist in another dimension as well? who bloody knows! this is black magic I recon, yea!¨¨
Hank replied with an: amen!
¨¨So what you’re saying is that if we go back to the hotel, no one will be there? is that it!¨¨
Jonsey suddenly got an idea - asking Hank; who he suspected was working with the Prophet, still had contact with that hacker genius that first had gotten track of the Foundation.
Hank whose in-ear monitor/speaker was in direct satellite hook up to Brain; was voice activated by his digital wristband; Agreed!
¨¨Brain, are you there?¨¨
The crew cut nodded affirmative, Jonsey asked him to get Brain to look thru the footage of the hotel from the rest of the afternoon, after Ali’s escape…
It took a minute while Hank had Brain in his in-ear monitor, he nodded and confirmed, that there was no such scene as Ali had described!
All surveillance cameras had been functioning, and it looked as if the dead bodies were still in the ballroom, otherwise the place seemed completely deserted.
Jonsey had calmed down; he looked over his glasses with his pale blue eyes.
¨¨But what I do know is, that I was here tonight with these last remaining high priests of the Foundation, who were gathered here to try and get you back to do another portal jump, they had sent for two henchmen to get you,¨¨
¨¨I killed those fuckers!!!¨¨
Hank bragged with a: ‘‘what are you gonna do about it attitude?’’
Jonsey told them that he was glad that he had done so.
¨¨But I would not have let that happened, I have realized that this has got to stop here tonight, It has gone far enough and I am not proud of what I have done!¨¨
He ran his fingers through his slicked back hair.
¨¨You see I have worked many odd and eccentric requests through the years and never once have I failed my employers!… you see I once had a client, request for me; to deliver the spear that supposedly had been used to kill Jesus! to a similar cult.
I’m not really sure why they wanted it, something about world domination? but nothing ever happened!…
That was back when the Vatican was shipping out all the relics during the occupation of Europe.¨¨
He smiled; fondly reminiscing the old memory.
¨¨I even managed to get the lost arc, believe it or not? to another brotherhood like cult, it wasn’t that hard to switch those things in the chaos as the war culminated and the panic spread in the Vatican…
The same world conquering nonsense, and again nothing happened of course!¨¨
He drew a sigh and massaged his arm where a bullet had hit him, -
¨¨So you see I took this job as just another high paid mumbo jumbo nonsense, coming from a bunch of eccentric bored millionaires…
But this time however I’m afraid it’s real, and it’s no longer about some far fetched utopist world domination fantasy, as it was with those other relics and clients,¨¨
Ali and hank shivered when Jonsey told them -
¨¨It’s about world annihilation!¨¨
He asked Hank if he could pick up the pistol he had dropped again, which he allowed him to.
Jonsey put his hand on Ali’s shoulder, and with regret in his voice told him, -
¨¨I’m sorry chap, that I got you into all of this, I may have done a lot of shit, but I am not a doom bringer! I will not let them end the world… Even If it’s the last thing I do; I will try to stop them!¨¨
Hank asked him if he knew where the high priest with the doomsday device were? Jonsey told them that one of the high priests that he had killed had confirmed his suspicion that the high priest - had taken refuge on the air force base, on the outskirts of town.
The base also served as an experimental lab, funded by the Foundation!
Hank hung up on Brain and offered Jonsey their services, Ali however did not seemed thrilled about that suggestion - which led to a smaller argument; finally Jonsey butted inn. -
¨¨Listen I perfectly understand, if you don’t wanna get involved; the Foundation is to blame for the requiring the Doomsday device.
I believe that no more mercenaries will be sent after you.¨¨
The druggie in the filthy rave gear considered Jonsey’s words, -
¨¨Yeah that’s what you said back at the hotel, and see how that turned out?¨¨
¨¨As I said at the hotel you are free to go, the high priest has already gotten the device from you, those dead bodies here, are the remains of the very last members of the Foundation,¨¨
He turned to Hank -
¨¨I’d appreciate all the help I can get right now, you seem to know your way ‘round weapons? that’s ace, we’ll go to the air-force base immediately and try to fight our way inn!¨¨
Hank gave Ali a lecture on how he was as much responsible for the damage done, not because he was ridden by guilt, but more because he was afraid of being alone, if there were more henchmen after him. He finally opted to go with them…
Jonsey requested that they wore some official black Foundation windbreakers, cause the staff at the base was used to seeing employees from the Foundation come and go, if anything should go wrong? they would not get shot without a warning!
They put the jackets on as they returned to the buggy outside, Jonsey got in on the small backseat.
It looked like the black smoke from the many fires took the night shift, from the gray daytime smog…
The purple and orange night sky had settled as the many fires lit up Los Angeles and its vast array of ghettos which had become all out riot fests, still it was the downtown era that was the pinnacle of the party.
It seemed like the unbearable summers heat and the tensions running high had finally reached it’s climax.
The tension had been stirred with two lethal ingredients, the cold shootings by the LAPD of those four black teenagers last week, combined with the antics of Josh and the Nazis, had proved to make one dangerous cocktail.
Even from up here you could smell the fires of burning metal and buildings. The summer wind carried a spicy toxic breeze, as the road took another turn, they drove parallel to the old Hollywood sign, suddenly, Ali spotted something disturbing, that made him holler out for Hank to stop the vehicle!
The deafening sound of rotor blades - came off an LBN news helicopter that hovered above the road, with the projector lights aimed towards the big bold letters!
On top of the O’ in Wood, stood a large black man who lowered down a cross, from a rope; with what looked like a person having been tied to it - in a Christ like pose. ‘’He was certain it was Josh from earlier.’’
Hank swung the buggy in a half circle, and aimed his Tec-9 at the well dressed man at the bottom of the city’s trademark, who had pulled out a shiny silver chrome gun. The Ex-marine fired half a round into the man who first hit the black BMW X500 parked next to him and then fell to the ground. Hank then aimed and fired at the black guy on top, just as Ali shouted for him not to!
The black man instantly threw himself flat on top of the huge O’ letting go of the rope.
The cross with the bound Josh, who had dangled in the middle of the letter O’ in the sign - now came spiraling down, as the top of it hit the grass covered slope, the Christ figure broke off as it tipped over on the wooden side and began to slide headfirst towards the road where the buggy crew awaited, a little black girl ran out from the black BMW.
She ran round the Big letter and started to climb the ladder that reached to the top of it, as she called for her Daddy, who shouted that he was alright, and that she should be careful, but hurry!
The news helicopter from LBN,(that Mr. Smith had called for himself to document the crucifixion/execution of Josh,) live streamed the footage of the spectacular site:
It now filmed how Josh was freed from the Cross, and stuffed into the buggy. It was apparent that they would be followed closely; Hank mumbled something as he reached underneath the driver’s seat.
On top of the O’ in Wood, the little girl was crying in her Daddy’s arms, he held her tight and assured her that everything would be okay and that they would remain up there till everything had calmed down.
Hank had found what he had been looking for, a self made mini bazooka, which he now aimed at the helicopter above, it was the first time he tried it at a live target, the rocket that launched from it pierced the glass, and exploded upon impact with the roof of the chopper.
The little girl and her father looked straight into the fireball that came down on top of them, and upon the old brand of Tinsel town - like a malicious chariot that had swung too low from the heavens above.
The buggy set in gear again and speeded down the winding road aiming for the army base.
Dima Wood who had witnessed it all on the recently replaced synz-screen in his office, walked towards the big window frame that faced the burning city that once had symbolized hope for him, but which at this very moment spelled only failure and despair.
He stood with his back to the footage that now showed one of the new deluxe whorebots he had sent out, and lost track of this morning, in what looked like a shoot-out in the parking lot of a cheap motel downtown, as two of his employees came in to replace the synz-screen who had suffered a recent blow by a bottle of vodka.
- He thought about taking his own life, now that Jessica - the light of his life had been taken away by religious fanatics, just as his wife had been some twelve years earlier. And maybe he would? but not tonight…
He thought about it for a second, as if it were sport results
Muslims - Wood : 1-0
Christians - Wood : 1-0
it was time to really drunk - the Romanian way of solving ones’ problems, and when the hangover would pass, he swore to make it his final mission in this life, to hunt down every single bastard that worked for the Foundation.
Deserted
Josh started to wake up a little from unconsciousness as they speeded through the new-Mullholland intersection, heading towards the outskirts of town.
As they drove on, the noise from the myriad of sirens slowly drowned out, then the smell from the fires subsided; at one point it all felt like a distant memory to Josh, whose thoughts drifted towards Jessica as soon as he was no longer high as a kite.
His backpack with all the great dope was gone, he would give his right arm for it now, anything to take the feelings of unfinished love and unrepented guilt away, and make him comfortably numb.
He wished for the sweet comfort of the Rancor to wrap it’s loving arms around him, and hold him till everything went away, tears streamed down his cheeks, as he turned his head to the roadside of the darkened desert, he longed for the destruction of the city of angels: a city that had shown him love and hate and rise and fall - ‘’in just one year it had chewed him up and spat him out.’’ The city of angels was caving in, as a reverted decaying phoenix from the ashes, the irony came full circle, ashes to ashes - dust to dust.
Phoenix, slight return…
Mr. Smith woke up… he could not quite make out what he saw as his eyes were tearing up, due to the intense heat of the flames surrounding him.
It looked as if a helicopter had penetrated the O’ in Hollywood sign, like a giant black mosquito on a white glazed donut, he laughed a little to himself; which hurt like hell - as he coughed up some blood.
In fact his entire body hurt like hell, even thou his bio-mechanical right arm had taken three of the six bullets that had been fired at him, the other tree bullets had unfortunately been caught by his torso, and were now sending painful signals to his main cortex.
He noticed how the camera had melted itself into the head of a journalist from the LBN chopper, that lay closest to him.
He spent a further good ten minutes dragging himself into the drivers’ seat of the BMW,
Five minutes later he managed to get the car turned around and drove down the winding road, he knew that he needed medical care immediately! as soon as he had gotten himself patched up! he would come after Josh.
His mind was filled with thoughts of his first recent failure! and of how everyone in Los Angeles, and especially his employer for the past ten years had seen him fail like a lousy amateur, he managed with great pain to dial the emergency unit, ‘’he had for special occasions,’’ as he reached the bottom of the hill, it started to flicker for his eyes due to the already severe loss of blood, the metallic bonfires became an orange blur before him.
He lost control and the black BMW - X500 crashed directly into an overturned tourist bus in the intersection leading from the hills. The rioters and looters, instantly took notice, and ripped the door open, they dragged Mr. Smith who had been saved by the airbags into the street where he was beaten to death,(due to his skin color.)
one of the many news helicopters that hovered the city sky documented this direct to the many homes, and to the office of Dima Wood who raised his glass of Vodka, and gave a half hearted salute to his former henchman, he couldn’t be bothered to break his third synz-screen of the day.
Doomsday raid
They reached the limits of the premises of the army base as the sun had almost set.
Hank And Jonsey discussed the plans for their entry, and of how they could incorporate Brain, who had the ability to do some hacking into the mainframe of the base’s control system.
Ali and Josh leaned up against the buggy,
The disillusioned ex-skater commented that they should just had let him die at the cross!
Ali tried to convince him that he would possibly have a better chance to survive if he chose to stick by them? but he declined the possibility; stating that - Jessica’s Father’s men would hunt him down no matter where he went? but he refused to die at their hands, he would do it on his own.
Ali who unexplainably felt some kind of sympathy; asked him ‘’if it wasn’t some kind of sin or something to do that?’’
Josh confirmed that that was exactly the point! the only way to escape the doctrines of his former religion, he was almost certain that God did not exist - ‘’but just in case!’’
so he wouldn’t have to spend eternity, with the only one that could have saved him from this mess his life had become.
He started to walk away from the buggy - in direction of the gloomy desert.
Jonsey returned to Ali asking him a bit concerned about his friend? to which he just shrugged his shoulders.
Hank had called up Brain again back at the Spam ranch, who was up for the task!
his laptops were glowing as he punched in the codes that Jonsey had provided him with.
He entered trough a small breach in the army base defense system.
some fifty meters away, the lock on the electrical sliding gate - opened silently.
It dawned on Ali that he might still have some of the traffic light colored pills from earlier, he reached for one of the asymmetrical pockets on his baggy black and green parachute pants.
He found a couple of the see though ziplock bags from the extra stash Diego had kept. He got out a handful - which he shared with Hank, making sure that they got one of each color, since he still wasn’t sure which pills had caused the super enhanced combat skills that morning? so it was better to be safe than sorry.
It was decided that Jonsey would stay at the entrance, due to his wounded arm, he was already shoving signs of losing strength,
he informed them of what the dying high priest back at the house, had told him about the invention of a machine to do portal jumps. -
They had required the doomsday device from Ali, to open up the realm of other dimensions. But now that the priest who had committed mutiny, and held the device to his own disposal, he would probably already have made a portal jump himself? to require the last piece that would complete the doomsday machinery and that he would most likely activate it, as soon as possible?
There seemed to be only one sleepy guard at the control booth near the gate that had already been opened by Brain, the buggy drove up to it, the guard woke up and asked about their business there? - which made Jonsey draw a gun with a silencer and kill him with one’ well placed shot! Jonsey then handed them two keys he had taken from one of the high priests he had shot back at the house. Telling them that they were crucial for working the portal machine!
Meanwhile Brain, had gotten a blueprint map of the perimeters up on one of his old laptop screens.
From which he could guide them into what Jonsey had located as the middle section of the compound, by way of the GPS device on Hank’s armband computer,(he had kept after being discharged from further service after the Mexican war.)
They moved into the inner perimeters of the compound. -
The combination of the Green alert pill with the yellow fly pill proved a lethal combination for the few enemy guards that stood no chance at the odd tag team, before they could alert others,
Hank mentioned ‘’that it was disturbingly quiet for a military base?’’
Only a helicopter on a nearby pad, indicated that it had been active off lately.
The lack of resistance,(was startlingly suspicious especially to Hank.)
minutes later they snug down a corridor that Brain had guided them towards, without encountering any further resistance.
They reached the control center, where they were met by a strange looking machinery, resembling an egg shaped capsule with heavy tubes attached to it, and what seemed like dry smoke? That rose from underneath it?
The two operators at the giant control board, were shot in the back of their heads, their lifeless bodies rested at board of the vault - where panels and buttons were blinking everywhere.
Hank consulted Brain about what to do? the blueprint of the control vault came up on one of his laptop screens.
Red lights were flashing to where the keys would go, as the rest of the motherboard went dark.
‘‘I seems like the high priest with the device has escaped through that egg shaped metal thing behind you, and the high priest will return within minutes, according to the timer info!’’
Brain told them to get the two keys out, which Jonsey had given them and insert them into the desk, it would shut the portal machinery off and prevent the high priest from returning.
They each held up a key, Brain ordered them to stop what they were doing, for a minute! Hank confronted him.
¨¨Well what is it Brain? Why are we stopping now?¨¨
‘‘The strangest thing just happened, y’know! One of my laptops just flickered on, and I’m watching you guys at this website live! right now I assume?’’
¨¨Come again Brain! What the hell are you talking about?¨¨
¨¨It’s on a page that looks like it’s by the Foundation, I don’t get it?¨¨
Hank asked him what the hell it mattered anyways!
¨¨Well probably nothing, Hank? ok hurry up, there is only a minute left, it says you have to place the two keys at the exact same time, to shut the mechanism off!¨¨
They counted to three, and then inserted the keys into the control pad, Brain asked them to count to three one more time, and turn the keys counter clock wise.
It took a couple of seconds before anything happened, then a descending echo rung out and the green light disappeared from the egg shaped machine, the smoke that felt like inhaling dry-ice in their throats subsided as well after some ten seconds, Hank and Ali high-fived each other.
Hank asked Brain if he was still there?
¨¨Yeah I’m still here hank, but it’s strange it seems like my laptops are downloading like crazy right now I can’t seem to access, looks like its because of that code you gave me for the hack, it’s like they have been taken over?¨¨
Hank was in a great mood, now that they had just saved the world and joked - that perhaps Brain needed to get himself a virus update?
¨¨That site you y’know; the Foundation site I said you guys were on right!¨¨
¨¨Yeah what about it?¨¨
¨¨It’s strange cause after you guys high-fived each other the video transmission stopped, and there was a new headline banner popping up,¨¨
Hank asked a bit annoyed if it mattered, and pointed out that he was always so damn paranoid!!!
¨¨Yeah - yeah, okay Hank, I probably am, but before it read -
’The end justifies the means. Go purge!!! And after the video signal stopped it changed to - have a happy ending!¨¨
Hank laughed out, asking him: so what!?!
¨¨Well now there are just a couple of digits counting down?¨¨
¨¨Down from what?¨¨
There was static on the line for a couple of seconds, then Jonsey’s English accent, was heard, -
¨¨Hank you guys need to get out of there right bloody now!¨¨
¨¨Jonsey there’s a lot of noise on the line it sounds like you’re in a chopper or something?¨¨
¨¨I am, now just get the bloody hell out of there and into the buggy, head towards Vegas, do NOT! go back to LA, you hear me, I’ll call you up soon, now get back on the highway!¨¨
Hank nodded as he pointed to Ali that they should get out of there. They ran down the empty corridor again, with the paranoia and adrenaline effect from the pills, still pumping thru their veins.
They ran outside where there had been a chopper on the pad before, Hank uttered something about; ‘’Jonsey must have taken off in it somehow?’’ They ran towards the gate where they found the buggy with the keys in the ignition.
Hank jumped into the driver’s seat again with Ali as shotgun, who kept asking Hank what the rush was all about!?! and where Jonsey had gone?
¨¨Later! Jonsey will call us in a minute; so chill the fuck out!¨¨
They were back on the road going as fast as possible to get as far away from the army base as they could, the empty highway towards Vegas laid stretched out in front of them, while the setting sun were drowning somewhere beyond the horizon, in all it’s orange splendor on the black and purple horizon of the desert.
Jonsey called Hank up again, demanding that he give the headset to Ali,
¨¨Well done old chap, job well done! couldn’t have done it better myself,¨¨
Ali could not help but smile, for someone who had not accomplished anything else in his life; besides completing various Tres console games, he actually felt proud of himself for the first time ever! He made a thumbs up gesture to Hank who smirked as he kept his eyes on the unlit desert road, pushing the buggy to its limits.
¨¨Thanks Jonsey, it actually feels pretty good, but tell me - why should we rush out of there like our asses was on fire, and not return to the city?¨¨
all of a sudden Jonsey changed his accent to more of a southern drawl.
¨¨Cause I need you alive, boy!¨¨
Ali wrinkled his brows and asked Jonsey to repeat that?
¨¨Well you see, I need your ass alive, and you ain’t worth much to me, dead.¨¨
It dawned on him that Jonsey now spoke with the same accent as the man behind the desk at the hotel earlier, he instantly got Goosebumps all over.
¨¨J - Jonsey? was that actually you earlier at the reception then, what the hell is going on?¨¨
¨¨Yes sire‘, I have been messing with your head for a long time now,¨¨
He tried to suppress a spiteful laughter, -
¨¨Look, it’s just important that you stick to the course to Vegas: Or you’ll get your asses blown off!¨¨
Ali asked him what he meant?
¨¨You just directed A-bomb warheads at Mexico city and in less than twenty minutes the neo-commie government, will release their own kind at the city of Los Angeles, that being similar, A-bomb missiles I suspect?¨¨
¨¨Jonsey have you completely lost your mind! are you a fucking schizoid or something!?! we just saved the fucking world from that high priest returning with the final last doomsday device!¨¨
Jonsey made the kind of frowning sound one makes, when someone is saying something really ludicrous, -
¨¨Oh come on Ali, there is no such thing as a doomsday device, you’re such a dreamer, just like your old man. You don’t even remember that portal jump in the ballroom, am I right?¨¨
¨¨…right, I don’t!¨¨
¨¨That’s cause it never happened, I just had to tell you a story suggesting that you had magical powers like your old man. all I had to do was spike your soda with a high dose of LSD and some horse tranquilizer, then wait for you to pass out, so I could revive you with an adrenaline syringe to the heart - and all of a sudden you’re starting to see the proof!¨¨
¨¨Fuck you Jonsey! I give up, why don’t you just tell me what the hell you got to say before I throw this headset into the desert and forget I ever met you, you crazy fuck!¨¨
There was silence for a bit…
¨¨Alright, let me explain it to you bit by bit. it’s important that you can tell the story accurately, when they apprehend you,¨¨
¨¨Who!?!¨¨
¨¨The Police or the feds! ¨¨
Hank looked a little distressed at Ali now, he reached over and pressed a button on the head set, that directed the voice signal out through the speakers in the car.
¨¨Well you were just such an easy target Ali, the whole history with your daddy and his magic, your druggy secluded existence and your Dimensions game addiction, all you needed was a little push… ok, a big push then!¨¨¨
¨¨So fucking what Jonsey, it’s all a scam as you say? I could not portal jump and neither could my old man, so you had me going there for a while so fucking what!¨¨
Jonsey chuckled in his southern style, -
¨¨So fucking what you ask?!? very soon you’re going to be America’s most wanted man. You have just caused the destruction of good old Tinsel town,¨¨
¨¨No I haven’t! cause if I couldn’t portal jump - then neither could the high priest, meaning that machine we shut down was fake and meaning there is no such thing as a doomsday device, now is there!¨¨
¨¨You’re catching on fast boy, and you’re right all that portal jump, doomsday device hoola baaloo is just nonsense, made up to justify the existence of the Foundation,¨¨
¨¨Ok, so there is no Foundation either? then why make it up?¨¨
¨¨‘Cause all great tragedies need a conspiracy to distract from the obvious facts!¨¨
¨¨I’m trying to keep up with your nonsense Jonsey, but I’m telling you, you’re very close to be talking to your self in the desert.¨¨
¨¨I’m sorry, I keep sidetracking myself - But the short story is that you and Hank are the only survivors from the Foundation, and that’s why it’s great if you guys can keep yourself alive, until they apprehend you.¨¨
¨¨You just throw one curveball after another as far as I’m concerned, Jonsey. so what if the cops think I work for the foundation? - it doesn’t exist anyways. I haven’t done anything wrong? in fact if anything I tried to save the fucking world by shutting that device off at the base.¨¨
¨¨Yes - but what people will see is two guys wearing the Foundation’s jackets rushing armed into a military base, igniting the missile warhead aimed at the commie regime south of the border,¨¨
¨¨But no… that’s not what happened, we… I - I never pressed any -¨¨
¨¨Ha ha - I know that sonny, that’s not really the way to actually launch a missile strike, the entire military compound was fake as well of course, it has been abandoned for a long time, Pointdexter launched those stolen warheads from somewhere else, but he used Brain’s computer, and by having Brain entering that code I gave you - Those data is being uploaded to federal agencies right now! all the evidence of a nut case doomsday cult in the desert, and you guys rushing in there to releases those missiles, you see where I’m heading with this, boy!¨¨
¨¨Ok so people will see me and hank representing the Foundation, I get that… but w-we weren’t really doing any of that did we?¨¨¨
¨¨No of course you didn’t, but people believe what they see! Your old man could have told you that, its all smoke and mirrors my friend.¨¨
¨¨There are still some loose ends, if you ask me,¨¨
¨¨Oh! I hope not, spill it, -¨¨
¨¨There will be other people that can back my story!¨¨
¨¨ Who do you mean? that crazy Australian Nazi gang who was a chapter of the Foundation, who were killed in a shoot-out with the LAPD downtown Los Angeles. Or Josh the crazy crack-head Christian that is lying dead in the desert right now, with a bullet hole in his head, and my gun in his hand?¨¨
Ali picked his brain for a second, -
¨¨There must have been others, what about the platoon that apprehended me at the Spam ranch! do you think that they will all keep quiet? ¨¨
¨¨Since I paid for their stay at the Hilton, and the A-bomb should hit within less than fifteen minutes, yeah I’d say that everyone in LA.
Who might have been willing to come forward connecting some dots, like all the actors I had hired to play guests and staff at the hotel earlier, or the security service where I hired all the silent suits, - will all be fucking dead!¨¨
Ali went silent…
¨¨That’s why I need you and Hank alive, you are the only ones left to tell the story, the missing link.¨¨
¨¨But why the hell are you telling me all this shit?¨¨
¨¨Cause as I began with, all great tragedies needs a conspiracy and Ali, you’ are that conspiracy - !¨¨
¨¨And what if I won’t tell it.¨¨
Jonsey chuckled again, -
¨¨Oh you make me laugh boy!… I figure you’ll lay low for a while, but the feds will get you sooner or later And then, you will spill your guts; trying to save your sorry ass. Yapping on and on about how some guy’ set you up making you believe you could do portal jumps? and orchestrating some big scheme with you guys wearing the Foundation jackets, but for every detail, you’ll just make an already far out conspiracy seem even more far out.¨¨
Ali had almost gone numb, as he asked -
¨¨¨What’s in it for you Jonsey?¨¨
¨¨Lots of money my friend, my employers - are the families in Las Vegas. The problem they had was that the newly elected mayor H. G. Lambert, could not be bribed to not launch the plans of building the casinos, Las Vegas is already under great stress as it is. The state owned Slots & Dice chain would had taken a huge cut of the gambling market. Well… it would just be too big a market to lose.¨¨
¨¨Honestly Jonsey, isn’t it just a bit far out that the Mob, will kill millions of people just to not lose some cash!?!¨¨
¨¨‘Suppose it is! but that’s how it always goes: Isn’t it a bit far out that the government will stage a terrorist attack on it’s own country, just so the army could get bigger contracts? Its always about money somewhere down the line, boy but it’s not very sexy. works better with terrorists!¨¨
¨¨I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about?¨¨
¨¨Doesn‘t matter, just an old ‘conspiracy’ from the previous century.¨¨
Hank had been able to hear most of the conversation: he furiously grabbed the headset from Ali! -
¨¨I’ll expose you, you goddamn son of a bitch!¨¨
¨¨Oh yeah, sure you will Hank and remind me again, why was it you were kicked out of the Marine corps?¨¨
He went silent…
¨¨Yes, subject was developing paranoid schizophrenia, most likely caused by post stress symptoms. Booyaa! You’re a ticking one man terror cell, that’s what the media will say, they should have dug up your records in an hour or so?¨¨
Hank was grinding his teeth’s now.
He heard the pilot saying something over the speaker in Jonsey’s microphone about approaching Las Vegas and Jonsey shouting at Pointdexter to keep his trap shut.
¨¨Well Jonsey, it seems like we’ll see you in Vegas?¨¨
¨¨Hmm, touché’ ok… enjoy your freedom as long as it last boys. ¨¨
Jonsey hung up and the line went dead.
The hi-strung combat drug induced duo looked at each other.
¨¨So do you think he was lying to us?¨¨
¨¨To be honest, I really don’t know what to think right now?’’
The drove on for a good fifteen minutes, the phone signal seemed jammed, they could not reach Brain and neither could he contact them.
Suddenly the evening sky lit up, followed by a formation of a mushroom cloud about the same time as the impact hit them as a deep low frequency sub wave, that pushed everything in front of it.
the blast shook the ground underneath them, it shook the car violently, but it stayed on the road.
Hank regained control of it, just as it skidded to a halt -
Straight ahead on the road stood a woman pointing a gun at them!
- To be continued…
Ali fell down on the bed, as the two deluxe whorebots left the room. He had used up the last credit on the old fashioned Gold-Pod, but it had been worth it. Not because the new models where that different in skills, the way the new flex skin responded: it had the most realistic feel he had ever encountered, Since he had started to use whorebots exclusively some four years ago, however he did not care much for this improvement. ’’These new bots will become the industry standard within long,’’ He pondered, ’It will surely wipe out the remaining human whores,’’ He closed his tired eyes -Most people were so hung up on the ’’realness!’’ running a hand thru his black and blue dyed hair. He reached for a shooter on the messy glass coffee table. But it seemed like it had disappeared…? He fantasized about how good it felt when he pressed it to the left side of his neck and pulled the trigger, the soothing effect of the LIQ-THC worked immediately as it entered his mainline. Two hours of some hardcore botsex on improved Cicodrine, leaves you fatigued with a throbbing pulse and no better way to come down, than that of LIQ-THC after such a workout! Actually it had been rather disappointing: the sex! And his pulse was pretty normal? They had been way too human for his liking; one of them had even punched him, now that he thought of it? His memory was beyond clouded!
It was Ten ’o’clock in the morning, and the sun was slowly rising over La Brea, he reached for the wrap around synz-screen half helmet and slipped it onto his weary head and turned on the tres console, or at least he tried to…
A faint humming sound was the only response it gave; Dammit!! It had finally died it seemed?
It had been running almost nonstop for the seven days he had been holed up in this dirty hotel room, placed there by two over-tanned corporate looking types that had picked him up in Inglewood, after a long sweaty night of aggro-rave and hard drugs at the docks.
They had declined to answer most of his few questions. But he had figured that it was for some stupid show, that junked out couch potatoes and old people could indulge themselves in.
They had just left him at the room with an almost antique Gold-Pod with a thirty-thousand dollar credit and hook up to everything within the city of Los Angeles. Only condition was that he was not to leave the room!
Those gonzo ’let’s snatch a random guy shows’ had become quite popular lately, and were seen as cutting edge within the terms of reality TV. They usually ended with a rain of confetti and some kind of oversize check being handed to the guy that had randomly been picked up, with very little instructions of what was going to happen?
It was now five days ago that he had started his whorebot and drug rampage:
as he was randomly zapping thru the TV channels, while dosing off on some premium Xitalix that sometimes made him paranoid: he had suddenly gotten the idea that the sole purpose for his stay, was that he was supposed to go nuts and entertain!
He had done absolutely nothing but kicking back and playing the tres console after arriving.
Not to be particular spiteful towards the TV-show, or the silent suits that had brought him to the hotel room, and told him not to leave no matter what happened. But because it was what he always did more or less, at the age of twenty five, he was still practicing the freeloader lifestyle at his Mom’s house.
But the paranoia that the opium like Xitalix brought about - made him think that the suits where making their way up the stairs to replace him with a more energetic type, one who was eager to entertain the sedated masses right now! Which would result in the fact that he would lose out on a big fat check then!
He had convinced himself that the room was monitored, that there were hidden cameras everywhere; no doubt! What started as a paranoid notion, soon looked like a regular panic attack!
Damn… why hadn't he thought of it before? It was that stupid show called - Most extreme behavior… yeah that was what it was, no doubt! He jumped up from the couch reaching for the old school Gold-Pod and texsted his dealer back in Inglewood.
Telling him to bring his entire stash - haul his ass into a cab, and get down to the La Hacienda luxury hotel on La Brea, room 233. Some words were exchanged over the phone as his dealer; Diego - Had found it hard to believe that Ali was good for such credit, since he was habitually broke.
After arriving and unloading the goods, Ali's ramblings about that he was probably in some TV-show had made his dealer make for a hasty leave.
He had started to make pyramids of the various powdery drugs, shaping the bright blue color of the Zutron and the toxic green of the Quegas, into dope pyramids; He dipped his head in the two piles, leaving his face two-tone colored. Various pills where scattered all over the table, he washed a random handful down with a Cherry/Watermelon energy-coke. He then tried to locate the hidden cameras. He did not wish to be sent back to his mundane existence in the projects just yet, a credit like that of the Gold-Pod, was too good to waste, also the prospect of a possible money price at the end of his stint was motivating.
At one point he thought he heard steps outside the door? He had shouted -
¨¨No! I am partying for fucks sake!¨¨ and grabbed another handful of multi-colored pills and washed them down with some warm coke from the day before. The steps had then disappeared… perhaps it was just the Xitalix talking, ’’but you never know?’’ - He had told himself.
He then grabbed the Gold-Pod and ordered some six: generation two whorebots from: LA SIN, the best and only escort agency in town, concerning whorebots.
These last couple of days was a big blur of similar events:
Nasty flashbacks of chest pains! Followed by complete darkness…
An odd glimpse of a nurse reviving him,
An old man in a white suit hunched over him, telling a nurse to get out? Then more botsex, and an ache in his nose from sniffing too hard into the blue and green drug pyramids. He had visions of dipping some bot’ into the drugs. He saw punches being thrown, quite possibly at him? But he was not sure of anything at this point,
- Oh man, his eyelids twitched, he shut and massaged his eyes.
Another flashback - what was it he was strapped to? He imagined pissing all over himself while laughing manically.
Fuck! He had really fried his brain this time, he mused! Moving his lips without sound…
The amount of drugs on the table had drastically thinned, within the last coupe of days. -
He remembered trying to order a house gig with his favorite aggro-rave outfit: 'Chokestick'. Who never showed up? Even thou he had convinced himself that he had heard a knock on the door at one point, but had proven too paranoid to open the door at that particular moment.
Too many bots’ to remember! Too many drugs!
He felt sick and dehydrated, he had worn the same clothes for an entire week - The black and green baggy parachute pants, with a myriad of reflexes and pockets, the black ’Choke on this - tour shirt’ worn since that last dock rave, now had salty traces of a weeks sweat shoving among other bodily fluids(all of ’em his own.)
He believed the TV crew had to come through the door at any given moment now, to hand him the price! Whatever it was that he had won for most extreme behavior? He had most certainly deserved it. Hopefully it would be a shitload of cash, that he could spend on more whorebots and drugs as soon as he came down from this crazy week.
He waited for what felt like an eternity but nothing happened…? His brain was fried and his body was exhausted from the lack of sleep. Still it would probably still be at least two more days before he could get some rest, due to the amounts of drugs he had taken. ’’Dammit! What the fuck took them so long?’’ - massaging his eyes while grinding his teeth due to the amphetamine of the Quegas. One of the bots that had just left his room, had guaranteed him a refund from the company, due to his dissatisfaction of their ’’realness’’ but still, that could take a while…
He had emptied the Gold-Pod account completely this morning; he worried for a second that they were not to be trusted, since they used such an old device as a Gold-Pod? - They ought to burst in right now, and shout congratulations! While it rained with confetti…. ’’Yeah they should be here any second now…’’
His throat felt a dry as the asphalt outside the window. Only leftover flat warm cokes where scattered around the room, he had to get something to drink, right now!
But they had told him not to leave the room no matter what! ’’Well fuck it!’’ He had surely done his part and then some. It seemed that he had run out of LIQ-THC capsules as well…? he felt sick and tired, and the mere sight of the two piles of the blue Zutron, and the green Quegas, on the coffee table made him nauseas; he knew he had to get out of there!
Slightly annoyed he struggled with strapping on his 12 holed steel toed, black Sawex boots. He then flung the door open and left room 233 for the first time since he had arrived there seven days ago.
The hallway was silent and the air felt stale. Only the ringing in his ears was to be heard, from way too loud aggro-rave and harsh-trance on the stereo for hours on end for the last couple of days.
The elevator seemed broken? So he took the stairs two stories down, he did not encounter any other guests on his way.
As he walked into the lobby, that’s when it hit him for the first time.
The entire hotel was empty, except for him!
No bellhops or even a concierge in the reception, and not a single guest in sight at this huge fucking place, ’’How could that be?’’ the hotel were clearly deserted.
The atmosphere of the big white marble lobby, felt eerie; too cold and too empty for the working holidays in the middle of July, a time when it should clearly be buzzing with activity, -
’’What the fuck is going on?’’
Coke-quest
The sun mercilessly stabbed his eyes, he fumbled through the few belongingness in the many angular mesh side pockets of the parachute pants and fetched his big black fly like shades - that had saved him from many an early morning sun-ray attack like this - exiting dark abandoned warehouse buildings on the docks used for all-night raves.
He eyed a 7-eleven on the other side of the street, the early morning traffic moved like a lazy dislocated mechanic caterpillar; held together by invisible membranes as he crossed the road.
Inside the franchise the air-condition felt like ice unto his warm skin.
The amount of drugs consumed, had him sweating bullets as he started feeling nauseous again, with trembling hands he picked a cherry/watermelon energy-coke from the cooler.
The wrinkled Korean guy behind the counter gave him a disapproving look; as he drew the outdated Gold-Pod from his left back pocket, and placed it in the now rarely used ‘Pod device at the counter.
He knew perfectly well that he had cleared out of the very last cent of its credits; yet he crossed his fingers that there might be a purchase - that had not been transferred yet.
Beeps followed by more beeps and an even grumpier look from the old Korean clerk.
¨¨Ali Faruk!¨¨
He felt a firm hand on his left shoulder as he turned around, and realized the two over tanned suits stood behind him, appearing even stiffer in stature than he had remembered them.
¨¨Yeah! About fucking time!¨¨
He frowned, wrinkling his pierced brows, behind the fly shades.
¨¨What the hell took you guys so long? Now pay the chin will you, I am fucking dying of thirst here!¨¨
The suit grabbed his bicep firmly!
¨¨I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about? Now come with us!¨¨
Ali yanked his arm free and shouted at them -
¨¨Just give me my goddamn price you assholes, I am fucking fried, don’t you get it!?!¨¨
The suit slapped his face with the back of his well groomed hand, while the other drew a gun from an under-arm gun holster and pointed it at Ali.
The Korean with the skin texture like that of a raisin, hastily drew a Pumpgun from underneath the shelf, the second suit quickly relocated his aim at the clerk, and shouted -
¨¨Don’t even think about it old man!¨¨
While the other one told Ali -
¨¨Now grab the fucking coke and let’s go!¨¨
Ali took the energy-coke, the first suit grabbed hold of his arm again and yanked him out of the store, the second suit kept his aim at the old man until they were out on the street.
A white stretch limo held waiting for them outside. The suit ordered him to get inn.
Once inside the cabin, the suits took place on either side of him, he removed his wraparound shades to better adjust his tired eyes to the light.
The red leather seats were a stark contrast to the white interior of the limo, sitting opposite him; an older man - impeccably dressed as some old-time lounge entertainer: white polished shoes to go with the white suit complimented by a red bow tie, and a red rose in his upper pocket. He ran a spotted hand thru his silvery mane.
¨¨You have caused us a lot of trouble young man!¨¨
He tried to act friendly, but it was obvious that he suppressed a great deal of irritation towards Ali.
Something about the way he carried himself would suggest that he was around seventy years of age, while the plastic surgery industry of Los Angeles had provided him with a face of a fifty year old.
What gave him away in his otherwise neutral features -
Was the way his mouth vibrated, in that annoying way old people has a tendency to twitch when they get emotional.
Ali started getting nervous, the overreaction of the suit pulling a gun at him inside the 7-eleven, he became painfully aware of just how much he actually smelled after a week without a shower. Inside the cabin of the vehicle the sweat started to drip from his forehead down on his much tested T-shirt.
¨¨Look… erm? I don’t know if you guys are trying to psych me out or something, but could you just like give me my reward or whatever?¨¨
The old man gazed expressionless at him, perhaps he tried to raise an eyebrow? But the surgery prevented him for doing so, one of the suits informed him. -
¨¨Sir, he asked the same when we approached him at the store?¨¨
The white clad old timer leaned closer to Ali, eyeballing him, -
¨¨What the hell are you talking about, kid?¨¨
Ali had no idea what was going on, the atmosphere was beyond tense, -
¨¨Ok chill! Maybe I got it all wrong or something, but you guys are from that show: most extreme behavior, right?¨¨
The old timer didn’t flinch, -
¨¨Listen kiddo, you think you can wiggle your way out of this by acting crazy? Well guess again, you made a deal with the Foundation,
And Mr. McKinney wants to know what happened to the device!¨¨
Ali looked confused around. Gently shaking his head -
¨¨I don’t… what device you ar…¨¨
The tanned suit to his right jabbed him hard in the solar plexus, with his elbow, which sucked all the air out of him, he felt like throwing up.
The old man lifted his chin with his middle finger, -
¨¨Ok! Now listen up Mr. Faruk. This might be a good time for you to cut the bullshit, cause I ain’t buying it and neither will the people that I work for!¨¨
Ali’s mind was racing, he felt like shit, while the calming effect of the various drugs were wearing off.
The old man was taking notice of his deteriorating condition; the sweat pouring from his every pore, the stench coming off of him.
¨¨Listen to me kiddo! It’s very simple, my job is to bring you to Mr. McKinney. Jonsey will be here soon enough, the way I see it! You got a whole lot of explaining to do, but that’s your problem not mine.¨¨
Ali nodded, with snot running out of his much tested nostrils,
The old man in the entertainer suit looked at him with a great deal of concern, it was apparent that he was not well at all.
¨¨I’d like to offer you a scotch son, but I don’t know what you kids are into these days? but if you have something on you that would help you to pull yourself a bit together, I would advise that you take it now, cause once we arrive the pressure is on, get me!¨¨
Ali was trembling from fear released adrenaline - that now raced thru his system, he eagerly nodded, and stuttered a couple of -
¨¨Yes sir - yes sir.¨¨
He wanted to escape the hostile situation as much as possible as he searched through a couple of the many angular pockets on his dirty parachute pants, he finally drew out a couple of small ziplock plastic bags containing some pills that he had no idea what was?
He fumbled with the bags but finally drew a random combination of a green a yellow and a red pill.
He swallowed the traffic light colored toxic combination with the last of the Cherry/watermelon energy-coke, crossing his fingers that they were downers of some sort? He could not remember having tried any of them during the week?
He had never been one to go easy on drugs(especially rave dope) even thou he usually stuck to LIQ-THC.
He was oblivious to the fact, that the pills he had just swallowed had been stolen from a private funded research lab that was conducting;
What were to be the crown jewel of a top secret military program!
The white stretch-limo was heading north from downtown, towards the higher income area part of town, in which he had never sat foot before.
The car pulled up in front of a huge Caribbean-baroque white house in the hills, just as the pills were dissolving and entering into his bloodstream, affecting the nervous system and starting to connect to synapses.
The ensemble exited the limo and entered the house, the giant white marble covered hall seemed abandoned - not unlike that of the La Hacienda hotel, they led him up a staircase that spiraled in a half circle towards the first floor.
The golden railing felt good against his sweaty palm, a certain ease had come over him, now that the effect of the drugs had started to settle inn.
The hallway seemed to go on forever; he was oblivious to the fact that the green pill had started working since he was already so high strung from the stressful situation he was in.
A small excerpt of the Army laboratory log; research toxicology reports had stated - that the trademark of the green pill was:
‘’Enhanced production of adrenaline, resulting in extreme awareness, a drug developed and suitable for close up combat situations.’’
He noticed however the effect of the yellow pill - also going by the nick name of ‘’the Fly pill.’’ among the chemists that had developed it. The fly pill remarked it self, by having the effect of:
‘’Speeding up the human metabolism approximately: seventy percent’’ (this was of course extremely hard on the liver.) Giving way to muscles to twitch and contract in nano-spasms, applying the same reaction time as that of a fly, to the exposed subject.
Yet again a pill developed for soldiers in an up-close combat situation, but also suitable for level-A, fighter pilots.
The toxicology report firmly stated; that it was not recommended that: ‘the fly pill’ was to be mixed with the green pill. Cardiac arrest had been a common casualty if the two interacted.
Of course Ali was unaware of those facts, he looked down at his feet and saw them move before they actually did, as they walked down what seemed like an endless hallway to him. He thought he was hallucinating? And felt grateful, that whatever he was about to face would be filtered through some kind of recreational drug. He was not convinced yet that they were downer drugs, but he had his fingers crossed.
However…! Stressful situations are best met without the appearance of war drugs in your system.
Nothing could have prepared him and much less explained the effect of the red pill. Which was a reconstruction of a re-vamped CIA sponsored project that had explored the psychic abilities for non-verbal communication.
The CIA project had been dropped due to a completely destroyed lab and too many casualties - concerning the staff and the submitted objects (voluntary inmates.)
- Under no circumstance! Was the red pill to be mixed with the green paranoia pill.
The shit was about to go down!
They led him inside a huge bedroom, an old man lay under layers of red and golden silk sheets; in a king-size bed with ornaments on the head.
A drop of some clear liquid was attached to his left arm; a nurse who stood by his bedside was asked to leave.
The old man made a slow waving movement with his skinny liver stained hand, and the suits pushed Ali closer to the footing of the bed, so that he had eye contact with the old man.
In a hoarse whisper that sounded strained by his clearly weakened condition, the old man addressed him -
¨¨So I take that since you are here, you did get the device, but you want to renegotiate the deal, more money I recon… it always is.¨¨
Ali’s eyes searched the room,
¨¨Listen I… I really don’t kno…¨¨
The effect of the pills were kicking inn fast! He thought the bedroom looked like one belonging to a king in a fairytale, dark wooden interior decorated with gold wherever possible, suddenly he heard a voice coming from afar, saying -
‘’You are the chosen one’’
Not the kind of stuff anyone needs, when adrenaline and effects of close-up combat drugs are pumping through their body.
He registered that the old mans lips were moving but no words came out, he was tuned into the frequency of the voice - the silence of the void was deafening.
He focused, as Goosebumps covered his cold sweating body.
¨¨Who said that! What do you mean the chosen one!¨¨
Without turning around he could sense the unease spread in the room, the people behind him made small motions, he realized that he had shouted those words out? He heard the voice again -
‘’Doom bringer, ender of worlds!’’
He realized now, that the voice was only real inside of his head. He listened closely, while his muscles twitched with adrenaline all tightened up getting ready for combat.
The green and yellow pill was working in dangerous unison,
His eyes fell on the corner of the room, near a big stained glass window. A full grown albino gorilla was squatting - half covered by the shadows. Its pale blue eyes met his dilated pupils.
He realized that it was the ape that spoke those words in his head; he could see it in its clear calm stare. It was trying to get a message across to him. -
‘’Your demise is nigh, heed the warning!’’
He was freaking out in the most controlled manner also known as - paralyzed from shock.
The monkey’s eyes switched direction for less than a second towards the king-size bed, just in time for him to return his attention to the old man’s lips, that were forming the sentence -
¨¨Kill him,¨¨
The Yellow pill had by now speeded up his metabolism with the aforementioned seventy percent, which meant everything: especially movements was perceived in slow-motion hundreds of nano-seconds before they were carried out, the same way a fly senses the movement of an arm; before one can take a swipe at it with a folded newspaper.
He flung himself forward, landing on top of the weaken old man, arms outstretched wrapping his hands around his neck, before he could finish his sentence, and irrational childish reaction to an impending doom situation.
The tanned suit that stood nearest, drew the pistol from its under-arm holster, and took aim at Ali’s back; intuitively he sensed the movement from targeting danger within a quarter of a second -
Just in time to jerk his body violently backwards - the trigger finger could not stop its motion, as the suit involuntary placed a bullet in the head of the old man, instead of Ali’s back.
Before the suit could react he had wrapped his hands around the gun and moved it upwards pressing his pointing finger over the suits trigger finger. He pressed down hard, and the suit ate the bullet that came at him from his own gun! Exactly one second after he had fired the first bullet himself.
The remaining tanned suit had barely reached inside his jacket, as Ali fired the third bullet from the gun into his forehead, all the while the first suit was collapsing with the gun in his hand. The two bodies hit the floor with the interval of a second.
The white dressed oldie from the Limo, tried to make a run for the door, just as Ali picked up the gun and grabbed him by the collar reverse from behind and yanked him backwards, making the red bowtie, go snap!
He registered the muffled sound of six pair of feet running towards them from outside in the hallway. He ran backwards towards the huge stained glass window displaying a medieval octopus,
Ali dragged the old guy behind him as a shield of flesh, He fired blindly at the door, which resulted in a rain of bullets being fired from the approaching guards, at least a dozen of those hit the human shield, who drew his final breath, as Ali swung him through the stained glass window, and jumped out after him using the pivotal swing, not losing the grip of his collar at any time,
The oldie slammed face down unto the yellow-tile covered driveway in front of the house, with Ali adding further menace, by landing on his back. He rolled off and sprang to his feet as the guards reached the frame of the broken window. He ran towards the back of the house where he scaled the fence leading towards the city, and stumbled down the steep hill on the other side, he got on his feet again, and ran as fast as he could through driveways and well groomed lawns until he reached a big pink house;
That was built in classic Burton-esque gothic, he scaled the matching fence with the ease of that of a 21st century parkur artist.
He turned the corner of the bubblegum colored house - as he reached the backyard, he was startled by a loud noise, which instinctively made him run all that he could directly towards the big class window.
On the other side; a guy was kneeling while the sound of his desperate screaming penetrated through the closed sliding glass door, it was -
Josh
The twenty year old, ex Pro-skater and fast fading celebrity, screamed out in a mix of despair and grief: he had spent all morning fighting with his now freshly deceased celebrity girlfriend Jessica Wood; heir to the Stuffed inc. empire - who was the mother company of LA SIN.
She had just suffered a fatal blow to the head, by the skateboard which josh in a fit of rage, had hurled at her with full strength.
They had met each other the previous summer, at the annual Rock-Angeles tour: The event that brought the cream of the current Christian underground metal/hardcore and prime skateboarding to the youths of Los Angeles., Josh was just about to relocate the city from his native Idaho.
He was the hottest new pro skater that, Skip; the owner of Trust skateboards had signed unto his team, who again on behalf of the Pentecostal Church - was spreading the good message thru the healthy activity of skateboarding.
At the Rock Angeles shows: Josh performed street and vert trick while the main stage know as ‘the throne’ were frequented by metal bands such as the ultra conservative: Stigmata Glory and Death to Demons.
While the smaller stage at the other end of the arena featured the smaller but equally preachy hardcore bands like: XkingX and Faith or Die.
All of those bands were being released on the One’ God label. Who were equally affiliated with the umbrella organization of the Pentecostal Church.
Apart from being freshly deceased -
Jessica
Was the daughter of Dima Wood: the ruthless Romanian business mogul and the owner of Stuffed Inc. After establishing whorebot escort/brothel franchise - LA SIN some four years ago, his already budging fortune had skyrocketed and his estimated fortune was believed to have topped that of some two billion dollars.
Dima Wood had been the first to import the first Japanese produced whorebots, when no one else had seen the prospects of the market,
This had nearly wiped the sex industry clean of human prostitutes in the Los Angeles area, where over two thousand franchises had popped up.
Now that LA SIN was branching out to other cities of the US, it had proven impossible to jump on the android whore-wagon for other actors; Some claimed that Dima Wood had made an exclusive deal with the sole Japanese manufacture,(which were in fact true.) but remained to be proven in court.
Jessica and her valley friends had first dropped acid at Disneyland when she was fifteen, thereby causing her the first of many public outrages’. She was rated hottest scandal princess among Glamordirt’s subscribers, (for the 5th year in a row.)
The day she had met Josh was no different; her annoying canyon crew entourage had come to visit the Rock Angeles tour, to attract some attention towards themselves, Jessica had however dropped some really bad acid and had gotten lost from her clique.
She was wandering about when the sleazy manager of Stigmata glory had spotted her near the gate that led into the backstage area - unto which he had managed to let her inn, unseen.
The - One’ God label had settled some rape allegations out of court for him this past year, but the rumors were circulating and everyone had been told to keep an eye at him backstage.
As he was leading her to his trailer, Josh who had completed his part of skate-runs for the day had happened to walk by.
He had grabbed the arm of the manager chastening him! After some arguing between him and Josh: the manager(who was also an adorned minister in the Church) had then walked off; fuming and cursing him
Josh was then left to his own with the drug casualty, it only took him a moment to see that she was de-hydrated, with good Christian intentions he had led her back to his own trailer, the backstage security staff had stared at him, when he had carried her inside.
Josh was usually never seen around girls, least of all someone as scantly glad as her, wearing only a silver bikini top and a pair of tight faux-leather silver shorts to match her trademark silver colored hair, adorned by dark stars dyed into the undercut. He had fed her some tuna sandwich and insisted that she drank lots of water and equal amounts of sodas. Jessica had started to come to her senses again, as the orange sun had begun to settle over the Hollywood bowl.
She had found him awkwardly cute, and appreciated the fact that he had no idea of who she was? Since he had only been focusing on his skating career and spreading the good word for years…
She instinctively knew that Josh was the kind of good guy she never met in her own environment. ‘‘Those valley boys were to self absorbed and too spoiled to truly appreciate her.‘’ - As her father so often had told her.
From having suppressed his sexuality for years. It did not take much of seduction on her part, a simple sob story of how she had lost her mother, as she took shelter in his comforting Bible-quote’ tattooed arms; followed by some lightweight flirting, biting her lower lip and the sparkle in her deer like eyes.
Josh’s usually high held moral values quickly caved inn -
Until that evening in the Hollywood bowl. He had never even kissed a girl or been even remotely close to experiencing what it felt like to be inside of a girl, and even thou it only lasted a mere thirty seconds, he broke his promise of - no sex until marriage; that evening.
Afterwards she wept some to drive the guilt trip home, not only did he fall for it, he instantly fell head over heels in love with her, and at least she did so too for a while, before his downfall…
Jossica
Proportional with his love life blooming’ his Christian skateboard career just as quickly started to erode, for the remainder of the tour Jessica was more or less traveling around with him, she stayed with him in his trailer.
Soon: not only Glamordirt; but every gossip and tabloid media latched onto this odd paring of scandal party princess and heir to the LA SIN franchise, hooking up with all out - devout Christian values preaching skater.
Skip - the strategic master mind behind Trust skateboards was the first to react and drag Josh aside for a ‘’friendly’’ conversation. Josh declined the preposterous suggestion by the team captain of dumping her! Soon everyone involved with the tour was avoiding Josh and his girlfriend like a biblical plague.
As the tour paved its way through southern California, the paparazzis and tabloid press in particular hovered around the VIP premises.
Skip had slapped a ban on Jessica Wood from entering the entire backstage area, which in return had made Josh grumpy and demotivated,
Lacking his usual spark and willingness to sign boards and talk to fans.
The couple now stayed in different hotels than the rest of the touring community. But as the pressure from the tabloid press intensified, and pressure from Christian investors - threatening to pull the plug as well as angry parents increased, Skip decided to suspend Josh from the remaining dates of the tour, with the message of ‘’straightening himself out, hence‘’: get rid of Jessica!
This in turn made Josh quit the team live on camera to a horde of tabloid journalists, outside the entrance of the Fresno date: which were to become his swansong with the Rock Angeles touring circuit and Trust Skateboards as well.
He had moved in with her immediately, at her pink Burton-esque gothic house in the Hollywood hills,(a classic case of fools rushing inn, some might argue.)
Josh immediately got sucked into the celebrity lifestyle, which more or less followed Jessica anywhere she went, he was in no rush to get a new contract with a skateboard company; and actually figured that a break would do him good at this point?
He had gone from traveling South America with his missionary parents. To become a much celebrated skate star, in almost no time, it felt as if things had moved too fast.
Even before he was picked up by Trust skateboards and relocated to Los Angeles, he had made a name for himself thru the Christian skate magazines - Stoked and wheels of faith, which both had run articles on his work for the Pentecostal Church in South America where he had traveled around with his missionary parents since he was a kid.
Josh believed in spreading the word of the lord through his antics on the board, -
Giving the youth hope from being a positive role model and offering them the coping mechanisms offered in the bible, in areas of the world where life was generally tough.
He was widely accepted in those regions where the catholic customs were held in higher regards than that of the growing Mex/Marx agenda.
Josh was standing on the brink to a gradual descent into obscurity,(and soon alcohol and recreational drug abuse.)
His former employers at Trust skateboards were not slow at marketing his leave: while the ten days that Jessica had followed Josh at the Rock Angeles tour had proven a decrease’ in sales of Trust skateboards especially in their biggest market; the Midwest.
Skip contacted One’ God records - to assemble support for his next project: For the remainder of the tour the bands were asked to publicly take a stand against what had happened, since they were the most direct source to reach the youths, many of whom were skaters or at least had looked up to Josh as a role model.
The metal bands restricted themselves to mass prayers for Josh’s soul on the main stage, while It was another matter entirely on the smaller stage, where the hardcore bands became blatantly outspoken - against what was seen as Josh crossing over to the dark side; their focus laid more emphasis on the devil woman seducing him,(or demon possessing him)
Faith Or Die dedicated their song - ‘Whore of Babylon’ to Jessica Wood every night. While Salt Lake City natives XkingX had the audience chant along with them Absistence! Purity! Thy kingdom come!, working the devoted audience into a frenzy before they lashed into their hardliner song ‘Purge’.
Trust skateboards found themselves in a dilemma, the exact same month as the tour had opened, Josh’s first signature board had been launched, and looking to become their biggest seller to date, however - any future sale of this board was haltered since Josh had destroyed his image by dating the devil.
As the tour came to an end, Skip had come up with two new designs, celebrating good Christian values. He assured anyone who had unfortunately bought the Josh signature board, that they would get a ten dollar discount on any of the new boards, all they had to do: was to upload a picture on the Trust site; of themselves destroying his ill fated signature model.
A statement was broadcasted at the Trust site by Skip himself, who apologized to parents everywhere who in good faith, had spent money on the Josh signature board for their kids,
He further wished to make sure that everyone remembered that -
¨¨Not only God worked in mysterious ways, so did the devil.¨¨
Skip further emphasized that having one of the new boards mounted in the house, would serve as a constant reminder to your kid, as just how present the devil was in our everyday life, and they should stay alert. Many a parents especially in the Midwest took him up on that request.
- The first model displayed a silhouette of a scantly clad girl complete with Jessica’s two toned silver and black hairstyle, her face half female half demon, seducing a guy displaying Josh’s trademark bowl/bang haircut and broad jaw line.
- While the other model: Displayed what soon became known as the wedlock model; for another Trust skateboards rider - Benjamin Turner,
Who had confided to Skip during the tour’s end, ‘’that he had accidentally knocked up his teenage girlfriend.’’ The team captain had then threatened him - that did he not agree on his terms: he would be thrown off the team and cut all benefits.
To preserve the clean cut image of the company, Skip then had the young couple flown out to a rushed wedding in Las Vegas.
During a press conference that was held the following day, Turner admitted the wedding had been rushed, but the reason was that both he and his girlfriend needed to prove their commitment to God; following the turmoil stirred by Josh!
The damage control stunt by Skip accidentally caused an increase in teenage weddings - especially Midwestern parents having their young ones flown out to Vegas on a return ticket, since Las Vegas was the only state that allowed, less than eighteen years’ of age marriages.
Around December Josh and Jessica started to slide away from each other, the first six months of romance was slowly fading and Josh rarely left the house anymore, he spent most of his days passed out drunk on the couch, occasionally dabbling in some leftover LIQ-THC, While she quickly returned to her former all night partying lifestyle.
Her friends annoyed him and he rarely joined them for a night out, which happened most of the week for them. In return they considered him a stiff, who restricted her from the debauchery lifestyle, which the world had become accustomed to.
He had tried for a short period in the spring to revitalize his skateboarding career, but not one company had shown interest in taking him on their team, at the age of twenty! he was a washed up ex-Christian choir boy turned household pet, not an image anyone was interested in being associated with.
The pivotal point for what would become his ultimate downfall happened one night, in a despairing act of Jealousy and rejection.
He had hesitantly agreed to go with her and her obnoxious motley crew, to visit Hollywood’s newest happening place, the underground rock club - The Scum Cave, to catch a show with one of her old high school friend’s Neo-Goth band - The Skull Cracks…
Davey Duncan as he called himself was a spoiled Valley kid turned Goth kid, the ultimate ‘dead boy’ as he was described by many a groupies. But it was his blatant flirting with Jessica, and her liking it; that had made an already drunk Josh attack the obnoxious Goth.
As security escorted him from the backstage premises, he looked over his shoulder to see Jessica flipping him off while shouting that, - ¨¨he could go to hell.¨¨
Later that night the entire band, along with the valley crew and the small VIP audience had dropped, Buzzo: the freshest love drug that had just recently hit the streets - ten times the effect of old school Ecstasy, spiked with Pheromones; Buzzo simply made the user uninhibited to their most basics desires, and a compelling urge to get the dopamine reward flowing by way of the sexual act.
The Scum Cave club could have been mistaken for a rich kid’s swinger club gone mad barely two songs into the set.
After trashing some garbage cans outside the club, josh hailed a cab to take him home, they stopped by an all-night drugstore to pick up a six pack of Lion brew. Upon his return, the cabdriver started small talking, as josh cracked one open.
¨¨Say aren’t you that guy who is with J…¨¨
He got that question all the time! Usually from people who perfectly well knew that he was’ in fact the accessory to LA’s leading scandal princess,
But this night he lost his cool,-
¨¨Yes that’s right! I am the one who is fucking Jessica Wood! Happy now? You wanna know how she is in bed, huh! Huh!¨¨
An interlude of awkward silence followed, while Josh took a big swagger of the beer can, a little thrown off, the cab driver smirked, -
¨¨Yeah sure… why not?¨¨
¨¨…Well let me tell you she ain’t all that, the only reason she likes to do it in front of a mirror is because she can’t get enough of herself. You saw that ‘’stolen’’ footage on Glamordirt, right! She sent it to them herself… Bitch!¨¨
The cabdriver quickly picked up on Josh’s angry demeanor, agreeing that ‘’all women were whores’ that should not be trusted,’’ Josh did not care to comment any further on the topic.
¨¨Look hombre, I can see you’re going thru some tough shit right now, I can get you something that will take your mind of whatever it is?¨¨
Josh downed half the beer. And declined, saying that LIQ-THC, did not work out for him anymore.
¨¨Don’t sweat it, I know exactly what a hombre like you need,¨¨
¨¨Oh yea, is that right!¨¨
¨¨Si - si; you’ll forget everything I promise! I’m Jose’ by the way.¨¨
Josh reluctantly shook his hand as they headed off to little Mexico, a shadier part of town, Jose’ parked the cab outside a house surrounded by gangbanging cholos with their bandanas placed low on their forehead.
It was more or less an act of showing off a celebrity in his cab.
While Jose’ went inside to score, -
The Cholos hung around the cab making crude suggestive body moves, aimed at provoking Josh, ’’Jeez! Even gang members know who I have sex with.’’ he pondered.
- Back in the cab, Jose’ gave him a handful of vials wrapped in tinfoil, and gave him a wink of the eye, saying: it was on him.
The drug was called - ‘Rancor’ it had been made widely popular among US veterans that had smuggled it in after the short Mexican war.
Rancor was a deviant of crack and twice as addictive, hundreds of Rancor kitchen-labs had popped up in low income neighborhoods. It could be snorted but worked best smoked through a vaporizer.
Jose’ supplied him with one, as he dropped him off at the pink house in the hills, telling him that he was his main man, whenever he needed more,(which was everyday from there on.)
Josh quickly submitted himself to a complete Rancor addiction washed down with Lion brew: his beer of choice.
In some strange act of ‘I tolerate you’ Josh and Jessica lived in separate parts of the house, that was late spring.
As summer came along, the disaster that would lead up to the murder of Jessica started to take shape.
Josh had contacted his last semi-friend; Nate from React shoes - the company that had sponsored him before his fallout with the Christian community, he felt betrayed by everyone: even his parents had turned their backs on him, due to his devilish companion.
Nate had flat out declined to put him back on the team, but encouraging him to just relax since he was now a kept man, and had no worries. Josh had thrown a fit, asking him exactly what that was supposed to mean? Before he had thrown the phone at the wall.
Skate & Destroy
In the early months of summer, Josh was approached by Rob. P
The notorious owner of Liar skateboards, the counter brand you might say to the Christian based Trust skateboards. The long line of crude pranks and stunts conducted and masterminded by Rob. P was a story all in itself!
A self proclaimed hyper ADHD patient that proudly refused to take his medicine.
His latest brainstorm attempt of a brilliant idea had come to him after hearing of Josh’s search for finding a sponsor and the rumors of his supposedly - Rancor addiction?
He had called Josh up himself and proposed that Josh would get his ‘fallen angel’ signature model within a week, giving there was some truth to the rumors of his drug addiction.
A snippet from their conversation, ran:
¨¨Really God-boy! Are you telling me that there is absolutely nothing to those rumors: saying that you are strung out?¨¨
¨¨Exactly! I don’t know where you’ve heard that? I don‘t care what you think!¨¨
¨¨Arw! Come on - don’t be like that, man! You got me all wrong here? I’m not judging you; I think it’s fucking cool.¨¨
¨¨…Really! You think it’s cool that I’m strung out?…¨¨
¨¨Yea bro, way cool, all the best people are dabblers’ y’know,¨¨
¨¨You’re probably worried that I’m messin’ with ya, trying to make you admit and then pull the plug right?¨¨
¨¨That would make sense.¨¨
¨¨But its not like that, in fact if you’re not a complete Rancoon! The deal is off, buddy…. So tell me, are you?¨¨
Josh - tried through the haze of the Rancor to comprehend what Rob P. had just offered him? He considered the pros & cons for 10 seconds, before admitting to be a Rancoon: the slang used for heavy users of Rancor - leaving them with those trademark dark circles around the eyes like those of a raccoon.
Josh would join the rooster of Liar skateboards, and they would immediately start shooting a web-stream series of Josh skating around out of shape, while Rob P. - provided him with this new drug called Nude! So he could get off his ass for the show, his new team leader took it upon himself to be sponsoring his Rancor intake off camera.
The unfolding antics in the web-episodes were a vile combination of totally uninhabited behavior; caused by the energetic craziness brought out by the Nude - which resembled that of old school PCP; with slightly more controlled reactions?
However Nude combined with the laid back recklessness of the Rancor: Josh became a menace unleashed upon the unsuspecting masses:
The fallen angel was giving it his all - at first it was just the usual business of harassing rich people around the hills, skating in their backyard pools and taking a shit on their lawn; pretty harmless stuff!
But it soon involved the downtown area, which further evolved into more specific settings like Josh getting in fights with homeless people, many of whom were strung out on either Rancor or Nude like him.
Certain parental groups speculated that the show was advocating the use of Nude?
Josh even completed two dates at Rob P’s counter creation to the touring Rock Angeles circuit. Finding the most obnoxious bands on the planet, and generally creating a festival; not short on shocking political incorrect activities.
He had baptized this, his latest brainchild in usual mocking demeanor calling it the - ‘Fuck angelsforless.’
Things had gone south fast, only two days into the tour that should had lasted two weeks; when some three suburban teenagers had overdosed in the parking lot, and the main stage had burned down after a minor riot had broken loose. The following day the LAPD had put a permanent ban on any further activity from the traveling circuit.
Not long after that, Rob P. - being the ever habitual line stepper he was actually managed to take things a step too far for his own good, by messing with Jessica’s farther. -
Dima Wood
Had first set foot on US soil some twelve year prior, with his then eight year old daughter Anya Mizil, the sole survivor of his family as they had fled their native Romania, after the country had been invaded by the fundamentalist hordes of the neighboring country to the east; Turkey.
At the very beginning of the invasion that would result in the occupation of mainland Europe and its final surrender some eight years later.
Dima Mizil had been a successful businessman in his own right, - providing a steady supply of various recreational drugs, but mostly amphetamines to Bucharest; the capitol of Romania, and the various cities on the shoreline facing the black sea; which were favorite vacation hotspots for the youths of Europe’s middleclass.
Dima and his family were in their hometown of Constanta as the Turks had bordered from the sea side. Everyone, including his beloved wife Olga was eradicated. Only he and his daughter were lucky to escape in the back of an armed truck, which few hours later brought them to the airport in the capitol of Bucharest. Where enormous crowds were already gathering, hoping to escape to anywhere else.
Luckily the escape truck had included the mayor of the small coastal town, who owed Dima more than one favor. The escape vehicle took them directly to the airstrip, as soon as he had paid the bribe to a young soldier, who let anyone through the gates; flashing the right amount of ready cash.
Dima had had his fingers crossed that the patrolling jets were from the Romanian air force and not the Turkish! The jet made it out safely with its course set for America.
Because of the Saudi funded invasion, the US had severed the few remaining ties, with the Saudi coalition - especially now that new natural resources had been taken into use, and they weren’t reliant on their oil supply any longer.
Dima Mizil and his daughter were immediately offered asylum in the USA, a month later Dima changed his daughter’s name to Jessica so she would have a better chance of blending inn. He had named her inappropriately after his favorite adult star Jessica Foxze; since it was the only American female name he knew.
While changing their last name of the traditional Mizil,(which carried an unfortunate similarity to that of a missile,) to that of the strong sounding - Wood.
Having escaped Romania with only the clothes they wore. The future however looked bright, since Dima had all the codes to his emergency savings in Swiss bank accounts on his cell-phone.
The Father and daughter, had settled in the richer part of Viola Canyon. From there he started to build his empire of Stuffed inc. with the requirements of local entrepreneurs.
Especially the last four years had proven fertile; after Dima had been so visionary bold to import the first batch of Japanese produced whorebots. Each year had seen an improvement in the development of the features as well as texture, this years models featured the new human like flex skin. Especially the two he had sent out this morning had felt like regular human beings?
Of all his employed, Dima’s most reliant partner, problem crusher and general handler of delicate affairs, were the shadowy figure of -
Mr. Smith
Not even Dima Wood knew his real name, despite the fact that he had worked exclusively as his right hand ever since he came to the US, some two years after the outbreak of the war on the European continent, which would end five years later with the surrender of mainland Europe.
After having laid waste to the main capitols such as Paris and London, and a completely devastated Eastern Europe, The Saudi coalition had finally come out victorious: at least when it came to the old war for territory game.
His name and reputation had become legendary, and Dima was not soon to track him down and hire him.
Mr. Smith’s reputation was based on his acts of ruthless strikes conducted with precision and accuracy of disabling the enemy.
His fast growing legacy had started to take shape within the first months of the invasion of Eastern Europe.
From where he had been hired by concerned entrepreneurs with great money interests in the region.
What had solidified his reputation first and foremost had been the strike near the small border of where Slovakia meets Poland.
- The Islamic invasion army had prepared themselves for a severe retribution as they stood to cross into Poland;
They were however met by the complete absence of resistance, for miles into Polish territory there had been no signs of combat.
The only thing to be seen had been the occasional bi-plane spraying the crops at the surrounding cabbage fields. The first battalion had started to ease up some, still miles from the small town of - Przemyśl.
That was until a couple of those small crop spraying planes flew over them, and released heavy doses of old school napalm!
As the foot soldiers wiggled on the ground all hell broke loose: as hidden land to land missiles was fired from automatic batteries inside of well placed haystacks and barns surrounding the convoy, within less than twenty minutes - the entire battalion had been wiped out.
- This was the first sign, that there might have been a chance for Eastern Europe.
This was just the first one of Mr. Smith’s strategic surprises. His legacy steadily grew.
- But as the Balkans made a deal with the aggressors, the war was more or less over.
When Paris and London fell: Smith knew that the time was up! And instead of taking the money offered; even after he had been badly wounded. He fled to America. From where Dima Wood quickly picked him up.
The Joke’s on you!
When Rob P. got bored and needed a new antagonistic goal,
he and Josh came up with the bright idea, that they should have Josh wired with some hidden spy cam and let him pay a visit to his girlfriend’s Dad’s adult entertainment company Stuffed inc.
Josh never made it further than to the reception area, this would also prove to be their last endeavor together, as well as the last of Rob P’s antics as a sadistic prankster as well.
Josh who had loaded up on a great dose of Nude as usual, had entered the polished brass desk of the Stuffed inc. reception, and demanded that he would be given a whorebot for free; since he was the boyfriend of Jessica Wood.
The receptionist quickly grew tired of the prank that was streamed live online.
He then demanded to see Mr. Wood himself, since he had a special request for a new model, which were an exact replica of Jessica Wood herself, the receptionist’s overbearing expression changed from mildly annoyed to downright worried,
As he had shouted into his wired microphone -
¨¨Dima, do you hear me!! If you could just make it less bitchy and a whole lot better in bed, that’d be great!¨¨
It was clear on the receptionist’s expression that the joke was not funny or even tolerable anymore, she wiped the sweat off her forehead as security dragged a kicking and screaming Josh from the Stuffed inc. premises; his last words were. -
¨¨Is it because that bot already exist, Dima! And you just don’t wanna share it!?!¨¨
A while later a furious Dima Wood gave Mr. Smith free hands to do as he saw fit with Josh and Rob P. as long as he did not kill any of them.
Mr. Smith had kept his professional poker face and nodded, waiting to release his devilish smirk till he reached the elevator; where it made a secretary break out in cold sweat, as they took it to the bottom floor together, an otherwise bored Mr. Smith found himself engulfed in planning something spectacular?
- That same night Rob P. was kidnapped from his Malibu beach house, by a ski masked crew of Smith’s men.
The same happened to Josh during a trip to little Mexico, searching for drugs; since Jose’ had not picked up his phone all night?
Through a black market site Mr. Smith had gotten his hands on a fifteen year old device which was now banned under all international laws - the Mind-scraper.
Originally invented by the Israeli secret service to derive information from suspected terrorists - in hope of preventing attacks on the state.
This in the end had proven obsolete. As the holy land had been eradicated by its neighbors.
The mind-scraper device had made its way into Europe, for the war on the occupiers,(again proving obsolete.)
Mr. Smith had found it charmingly delightful, but not to much use in that particular situation.
However, now that he worked in another line of business, he figured it would be a nice throwback to re-visit.
The Mind-scraper worked as a bi-receptor mechanism. Its main job was; through the signals of electrodes - to pick your brain for your worst fears. Responding to stress signal releases while it bombarded the subjects brain with archetypical pictures of primal to those of more sophisticated fear.
In the case of Liar skateboards owner Rob P. it had marked the most crucial peak on the curve, displaying the image of an alligator!
As a kid he had grown up near the everglades in Florida, at the age of nine he had experienced the most unpleasant encounter with an alligator, which nearly had taken his leg off, till this day the fear still haunted him, with constant nightmares which he had never resolved.
Hours later, inside the studios of the some big time Hollywood film production company, a setting had been arranged.
Josh and Rob P. were both given a heavy dose of LSD - knocked out and placed in a secluded/soundproof studio location from where three steady cams were recording them, while broadcasting the direct signal live!
They awoke half covered in murky water, around them a landscape of fake yet believable exotic plant growth covered the walls entirely, and a humid heat from artificial heating had the room resembling that of a sub-tropical climate,(with two drugged out subjects inside of it.)
The cameras were rolling, just as Rob P got to his weary feet asking Josh were the hell they were?
A loud splash was heard in the far end of the room, and out of sight for its inhabitants. Rob P’s primal fear system was not soon to kick in,
It did not take more than a couple of seconds before he recognized the similarity to his childhood environment of the everglades! The thick musty vegetations, and of course his number one source of fear; the alligators which inhabited it.
These three alligators that now slowly approached the middle of the room were bio-mechanical, a well kept secret within the studio. Actually meaning that a micro-computer, had been surgically implanted into their small reptile brain which could be accessed from a direct wireless input signal, and could be switched on and off - by using the signal it was possible to take over the Alligator’s nervous system, and manipulating it from a nerve sensory circuit. - Hence there was no such thing as a trained Alligator: They were always controlled by a computer system, functioning as a remote control, except when they weren’t on set and the signal was off - the simple creature then returned to just lying around all day, as they had done for millions of years.
A skilled hacker working for Smith had accessed the Liar Skateboards web-channel and announced a brand new prank to the Josh online-series that went by the name - Lose Your TRUST - ’’or how to go down in flames’’ this special episode were to be broadcasted at midnight.
- The cameras streamed the footage taking place inside the Hollywood studio directly to the masses of followers that watched and shared the episodes of Josh’s weekly escapades.
Rob P. - let out a horrible scream as he saw the three alligators that had begun circling him; the screaming became higher in pitch, as Mr. Smith ordered the guys that controlled the mechanic alligators from a control booth on the other side of the wall, to jerk the alligators around making violent splashes with their large tails! The obnoxious skate company owner stumbled around in the ankle-high murky water.
Something buried deeply within the reptile center of Rob P’s brain snapped, and launched him into a state of absolute terror, now that the alligators were ordered to roll around in the murky water, to demonstrate their characteristic killing technique.
One of them suddenly bit Rob P’s leg and dragged him into the threesome’s ferocious death rolls, the screams of terror had just turned into an out of control condition; best described as a state of shock. Making, Rob P. - cry out for his Mommy and Daddy inn between his high-pitched screams.
The scenery had left Josh paralyzed by fear. He didn’t move an inch, even as one of the alligators approached him, he calmly sat there; back resting against a fake tree with his legs spread apart, he just starred at the approaching alligator as it snapped after his crotch, he then wet and shat himself as cameras zoomed in on the area, all while the hacker that transmitted the broadcast wrote - ‘LOSER!’ in capitol blinking red letters - across the synz-screens to the thousands of viewers.
As the Alligators retreated, Josh sat there sobbing while Rob P. had passed out from the hectic death rolls and general state of paralyzing fear.
Before he could drown in the shallow water.
The transmission was cut and Mr. Smith’s crew entered the room to prevent him from drowning, the two victims were dragged out from the room;
Dima Wood himself greeted the two LSD casualties/terror-prank victims.
¨¨Wasn’t that a lot of fun boys!?!¨¨
They were still to shaken from the experience to speak, - Dima punched them both in the stomach, while he shouted things in Romanian at them; Mr. Smith gently pushed him away as Dima began to kick Josh! - Convincing his employer of the importance of not losing his head! To avoid leaving evidence.
The Hoods were placed back on their heads again, as they were returned to each of their addresses; Josh could walk into the living room by himself. Jessica who of course had seen the clip earlier, with a couple of friends,(but unaware of her Dad’s quick retribution maneuver,) rushed into the living room shouting every verbal assault she knew at him, while throwing stuff after him, Josh did not react to her aggression, - he just huddled up on the couch.
She marched out of the living room grabbing her sparkling car-keys, he was unable to fall asleep for hours; instead he lit up the crumbs of Rancor and emptied two; six packs of Lion brew before he finally crashed. That was one week prior to her murder.
Rob P. on the other hand was completely gone from the experience, the ski masked kidnappers had to open the door for him, and actually walk him inside where they sat him down on his couch before they left…
Rob P. - stayed on the couch for the next two days, before some friends came by and had him taken to a hospital: who then had him committed to a mental institute for further observation! No one seemed to be able to get through to him?
Two days after the incident - Dima Wood had invited his daughter and her strung out boyfriend; on what would prove their last dinner together.
Jessica was still giving Josh the cold shoulder, and refused to speak to him, as she would up till the day of her all too sudden death. Dima on the other hand had seemed jovial,
Telling his daughter that he was not offended by the stunt, affirming her that ‘’you had to be able to laugh of yourself if you wanted to make it in this world.’’
When she wasn’t looking, he sent Josh looks with eyes that could kill - threatening him silently.
Josh had mainly stayed home since the incident, getting drunk and high as usual, checking the web, he mostly watched old footage from last summer when things had been better, and life had seemed to be on the good side…
Last night he had nostalgically scrolled through archive footage from Glamordirt: who had run features on them, where they had referred to the young couple as ‘‘Josicca’’. It had only lasted for so long, but he had loved the contraction of their names.
The newest gossip invention used by Glamordirt reporters were the Zapruders! - ultra-nano-optic fibers within contact lenses, that could transmit a live wired signal in HDT quality to any server within a radius of five kilometers.
In other words, the receiver saw exactly what the person wearing them experienced in the manner of old styled POV.
Of course this was just the latest in a long series of spy-ware developed by the military industrial complex, for other purposes; before eventually making its way into the private market.
These new Hi-Tech lenses were worn by Glamordirt reporter Kathie Taylor as she entered the Riff Raff club; downtown.
After searching for Celebrities in attendance, she spotted Jessica Wood who managed to escape the crowd heading - for the ladies room with star of the evening: Game character turned rapper; True Thug; right behind her.
Half a minute later the reporter went inn after them,
the viewers of Glamordirt received the live stream from the reporter’s live-streaming contact lenses.
The first image that met them was that of True Thug: with his baggy red and gold jerseys around his ankles, facing towards a girl in one of the bathroom stalls, it was difficult to see what went on so the reporter approached them, making the rapper take notice.
¨¨C’mere bitch! you want in on some of this dark meat?¨¨
The reporter squeezed inside the narrow stall and kneeled beside Jessica who was already making him hard with her mouth, the two girls shared the cock, and Josh nearly choked on the Rancor hit he had just inhaled, from the Vaporizer - as he saw Jessica’s face thru the reporter’s eyes, he slammed the remains of this evening’s second six-pack of Lion brew into the huge synz-screen on the wall. He then ravaged the living room. Took a double hit of Rancor, and fell asleep on the couch that now had become his home more or less.
He woke up this morning as Jessica walked thru the door, that’s when the fighting had begun - the accusations that led to the final break up, and the breaking of her skull by his skateboard, as a testament to her final words, -
¨¨Hell yeah I enjoyed sucking his big black cock! you fucking pussy!¨¨
The art of regretting
The moment he realized what he had done, he fell to his knees, crying out at the top of his lungs, from the bottom of his tormented soul, cursing a God - which he claimed had abandoned him!
Seconds later Ali jumped thru the big glass door facing the back entrance, he rolled like a pro avoiding getting too many cuts as he hit the floor, and slammed into the kneeling Josh who shouted out for the unexpected guest not to hurt him! the level of paranoia of both guys were way above average…!
Ali assured him that he was not going to hurt him and in not very rational terms tried describing, what had happened this morning.
The storyline was too bizarre and fragmented for anyone to comprehend, (even if you weren’t high on Rancor and had just slain your girlfriend.)
Ali tried explaining that he had mistaken his crying out roar! for trying to alert the neighbors, because he had trespassed as he had ran into his backyard.
As the first shock had settled Josh shook his head, and pointed to his dead girlfriend, who half lay and half sat against the wall, with a big gush in her forehead, from where blood was streaming down her now pale white face.
The eerie angle, in which she had died, made her body like that of a rag doll that had carelessly been thrown by a bored kid.
Ali quickly grasped that it was not him that Josh had shouted at, -
¨¨Shit! What the hell? did that just happen before I broke through the window!?!¨¨
Josh shook his head, while tears streamed down his cheeks…
¨¨Fuck, man! What the hell happened, did she shoot herself or what?¨¨
¨¨No, I threw m - m - my board at her, I - I - didn’t mean to do it, I didn’t mean to hurt her, honest to God. What have I done!!!¨¨
He started to cry harder the sobbing were joined by severe trembling, as he fell to his knees again.
¨¨Well, shit! Looks like you fucking killed her dude?¨¨
As if he had hoped for it not to be true, the fallen skate-star burst into more profound soul cleansing screaming and hysterical crying.
¨¨Listen man! Shits messed up! but we really need to get the fuck outta here, like right fucking now man!¨¨
Josh had slipped into his own world of regrets and repenting thoughts of self betrayal. He emptied his stomach unto the pink rug upon which he lay. Ali tried to explained it more calmly to him, -
¨¨Ok look dude, I know this a really bad time and all? but we seriously needs to get outta here, alright. If these people who are after me finds us here. They’ll kill us both!¨¨
Josh started listening part in panic as he went for his Rancor vaporizer, and lit it up with a double shot.
¨¨No, no, I - I - can’t go anywhere I need to…¨¨
He shook his head in disbelief of his current situation, as the soothing apathetic - ‘‘I don’t give a shit!’’ effect of the drug settled inn.
Whatever precautions Ali was suggesting to him they should take, had now already become a faint buzz in the background, as the entire break-up episode was re-winding in his head.
Ali asked him if he could use the bathroom?
mechanically he pointed in its direction,.
There was no excuse for what he had done! could he run and maybe hide somewhere? He figured it might prove impossible, since he was a well known face to the general public.
He then thought of her dad, the mere thought of the Romanian psycho sent shivers down his spine and cold sweat instantly began to spread all over his body.
He knew he needed to get out of the house before Dima Wood found out that his only daughter had been murdered.
No matter what kind of jail sentence was awaiting him, anything would be better than what her dad had in store for him, once he found out.
- Ali came back from the bathroom where he had splashed some cold water on his sweaty face, he made a loud noise as a white kitten sprinted between his legs from the opposite bedroom, he glanced quickly again at the dead girl even thou it repulsed him, and he realized just how familiar she somehow looked…?
¨¨Dude! I don’t mean to be insensitive or anything, but she actually looks a lot like je…¨¨
Josh was already off the couch stuffing his stash of Rancor into his blue backpack along with the vaporizer. while Ali had visited the bathroom, he had gone thru Jessica’s pink sparkling purse and found some ready cash, and a ziplock bag containing a bunch of purple pills? he threw it all in into his backpack.
¨¨Yes! yes - I know, that’s cause she is, now lets go! Come on let’s take the car, you drive!¨¨
He tossed Jessica’s sparkling pink car keys to him.
¨¨What you mean, cause she… Do you mean she is Je..?¨¨
¨¨Yes for Christ sake! Yes - she is Jessica Wood, now can we go already!¨¨
Josh stormed out the door into the garage with Ali right behind him,
¨¨Holy shit man! You killed a fucking star, dude, what the hell?!?¨¨
Ali jumped into the drivers’ seat in the big pink sparking hummer - a 21st century vintage model, not one of those cheaply produced ones from the Chinese owned Detroit; who did re-launches of classic American cars, for the average nostalgic cheapskate.
¨¨Dude were you robbing the place, Or…?¨¨
Josh looked at him, so he could get a better look at him.
¨¨Well did you? Not that I’m judging you man, but it…¨¨
¨¨Don’t you know who I am? I’m her boyfriend for Christ sake!¨¨
¨¨Sorry man, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend?¨¨
Josh rolled his eyes as Ali hit the gas and they speeded out of the small driveway heading towards downtown, thinking to himself through the Rancor induced haze, that ‘‘Jossica’’ sure was a long time ago.
You can always go downtown!
Ali gave it another shot: trying to explain the chain of events more rationally to Josh, who didn’t seem to care much as he was dosing off on another double hit on the vaporizer.
He had asked him if it did not seem a bit weird: having an Arab guy dressed in rave gear driving Jessica Wood’s big sparkling truck?’’
Josh had hit a button on the dashboard synz-screen that had made the windows go black-toned, the filter to the outside calmed the paranoid Arab down some, as they had discussed where the hell they would go? Ali had suggested that they went back to the abandoned hotel at La Brea. It would be the number one place; no one would search for him!
The morning traffic had settled some by now, downtown seemed less busy already, and Josh explained that there was no reason to fear a trail of paparazzis following the pink sparkling hummer just yet, ‘’usually there wasn’t anything to hunt for them, that’ early in the morning.’’
They parked across the street, a good bit away from the 7-eleven.
And made their way over the warm dark asphalt, you could already sense that it was going to be a very hot day; in this dry spell that had engulfed the state for a month already.
Inside the lobby again, the hotel was just as quiet as before, they made their way up the stairs since the elevators was out, Ali took two steps at a time almost running due to the combat drugs still working his system, his black parachute rave pants could be formed into a backpack, but it dawned on him that he had actually never tried doing it?
Josh dragged himself along the rail, involuntarily acting part drunken sailor and part wounded zombie as they came to a halt outside the door of room 233.
Ali reassured him they would get some rest in a minute, plus a shitload of party drugs, they could both lie low there for a while.
The door was locked, and he realized that no one ever gave him a keycard? as he yanked the golden door handle; he scratched his temple for a second, then his twelve-holed steel toed Sawex boots gave way at the frame and the door flew inn.
The sound of a dozen guns clicked and were aimed at them.
Brotherly love
Ali was still highly under the influence of the combat pills, so without hesitating and based on pure instinct, he flung himself forwards grabbing the gun of the guy in the middle of the half circle, and put him in a headlock with his left arm, and placed himself behind him with the gun to his head - pressing himself against the wall, all this happened before anyone had time to react, as he shouted -
¨¨Drop your motherfucking guns! Now! All of you,¨¨
Josh still hadn’t realized what was going on, as he leaned against the frame of the door. No one paid attention to him either; all guns were pointed at Ali, who hid behind his second’ human shield of the day.
A voice which carried a strong Australian accent, shouted -
¨¨Stand down! everyone lower your bloody weapons, now!¨¨
All of the gun men looked alike, shaven heads, green or black flight jackets, slim rolled up jeans that displayed their heavy black boots with red swastikas’ printed on the steel toed noses. The guy shouting the order seemed to be the leader of the pack.
¨¨If he hurts my brother, I will personally kill every last one of ya! Now lower your Goddamn weapons!¨¨
There was a great deal of desperation in his voice, which made it slightly high-pitched: rather hesitant the gang finally lowered their guns, the skinhead in charge commanded Ali to let his brother go.
¨¨I don’t think so asshole! What the fuck are you guys doing in my room?¨¨
The leader quickly returned to his hard stance again, demanding him to let go of his brother, or be gunned down?!?
Ali stood on the opposite side of the drug covered glass table he shouted for Josh to cover his mouth with his shirt, while he commanded the Nazi gang, NOT! to cover their mouths or he would otherwise plant a bullet in them, he then kicked his solid Sawex boot up underneath it as hard as he possibly could, making the remaining piles of the Bright blue Zutron and the green Quegas mix to one big toxic multi colored cloud that filled the room, while he shouted for the skinheads to breathe in all they could through their noses, when the cloud settled only scarce coughs were heard.
¨¨Now you tell me what the fuck is going on! Or baldy here takes a bullet!¨¨
¨¨Alright - alright, my name is Spyder and this is my gang of proud Aryans - Satan Angels!¨¨
Ali looked baffled at him?
¨¨Why the hell do you talk like that?¨¨
¨¨Like what? you cheeky monkey,¨¨
¨¨Like that! Right there, you sound like some nasty old gay on cheap Cicodrine or something? what the hell is the matter with you!¨¨
Spyder hissed and shook his bald head adorned by a spiders’ web tattoo,
¨¨We are Australians for God’s Sake, you bloody heathen, you will show the master race some bloody respect!¨¨
¨¨What kinda fucked up names’ is that!¨¨
No doubt because of the drug particles in the air and the adrenaline pumping, he felt light in the head and did not consider what he said -
¨¨Are you trying to sound tough? Satan Angels? Spyder? Come on! That‘s fucking weak… and super gay!¨¨
Ali’s taunting, did not amuse the leader one bit.
¨¨Listen you filthy Paki-rat: we are here to bring you inn!¨¨
¨¨Fuck that, ‘no fucking way asshole! That I’m going back to the hills with you, no fucking way you hear me!¨¨
Ali called for Josh to feed the skinheads the Rancor that he had stashed in his backpack to doze them off. A suggestion he downright refused,
Saying they could have whatever those purple pills were? that he had found in Jessica’s purse.
Josh’s refusal annoyed him, but he agreed on having him pass those purple pills around to the Nazi gang.
The leader was close to losing his patience! He shook his head as the pills were handed around, Ali demanded for them to swallow two pills each, they were welcome to take some of the warm energy-coke in the cans scattered around the room.
He knew he needed to manipulate them into some other state of being, than that of the super focused cocaine - ‘‘let’s kill the Arab mode’’ they were in.
If the pills would prove to make them paranoid, he knew he would have to shoot his way out of there! just like he had done back at the house in the hills. He figured it was a fifty-fifty chance: either they calmed the fuck down, or they got more winded up than they already were?
¨¨Listen to me, for two bloody seconds will ya!¨¨
Even the skinhead in the headlock had gotten two of the purple pills, it could prove a very dangerous situation as soon as they kicked inn.
¨¨We do not work for the Foundation! we are here to rescue you from them, just as soon as you were gone? we rushed down here.¨¨
Ali wrinkled his eyebrows, asking who the hell had sent them?
¨¨Listen boy! the Prophet has taken a great deal of interest in you, and if what he has shown us so far of your abilities, I’d say you‘re the real deal.¨¨
¨¨The Prophet!?! Shown you what! What I did in the hills?¨¨
¨¨I know nothing of what business you had in the hills matey?¨¨
Spyder shook his head, telling him that they had tapped in on the monitoring system of the room, -
¨¨So what did he show you then!?! That I had a fucking party in this room for a week?¨¨
An expression came over Spyder’s face, one complimented by a smirk, like someone who knows something important.
¨¨The bloody portal jumps, mate - and the disappearances out of the blue? we all wanna know?¨¨
He had no idea what the guy was talking about, but he did not have much time to give it anymore thought,
it felt as if the Nazi he had in a tight headlock, were slightly pushing himself further up against him, increasing the pressure against him and the wall.
Ali commanded Spyder to write down the address of where he could find this so called Prophet? Surprisingly he agreed to his request, Spyder leaned over the small dinner table to write down the address on a piece of cardboard from a six-pack of energy-coke.
It seemed like he was strutting his ass, in a playful way…? Ali blinked with his eyes that still itched from the fallout from the drug cloud, to see if what he thought he saw was in fact happening?
That was when he without a doubt felt the headlocked brother of the man called Spyder, starting to grind his ass deliberately against his crotch.
Alerted - his eyes watched the Nazis to see if it was in fact some weird Australian distraction maneuver of theirs. But he only found licking of the lips and a bunch of skinheads undressing.
The headlocked Nazi tried to whisper something to him:
¨¨What?¨¨
¨¨I wnt’¨¨
He loosened his grip a little around his neck
¨¨I want you to fuck me, Paki!¨¨
¨¨What the hell!!¨¨
Ali pushed his hostage away from him, the Nazi slammed into his brother that stood bended over the table scribbling. The two brothers grabbed each other in a rough and manly way, and instantly started French kissing and grabbing each others asses.
In fact the whole room was turning massively homoerotic, what had been a perfectly normal room of aggressive neo-Nazi bikers, only minutes before they had swallowed Jessica’s stash of the purple Buzzo pills, were now turning into a fraternity of testosterone filled hard bodies that wanted to fuck instead of fight!
Ali quickly grabbed the note Spyder had scribbled on before he had indulged himself in some brotherly love?
He maneuvered through the room of bodies being caressed stroked and grabbed, nipples being twisted and half a dozen dicks were being sucked by usually homophobic Nazis. He received at least two slaps and a pinch on his ass before he made it to the door, where josh was looking on in sheer disbelief in his otherwise comfortable haze.
¨¨Is this really happening, or have I like… overdosed on Rancor?¨¨
¨¨No I’m afraid it’s going down, I have taken some strange fucking pills this morning myself, but we can’t be sharing the same illusion!¨¨
Josh pointed out that it might be a good idea perhaps if they collected the guns scattered on the floor, since the lovesick Nazis probably wouldn’t mind?
¨¨Now, fuck that! I am not going in there again, are you fucking nuts!?!¨¨
Josh in his usual state of not giving a shit, entered the room and secured one for him. they closed the door behind them as they left, back in the Pink hummer outside the La Hacienda, Josh helped him set the GPS for that address the Nazi had scribbled down; the screen map came up pointing to an area without real roads.
¨¨What the hell? its outside of town, looks like the fucking desert or something?¨¨
He told Josh that he had no intention on going home, since he remembered that those suits had picked him up near his home as far as he could remember? so he figured that they knew where he lived.
He was determined however to look up this ‘’Prophet dude’’ for some answers?
But not before he could find something that would calm him down…
Being the prototype couch slob was a harsh contrast to his current whereabouts as a fully fledged fighting machine, even thou it had proven to have its advantages.
But when you were hooked on LIQ-THC you were used to the settling effect, and that’s why he was now taking Josh with him to see his dealer, Diego in the projects in Inglewood, more specifically;
The Snoop complex, section-D.
Josh’s fingers punched inn the address, (he liked the sound of going to see a dealer.)
¨¨I would feel less paranoid I guess, if I weren’t driving around this big pink sparkling container, we look like a fucking two man gay parade!¨¨
The ex Pro-skater drew a deep sigh, as if he just wanted to be left alone in his hazy condition, but punched in a couple of commands on the in-car computer system: a color card display came up on the dashboard synz-screen.
¨¨Here! choose a macho color for yourself, kinda homophobic coming from a guy that shared a room with those guys!¨¨
(He grunted a muffled junkie like snigger) which Ali ignored, as he chose the color: Amazonas hell/light since it was army like neutral and in matte - the optic fiber plexi-glass instantly adjusted the newly chosen color onto the entire car.
What’s the score?
It was around Noon, when they pulled up to the battered twenty storied apartment complexes, owned by the trust of the Snoop foundation.
The piss smelling elevator took them to the fourteenth floor, from where they walked down the musty smelling graffiti covered hallway, stepping over various dried up liquids; most of them bodily…
Ali made a stop and knocked on a door, in some sort of code,
a strange sound greeted them from behind the door - sounding as if a robot was burping? Josh started to junkie-giggle in his still hazy condition, as he had taken at least a Rancor hit every five minutes.
Ali looked at him angrily, telling him to can the laugh along with the smirk!
There was a chain on the door that opened a few inches, the person with the tiny moustache who looked back at them; told someone called Vinnie to back the fuck off.
The strange noise drowned out, and he let them inside the terminal decaying apartment. Ali introduced Josh to Diego who had opened the door as he showed them into the messy living room, shouting -
¨¨Scram - Bitches!¨¨
A couple of overweight scantly clad Latino girls, who sat on the much thrashed couch got up reluctantly, they left the apartment in a harsh exchange of words with Diego.
Neither Josh or Ali spoke much Spanish, but the word ‘’Puta!’’ seemed to be used quite frequently, from both parties.
Diego apologized and asked them to sit. -
¨¨My fucking sisters’ esé! They think they can hang around here all day, stinkin‘ putas!¨¨
Josh noticed how the crackled wallpaper was in the same blue color and white patterns, like that on the outside of the building, he pondered how fresh it must have been, when the buildings where brand new; ‘’like living inside a giant blue bandana,’’ it felt comforting to him.
¨¨You know esé, money don’t make themselves, pimping ain’t easy!¨¨
He winked at Ali giving him a pad on the shoulder, who hated when he did that. They had grown up together in the projects, but Ali never considered them as friends, just acquaintances and nothing more than that…
Still, Diego was a reliant dealer and he often covered him some slack on his tab; from the pretence that Ali considered him an old friend.
- Diego took a great deal of pride in his seedy apartment from which he sold drugs: holographic billboards adorned the walls upon where a selection of basketball players and iconic gangsta rappers from the past century were shown and exchanged places now and then.
The strange sound had made Josh giggle, had been from his Diego’s Dog: Vinnie, who was a first edition Chinese produced British bulldog replica. From the very first production of artificial animals, and it showed! since the not very believable fur had been worn off in spots.
But the reason for Vinnie’s strange mechanic voice who sounded more like a mechanical burp, than an actual bark. Had come from a steel toed boot of a S.W.A.T team member some two years ago, when they had raided the previous place Diego had stayed in back in little Mexico,(He was just sitting it, for his cousin who was doing time in the slammer.)
But it was at that house, that he had started to realize the potential of his childhood dream of pushing dope from his own place.
The S.W.A.T raid had been over within minutes, and Diego had served a three month’s sentence scrubbing toilet bowls at a Hollywood chapter of the Würtz King franchise, so he wouldn’t be seen around his old neighborhood.
Upon his return he told everyone how he had done time in jail - showing off a couple of fresh prison-style tattoos,(that he had gotten in a laser parlor on the boulevard) while he in fact had lived with his Mom, and worn an ankle monitor.
Diego had suffered no harm during the police action, while Vinnie had taken a hard kick to the head by the aforementioned steel-toed boot, which had resulted in its voice mechanism being permanently damaged; the kick had also made one of its boggle eyes pop out!
Ever since that incident, people had shown a tendency to stare into the empty dark eye socket as if they were hypnotized by the singular red diode that lit up the dark cave: just like Josh was now staring at it.
Diego hated when people did that, -
¨¨Yo! Why the hell are you staring at my dog like that hombre!¨¨
Josh turned his head some… but did not take his eyes off the dog.
¨¨Wh, what?…¨¨
Diego shook his low slung bandana clad head, -
¨¨Stop staring at my fucking dog like that! You stinking puta!!¨¨
Ali butted in for some damage control, he knew his dealer‘s short fuse, especially around whites, -
¨¨Yo Rancoon! quit fucking staring at his dog like that, or take a hike!¨¨
Diego was in one of his better moods today, remembering the last deliverance he had made to Ali, he adjusted his 4-finger gold ring on each of his hands, one spelling ’Hood’ the other ’Life’.
He turned on the, tres console on the messy table, and threw a joy-pad to Josh, -
¨¨Here you stinking Rancoon! Knock yourself out with this instead of eyeballing my dog, Yo!¨¨
The game instantly came up on the Synz-screen, it was the True Thug video game: The rapper had made a name for himself some two months earlier, being the in-voice leading character of a Game called; True Thug! The story was based in what looked like rural Los Angeles, where you played the role of True Thug, who tried making it as a rapper while pushing dope, it had been an instant seller.
After the first sales had died down - some two million games had been sold in the state of California alone.
It was then decided by the label that had handled the games score - that a record would be released by True Thug, including new material as well as the tracks from the actual score.
The otherwise unknown actor Jerome Morris AKA True Thug had been thrown into the limelight with thousands of fans and sold out shows,
last night at the Riff Raff club downtown, saw the release show of his debut album.
Josh went sort of numb as he once again was reminded of this morning’s tragic event!
Diego who was a huge fan, started raving to Ali of the one clip that was circling the net: of a Glamordirt reporter giving True Thug a blowjob alongside Jessica Wood.
¨¨He’s the biggest player esé! know what I’m saying, A true dawg yo!¨¨
Ali hushed on Diego when he started making ‘‘woof - woof’’ sounds,
which in return made Vinnie chip in with some of its strange mechanic burping?
The situation was becoming too tense for Ali to handle! Josh had filled him in on the argument between him and Jessica over the Glamordirt incident last night, he figured that either Josh would freak out over the True Thug thing; or he would start laughing at Vinnie’s barking - This in return would have Diego flip out in a burst of rage! and throw them both out of his lousy drug den.
He had come there for two things! first and foremost drugs! and second; he had hoped that Diego could shed some light on his situation.
¨¨Look Diego, when you came and saw me at that hotel on La Brea, you happened to notice that anything unusual was going on?¨¨
Diego put on a serious expression, and nodded knowingly…
¨¨Yea, I did esé - now that you mention it, Some very strange thing man!¨¨
He loaded up a shooter with LIQ-THC and handed it to Ali, who pressed it to the main artery on the left side of his neck, never taking his eyes off of him.
¨¨Yeah - as you opened the door I realized a very strange thing?¨¨
He looked suspiciously at Ali; pointing his finger at him, -
¨¨You actually had the cash, you said you did hahaha!¨¨
¨¨Fuck! Diego, I’m fucking serious man, did you see anything strange?¨¨
Diego stopped his harsh put-on laughter, asking what he meant? Ali then described the hotel as being completely abandoned,
¨¨Well I dunno man, maybe they’re going out of business?¨¨
Asking him if he had seen anyone in the reception at all? questioning him if he had not found it odd - that there was no one there? did not bring him closer to an answer, just tiring the pusher’s already short attention span, -
¨¨Shit!! how the fuck would I know man! no I guess there was no one there? But fuck it; what do I know, I’ve never been to a hotel before!¨¨
Diego was getting tired of the questioning; asking him what he was doing there in the first place…?
¨¨That’s my problem man, I thought it might have been some kinda TV- show, y’know? But those people tried to fucking kill me!¨¨
Diego just shook his head, -
¨¨Then why don’t you just stay the fuck away from that place!¨¨
Telling him that he would kick his ass if he found out, that he was on either Rancor or Nude,(or pretty much any product that he did not sell himself.)
He tried to make it sound like a brotherly advice, but Ali knew that he had just lost his interest, and he was just trying to pass it off with some concerned,(I’m looking out for you homie) ghetto talk.
¨¨Ok man I see… one last question ok!¨¨
Diego rolled his eyes so they disappeared under his blue low slung bandana.
¨¨Those pills you sold me, the traffic light colored ones, what the hell were they? I’m telling you man that is some intense shit.¨¨
Diego shrugged his shoulders, pulling his lower lip over the other, -
¨¨Hell I’ dunno!! you just told me to bring everything I had?¨¨
¨¨Yea - yea… sure, you don’t happen to have more of those lying around, do ya?¨¨
Diego asked Ali to follow him into the bedroom, where he kept his ‘secret stash.’ Ali looked over at Josh who seemed to just stare at nothing in particular, not even moving the joy pad; he just sat there, lost in his own thoughts.
- He was thinking of how much he hated Jessica’s white cat - Pussy! Which she always pronounced with an annoying fake East-European accent, so it sounded more like - ‘puzzay’
It was one of the first successful biological produced animals in recent years, perhaps that’s why it had acted so damn retarded towards him?
The nasty creature had been brought to life at a Colorado lab facility, as one’ out of a batch of twelve kittens, where two of them had both died within a month; ten of those were still around.
The loving father that Dima Wood was, had paid a couple of millions for the creature, and Jessica had been thrilled! within the last six months; she had worn it as an accessory to premieres and what not. He had felt completely replaced, -
The tabloids were having its heyday:
Since Josh had become a degenerate couch potato, the gossip magazines and blogs had focused more on the miracle that the living cat represented, and quickly forgotten about him…
- Headlines such as: Jessica shows of her puzzay at premiere!’’
Or the equally retarded
- Real white fur adorn Jessica’s puzzay!’’
He had always despised her cheap sex-stuff gimmicks, he felt it was below her standard to do such stunts, but as time went on he had come to see her more in the same way; which many of her critiques were portraying her in.
As summer rolled along, the biggest trend among A to D list celebrities was to spend thousands of dollars on android look-alike cats to mimic that lab produced prime feline creature of Jessica’s.
Problem was: that a great deal of these hastily produced feline replicas, (which all had been produced in Shanghai,) and while carrying a striking similarity to the real specimen; many of them had all suffered from short circuit failure problems:
Such as the one faux-feline - which had caused a red carpet scandal, when worn by another Hollywood brat fatale: Stacy Sanders.
She had told everyone beforehand that her specimen was an authentic one.
As she had been posing with the artificial creature outside some premiere - the many flashes of the cameras had made the photosynthetic visual process receiver overload, and as it shut down under the strobe like blitzkrieg - the system short circuited, resulting in the animal started acting possessed - attacking Ms. Sanders with sharp claws.
The photos of her slamming the cat continuously into the asphalt by it’s tail, bare breasted due to the cat having ripped the top of her silky dress to shreds. Went viral instantly.
The following lawsuits had been an equal mess. Brought upon her by the PETS organization, since one of it’s members had jumped the barrier and attacked Ms. Sanders, for what she saw an act of animal cruelty.
The mechanical cat had then lashed out at its well-meaning rescuer as well, inflicting deep facial cuts. PETS had sued Ms. Sanders on behalf of their member, suffering harm from a piece of property belonging to her‘.
Stacy Sanders lawyers had in turn counter-sued PETS for assault and battery on their client.
In the end it was agreed that both lawsuits were dropped.
In the aftermath Stacy Sanders had lashed out at Jessica Wood for creating out of reach’ goals for young girls across the country.
Jessica in turn had a fresh turd from Pussy’s litter box - delivered to Stacy Sanders door. With the message, of it to be considered a charity gesture, and that she could put it to use with her next artificial animal, pretending it was a real one.
As well as wishing her a speedy recovery with the upcoming plastic surgery that should restore the damage to her face caused by the out of control bio-mechanical cat.
At some point Josh snapped out of his trance.
He felt so detached from everything, like it had all been a bad dream, but unfortunately he knew that that was not the case.
The bulky frame of True Thug character had frozen on the big Synz-screen, he fiddled through his blue backpack for a vial of Rancor.
In the bedroom Diego was showing Ali, some new re-make sneakers of a past century basketball player,
Josh discovered that a small handful of the purple pills, had spilled out into the backpack‘s front room. He quickly seized the opportunity and slipped two of them, into Diego’s soda on the burrito-box filled coffee table in front of him.
As they returned from the bedroom a while later, Ali and his dealer shot a couple of LIQ-THC capsules, Diego then finished up his soda.
They wrapped up the merchandise in a regular brown bag,
Ali had put Jessica’s money to good use and brought some fifty capsules of LIQ-THC and some regular coke in case he needed to stay awake,
he had after all strained his system for an entire week of partying, or whatever the hell had been going on?
As they left the apartment, Josh noticed how Diego stroked his nipples and his crotch just for a second; he couldn’t help but to smile by himself.
They made their way down the musty graffiti covered hallway again, as Diego’s obese sisters returned with plastic bags that reeked of deep fried something? as they passed them midway - a strange squeaking sound came from the apartment, they had just left.
The girls stopped and looked back at them; to see if they that had done something to their brother! Ali and Josh turned and looked back in direction of the apartment.
The noise that no doubt was made by Vinnie, sounded more like a robot in pain now! the sound was eerily disturbing and Ali felt the hairs on his neck stand up, the girls ran to the apartment and locked themselves in. The drug scoring duo had almost reached the elevator, When they heard a loud scream from the girls as they opened the door -
¨¨Fuuuck!!! What the hell are you doing to Vinnie!?! You freaking puta!¨¨
Ali noticed the smirk on Josh’s face, as they entered the piss stinking elevator that took them to the bottom floor.
Outside again, Ali gave him back the money he had left from buying the drugs, the sun had risen completely now, and had started its punishment of the much tested citizens.
They leaned against the hummer, while Ali asked him if he were sure he wanted to come with him to see ‘that Prophet?’ Josh noticed how the projects were flooded with billboards announcing the new Dice & Slots chain opening soon, ‘’casinos seemed to be all the rage among the poorer part of town?’’ he pondered.
They got into the now more discreetly colored hummer, Ali punched the address from the cardboard into the GPS, Josh took a double shot of Rancor, it seemed that they were heading for the desert to look for some answers from that, Prophet! located Somewhere between Los Angeles and Las Vegas.
Trip to the Prophet
As they left the busy intersection, the traffic cleared up, and before long they more or less had the long desolated road in front of them entirely to themselves.
It also became apparent to the two guys how little they in fact had in common: besides being on the run.
¨¨You know man! I could drop you off at one of those small towns that we sometime pass here.¨¨
Josh shook his head…
¨¨No, but I mean, you could lay low for awhile with the rest of cash, there’s quite a bit left, I bet no one’s gonna recognize you out here?¨¨
Josh looked disapprovingly at him. -
¨¨Are you fucking kidding me? everyone’s gonna recognize me out here!
Do you think these people have anything else to do besides, checking gossip all day long? I’d be recognized instantly!¨¨
¨¨Well… I didn’t recognize you, but whatever, dude!¨¨
Josh rolled his eyes at him again, and loaded the vaporizer with a new vial of Rancor.
He closed his eyes, -
¨¨No I’ll come with you, I really don’t care what happens, I’m already dead.¨¨
Ali glared at the Rancor casualty, as he pressed the cruise control bottom, so he could get a capsule in the shooter.
¨¨Besides I’ll have a better chance to hide back in LA; I’m just not sure what to do yet, I’ll just stick around for now.¨¨
He looked out at the barren wasteland that was the desert, it looked more prosperous to him, than his future!
Ali had made a good use of the cruise control of the hummer; he had made sure to take a shot of LIQ-THC every ten minutes at least, out of the brown bag he had placed on top of the dashboard - so he was nicely sedated when he swung the Hummer onto a dirt road some half hour later.
They kept going for what seemed a good long while on a plain old dirt road, when suddenly they were both yanked violently forward - slamming their heads into the dashboard!
Ali was still a second away from passing out as the door was flung open and what looked like a girl in a silver suit knocked him out with the grip of a gun.
They awoke minutes later by buckets of cold water being splashed in their faces. They now sat back to back with their hands tied on their backs inside a circle formed by silver clad girls, who were pointing various guns directly at them, an older guy with a graying goatee dressed in desert army fatigue gear, stepped into the circle and brutally raised them to their feet.
He bit down on a stump of cigarillo - his eyes were covered behind wraparound shades, in colors reminiscent those of petrol spilled upon asphalt.
¨¨Argh, what the hell happened?!?¨¨
They glanced back at the hummer, which had it’s front tires impaled by metal spears that had been triggered to pop up from the dusty road, the kind of old school equipment you would see at primitive third world embassies.
The man got right up close and personal to Ali, no doubt eyeballing him behind the shades.
¨¨I’m watching you!¨¨
He hissed still with the cigarillo between his teeth, poking Ali in the chest punctuating each sentence, one of the girls stepped forward, introducing herself as Lilly. Telling the sturdy man whom she called Hank to back off.
¨¨Welcome to the Spam ranch, guys! Follow me; I’ll give you the tour.¨¨
she walked in front of them informing them of the place they had entered as she kept turning around smiling like a professional tour guide, the sun came down hard while they walked with their hands tied on their backs by plastic strips supplied with a girl guard each, who gave them the occasional push to the back with the tip of a gun whenever they walked too slowly.
She introduced the silver clad weapon strapped entourage that followed them as the Dandelions, each of them named after some flower?
Lilly pointed to some strange looking objects far ahead of them, it surprised them both, that they had not been able to spot them from the Hummer…?
As they came nearer they could make them out to be in the shapes of what looked like silvery spacecrafts? who were scattered in a square like formation, it seemed like they had crashed some time ago, side skirts, wings and windows was missing and what looked like black traces caused by fire adorned most of them.
Some Bedouin like tents were scattered around the area, and in the middle some girls were working on what looked like a thirty feet tall sculpture, attaching wires to what looked like the head of the sculpture.
One of the silver clad girls walked up to Josh, introducing herself as Trish - he recognized her as one of Jessica’s annoying valley friends, remembering something vaguely about how she had disappeared months ago.
¨¨Oh my God - Josh? Is that really you, it’s so strange to see you out here?¨¨
¨¨Yeah well… I¨¨
¨¨So are you and Jessica still together?¨¨
Before he could answer, she continued -
¨¨You know, I always thought you were kinda cute in your own way.¨¨
She sounded slurry in her voice and her pupils were dilated, just like his own.
¨¨Well I dunno, err… we kinda had a,¨¨
She grabbed his arm, giving it a friendly squeeze, biting her lower lip.
¨¨Well if the Prophet says it’s okay, I’d like to fuck you!¨¨
He looked baffled at her?
¨¨Cause you know, like… the Prophet says that - fucking is the most honest way of displaying ones’ affection; it will bring you closer to divinity!¨¨
Beneath her slurred speech, she still sounded like the annoying whiny valley girl. He asked her how she had ended up out here? and she told him the story of how someone had introduced her to the teachings of the Prophet at a rave, where she had come just to score some Buzzo! So she had wanted to check out what it was all about? and she had simply never returned home,
Josh nodded as she confided that she was so much happier now!… and also the Hallucinogens and love-drugs that the Prophet produced himself, were much cleaner and stronger than anything you could get your hands on back in LA.
¨¨Come on: in here!¨¨
Lilly waved for them to follow her, the troop of silver clad girls followed inside what looked like a giant, round space shuttle,
Trish squeezed his arm, comforting him as she whispered in his ear, -
¨¨Don’t be scared ok, he’s just so full of cosmic wisdom. I think he is an alien?¨¨
Inside of the vehicle - the daylight had been almost completely shut out.
In the middle of the room on top of a giant mushroom prop, sat an obese man wearing a tie-dye whole suit, the mop on top of his head, was a mess of his own hair braided in a myriad of colors in between artificial wires.
He sat there peacefully holding a beautiful old water pipe Containing a green liquid, in one hand.
Somewhere above him four sunrays - were shining down upon him, making him out as the focus point in the room, some sort of multi colored kaleidoscopic lightshow was being looped; on the darkened walls of the shuttle. Ali wasn’t too unfamiliar with the fast hum of the Goa-trance coming from the speakers.
Josh was held back by Trish - while two of the dandelions
pushed Ali within distance, so that the fat guy on the Mushroom prop could see him. He turned his head and glanced at the confused young Arab with the baggy black and green parachute pants.
¨¨I am the Prophet! Now tell me who are you?¨¨
He spoke with an exaggerated arrogant tone. Josh started to introduce himself, which made the Prophet hold up his free hand; as to stop him from talking!
He pointed in his direction, without looking at him. -
¨¨Who are you?¨¨
¨¨Well, my name is Ali, I thought you…¨¨
The prophet interrupted him, -
¨¨Yes - yes, but who are’ you?¨¨
Ali looked baffled.
¨¨Who are you really?¨¨
He had no idea what kind of answer the prophet was looking for?
The messy rainbow colored bundle on the top of the fat guy’s head started bopping in the rays of light that was projected from holes in the ship. His obese corpus sat in motion and soon the weird fat guy, was laughing at the top of his lungs, he then slid clumsily down the mushroom that was clearly made of Styrofoam.
He went over to Ali, padding him friendly on the shoulder, searching his eyes with a piercing stare, which could not be read since he wore Blaze contact lenses, commonly used at raves; the trippy kind that constantly shifted between colors and smiley symbols -
the Prophet shook Ali’s shoulder, in a jovial way, with his big ring adorned hand. -
¨¨Come on man! Don’t you remember it?¨¨
Ali looked puzzled back at him, expecting some kind of retribution similar to the one he experienced back in the car towards the house in the hills, the Prophet waited!
Before he made a, - Ta Da!! Gesture with his hands.
¨¨Alice!¨¨
Ali just kept his alerted stare?
¨¨Alice in wonderland…yea!!¨¨
Ali shook his head slowly, still expecting some pain coming his way anytime soon.
The Prophet blurted out -
¨¨Arh damn! Those damn generation gaps!¨¨
He put his hands at his hips while shaking his messy head, sporting a wide grin, his long beard had been dyed bright orange, which supported his row of golden teeth,
He laid his arm around Ali’s shoulders in a fatherly way.
¨¨Alright man, I apologize for the rough welcome, but we had to make sure you weren’t a double agent working for the Foundation, y’know.¨¨
¨¨Look I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s a…¨¨
The Prophet raised his left hand again, as to indicate silence, -
¨¨Oh! I haven’t heard anything about you, portal jumper, because I have seen’ with my own two eyes.¨¨
He widened his eyes in a dramatic way as he stared into Ali‘s again, who got the notion of some inevitably violence from one of the young dandelions who stood nearby, but nothing happened; the paranoia pill was the last one to wear off its effect…
Carefully he asked the colorful figure, -
¨¨Seen what?¨¨
A bit tired the Prophet responded, -
¨¨Well, portal jumping of course! that’s what you did for the Foundation!¨¨
¨¨But no, I - I - don’t even remember having met those guys before, except those two suits who took me to the hotel,¨¨
The Prophet tilted his head.
¨¨Honest! I swear I don’t know why any of this is happening?¨¨
He tried his best to keep the stress under control, the prophet was taking notes; Listening patiently, -
¨¨So why did you come here?¨¨
¨¨I was hoping you could tell me that! those err… Foundation guys - I guess? weren’t into answering anything.¨¨
the Prophet nodded condescendingly, -
¨¨I want you to meet Brain, He’s our hacker; he will fill you in on things!¨¨
They went outside the spacecraft where the merciless sun treated them like ants being tortured by a sadistic kid holding a mirror glass,
they started to cross the yard where the silver clad girls were building the giant sculpture, which Ali now realized had some kind of crude resemblance to the prophet; with all those wires being attached onto its head.
The sound of banging against metal was broken by the roar of motorcycle engines!
A dust cloud arose from the dirt road from which they had been led up, and soon a dozen motorcycles were circling the premises, they came to a halt - One of the bikers threw his bike in the dirt, and ran towards the Prophet and Ali; screaming - wielding a gun, he tackled him and jumped on top of him. pointing the gun in his face shouting! -
¨¨I’ll bloody kill you, you goddamn Paki-faggot!!¨¨
¨¨Funny you should call me’ faggot? since you’re the one with sperm on your breath!¨¨
Spyder cocked the antique replica-gun at the same time as the prophet cocked his, and aimed it at the back of Spyder’s shaven head.
¨¨Drop it Spyder! You kill him, and I kill you!¨¨
Spyder was grinding his teeth with rage, fuming, -
¨¨You have no idea what he made us do? You would do the same, if you were me!¨¨
the Prophet smiled satisfied with himself, for about what he was about to say, -
¨¨No Spyder, Cause first off! I would be doing the job I was sent to do, instead of fucking my own brother!¨¨
¨¨Why, why… How did you know?¨¨
¨¨Cause Brain is still monitoring the room, you stupid Nazi-prick!¨¨
Spyder was about to say something, but the Prophet continued -
¨¨I didn’t see the Paki do anything? You’re a gang of degenerates as far as I’m concerned.¨¨
¨¨Fuck you!¨¨
¨¨Ready to go again already? no Spyder I think I’ll pass, but ask one of the baldies from your little fag gang!… our deal is still on!
But move the gun away from him right fucking now, or I’ll have my dandelions shoot each and every one of you!¨¨
Spyder looked around, seeing about the same amount of silver clad girls as there were Nazi bikers - each pointing a modified weapon at the humiliated Aryans.
He stood off - reassuring the prophet that he better keep his word! telling him to get on with his business.
The prophet helped Ali back on his feet, as he was still cuffed from behind.
¨¨Ok, now - let’s go see Brain.¨¨
They went inside a more cigar shaped shuttle, half covered in dirt - half covered in desert camouflage slur. Inside of it sat the guy called: Brain, surrounded by five old laptops, in front of him, his fingers scaled over the keyboards - spanning two of them. On the wall a stupid looking white mask with a moustache and broad smile caught his attention, the words: ‘we are legion’ was scribbled underneath.
The prophet went over and whispered something to Brain, who then addressed Ali; a bit distraught, -
¨¨Just what the hell does that mean - you don’t remember anything?!?¨¨
¨¨Well… I just don’t know what the hell is going on?¨¨
¨¨So you don’t remember if you gave the device to the Foundation or not?¨¨
it was now Ali’s turn to become annoyed!
¨¨No! I don’t know what the fuck is going on at all! why the hell don’t somebody take a fucking minute to explain it to me!¨¨
Brain removed his thick Dutch taped, black rimmed classes and massaged his eyes, -
¨¨Are you shitin’ me dude! Am I to believe that you can’t remember a goddamn thing!¨¨
Ali threw a tantrum.
¨¨Why the fuck! do you think I drove all the way out in the fucking desert you fucking moron; if I weren’t looking for answers, I damn fucking well wouldn’t be here you fucking idiot!!!¨¨
Brain looked like a man that had given up completely, as he slumped back down in the old gamer chair with the built-in monitors, the Prophet exchanged a worried look with Brain, who shrugged his shoulders, and responded, -
¨¨Well… Plan B - then I guess?… let’s give it a try!¨¨
Brain got up from the heavily duct taped chair, that seemed to be his domain alone, he put on a hat that looked like it was made of tinfoil, which looked huge against his skinny body, the fat guy winked at Ali to come along, they left the cigar shaped vehicle and headed back towards the mothership.
¨¨Don’t worry man I’ll explain everything once we get back, I believe you… just calm down.¨¨
Again he padded him on the shoulder, like they had been pals for years. He asked the Prophet, -
¨¨These space ships, how come they are just laying around, does all this have to do with aliens?¨¨
The colorful leader of the community gave him a disappointed look, -
¨¨Are you serious? do you think we’re nuts, man! These are old film props. There’s no such thing as aliens, just another government fabricated lie to detract from what was really going on?¨¨
He smiled a quick better knowingly smile.
Brain added an ‘Amen - to that!’
While Brain rolled up an old school joint outside, the Prophet talked a little about how he had been a DJ in Tel-Aviv, dedicated to the wisdom found in the combination of Hallucinogens and Goa-trance.
He had played a rare gig in Los Angeles, the day Israel had been nuked by its hostile neighbors - he had lost everything but he had started looking for answers and had found quite a bit already, after he had to make America his new home some twelve years ago, just as the war broke out in Europe.
Brain went inside the round mothership, the prophet stopped Ali; he attained a serious expression.
¨¨Listen I know that you’re confused right now, but I have faith in you, son. And I know what you’re thinking! crazy fat-ass with a crazy hairdo.
And his harem of dandelions is nothing but acid fried runaway bitches from rich families’ right?… ok, perhaps there’s some truth to that!
But it is also true that each and every one here, are true believers in your abilities, cause they have all witnessed your abilities!¨¨
Ali was still waiting for the real info.
¨¨When we get inside again, it’s profoundly mandatory that you have faith in my Plan-B, alright! I need you to trust me if the device falls in the hands of the Foundation…¨¨
The Prophet shook his head in a dramatic sense, and padded him on the back to go get inside, he whispered to him that he needed not worry about the Nazi gang, since he would never complete the deal he had made with them…?
Inside the mothership, the Nazis had grouped in one corner, five of the dandelions were strategically placed, one at each corner of a big circle formed by some laser light that shot out from somewhere underneath the ceiling.?
Brain, was messing with some primitive looking hand held device, which Ali figured was the light show controller.
The prophet led him towards the center of the circle, giving him a wink of the eye, and a final pad on the back. He then crawled back on top of his kitschy mushroom prop. The room fell silent: As the prophet raised his hand - pointing to Ali, and began to speak up loudly, for everyone to hear, -
¨¨Okay listen up portal jumper! you seem to have forgotten quite a bit this past week?… However I, and everyone in this room believe that you still possess those magical powers, and I believe that under the right amount of stress you will be able to rise to the occasion, so to speak!¨¨
Ali realized that what he had just taken for a random laser-light formation was in fact a pentagram that he only knew all to well, since those were the marked portals you used to enter - into other worlds, in his favorite tres console game - ‘Dimensions.’
¨¨Now as I count down from ten! - I want you to focus, with all your might on doing a portal jump,¨¨
¨¨But listen that is crazy! fuck man, I can’t… it’s nothing but a goddamn game!¨¨
The prophet raised his hand for silence.
¨¨Or my five beautiful dandelions here, will open fire at you,¨¨
¨¨Now wait a goddamn minute, you crazy fuck!¨¨
¨¨Concentrate young man! Ten, nine, eight.¨¨
Ali shifted from one foot to another, as he realized that the dandelions guns were following his every move, furthermore the effect of the fly pill had waned off. So he was just his plain old self again, moving around in heavy Sawex boots,(which didn’t helped the matter.)
- The noisy sound of rotor blades was heard from at least two aircrafts outside, which came down quickly.
The deafening sound was soon followed by an ear splitting explosion on the left side of the mothership.
At lest two dandelions was killed by the explosion, instantly - red laser beams swept the darkened room, targeting the half a dozen armed dandelions inside, who were quickly taken out by loud gun fire that came from the transmitting end of the laser beams.
The Nazis all surrendered and fell to their knees, the violent raid was over before it had really begun; only scattered rounds were now fired outside the spaceship, and a few screams was to be heard.
A group of black clad soldiers strategically entered the ship and pacified the two surviving dandelions and the Nazi gang; soon after a command yell, rang out in the ship. -
¨¨¨All clear Sarge!¨¨
A tall man wearing a red beret entered the room, he marched towards the Styrofoam mushroom, which the Prophet who had sought shelter underneath, when the shooting had erupted.
He grabbed the edge of the prop and started kicking the tie-dyed fatman accentuating each kick with a swear word.
After a lot of screaming and begging from the mess of multi colored hair and tie-dye, he let up the punishment,
- With great determination he marched over to Ali, who he instantly punched in the guts, pulling his head backwards by way of his dark blue bangs, as he fell to his knees.
Had he had any air in his lungs he’d probably have used the strength of it to throw up spontaneously right there!
The Prophet crawled out from underneath the mushroom prop, that had been cut in half due to the ‘’friendly fire’’ by one of the dandelions that had shot at the intruders.
He began to beg the man who had just punished him to spare their lives, all the while he hysterically cried.
His crazy eyes scanned the room seeing the spread of dead silver clad girls everywhere.
The sight made him cry out -
¨¨My poor beautiful dandelions…¨¨
Josh was still sitting next to Trish, who had barely gotten up and aimed her pistol before she had taken a round to the chest, almost automatic he fished up two vials from the backpack between his feet, and loaded the vaporizer, while trembling violently - as he tried ignoring her dead body.
The man with the red beret largely ignored the Prophet and hissed into Ali’s ears -
¨¨Listen to me boy! If you try any more stunts like that you pulled earlier with my employer, I’ll pump you full of lead, you hear me!?!¨¨
¨¨You could also ask if you could pump one of the Nazis, they seem to be into that macho-pump stuff?¨¨
Still yanking his head backwards in an uncomfortable position with his left hand, he did not hesitate for a second, as he punched Ali straight out, using his free hand.
- ¨¨Pointdexter!!¨¨
A smaller soldier wearing heavy black rimmed classes and a whole lot of hardwired gear attached to his uniform, ran towards him; shouting yes’ Sarge!
¨¨Gimme a damage control stat!¨¨
The man referred to as Sarge pulled a fresh cigar from his left font pocket and lit it up with a micro blow torch, all the while - Poindexter read him the enemy casualty count, which made the Prophet sob even harder than he already did.
¨¨So what’s your analysis of the situation? Pointdexter.¨¨
He stood closer to the man, so no one could hear his words, Sarge nodded. It was clear that he was the one giving the orders, but Poindexter was the brains behind their moves.
Sarge gave Pointdexter a manly clap on the shoulder, saying well done. He then walked the room shouting for who was the leader of the Nazis gang; Spyder stood up a bit reluctantly.
¨¨I need you to do exactly as I say now, if you stray from my orders I will hunt you and your little gang down, you understand what I‘m saying boy!¨¨
Spyder nodded, he was both outnumbered and outgunned at the same time, he agreed without any trace of defiance.
Pointdexter took over and told Brain to get some white spray-paint, some cardboard and a carpet cutter; a soldier went with Brain to his shuttle to access the required items.
Sarge had returned to the sobbing, Prophet - whom he now lectured like a little scared kid, while two of his soldiers’ dragged Ali’s unconscious body towards one of the two choppers outside, in which they strapped him to a seat in the open cabin.
A couple of minutes later Pointdexter held workshop with the Nazis outside the mothership, he had made a stencil in the cardboard spelling: The Foundation’ and he now asked for the Aryan gang to remove their flights and leather jackets so he could spray the design on their backs.
While the paint dried up, Sarge lined up - a startled Brain along with the entire skinhead gang, as well as the Prophet and his two remaining dandelions who were dissolving in tears.
¨¨Now listen up you friggin’ space cakes!… none of what happened here today get’s out! Or my platoon will come back ‘pay you a visit!¨¨
He walked back and forth in front of the people lined up,
¨¨If you think you can get away with telling anyone of these events? you‘re even more wrong than this haircut!¨¨
He slapped the big bulk of hair and wires on top of the sobbing Prophet’s head,
¨¨Do I make myself absolutely sparkling clear!¨¨
The prophet had lost his confident stance from earlier; he now looked down, as he nodded like a broken man. The dandelions tried their best to hold back their tears, but seemed unable to stop from crying.
He addressed the Prophet -
¨¨Half of my platoon will stay behind, help you to bury the casualties, since we don’t wanna attract attention to our operation, do we have an agreement, or should we dig four more graves already?¨¨
¨¨No sir’… we have an agreement, mums the word, you have my word.¨¨
The prophet tried doing some ‘cross my heart’ movement that went wrong from the get go! Sarge looked at him in disbelief? shaking his head.
He now turned his attention to the gang.
¨¨And as for you’ boneheads goes; you will do exactly as I say. You now represent an organization known as - The Foundation’ do I make myself perfectly clear!¨¨
The entire gang nodded eagerly while the black clad soldiers were pointing their heavy firearms at them.
¨¨Whenever I’m through with your services, you may return to whatever you were doing, but for now it’s very important that you do as I say, if you wanna keep yourselves alive!¨¨
More nodding followed in absolute silence.
Sarge approached Spyder.
¨¨Pointdexter will provide you with spray cans and you will return to Los Angeles, where you will write; The Foundation! on the walls inside the house of - that guy!¨¨
Sarge pointed towards Josh who had almost fallen asleep against the side of the space prop.
¨¨And you will remain at those premises, until further notice, do you understand!¨¨
Spyder replied with a - yes Sir! trying respectfully to do an army salute,
Sarge knocked the air out of him, and told him off as he fell to his knees, -
¨¨Don’t try an act like a soldier, when you are nothing but a punk!¨¨
He spat in him in the face, just to let him know who was in charge.
Outside the compound Spyder freed Josh’s hands for the plastic strip, so he could hold onto him, as he would have to ride on the back of his motorcycle back to the city.
Half the platoon that was left behind, were getting the shovels out of the chopper getting ready to dig graves for the dandelions, minutes later the motorcycle gang fled the Spam ranch.
So did the chopper with the still unconscious Ali, along with Sarge and Pointdexter, the apparent mastermind behind the operation, who kept busy tapping rapidly on the customized Y-pad strapped to his wrist.
When he woke up from being knocked out, they had placed a helmet on his head, which blocked out some of the noise from the heavy rotor blades, but there was no microphone attached to it, and the inside monitor had been shut off so he could not hear what Sarge was giving out of orders to his team that nodded in agreement to what they heard in their helmet monitors?
The plastic strip that tied his hands together, had begun to work its way into his wrists, it hurt, but so did most everything else on his body, since the effect of the combat pills had waned off. He leaned back into the seat.
And cursed the day.
This morning, had proven too much to handle already,
he figured that he would just go along with it for now, and hopefully at some point they would provide him with some answers or kill him?
They sat the chopper down somewhere near a small airport near the outskirts of town, from there; he parted way with Sarge and his black ops commando squad, after they had escorted him to a white stretch limo, similar to the one that had picked him up this morning outside the La Hacienda hotel.
This one sported the exact same red leather interior, but this time equipped with a team of six tanned suits, who all had their guns pointed at him. He did not speak a word for the entire ride, as the Limo drove him back to the exact same location on La Brea, from which he had already fled from two times today.
The sense of déjà vu was tiresome, and his head hurt like it had been stomped upon.
The limo went discretely down through the basement parking lot - from where he was then escorted upstairs into the still empty lobby, where a guy in a gray pinstripe three-piece suit walked towards him, sporting thin round glasses and some blond slicked back hair.
- Ali noticed the red bowtie similar to that of the old white-dressed man he had killed this morning in the hills, he felt exhausted and instead of being stricken by fear, a blanket of soothing apathy fell upon him.
The sharp dressed man with the glasses greeted him with his hand stretched out, introducing himself as -
Jonsey
Ali shook his cold hand; Jonsey looked like a man in his early fifties and spoke with a thick British accent. He asked the suits if there had been any reports of excessive behavior from him during the ride or the flight?
As it turned out to be a confirmed negative, Jonsey asked the suits to give him a moment alone with the subject, he hen escorted him towards the kitchen for a private chat. -
¨¨Alright Mr. Faruk!¨¨
¨¨Just call me Ali.¨¨
¨¨Now tell me exactly why - in your own words, why do you think we are having this conversation?¨¨
Ali thoroughly explained Jonsey, that he thought the whole thing was one big mistake, of perhaps mistaken identity? And that he had no idea what neither the Foundation, or that Prophet’ in the desert wanted from him and most of all declined to possess any portal jumping skills?
Jonsey had inspected him closely the whole time, as if trying to read his face to see if he was lying?
Ali finished his rant,
he felt relieved that for the first time today, that someone had the patience to hear him out, instead of hitting him or trying to have him shot within seconds.
Jonsey whom had taken off his glasses, and played around with one of the spring-loaded hinges between his teeth, thought for a moment, before he addressed his subject.
¨¨Just so that we are clear on one thing Mr. Faruk…Ali.¨¨
He listened to the man with the British accent,
¨¨If this reluctance on your part has anything’ to do with the already transferred amount of money agreed, then let’s not waste each others time playing this game.¨¨
Ali shook his head, declining that it had anything to do with cash.
¨¨Cause I can easily ask my employers for more money, if you want me to? if you consider this little military intervention to get you back, I hope that you do realize that money does not run short within the Foundation.¨¨
He looked over the top of his glasses that he had put back on.
Ali just kept shaking his head slowly while staring numbly at the white tiles on the kitchen floor.
Jonsey slid down from the table from where he had sat and walked towards Ali, he raised his chin with his ring and middle finger, asking for him to look at him, Ali looked into the Jonsey’s pale blue eyes that thoroughly inspected his.
¨¨We have a big problem Mr. Faruk, the biggest problem is that I actually believe you. And I feel like I should apologize to you,¨¨
Ali drew a deep sigh of relief.
¨¨First off… I should have been to the old Mr. McKinney’s house on time this morning, I sincerely apologize for the deaths you have caused, had I been there I might have been able to avoid it.¨¨
Ali more or less shrugged it off - declining the sympathy, stating that at this point none of it felt real anyways?
¨¨And let me make it perfectly clear to you. that even thou one could say, that you are the one to be held responsible for Mr. McKinney’s death. You will not be murdered, or punished any further, even thou you killed one of the founding members of the Foundation, that I promise you!¨¨
He did not trust anyone at this point; still it felt involuntary comforting to hear it, on a day where things had stopped making sense altogether, Jonsey walked around the stainless steel table towards one of the big fridges in the kitchen, and offered him a Soda, -
¨¨Cherry/watermelon is it, Mr. Faruk…Ali?¨¨
He gladly accepted, since the dryness in his mouth had become an almost permanent condition; with his back to him, the Englishman poured him a glass from the contents of the canister and threw in a couple of ice cubes. He tried handing him the beverage as he approached him again.
He Apologized as he drew a golden butterfly knife from his inner pocket and walked ‘round the chair Ali sat on and released him from the gnawing plastic strip.
¨¨The problem Mr. Faruk is that if you really don’t remember anything like you say you don‘t? Then I am in even bigger trouble than you are. Then it is I’ who have failed. And it is, I’ alone, who will receive the punishment due!¨¨
Ali took big sips of the soda; as Jonsey seemed to run out of things to say, he seized the opportunity to perhaps finally get some answers, -
¨¨‘Mind if I ask you where we supposedly, have met each other?¨¨
Jonsey, who had placed himself back on the stainless table, raised his eye brows over the top of his round academic glasses, -
¨¨Not at all, we met at the Dimensions forum, you seemed like a nutter as we say in my Country, then we spoke some more privately in the chat and that’s where you convinced me of your ability to do time travels.¨¨
Ali laughed a little nervously, asking if he were truly serious?
¨¨So are you saying that you hung out at the Dimensions forum, looking for someone who would claim that he could do portal jumps?¨¨
Jonsey did not flinch, he surprisingly nodded and said -
¨¨Mr. Faruk would you say that Dimensions would be considered a ‘geeky game’ in this time and age?¨¨
Ali consented, -
¨¨Yeah, most people I know hate it, says its gay!¨¨
¨¨Now would you be surprised if I revealed to you that the whole financing for that game, was handled solely by the Foundation!¨¨
Ali looked a little surprised?
¨¨But are you saying that…¨¨
Jonsey stopped him,
¨¨No of course not! I am not saying that anyone who would be attracted to this game have that ability, that’d be utter nonsense I agree!¨¨
He adjusted his round classes.
¨¨And I must confess that I was less than thrilled, when I was assigned to watch over this job, to be honest; I thought it sounded…¨¨
Ali smirked, as he felt more confident now in the company of the British man.
- ¨¨Stupid!?!¨¨
Jonsey nodded eagerly
¨¨Yes chap, stupid and then some!¨¨
They both laughed out some of the tension that had been built up.
Ali took the subject further, -
¨¨I mean. I’m sorry if I have actually bullshitted you into believing in this? I do hang out a lot on the Dimensions forum talking to other geeks, and maybe I have just joked with you, y’know maybe I was just being ironic, and cause you’re old and stuff, you didn’t get irony?…¨¨
Jonsey looked down like he considered it, nodding his head and smiled a little.
¨¨¨Or you know what? I might have been totally wasted, have I come straight from a rave at the docks! I might have been totally wasted y‘know, saying all kinds of bullshit?¨¨
Jonsey surprisingly agreed with him,
¨¨¨Yes, yes I know! That’s exactly what I thought; this bloke is out of his mind what bollocks? either he’s super ironic or just plainly wasted, one not excluding the other I might add.¨¨
He smiled as they both laughed again in unison.
¨¨¨So what convinced you that I actually had such skills?¨¨
¨¨Oh, to be honest. I wouldn’t have wasted another second on you, had it not been for the fact that we met.¨¨
¨¨Really! we met? I don’t remember that, where?¨¨
¨¨When!¨¨
¨¨Sorry! Come again?…I don’t follow, when?¨¨
¨¨Yes Mr. Faruk, when’ is the question! that made me arrange for a meeting with my employers, do you think I would have gone to such great lengths with a fraud, a disillusioned kid talking rubbish on a gamer forum? get real Mr. Faruk!¨¨
Jonsey had retained a more serious expression again, Ali looked puzzled -
¨¨Ok sorry, but I really don’t understand it at all? if not where! then when did we meet?¨¨
Jonsey raised his pointing finger as Ali emptied the last of his cherry/watermelon energy-coke.
¨¨Two days before Mr. Faruk, two days before I met you online, we met in real life!¨¨
¨¨Sorry, I don’t get it?¨¨
¨¨You don’t aye!! We met before we met online cause you somehow tapped into some frequency or something, I don’t know how? and you laid a hand on my shoulder at Mr. McKinney’s house!¨¨
Ali dropped his jaw he could not believe what he was hearing?
¨¨For just a couple of seconds I looked into your eyes, as you’- in a very bragging way told me - ‘see it’s real‘…¨¨
Ali shook his head in disbelief. Jonsey seemed to be losing his gentleman coolness - as his hands went stressfully through his slicked back hair, he corrected his glasses.
¨¨It felt like some weird flashback, you were gone as fast as you had been there, but before you disappeared, you told me the amount you wanted if I required your services, and that was the exact same amount you had written to me in my inbox; right at that exact moment, Mr. Faruk!¨¨
He felt a bit delirious,
¨¨So you see Mr. Faruk, I believed you then, just as I believe you now!¨¨
The blanket of apathy had disappeared and instead it felt as a panic attack was about to take its place.
Jonsey raised his voice - as he continued explaining to him the background checks he had ran on him: About his fathers’ disappearance, asking him about what he knew of his magical skills? stating that he suspected, that the portal jumping was a skill he had inherited from his father, a skill he had not mentioned to him, but a real one none the less!
Ali declined to know anything about that, stating that his father was a failed magician.
Jonsey had become agitated, -
¨¨We monitored you the whole time while you stayed in room 233!¨¨
Ali held up his hand, asking for the Englishman to stop.
¨¨Ok then why did I even stay in this hotel? why was I in that room!¨¨
¨¨I cannot answer that Mr. Faruk, cause that was part of the deal, you required a Gold-Pod worth the credit of thirty thousand dollars, and you specifically asked for room 233 at the La Hacienda, no questions asked, so I didn’t!¨¨
They stared at each other; it was beginning to sound like the start of a regular argument. He nodded slightly as he thought about what Jonsey, who was grasping at straws; had just told him.
¨¨So are you saying, that you do remember something then?¨¨
¨¨Fuck no! I don’t remember anything, Dammit!!¨¨
¨¨What about your Father then? is he the one you got the gift from is he!¨¨
Ali was swept of his feet, getting all dry throated again, -
¨¨What the hell do you know of my Father, why the hell are you bringing him into all of this!¨¨
¨¨Oh! could it perhaps be because your Father was a spectacular magician, did he help you with this scam somehow!?!¨¨
¨¨No, no fucking way! I haven’t even seen him since…¨¨
¨¨You’re his only Son, you must have inherited some of his powers!¨¨
¨¨Fuck no man! my Father… Fuck you,¨¨
The gray clad Englishman took a deep breath.
¨¨Oi, let’s come down alright, there is no point in arguing, I’m sorry Mr. Faruk, if you say that you don’t remember anything then you simply don’t remember!¨¨
Ali was startled again but felt weary and sick at the same, he was covered in sweat again, ‘’no doubt coming from the toxins leaving his body’’ he figured.
¨¨And I will not retreat to violence to make you talk, as I stated before I believe you, but my arse is on the line here, please understand that okay?¨¨
There were deep wrinkles in his forehead as he removed his glasses to massages his eyes, Ali’s mind raced as it searched for question to answers.
¨¨Ok then let’s say that everything you tell me here is legit, ‘right?¨¨
Jonsey drew a deep sigh, to keep himself in check, as he was losing the grip on his coolness.
¨¨Just what did you see if you monitored me 24-7, anything out of the ordinary?¨¨
¨¨Oh you mean besides your crazy antics, with drugs and an array of whorebots?¨¨
He nodded impatiently.
¨¨Not much Mr. Faruk. Besides that you disappeared from the room without leaving it, for minutes at a time at least five times during your week long stay.¨¨
- ¨¨I - I - I did, you sure?¨¨
¨¨Yes Mr. Faruk and if you for some reason think I’m playing games with you please consider this!¨¨
He listened carefully,
¨¨How on earth would that crazy sect or what you’d call it in the desert, know of your antics had they not tapped into the secured crypted signal? I have no idea what they are up to, but as you might have realized they are not exactly friends of the Foundation?¨¨
Ali stared straight ahead, as he considered the information.
¨¨Bionic cat got your tongue Mr. Faruk? I see that you believe me now, just as I believe you.¨¨
He felt dizzy as Jonsey took a knee before him.
¨¨But if all this happened as you say it did, then why can’t I remember any of it?¨¨
Jonsey looked him straight in the eyes, -
¨¨I believe something happened on the last portal jump you made Mr. Faruk As I mentioned, you made five portal jumps or time travels, or whatever you wanna call it?¨¨
There was sympathy to be traced in Jonsey’s pale blue eyes, -
¨¨You made the last three of those five jumps in one single day; I believe - perhaps something might have happened to you on that last jump?¨¨
¨¨You were in some sort of shock as you returned from that last one, we had to revive you, we had a nurse here.¨¨
¨¨¨Wait - wait I do remember that… I think?¨¨¨
Jonsey padded him on the knee
¨¨Yes… but that’s just it Mr. Faruk, through out this conversation your only glimpse of a memory, is that of being revived by a nurse. It’s completely useless. It seems like you have lost all memory of the events?¨¨
Ali agreed silently, he felt strangely overwhelmed of the nature of the stories - the one of his father had thrown him emotionally off balance,
something that rarely happened, while the rest of them was just too much to take in.
¨¨Think of me what you will Mr. Faruk - but I am a man of my words, and I will take the blame for failure of this mission, it is I who have let my employers down…. I assure you that you will leave the hotel alive, no matter what!¨¨
Ali looked into his pale blue eyes, as he continued -
¨¨I ask of you one last thing. Mr. Faruk! please hear me out alright!¨¨¨
Jonsey combed his blond slicked-back hair, with his hands.
¨¨In the ballroom next to this kitchen which we are in; the very top of the Foundation is assembled to await the doomsday ritual, all they are waiting for’, is for you to fetch the missing device for them!¨¨
¨¨But I I…¨¨
¨¨Don’t interrupt me Mr. Faruk please, If you do as I say I promise that you will get out of here alive remember? Now! what is going to happen is, that in a few minutes - you and I will walk into the ballroom where you will be placed in the middle of a pentagram, from where you are supposed to do a portal jump.¨¨
Ali wiggled at the memory of the last pentagram he had found himself in.
¨¨yeah but I,¨¨
Jonsey raised his voice again -
¨¨I said don’t bloody interrupt me lad!… I am trying to save your life here, so listen up! Now we both bloody well know that your memory is scrambled and the chance that you will be able to do a time travel is well nil. But please for my sake, try to concentrate and do your best!
That is all I ask of you Mr. Faruk. If it doesn’t work, you have my word of honor that I will get you out of here alive alright!¨¨
He gestured that Ali could speak again - who consented with a yes.-
¨¨Allrighty’ then, let’s get to it old chap, and don’t be too startled by their dramatics, the Foundation is all for the flare of things.¨¨
He made for Ali to stand up, they exited the kitchen and were quickly joined by the crew of the tanned suits, as they were escorted into the ballroom. And the ritualistic ancient looking -
Ceremony
There were no windows in the ballroom, the lights were dim, and a huge pentagram was painted on the floor, this one at least five times bigger, than the one he had been placed in, at the space prop back in the desert.
In an asymmetrical pattern - some five characters clad in scarlet red drapes with hoods completely covering their faces, stood where the five pointy edges met the circle; three of the draped silent figures stood staring straight ahead. Ali thought their curves suggested that they were females?
Jonsey had told him to keep his cool but he found it easier said than done, due to the unsettling surroundings.
He felt sick to his stomach from the heavy incense and the air smothering flames coming off the black candles; that were lit everywhere.
He started to sweat heavily again; cold sweat, his worn out rave gear had been pressed to the limit of what the fabric was able to absorb of sweat and it felt stiff against his skin.
The gray clad Jonsey, led him to the center of the circle as he had said he would. He told him to relax as he exited the pentagram.
He heard a voice and looked towards the end of the ballroom, then felt the hairs on his arms stand straight up, it now felt as the entire room started to spin as he looked into the eyes of the white gorilla - who stared back at him from the corner of the room with its sad pale blue eyes.
On a plateau in between the albino ape and the opposite wall, on tall chairs, sat some three old men swept in scarlet red drapes, they looked to be somewhat the same age of Mr. McKinney back in that house in the hills.
He felt he began to slip in and out of consciousness, as the old man in the middle informed him that ‘they were the high priests of the Foundation and they expected him to deliver what he had promised.
He fell to his knees, panic overwhelmed him as the atmosphere got the best of him. he felt the cold sweat all over as it blended with the nausea.
Jonsey shouted at him to concentrate on doing the portal jump! he focused with all his might, his thoughts were scattered, he saw everything and nothing at the same time, everything blurred before his eyes.
‘’you will deliver end bringer, or you will die!‘’
That was the last words he heard before everything went black
Hasta La Hacienda
‘’run, run’’
Like a voice in his head,
followed by real shouting -
¨¨Don’t let him get away!!¨¨
He looked around he was on his feet again. He quickly scanned the room, he held a warm gun in his hand, two of the high priests lay on the ground; they did not move.
The big ape had a big scarlet colored spot in the chest area on its snow white fur, its pale eyes were half shut, and only three of the six suits were still standing tall, the others squirmed in pain on the floor.
He realized it was Jonsey that had shouted the order - ‘’to not let him get away’’
He tried to aim and fire in direction of the suits, but the pistol in his hand clicked empty, he threw it at them and made a run for it out of the ballroom, he could hear their footsteps behind him on the marble floor, he ran into the empty lobby and through the swing doors and out onto the busy sidewalk that was La Brea avenue this time of day.
Still a bit dizzy, as he ran across the road in between cars honking their horns, he ran all he could without looking back,(but he could sense they were following him,) some two blocks later he stumbled over his own feet in the intersection he was about to cross, all out of breath!…
Stricken by panic he looked back, he could not see any immediate followers but he knew they were close!
A small crowd had gathered around him as he threw a fit in sheer panic, imagining that one of them would suddenly attack him, that one of them was working for the Foundation.
Suddenly he felt a strong grip at his arm from behind, he tried pulling his arm free, but someone grabbed him from the front, asking for him to calm down…
Before he could freak out completely, they informed him that they were officers from the LAPD and that he was safe! he gazed at the two men that had grabbed him, as the crowd was breaking up around him.
They wore the characteristic uniforms and hats of the LAPD, they led him back to the sidewalk, as traffic slowly started to move again.
Pleading for him to calm down, asking for his name? if he was hurt or if he had been hit by a car?
He shook his head as he caught his breath in between heavy panting, he told them that he was alright - But it was urgent that they listened to what he had to say!
¨¨Is someone after you sir! who were you running from?¨¨
¨¨I - I don’t know where they are now officer? but there are others back at the hotel!¨¨
¨¨And which hotel would that be sir?¨¨
The two cops were an odd mix of what appeared to be an old Irish and a young black man, in his late twenties.
¨¨The Hacienda on La Brea!¨¨
The two cops looked at each other suspiciously, he noticed their looks, -
¨¨Why, what’s the matter! why you don’t believe me?¨¨
A short interval of awkward silence followed, except the sound of heavy panting coming from him.
¨¨Calm down sir.¨¨
The old Irish cop took over, -
¨¨We didn’t mean to say that we didn’t believe you… but are you absolutely sure, that you mean the Hacienda?¨¨
¨¨yes - yes, I’m sure its the La Hacienda!¨¨
¨¨Alright! if you say so, and exactly who are we supposed to be looking for when we get there, and why is it that someone is after you?¨¨
He had gotten the heavy panting somewhat under control by now, but he still felt strangely dizzy as he leaned against the patrol car.
¨¨You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but you’ll see when we get there, you might wanna call for backup!¨¨
They looked at him again somewhat overbearing; their enthusiasm had waned a bit.
¨¨What you recon we do O’ Reilly?¨¨
The young black cop asked his senior, as he ran a check on Ali‘s name in the records.
¨¨Let’s just take a look.¨¨
The younger cop eyed Ali, as to say that he knew his kind;(druggies that is!)
They escorted him into the police car and advised him to keep calm, as they drove straight to the hotel and parked outside the entrance with the brass galvanized swing doors, he claimed to have run out off; minutes ago.
¨¨Will you be so kind, Mosley?¨¨
The young black cop sighed as he got out of the vehicle and gave Ali ‘’a look that indicated that he believed it was a waste of time.’’
Mosley went inside the swing doors as Ali addressed the older cop behind the steering wheel.
¨¨I’m serious man! you really ougtha call for backup! they have guns and what not, and there is at least three of them still alive!¨¨¨
Without turning his head the old cop who had been around the block a couple of times, and carried the attitude of someone who was about to retire soon; asked him, -
¨¨So you say three of them are still alive, what happened to the others?¨¨
¨¨I - I - think, err… that I shot them, but I’m not sure!¨¨
¨¨Hmm… you don’t remember if you actually shot someone or not?¨¨
¨¨No officer… well yes; I’m sure I did.¨¨
¨¨So who are those people?¨¨
Much to Ali’s surprise officer Mosley returned safely from the swing doors only seconds later, he let Ali out as officer O’ Reilly joined them at the sidewalk. Asking him, -
¨¨Exactly who are we supposed to be looking for, Mr. Faruk?¨¨
¨¨Isn’t it obvious!!! Did you see the ballroom? for fucks sake man!¨¨
Officer Mosley pressed him up against the cop car waving his finger in his face, telling him to chill out or they would book his ass instantly.
Officer O’ Reilly took over, -
¨¨Ok listen pal, we haven’t got all day so let’s get this over with! You will calm down and as we go inside, you will point out whoever it is that are after you okay?¨¨
His heart was pounding as they made their way though the swing doors.
Welcome to the La Hacienda
Inside - the lobby was buzzing with activity since it was the holidays. guests were checking in, bellhops in traditional red uniforms were carrying luggage, and some faint easy listening Tafelmusak was to be heard from nowhere in particular.
He felt weak, like he was about to collapse.
¨¨Ok! see anyone you recognize?¨¨
¨¨No - No - No what the fuck? It has all changed! this cannot be?¨¨
His eyes hectically searched the marble covered lobby of random people he had never seen before, and who hadn’t been there just a while ago!
he felt sick, he heard the sound of the elevator from where an older couple stepped out, his eyes fell on the concierge; whom he pointed to as he shouted.
¨¨Look that’s him! that guy behind the counter with the slicked back hair!¨¨
The people in the lobby looked in direction of the shouting for a second, before they returned to their whereabouts, the officers gave him a suspicious look, Mosley lifted an eyebrow.
¨¨The hotel concierge you mean? the man who is checking those peoples reservations!¨¨
¨¨Yea - yea, his name is Jonsey, he’s British!¨¨
Mosley looked at Ali with an expression that signaled that he was about to boil over,
¨¨So you’re telling us that the concierge, is the same guy who chased you down the avenue, minutes ago?¨¨¨
Ali tried his best to keep his anger suppressed as he hissed thru gritted teeth, -
¨¨No not him! but he knows what’s going on, will you pleeeease!… just go and ask him, you’ll see!¨¨
The threesome approach the desk, Ali was about to get into a rage when officer Mosley lectured him yet again of the consequences!
The man had the features of Jonsey,(except for the glasses and blue eyes,) furthermore he was wearing a regular suit and tie, asking the officers: if he could help them?
O’ Reilly took the word, -
¨¨Yes sir - first off; is your name, Jonsey?¨¨
¨¨No officer - my name is Brolin, Ray Brolin, how may I assist you!¨¨
The man behind the desk seemed to speak with a slight southern drawl.
O’ Reilly pointed to Ali at his side, -
¨¨Have you seen this kid before!¨¨
The concierge took a quick look, -
¨¨No sir, I’m pretty sure I haven’t, what is this about if I may ask?¨¨
Ali threw a minor fit as officer Mosley restrained him.
¨¨His lying! ask him to see the ballroom!¨¨
Officer Mosley ordered him to shut his mouth, or he would be arrested right there! telling him that they had already been patient with him.
¨¨Are you a British citizen Mr. Brolin?¨¨
¨¨No officer, I am not, born and bred in Texas, as my accent may still reveal, came to Los Angels just after the Mex-war, no point in staying after the reds took over.¨¨
The officer nodded, asking him one more time if he was sure he had never seen Ali before? Mr. Brolin declined one more time.
Ali then accused the concierge of wearing contacts! Hesitantly: O’Reilly leaned closer to the man to inspect his dark eyes, but found, that it was yet another false accusation.
They asked permission to see the ballroom if he did not mind?
the service minded concierge had someone fill in for him at the desk, as he personally took them to the ballroom.
Only Ali was shocked that the ballroom was filled with dinning tables, a few waiters were making some final adjustments for the banquet tonight. There was no trace of the thick incense and the myriad of lit candles and certainly no white dead ape or people?
The two officers had seen enough as Ali panicked and started accusing the man of conspiring against him, shouting at him to reveal his employer: ‘that Foundation sect? officer Mosley then had enough and cuffed him.
Ali kept shouting at the concierge! demanding to know how he had done it, since the hotel had been completely abandoned for a week?
As the officers were about to drag him out of there, the man whom he had taken for Jonsey, asked the cops to wait…
Telling them that the hotel had in fact been abandoned a week ago.
The experienced Officer O’Reilly, took the word again, -
¨¨So the hotel had actually been abandoned as he claims?¨¨
¨¨Yes officer, we just opened again a week from today actually! perhaps the young man had been here during that period? we recently had an incident…¨¨
O’ Reilly folded his arms and sharpened his ears, even Ali was listening,
¨¨You see two days before the grand re-opening, we found one of the rooms had been broken into, and inhabited for what looked like quite some time, probably after the interior people had sealed off that floor. I believe it was Room 233?¨¨
Ali’s eyes flickered, his mouth went even drier than it already was.
¨¨Was there anything missing from the room?¨¨
¨¨Not as such, but we did find rather sizeable quantities of various drug paraphernalia!¨¨
¨¨Were this incident ever reported to the police?¨¨
¨¨No it wasn’t, officer.¨¨
O’ Reilly then asked him why?
As Mr. Brolin ran a hand through his slicked back hair, Ali resisted the impulse to react.
¨¨You see officer, reputation is everything in this business, if you were to re-open a prestigious luxury hotel, which held proud traditions, would you leak to anyone, that only a week prior: A junkie had broken into one of the rooms and lived there doing all sorts illegal activity?¨¨
Officer O’ Reilly nodded, - ¨¨do you wish to press charges Mr. Brolin.¨¨
¨¨No sir, besides; nothing was stolen or broken, it just needed a very comprehensive cleaning. But I do require that the young man will stay off the premises for the future, or charges will’ be brought against him.¨¨
The two police officers thanked Mr. Brolin for his time as they escorted Ali back to the police car. They put him in on the back seat again, with his hands still cuffed behind his back.
He instantly began ranting again, about how the man inside was Jonsey, how he had to be! Rambling on about some kind of conspiracy against him?!?
The young agitated cop - immediately told him to shut the fuck up!
The two officers discussed for a minute if they should take Ali downtown and book him. But it seemed like neither of them had the desire to.
Officer Mosley turned to Ali, -
¨¨Ok you are looking for answers you little punk. Here’s how I see it: you are a spoiled little dope head, who eyed your chance to take a week of from your sorry ass life, somehow catching a break to do a lot of drugs, that you had either stolen or murdered someone for, possibly both!¨¨
- He felt disoriented again, dizzy, nauseous and overwhelmed by the urge to go to sleep, to make it all disappear.
The young cop commanded him to pay attention; to what he said!
¨¨So, you broke into a sealed off hotel, and had your own little party for a couple of days… The way I see it; you’re one lucky bastard! you got away with doing it, and the hotel management did not report it. They even cleaned up your goddamn mess!¨¨
He looked down at his heavy black Sawex boots, wishing he was home, far away from La Brea and this fucked up day! He had lost the will to fight back, as the angry young officer went on, - demanding that he paid attention him when he spoke to him, -
¨¨And right now you are probably way too fucked up on the rest of your stash, so that you don’t have anything on you, that we can book your sorry ass for!?! I’m telling you punk; druggies like you are rarely that lucky, you hear me!¨¨
Ali had lost the will to argue, he just sat there in silence with hands cuffed behind his back, the strip marks from earlier had began to hurt again.
¨¨And here is one more thing, as we ran your name with the central! it seems like you still live with your Mom in Inglewood; is that correct? ¨¨
He silently nodded, staring out the window at the people who walked by.
¨¨So since the LAPD is just about the nicest police force in the entire country, what we’re gonna do is; to take you home to your broke ass Momma in the projects, without any charges being pressed.¨¨
He uttered a muffled sound from his dry throat.
¨¨However! if you speak as much as one more word of your crazy ass ramblings, I will personally beat the shit out of you, and make it look like self-defense. Do I make myself perfectly clear to you? you little punk ass bitch!¨¨
He nodded and replied a reluctant yes sir‘, as officer O’ Reilly speeded out of there and headed towards one of many projects in Inglewood…
- The cops gave a brief explanation to his Mom as he went into the small worn out house; near the big shopping mall.
He fixed himself a Cherry/Watermelon energy-coke from the fridge, and slumped down on the old worn out couch, his Mom came back in and closed the front door with the seven locks, while the cop car skidded out of the driveway.
She went over to the stove, asking if he was hungry? she looked at his sad frown as he did not respond, she asked him ‘’what’s the matter’’ and advised him semi-detached ‘’to cut down on the drugs.’’
As always she did not lecture him too much on how to behave, always trying her outmost to avoid confrontations, that would lead to arguments.
¨¨Mom… I wanna ask you something about, Dad!¨¨
A subject that was rarely brought up in the little household,
she shook her head with her back to him, rolling her eyes as she started to make some shake and bake pancakes.
¨¨Oh good Lord! now do we really need to have that same old conversation again?¨¨
¨¨No Mom, it’s not the same old…¨¨¨
¨¨For goodness sake Ali, he left us! Remember?¨¨
¨¨Mom, I said it’s not about that! would you please just listen to me for once?¨¨
She drew a deep sigh and made more noise with the frying pan than she had to.
¨¨Did Dad have some secret gift, that you have never told me about?¨¨
¨¨No dear I think I told you of all of them, like that of being a worthless - no good loser because he was a dreamer?¨¨
Back when she was twenty five, she had met Ali’s Dad in Las Vegas where her and some co-workers from the hospital from where she worked as a nurse, had held a bachelorette party during a weekend.
He had performed as a magician at ‘the Mirage.’ Where he had chosen her to be the special guest of honor for the much tried:
‘‘woman with head and feet sticking out of a box, being sawed in half’’ trick.
He had touched her hair just gently, as she had been a bit jumpy when the box had been closed shut by his professionally smiling assistant!
she thought he had been a true gentleman both during and after the performance.
He had sent her an invitation to meet him back at his dressing room, which she had accepted leaving her friends to continue the bachelorette party on their own in Sin City.
He was an old fashioned guy, he had told her how his family had escaped from Kuwait as the new regime had come into power.
He had let her in on how the magic was leaving Las Vegas, and so were the last batch of original lounge entertainers - those that did shows the old fashioned way, was becoming nothing but a mere saga…
He was completing his last stint at ‘the Mirage, and he considered giving Los Angeles a shot?
less than a month later they had moved in together at the same house, that Ali and his mother still lived in.
They had gotten married quickly and less than a year later Ali had been born.
From then off, things gradually went downhill fast. -
His premonitions that Los Angeles would become the next paradise for magicians, had turned out to be nothing but wishful thinking.
He did small hotel stints at first, while he waited for better opportunities to come his way.
The magician jobs at hotels turned into motels, which again turned into children’s birthday parties
and in the last couple of years consisted of stints at old peoples homes, combined with a second job as a taxi driver.
The little family never advanced in their living arrangements, and for the better part of those last ten years before he left the family, Ali’s mother ridiculed him a lot in front of their son, as well as behind his back to anyone who would listen.
She held him solely responsible for the failure her life had turned out to be, Ali was a true - mother’s boy, and he was not soon to reject his father’s feeble attempts at persuading his son to become something more than what he’ himself had managed.
Ali had defiantly rejected every idea his father had come up with as long back as he could remember, always looking down at him, due to his mother’s constant backstabbing routines.
He had finally left them, five years ago with only a note, saying that -
‘‘He thought he had done his best for the family, but he knew that he had failed them. He wished them the best without him being a constant burden to them.’’
¨¨You’ know just as well as I do - that your Dad was nothing but a loser! and a coward! I can’t believe that I wasted my life on him, but I did it for you… I did not want you to grow up without a Father, like all of your friends.¨¨
He nodded, on a daily basis, he was too far removed from his feelings, but today’s events along with the talk about his Father from that British man at the hotel ’’real or not’’ had stirred something inside of him.
¨¨I know that Mom, and it’s not like I want him back or anything? but something really weird happened today and I just need to know ok!¨¨
She was clearly upset as she prepared the meal for him,
¨¨I mean… I know you hate him and all, but please be honest, did he ever show you some kind of special skills?¨¨
She gave the pancake flipping a rest, asking him what exactly he wanted to know?
¨¨Like ok… did dad ever reveal to you if he could do time travels?¨¨
She looked baffled at him, hands at the hips of her nurse uniform.
¨¨Ali! Have you completely fried your brain?!?¨¨
¨¨Why can’t you just answer me, Mom!¨¨
¨¨Ok enough of this nonsense already - No Ali your Dad is the biggest loser in the world; of course he couldn’t do time travels! are you outta your mind boy!?!¨¨
He shook his head and gazed down at his dirty boots,
¨¨He couldn’t do anything! only thing he was ever good at was making me laugh, but that was in the beginning, ok,¨¨
¨¨Yeah I know, I can’t remember that?¨¨
She went back to the stove, where a pancake had almost burned itself.
¨¨You know Mom, sometimes I wonder? if had we been nicer to him, maybe he wouldn’t have left us.¨¨
She shrugged her shoulders, as she cleared her throat.
¨¨Maybe not! but he was what he was, he never amounted to anything, you know, he was a dreamer and then he became bitter.¨¨
For the first time in ages he could feel something, he had been shaken up by the events of coming so close to possibly dying. He felt saltwater forming in his eyes, his throat felt swollen as he tried to sink his spit. He took a slurp of the Cherry/Watermelon energy-coke, -
¨¨I’m not blaming you Mom, I was just as bad as you were, but we bullied him, we drove him away!¨¨
She did not turn around, -
¨¨Yes maybe we did, but if had been a real man he would have put his foot down.¨¨
¨¨I just like to think that he actually loved us both; we just didn’t know what to do with it, I mean it wasn’t his fault.¨¨
¨¨Ok - ok, Ali; enough!¨¨
Her voice was trembling, he asked her if she was crying? she waved it off with her hand, still not turning around, to face him. It struck him that it would feel weird if he had tried to comfort her, it was not the kind of relationship they had, she still treated him as her little boy.
¨¨Yeah okay Mom, I did not mean to wind you up, and I’m just saying that sometimes I do miss him, that’s all okay?¨¨
Her graying dark hair in a bun on her head bobbed, and her voice sounded strained.
¨¨Yeah, me too Ali, me too…¨¨
Before she could launch into another rant, on how he had walked out on them,(as she usually did whenever the subject was brought up.)
He got up from the couch and went to the bathroom, to splash some water on his face, and try to get a grip - now that tears were streaming down from his eyes; he did not wish for her to see him cry.
When he came back from the bathroom, she was on her way out, telling him that she was working a late shift at the hospital, and they could talk some more when she came back. He waved goodbye, still afraid to talk if his voice should crack.
He tried to eat some of the pancakes she had made him, but he felt overwhelmed by the need for sleep, he had to lie down, he went to his room and for the first time in years fell asleep without injecting some LIQ-THC first…
The Hills have lice
The skinhead motorcycle gang arrived at Jessica Woods pink house around the same time that Ali passed out from fatigue from the day‘s events.
Outside a horde of reporters from various tabloids hung around waiting for Jessica to come home, everyone was waiting for a response to last nights antics at the Riff Raff club.
The gang; now sporting The Foundation logo on their jackets drove into the small driveway where reporters jumped out of the way not to be run over.
The microphone wielding vultures immediately swarmed around Josh; the Nazis that weren’t used to that sort of attention, was shoving and throwing punches within seconds, the atmosphere had already become hostile, on a day where the relentless sun and the high humidity was getting on everyone’s nerves.
Josh fumbled thru the keys, while news reports were being streamed live. The gossip journalists were raising the question as of: ‘’who exactly were these - the Foundation! were they a rock-band or an actual gang?’’
Due to some extremely fast keyboard work of Pointdexter from a secure location - the only answer to the question was that of a cryptic, poorly done pre-set pull and drag website. With a single banner headline reading:
‘‘We are here to bring you down!’’
As they entered the House, Pointdexter immediately called up Spyder, ordering him to have three of the eleven skinheads use their cell-phones as multi angle cameras - while the others trashed the house any way they liked! as long as it looked really violent and of course remembered to use the red spray cans to write - the Foundation, on the walls,
He firmly stressed ‘’that they should be careful not to get any footage of the dead girl who’s body rested against the wall.’’
Spyder passed the orders to his gang.
Within seconds Pointdexter had hooked the cell-phone signals up to the hastily made Foundation website, spreading the link to various tabloids and every social media sites he could think off, the gang of boneheads had a heyday with the destruction, while Josh looked on disengaged.
- Outside and on various sites it was speculated just what Josh’s connection were to the ongoing mayhem? many speculated that it could be a new stunt organized by Liar skateboards, while others declined the connection, now that the legendary Rob P was locked away in a asylum; which again was speculated to be yet another stunt?
Pointdexter asked Spyder to hand over the phone to Josh; he went into the bathroom which provided some shelter from the noise of the ongoing destruction of the interior of the house.
He instructed Josh in what he wanted him to do - the mastermind of the entire operation seemed a bit taken aback, when Josh asked:
‘’what was in it for him?’’
Poindexter assured him that he would spare him the life of his parents if he did as he said.
¨¨Ok I see! so if I don’t do as you say, you will take your little army to bumfuck Idaho and kill my parents who have so clearly deserted me… wow! you really are a man of great persuasion; ‘Pointdexter‘¨¨
The way he said his name gave Pointdexter instant chills, since he had pronounced it the same way; the jocks always had addressed him in high school! taunting him because of his name and geeky stature.
The operation mastermind quickly consulted Sarge, who immediately gave him carte’ blanche - Pointdexter asked Josh what he wanted?
¨¨The thing is I don’t want anything, unless you can bring Jessica back to life?¨¨
It went silent on Pointdexter’s end of the line…
¨¨You see, as soon as her old man finds out, what I have done to his beloved daughter, he will send his men to hunt me down. So in a sense I am already dead. But I don’t give a shit anymore, you can kill my hypocritical parents, I really don’t care!¨¨
Pointdexter broke the silent intermezzo, -
¨¨I see - I see… but isn’t there anything at all you want, Josh?¨¨
¨¨Yea - drugs and loads of them! have someone bring me a ton of Rancor and Nude, and I promise you I will give you what you need, and then some!¨¨
Sarge, whom was listening inn next to him, nodded affirmatively.
Poindexter instantly confirmed his request, -
¨¨It’s a deal Josh, just hang on fifteen minutes tops!¨¨
He drew a sigh of relief; he had forgotten that he was dealing with a dissilusionised junkie, who had nothing left to lose; Sarge gave him a high five.
Barely ten minutes later one of the cities many - ‘white angels‘, which were the term used for drug delivery boys and girls using lightweight motorcycles to get around pulled up to the pink house, and handed over a brownbag to the Nazi who opened the door, the stress reducing pills the angels took to lower the high levels of paranoia,(that came with their line of work,) did not work well enough in front of the horde of reporters outside the pink house.
The bag of drugs then switched hands from a white angel to a fallen angel, as the Nazis were running out of things to destroy, and the net broadcast ratings were declining in numbers.
Josh almost overdosed on the four envelopes of Nude, it made him crazy beyond belief. He felt the urge to let out his pent up anger for the first time. He felt empowered again by the drug!
He marched out of the bathroom, ready for the mayhem he had promised.
Pointdexter had called him up on Spyder’s swastika adorned cell-phone asking him if he was ready yet?
Josh told him that he wanted to give a speech; he flipped the phone around so that he filmed his own face.
He was on a vendetta suitable for someone who had been kicked out of the garden, he was about to become a piece of negative history of the Hollywood hills,(like that of one Charles Manson a good century before him.)
He handed the phone back to Spyder ordering him to film him no matter what happened. He took a Smith & Wesson pistol out of the hands on one of the demolition crew/biker-Nazis.
He then placed himself against the wall next to where Jessica’s dead body rested.
- All over Los Angeles people were asking each other if they had actually just witnessed a dead Jessica Wood live on camera? as Josh’s hyper stoned faced was transmitted online, he greeted whatever couch slots and degenerates that might be watching this broadcast! telling people - that this was the day of reckoning, -
‘’That this was the first day of the last, as in that of: times of the last in the bible!’’
He informed the people of the city of Los Angeles, that they were going to pay for their sins, the nude removed every last barrier of normal behavior.
He then got a fresh idea, and went to the front door and called for Latisha Williams - the top reporter from Glamordirt, to take a cameraman with her and get inside the house, where the Nazi gang were tripping around, not really knowing what to do next?
As Latisha Williams saw the body of Jessica Wood; sitting against the wall she cried out in horror! She started to tremble hysterically - Josh went over to her and put his arm around her, while the Glamordirt cameraman provided the footage that was broadcasted live on the Glamordirt online channel, parallel to the signal on the Foundation site; which came directly from the footage off Spyder’s cell-phone.
Pointdexter could more or less lean back in the chair, josh was doing a way better job than he was even aware of?
¨¨Now - now, calm down Latisha.¨¨
He waved with a gesture of one who had prepared a special treat, and now proudly presented it:
¨¨You see this is where the Purge will begin? Los Angeles is infested with rodents and I’m not talking about those small creatures of God’s who lives in the sewers of this filthy city…¨¨
Latisha Williams tried to regain her calm, the best she could. adjusting her wig that was already perfect, as she smiled into the camera, as josh engulfed in his own venomous thoughts; rambled on, -
¨¨The way that I’ see things and the way God’ sees it is the same! Look at these fine shaven gentlemen here? the very prime of the white race and soldiers of God!¨¨
She was clearly scared, now that she realized that Josh was wielding a gun in his hand, while still having his arm around her in a chummy way.
¨¨It has been a longtime coming, my fellow Christians, but the revolution is here, and it’s being led by none other than my good old friend Skip - from Trust skateboards, our little public feud was nothing more of a media stunt, so I could get close to the cream of the hierarchy of Hollywood’s trash elite, you might say!¨¨
He smiled and winked into the camera, -
¨¨What I want, you to do now is; head down to Trust skateboards where Skip will provide you with an automatic weapon, or as Skip and I call it, a trash canner, cause all cans are trash, y’know. Mexi-cans, Afri-cans,¨¨
As he pointed the gun at Latisha’s temple,
He spelled out the exact location for Trust skateboards, twice…
Pointdexter wasn’t soon to pick up on the hint, and wrote the address on the quickly made Foundation site, inserting a blinking Crucifix and a Uzi.
¨¨We are about to kill the first can’ of the day; ‘you people!¨¨
He began to wind up the Nazis chanting - White power! soon the room was fist pumping while shouting the tired old slogan.
People around the city looked on in disbelief, just a week ago: white LAPD cops: had killed a jeep full of black teenagers and the city that was about to boil over, needed just one more excuse!
just one drop of blood spilled the wrong way could light the fuse. Everyone knew it, especially - Pointdexter: mastermind to the plan that Josh was carrying out to perfection - for rolling cameras direct to TV stations and online streaming.
Skip who had just been alerted, rushed into the conference room where he saw his ex-team member, repeat his name over and over, talking all kinds of Nazi nonsense mixed with quotes from the Bible.
Cold sweat broke out, due to the fact that Trust skateboards were placed in a dominant poor black neighborhood, because of the low rent.
Pointdexter was having an easy Job; Josh worked out beyond his wildest dreams, after he had gotten the Nude in his system.
The viral enforcer updated the Foundation site where he changed the top banner to:
‘’The end justifies the means. Go purge!!!’’
Links were rapidly sent to all important news sites.
Josh went on a rant about bringing down the debauchery of the upper class that people so falsely worshipped - ‘’like that golden bull from the first testament.’’
He made sure that the camera was now zooming in on his dead girlfriend and that people knew the address of the Trust skateboards headquarters downtown.
He then went on to explain how Jessica Wood resembled the whore of Babylon(of course comparing Hollywood to Babylon.)
He picked up the bloody skateboard that he had thrown at her and ultimately killed her with, and signed it with a marker handed to him by the cameraman‘s shaking hand, he told him to zoom inn on Jessica.
¨¨Send me footage of the first nigger or celebrity kill of the day, and you can pick up this board, as your price as a righteous Christian, fighting for a white God… oh-yes’ God is’ white, and he want’s you to wipe out the scum of this city, in which there are no angels.¨¨
¨¨Let’s start now, in the name of Jesus and Hitler, my men - we are legion, Valhalla awaits!!!¨¨
By now his ramblings had stopped making any sense at all?
Josh then pushed Latisha into the half circle formed by the chanting Nazis,
Spyder shouted -
¨¨Stomping time!!!¨¨
A violent beatdown then ensued in front of thousands of TV dinners, making some of them come up again! Josh had the gun pointed to the temple of the cameraman the whole time, forcing him to film the abuse of his colleague, after minutes of screaming, shouting and begging for her life, Josh stepped up, and emptied the entire chamber of six bullets into Latisha’s badly beaten body, spelling the word nigger with each fired shot. -
Blam - N
Blam - I
Blam - G
Blam - G
Blam - E
Blam - R
The reporter’s body spashmed for each bullet that hit her, until she lay silent next to Jessica’s dead body.
Josh switched to a fresh gun with one of the Nazis, and headed for the front door again where he randomly fired the replica Smith & Wesson at the assembly of reporter who was barricading the pink fortress.
Spyder’s cell-phone rang, it was Pointdexter congratulating them on a job well done, ‘’if they would just keep the jackets on until they had left the city, their score was settled and they would not hear from him again.’’
He then asked for Josh, who had just returned from his random shootings at the door, ‘’congratulating him on a job well done and that he was now freed from his obligations,’’ Josh told him to - ‘’go fuck himself.’’
He grabbed a blue backpack and threw his recently delivered supply of Rancor and Nude into it, zipped it. He took one last regretful look at Jessica before he entered the back yard: through the broken frame that Ali had thrown himself through some hours earlier.
Out on the lawn in the backyard he looked over the city whose citizens he had just condemned, as he scaled the fence leading to the downhill slope on the other side, facing the city - Screams were coming from the other side of the Burton-esque house, where the Nazis now ran out the front door to fetch their bikes; while shooting randomly at the mob of scared journalists.
People were horrified of the snuff-TV that had come direct to their synz-screens courtesy of the Glamordirt channel!
Even without the recent events of the killings of four black teenagers: people were as usual fed up with the LAPD. The despair factor had been growing for nearly a decade; not only police violence, but the level of political corruption and scandals.
The recent prosperous statistics that showed an increase in the economy, had not eased the disillusions and the tension, despite the promise of thousands of new jobs, due to the building of Casinos all over the town, by the state owned Slots & Dice chain, as promised by the newly elected governor H. G. Lambert - who had come into office and as the first thing raised the ban on organized gambling in the state of California.
The lifting on the ban followed in the wake of the March scandal of Los Angeles mayor Jim Farrell. Who within months of his embassy had spent a substantial fee of the state’s budget, alongside his old friend and union man Powell; on the very whorebots that he had so furiously raged against; in his nomination speech leading to his election.
The ban he had promised to slap on the LA SIN franchise never even made it to a proposition in the senate.
In the end it had been an accountant at city hall who had leaked the numbers, that he was supposed to make look like something else? He had sent all the relevant information to - ‘The Los Angeles Tribune’ and from there the scandal had snowballed, leading to Governor - Jim Farrell leaving the embassy only two months after his election ceremony. Trading his office at city hall for a jail cell.
Which in turn also lead to the firing of the once leading union man Powell, with the nickname - ‘’The Bull’’ due to his perseverance during negotiations.
Sometimes Governor Farrell and Powell had been on the whorebot rampage together, the point where the partying had gotten out of hand, just one week into his job.
When some rich-kid intern from the valley, had handed him a bag of the purple Buzzo pills. He had shared it with his old union friend Powell, They soon realized that with the intern’s connections, they could get their hands on all sorts of drugs they wanted, as well as improved Cicodrine combined with the Buzzo. Hotel bills for the entire staff that joined the orgies, soon skyrocketed and was easy to prove in court,
beside spending cash that was not theirs to begin with, a good portion of the union strikes had to be cancelled due to the financial scandal being revealed, Powell had equally drained the union funds, that should have supported the dock workers on strike.
Powell had retreated to massive alcohol consumption, which was still the favored drug of the working class, supplied with subscripted pills for falling asleep and some for getting out of bed, now living on welfare in a suburb next to Inglewood with his daughter:
Melissa
who had always looked up to him before his fall…
Her Mother who had always seemed emotional unavailable to her, had left them right after the scandal. In the recent year, her coming of age and searching for a new role model, had seen her almost obsessed with; Jessica Wood.
Whom she had gotten a rare hug from, as she had made a court ordered appearance at her high school, ‘‘for being DUI’’ - one too many times during the driving of her pink hummer.
Jessica had held a short preppy speech about: ‘’believing that you could be anything that you wanted to be, and if you wanted to be remembered for doing something totally awesome, you’d have to make that happen yourself!’’
It was those words that rang out in Melissa’s head, now as she sat on her bedside looking at the direct footage coming from the pink house in the hills on her pink synz-screen, with tears was streaming down her cheeks.
She reached for her sparkling cell-phone and pushed his number, it had been weeks since she last spoken to -
Ahmad
Who picked up the phone while he turned down the blasting emo-tunes of his favorite band - Crush Love. He spoke softly trying to repress the joy of her calling him up,(he failed miserably but it did not matter,) he listened to what she said.
- He flicked on the synz-screen and zapped to LBN who constantly looped the horrifying footage of the deceased Jessica Wood, alongside the beating and ultimately the murder of news reporter Latisha Williams!
only to be interrupted by semi-professional/self proclaimed experts: who were commenting on the events.
Live footage from a LBN helicopter downtown showed a motorcycle gang caught in the Mullholland intersection having a shootout with the cops.
Thru her sobbing voice Ahmad noticed for a second how much the stenciled logo on the backs of the biker gang, who were referred to as a chapter of some organization called; The Foundation, reminded him of the one worn by Claude; the singer of Crush Love in their most recent video. He had styled his look with lots of dramatic eyeliner after Claude. Something his religious uncle disapproved greatly of.
Ahmad lived with his uncle who was a strict follower of the teachings of the Koran, and he often held Koran study groups at his house, which more or less were a bunch of guys sitting around dry humping each others fantasies; of bringing down western civilization!
It was at one of those meetings that Ahmad’s Uncle Ishmael, had slapped a permanent ban on him: having any further contact with Melissa.
- The group had thought Ahmad was out of the house, as blueprints of city hall and the 1st precinct police station downtown, had been laid out on the low Arabic styled coffee table with the faux gold ornaments.
Explosive devises who had been smuggled in from Syria, was being examined along with the easy to set’ timers.
The Koran study group had been beyond exited of their requirements‘,
and just as they began chanting: Allah Hu Akbar!
While the young couple had been fooling around upstairs, with wrap around synz-screen half helmets on, oblivious to the antics downstairs,
Ahmad had chased Melissa down the stairs wearing only her Puzzay’ tank top and panties, himself wearing only his birthday suit.
The teens over ecstatic giggling had come to an abrupt halt,
as east had met vest in an unusual awkward way!
The very epitome of the behavior they despised stood looking at the blueprints for their planned terror fantasies. -
His uncle Ishmael had shouted at him while trying to do some sort of damage control, that seemed beyond repair…?
even thou neither of the teens cared what the group was up to.
Ishmael saw fit that they were not to spend any more time together, even trying to persuade Ahmad to join their group, but he had give up on him after some basic tutorials of how the explosives worked!
he seemed too disengaged to show any interest in the teachings of the Koran.
Ishmael had him swear in front of the paranoid study group - that he never would reveal any of what was going on in the house during those ‘’studies.’’
The ban on seeing Melissa was however sustained. It was now the middle of the summer vacation, and this was the first time he had heard from her.
She asked him if she could come over, and since his uncle was out of the house he agreed, she asked him ‘’if he truly loved her’’ and he said that ‘’there was not a thing he would not do for her.’’ Just to prove his point; He quoted a couple of Claude’s lines from a Crush Love song:
‘’If we still read books I’d carry them through the hall
Not seeing you for a day, sucks as the decaying fall.’’
She asked him if his uncle still had those bombs or whatever lying around?… He showed her the basement, where they were kept in sports bags, and told her that he knew how to operate them, with the timer settings.
She told him how she was almost certain that she loved him, but now that Jessica was gone! she really had no reason to live anymore, since nothing would ever be the same…
He mentioned to her, that next week his uncle would send him to Syria to be re-educated in the Muslim way of living.
They both knew that they would never get anywhere near a college, him: because of his religious nutcase uncle and her: because of her alcoholic whorebot addicted Father. They both agreed that their short lives had turned into complete tragedies.
¨¨You know that day Jessica spoke at my old high school, the one I was bullied out off, because of my Dad,¨¨
He nodded and corrected his dramatic bangs.
¨¨She told us that we could be anything we wanted to be! and if we wanted to be remembered, for something totally awesome! it was our own responsibility, right… I wanna be remembered!¨¨
He looked her deep in the eyes, -
¨¨I’ll do anything for you’¨¨
She sat on the workbench in the basement.
¨¨I don’t know if I will go to heaven for doing this, but I think I might meet Jessica afterwards, cause everybody always said that she was a bad girl.¨¨
He nodded semi-detached, as he began to carefully set the timers on the C-4 explosives.
¨¨What do you think happens when we die?¨¨
He shrugged his shoulders… -
¨¨My uncle says you go to heaven!¨¨
¨¨Perhaps it’s not such a cool place, if it’s filled with guys like Josh; her boyfriend’ cause he was really religious y’know?¨¨
He frowned, -
¨¨Yea, or people like my uncle, he’s always talking about how he wanna blow up this and that! and so are his fucked up friends.¨¨
¨¨Perhaps if we die together, we’ll go somewhere where it won’t be filled with douchebags like them?¨¨
He shrugged his shoulders one more time, adding a maybe?
Telling her that his uncle could be home any moment, so they better get out of there.
They lifted the four heavy sports bags out of the basement, and into the trunk of his uncle’s car, he usually took the bus, since he was convinced some government agency was monitoring all Arabs, and he did not want to alert them of his whereabouts, when he was out looking for escape routes or laying plans of important places his group could blow up!
The two teens headed towards the downtown area, as the early evening was projecting its orange skies above the overheated city of Los Angeles, small groups of angry black teenagers were setting cars on fire here and there. As they drove through Inglewood, ‘Ahmad made a remark about how - ‘’there was a strange feeling in the air tonight?’’
They reached downtown some twenty minutes later, to the blasting emo-tunes of Crush Love. Smaller groups had gathered around the downtown area where window fronts now were being smashed, a vast majority of police were present, trying their best to prevent the unfolding destruction, they drove towards city hall - but they had to turn around due to the barricades,
Jessica looked worried at him.
He told her not to panic, since the 1st precinct was only two blocks away, they still had time to secure her place in history!
He swung the old van around and headed for it, he checked the watch on his phone, there was five minutes left before the counter on the C-4 explosives would reach zero. Soon after the old van pulled up in front of the police station.
¨¨Hurry up Ahmad,¨¨
she said as she pulled off her black star adorned leggings,
¨¨Open your pants, I don’t wanna die a virgin!¨¨
He fumbled with his fly zipper, but managed, there was thirty seconds left on the timer, as she got on top of him in the drivers seat.
¨¨This one’s for Jessica and me!¨¨
She slid down over his shaft just as the red digits reached zero!
A second later and the entire 1st precinct in the historic 21st century building was no more! neither was the relatively new lawyer firm Pascalli & Dupont across the street, or for that matter the entire area of Clooney square - downtown.
The blast could be heard more than five miles away!
The strategic effect of the blow was immense, as every off duty officer within the Los Angeles area, had been called in to a briefing and was about to hit the streets, just as the explosives went off.
Nitty Gritty
Ali awoke to the roar coming from downtown, even thou he had exhausted his body for the last week or so, he had found it impossible to get into a deep sleep, the heat was unbearable since the air-condition was broken, not to mention there was a lot of noise coming from the outside; (even more than usual.)
He rolled out of bed, still fully dressed in his dirty black and green raving gear and with the big black Sawex boots still strapped on, he tried not to think of how much he reeked, pondering how, ‘’a shower would be nice’’ but he realized that he was hungry as hell.
He nipped at the now cold sloppy stack of pancakes his mom had made him before she had went to work, but opted instead to grab some money from her ‘’secret stash.’’
He went outside on the battered porch of the house, checking his parachute pants, if he might have been so lucky that a LIQ-THC capsule, had made its way into one of the many side pockets - but no such luck he had lost them all, (and his second shooter today) back when the hummer had crashed in the desert. He only found one ziplock bag which contained the weird traffic light colored pills, which he most certainly was not in the mood for.
He was in no mood either to look up Diego, before getting something to eat first, his stomach growled back at him with the voice of a cartoon monster! He thought that the atmosphere on the streets seemed unusual hostile; ‘’even for a Friday night in Inglewood!’’
He noticed how smaller groups were heading in the direction of downtown, as he headed in direction of the O.J. Mall.
He was in the mood for a schnitzel burger at the German fast-food franchise; Würtz King, as he approached the entrance, mall security was escorting a Rancoon from the premises, telling him that ‘’he would be tasered if he returned and it was his luck that the police had enough at their hands already.’’
He went inside the giant O.J. Mall, and up the escalators towards the first floor. Placed between a Dutch headshop chain named: HeadSoup, and a beauty/laser-tattoo parlor lay the Würtz King with it’s easily recognizable green and red tartan logo sporting the centered pointy helmet.
The slogan: Würtz King über alles, said a pleasant voice above the doors,
as soon as he stepped into the franchise where he was greeted with the comforting smell of the deep-fried Schnitzels,(what he feared the most was instantly confirmed!) He saw that Denise was working the register just like she did most nights…!
As usual he got into another line, but as soon as she spotted him with her hawk eyes, she waved him over to her register, making him skip the line, much to the dismay of the other customers, he dreaded that she would leap into one of her usual brain-dead rants, and tonight was no exception.
Even for someone as immature as him, he thought that, ‘’it seemed like she had never matured beyond high school?’’
where she had gotten knocked up, during their last year.
It was as if she was forever stuck in ninth grade? he had no idea of as how, she managed to keep up with the businesses of their former classmates, he only kept in touch with Diego ‘’and that was strictly because of his dealer status.’’
He drew a deep sigh, because he knew he was in for the long haul when Denise first got going…
‘’she was not exactly good at multitasking either,’’
He kept starring at her annoying implanted finger nails that constantly changed color like a Christmas tree, while they faintly played a melody of some current hit converted to some kind of deranged elevator muzak.
Those damn fingernails was what annoyed him the most, it was like she was taunting him with her steady rap about people, that he either couldn’t remember or never did care for in the first place! while she was provoking him with those annoying fingernails that almost pressed the button for ordering the double deep-fried Schnitzel burger menu, he so craved with onion rings and a huge cherry/Watermelon energy-coke.
she wasn’t exactly a genius to multitask.
Every time she was about to hit the button, she threw up her hand in some kind of overly dramatic pose of - ‘’oh my god‘’ or some kind of snapping movement, with made the annoying nails skip a synth-beat.
Never once did she notice, how he never paid the least bit of attention, while he was thinking of how myths such as the one about people who worked in fast food restaurants - got sick and tired of the food they served within weeks, so they never craved it? ‘’was so untrue in the case of Denise.’’
She was yapping on about something of how the O.J. Mall would probably be torn down, due to the building of one of the many new casinos and the possibility that she might get a job there?
He was sweating toxins due to the amounts of the xitalix, Unitron and the Quegas as well as all the stuff he had snorted smoked or shot this past week among other things, and he did not feel up to her ramblings today.
All of a sudden he just lost it:
¨¨Will you just shut the fuck up! you fat fucking retard and give me my goddamn order, already!¨¨
Denise looked shocked at him, she then started to sob, as she quickly pressed his usual order. Her lower lip quivered, the coral blue lipstick made it look like a cartoon dolphin in death spasms he thought, as she continued.
¨¨I-I-I just wanted to tell you how Michael was doing.¨¨
¨¨Michael who? I don’t know who the fuck Michael is!?!¨¨
¨¨Michael m-my kid, his operation went f-fine, but you don’t care you asshole!¨¨
An awkward moment later, his order was ready.
He looked down as he took his plate of food, past the rest of the line, that looked disapprovingly,(yet relived at him,) he found a booth all to himself except for the Rancoon, who had passed out in the stall opposite him.
He savored the juiciness of the deep-fried Schnitzel, a boy of Arabic descent, German fast food served in an American mall. it was the holy trinity of trash culture right there! for a few blessed moments…
After he had finished his meal, he considered for a minute of apologizing to Denise, but on the other hand, she might just have gotten the message tonight.
Besides it was not like she ever gave him credit anyways.
He now felt more normal again, semi-detached to his feelings just the way he liked it. Urges however was another matter entirely!
He felt like he was up for a whorebot, and made his way down the escalator and outside again.
He could faintly spot pillars of black smoke, arising from the downtown area, to where the scattered mobs had ran, there were all kinds of sirens coming from everywhere, serving as a constant soundtrack to this strange Friday night in Inglewood.
But those sirens all seemed fairly distant to him, like those annoying melodies that came from Denise’s fingernails.
He walked towards the LA SIN franchise on the corner across the mall, the main door could first be opened after completing the eye-scan to make sure you were not a banned customer; one of those who caused damage to the properties.
He had never made any trouble, even when he had been really wasted,
after a good rave or a fight with his mom, in fact he had never understood those types who got themselves kicked out of there?
once you paid you got exactly what you ordered, just like at the Würtz King - LA SIN never failed to deliver, simple as that!
Both places felt like a more comforting home to him, than most other places.
Once inside he went to the menu board, which stood monolith-like,(as one of those old speaker chairs) in the small foyer, he scrolled through the menu of bots available at the moment? he usually chose the same model which kind of embarrassed him.
The LA SIN franchises were divided into the context of the clientele, which meant that in poor neighborhoods, there were no - trailer trash models, since most unemployed or low income men fancied the rich Hollywood hills like models resembling the wealth they would never have their share off, and since most of the Hollywood hausfrau looks were designed around the slightly advanced 21st century plastic surgery disasters, the ghetto franchises: relied heavily on second or third season models. In richer neighborhoods such as Beverly hills, the newest models always replaced the older ones.
Ali lived up to every stereotype that LA SIN conducted their business practices after, he usually ordered:
Betty
Sculptured upon the image of his earliest teen crush,
Betty Mansfield from the Beverly Hills hausfrau soap - Living Large,
portrayed by the long gone actress Simone Andre, the combination of her snobbish attitude and rather dominating ways that slightly resembled those of his mother… Betty was not the most talkative model, mostly due to her being a first generation whorebot customized by a Japanese company for the American market.
But that was exactly what he liked about Betty!
He had been there many times, so he knew the drill as walked down the corridor of the establishment - with it’s red velvety carpet that was no doubt meant to resemble that of old times gone by, he never understood the patterned walls with the fake dark mahogany frames center top and bottom.
As he stood outside the green door waiting for the buzz, he thought of the day’s events that had been beyond crazy - he still had no idea what to think about it all? and that was alright, since he had come there to forget.
After his encounter with Betty, he would swing by Diego, who hopefully would not give him too hard a time about what he suspected was that Josh dude, having spiked his soda this morning - ‘’yeah right!’’ He figured that after some persuasion and explaining to him, - ‘’that he had no part in doing in it!’’ he was certain that Diego would sell him some LIQ-THC capsules, and throw in a new shooter for old time’s sake?
His main worry revolved around what kind of game he would put on the tres console, once he returned to his mothers house, since he did not feel like ever playing - Dimensions again!
The muffled buzz of the door sounded.
¨¨Hurry before my husband get’s home!¨¨
It was the usual rant, coming from the invoice of the Betty model whorebot; it reenacted a now classic scene from the soap opera - the one where she has a quickie with a waiter after a high society cocktail party. This fantasy was something that had been voted the most popular through several analyzes of the optional services.
Ali thought he remembered that in the beginning there had been another optional fantasy for the Betty model, but he was not sure? it could have been one of the other bots he had tried out in the beginning.
The bot undressed itself a bit hasty, kicking the stilettos off while freeing itself of the black satin cocktail dress; finally it took of the fake pearl necklace. Saying the usual sultry line of, -
¨¨The only pearl necklace I wanna wear tonight, is one of the working class.¨¨
It closed it’s eyelids half shut and slid down in front of him on the bed to make him hard, while he undressed himself. He kicked off his heavy Sawex boots that smelled sour, while the Betty prototype spread its legs placing the pelvis area close to the bedside.
That was usually how he liked to finish the intercourse, but perhaps after all these visits, its rather limited hard drive, had skipped a few steps? and since he was there for the release, he had no objection to it!
LA SIN guaranteed the most professional high maintenance on their products, meaning - that in between customers their models were enacting in self reparation procedures: An anti-germ gel, was released from a membrane in the pelvis section, which was flushed through the area between their legs; afterwards a anti-septic dry steaming covered their entire body. In other words they were completely sterilized like the needles at old fashioned tattoo parlors, the same went for all other openings of the models, another reason why they had almost completely swiped the market of human prostitutes in the LA area, there simply was no risk taking involved.
Ali kneeled down in the white furry carpet that adorned the floor of the room that was an exact replica of the one that had been used in the old soap. The bot spread it’s legs further apart(holding the ankles were optional.) He preferred that it laid it’s hands around the back of his neck as he was thrusting himself inside of it.
It was a nice change of scenery he thought from this morning’s event. The moaning and compliments the bot gave him was the usual clichés.
it seemed now as it had all been a bad dream?(he closed his eyes, as he focused on not ejaculating too early.)
As he opened them again he looked into a pair of pale blue eyes resembling those of the white gorilla, or was it the British guy?…
before he could pull out he felt an excruciating pain - as volts flashed through his groin!
The whorebot’s defense system had kicked in: a metal-membrane locking device had wrapped it self around his stiff member from the inside, and the more he tried pulling himself out, the harder the grip became - while it shot stabs of volts through him, like a vaginal taser mechanism!
The pain made him let go of all his bodily fluids right there on the furry white carpet. He cried out loud as it gave him a double shot, never once removing it’s folded hands from behind his neck.
the device was meant to be preventing a client from damaging a whorebot, as violent customers were tasered till they could not move; another clever invention from its Japanese developers - LA SIN had taken their own spin on this mechanism.
At the very first registration of the alarm in the whorebot going off, an online rooter-connection device instantly broadcasted the scene taking place on the Stuffed inc, website where subscribers to this app were notified instantly.
They could immediately see the footage on their cell-phones or computers, it usually took somewhere between five to eight minutes for the whorebot - to pacify the customer and throw him out on his bare ass, forever banning him from the premises, the whorebot would then usually return to the clients wallet, drag out his license or whatever personal information he had on him and show it to the cameras.
- The support team at Stuffed inc. Department then took the information and linked to whatever social media site the client was using,
so people could easily log on and ridicule him(given it was an open account?) the police was kept entirely out of it.
The personal belongings was then sent to the address of the client within twenty four hours.
Tears of pain streamed down his cheeks, as it gave him yet another shot of high voltage and tightened it’s grip on his flailing member to keep him locked. He hoped that he would pass out, as it asked him, -
¨¨Where is the device doom bringer?¨¨
¨¨I-I-I don’t know, I-I don’t know anything!¨¨
He cried in a most begging way, as snot was preventing him from breathing thru his nose.
¨¨We know you made another portal jump, before you returned to the
hotel earlier. Now!… where have you hid it?¨¨
He was just about to receive another shot from the pleasure device, turning torture device, -
as the door to the room was kicked inn, and a Pumpgun was aimed at the whorebot, he felt a deafening sound as a shotgun blast rushed over his bowed head, and took that of the Betty model’s off!
The vaginal defense mechanism ceased to function and the bot fell back onto the bed, luckily for Ali without any short circuit twitching.
He fell down on top of it covered in cold sweat, and now sensing the vile smell of his own feces that had landed between his calves on the white carpet.
¨¨Get up you perv! Put your clothes on we got company already!¨¨
He recognized the man with the shotgun as… Hank? the guy that had greeted them with buckets of water, earlier in the desert.
His fatigue desert cammo and the sharp graying crew cut that was bolding on the top, still sporting the petrol colored wrap around shades.
He fumbled with his dirty; week old clothes as
Hank told him to grab his boots; he could put them on later, they could hear the sound of muffled feet running on the velvet carpet in the hallway, as Hank threw a stun grenade out the door:
The flashes went off and the two henchmen fired their guns in panic, Hank leaned against the frame of the door and pumped them both full of lead.
He approached the one’ that screamed the most, as he re-loaded the modified shotgun and took the head of the other’ henchman.
He promised to let the screamer live, if he told him who had sent them and where they could be found? In between coughs of blood the henchman managed to tell the address to his attacker - who thanked him before he shot him dead.
He then yanked the still weakened Arab raver who had gotten most of his clothes on, out of the brothel.
A dirty dune buggy awaited them with the engine running. Hank placed Ali in the passenger seat next to him, ordering him to put on his boots as they speeded out of there, heading towards the hills.
Bad shit
Josh had stumbled through the hills, running a snake trail between backyards and avoiding the laser fenced houses. He had reached the foot of downtown underneath the new-Mullholland intersection, where the homeless and crazies lived a life in the shadows, most people preferred not to know of.
He took a much needed pause as he leaned against one of the big concrete pillars that supported the highway,
He enjoyed the roar from the highway above him.
The few barking bio-mechanical dogs that had startled him as he had run thru the hills had been a blessing, since he found the solitude deafening.
He dragged out the vaporizer and loaded it up for God knows what time today? the Rancor drew a nice blanket of much needed apathy over his strained mind, the effect of the Nude together with the Rancor, was the most empowering state of mind he knew of, it made him feel invincible and not giving a shit, at the same time. He knew it was time to move on as some of the shadows had started closing in on him; he realized that he needed a place to hide, but where?
Office Rage
Dima Wood had ravaged his office, even the illegal heavy black ebony desk, which he sat behind at all times had taken a tumble,
he was taking a break from shouting at everyone and everything.
Mr. Smith was waiting for his boss to calm down enough, to make him a suggestion. He feared that his employer would go into a complete state of apathy as soon as the shock had settled, simply making him dissolve in tears at any moment now!
he knew the human nature well, and the state of grief usually followed that of anger.
He laid a comforting hand on his employer’s expensive white suit, just before he sensed he would burst into devastating sobbing, but for once he was wrong? the owner of Stuffed inc, brushed his hand away angry.
¨¨Mr. Smith, do not underestimate me! we have worked together, for many years now, no?¨¨
He nodded and replied with a formal - yes sir’
¨¨In all of that time I have never asked for your sympathy! and I don’t need it now, I need your skills, your expertise, Mr. Smith - is that perfectly clear!¨¨
He was breathing heavily thru his nose, like an aggravated bull, as he raised his finger at the ever cool, Mr. Smith. Who nodded in agreement and apologized to him.
¨¨Now, Mr. Smith I know you could make my daughter’s murderer disappear and you could give me the info of how you tortured him. But I want that Christian son of a bitch to suffer for all to see in public!¨¨
Smith nodded and reassured his employer that he would make it spectacular.
The Romanian business mogul then shook his hand, and notified him ‘’that they might not see each other again? so just in case he should get caught on camera…’’
He handed him a briefcase he had for emergency situations, containing two million dollars in ready cash, just like the one he had carried at his side, when he and his now dead daughter had escaped Romania twelve years ago.
Mr. Smith thanked him, as he left the office for the last time.
Dima Wood sank down in the white chesterfield leather couch, the only thing that was still standing in his office, he shouted for someone to bring him a new synz-screen and some Vodka. He would look forward to seeing what Smith had in store for his daughter’s killer.
Déjà vu
Ali had finally gotten his heavy Sawex boots back on, he was on the verge of breaking apart at this moment, his crotch was completely numb and he smelled even worse than before, Hank who was behind the wheel of the buggy looked at him with a smirk.
¨¨So… old soap opera queens huh! Well to each his own?¨¨
Ali did not even as much as glance at the ex-marine, who tried to lighten the situation, as they drove fast thru the midtown section past the new-Mullholland intersection, under which Josh had lit up the Rancor in the vaporizer only twenty minutes earlier, the driver of the buggy asked Ali if he wanted to know how he had found him?
That old unbeatable high
The city was more or less a full riot now, tipped over cars where burning everywhere and the looting of stores was in full effect, clashes between angry mobs and the police were increasing - Blacks fought Latinos who fought Whites, and everyone fought the Asians!
In a worn down part of Inglewood a mob of angry black activists and mainly white teenage girls in Jessica Wood - puzzay trademark T-shirts, had Joined rare efforts in dragging out employees, from the Trust skateboards and One God records who shared the same cheap rent - headquarters.
Most of them were beaten to death by the angry mob, while others were dragged into the streets and shot at close range, while being filmed by a myriad pink sparkling cell-phones.
Skip the owner of Trust skateboards; proved the most successful in getting away, he managed to make it two blocks; before he was tackled and soon after hung from a lamppost. His dangling body spashmed while at least some sixty cell-phones uploaded the footage on various black justice sites and hastily made Jessica Wood memorial sites.
In a non-smoking penthouse suite; twenty five stories above the riots, Sarge lit up a well deserved cigar while offering a very self-assured Pointdexter one as well. Their paid for’ suite at the Hilton were about to turn into a party, as the black ops crew could celebrate a job well done and a fat bonus from their employers. As the commando squad chose to hit the hotel bar to pick up some women to celebrate with, Pointdexter stayed behind making some final adjustments, before he took the elevator to the roof, where a helicopter waited for him.
Helter shelter
As the buggy took them through the better part of northern Hollywood, Hank slapped him on the knee.
¨¨Ok, loosen up will ya! I can feel you’re dying to know how I did it right?¨¨
Ali looked at him for the first time since they had gotten into the vehicle,
¨¨After those black ops had confined you in the helicopter, back at the ranch, I came out from my hiding and put a micro transender underneath the tracks of your boot, clever huh!¨¨
Ali gave him a tired look, -
¨¨Listen Hank, what is your interest in all this? I take you’re not an acid fried casualty like those weirdo girls that hung around that Prophet dude?¨¨
Hank shook his head, confirming that he was far from it;
Ali confided with him, -
¨¨I don’t know what to think of all this shit, I can’t really remember the last week very clear and today. I don’t know if there is anyone i can trust, I’m not even sure I trust myself anymore?¨¨
The driver looked at him, -
¨¨So you want some easy answers to all of this, am I right!¨¨
He nodded and Hank told him to ask whatever questions he had?
¨¨Ok first off did you see me do the any of that portal jumping stuff while I was at the hotel?¨¨
¨¨Well I saw the highlights!¨¨
¨¨What’s that supposed to mean?¨¨
¨¨Meaning that Brain watched you constantly, either him or the Prophet.¨¨
¨¨Ok but don’t you think they could might have edited it? cause I really don’t think or remember anything about it…¨¨
Hank considered it for a second, and then agreed with him.
¨¨Yea, I would expect the Prophet to be mad enough to do so - to impress his harem of rich runaways - sure. But you have to consider two things then!¨¨
He waited patiently waited for him to explain, -
¨¨Brain is my main man from way back, and he’s a straight up conspiracy detective, he’s into exposing the truth! not to make up lies, even if he worked with a nutcase like the Prophet!¨¨
He waited for the second clue, -
¨¨Someone put you in that hotel room for a reason, it was not the work of the prophet, and it wasn’t easy for Brain to find you either?¨¨
Ali considered the options for a while, -
¨¨But besides that, have you seen any evidence of any of this - device bringing stuff? I have a hard time dealing with if any of this shit. One moment the hotel is like a scene of a ritual or whatever and the next, it was never there I dunno!?¨¨
¨¨Ok, first things first! as the remaining platoon left the Spam ranch, Brain hooked into the signal of the hotel again, but it was only filming from the ballroom, that’s all we could see!¨¨
¨¨Ok! and what happened then, tell me exactly what you saw!¨¨
¨¨I saw some creepy shit man, there were these high priests that Brain identified as the leaders of the sect, and what appeared to be a white monkey?¨¨
Ali blurted out a little too fast that it could talk, which made Hank give him a strange gaze, that did not let up as Ali tried to explain, ‘’that it was only inside of his head, that you could hear its voice.’’
Hank swung the buggy round the winding road, while he commented on the weirdness of the situation.
¨¨Ok Hank, one last thing, did you see me do any portal jumping there! as I was returned to the hotel, I tried my best, but I don’t remember anything?¨¨
Hank drummed on the steering wheel with his thumbs,
¨¨Yes you did! I am absolutely sure that you did.¨¨
¨¨So what does it look like! Is there a dark hole emerging or some sort of portal opening, like in the game?¨¨
Hank shook his head, -
¨¨No! not like that… Brain has a theory that you must be tapping into some other dimensional frequencies or something like that, whenever it happens… you just disappear? there’s a scratching in the footage for a second or sometimes it blacks out for a moment, but I think that when you do those time travels; it causes interference with electronic devices?¨¨
Explosions could be heard from far away, the evening sky had turned darker.
¨¨I saw what looked like you passed out in the middle of that circle, the signal was blacked out by static for maybe ten seconds, when the footage came back on it looked like the high priests… some of the guards and the ape I think, had been shot and you just stormed out of there!¨¨
They finally reached the destination of the GPS - which were the huge Caribbean-baroque white house in the hills, that he had escaped that morning.
¨¨So why are we here now! what’s the point?¨¨
I think we need to get this over with, sooner or later they will get to you, they are way too powerful, when I was in the marine corps, we had a saying - ‘’attack is the best defense!’’
¨¨They do not expect for you to come at them.¨¨
¨¨But I really don’t wanna come at them?¨¨
Hank laid a hand on his shoulder, telling him to listen to him. He explained how the Foundation, would possibly use his mother as bait, if he tried to disappear.
¨¨Does Brain know what that thing is that they want me to get?¨¨
¨¨As far as we understand, it’s a mythical doomsday device, meaning something from an ancient time or so, he said he found some crypted files on the net about it, it was mentioned in chapters that were excerpted from the old Testament, it was also mentioned in the Necronomicon and other ancient scripts. But as many other relics sought out to be mere a myth!¨¨
They got out of the buggy and walked towards the big Caribbean baroque house that Ali had escaped from earlier today.
Return of the Prodigal son
He found downtown to be one giant war zone, a hell hole of whites, blacks, Hispanics and Asians fighting each other and the police all at the same time.
Stores that were getting looted and cars set on fire, storefronts getting smashed, the soundtrack was one of constant sirens and gunshots in between screaming and shouting, the Rancor did only little to soothe his shattered nerves.
The adrenaline had him pumped by way of the energetic Nude.
without realizing it he walked almost - tippy toe style, in his clouded yet paranoid condition, much like those early morning junkies heading into town to cop their first hit of the day, looking like some zombie ballerinas trying not to attract attention, yet their impatient bodies gets the best of them, failing not being able to restrain the passionate urge for their drug of choice?
He was cold sweating from the fear of being recognized, but he kept his head down until he saw his chance to snatch a baseball cap from a broken store front; he quickly turned away from the rioting strip,
wishing that he had kept the gun even thou he had emptied it at the paparazzis.
The basic survival mechanisms had set in, taking over for the apathy he had felt earlier in the day. As in some weird twist of fate, he had made a series of turns and he now stood in front of the Pentecostal church downtown, only five blocks from the strip where all hell had now broken lose, because of him.
He skipped up the stairs and knocked on the big wooden oak door. An old black priest looked at him thru the window in the door, he begged of him to be let in, the priest assured him that if he was a looter, there was nothing of value inside!
Josh swore that he was not trying to rob them, and even opened the backpack to show him that he had no weapons, he turned around and lifted up in his Liar skates t-shirt with the giant middle finger print for further proof, and stated that he was alone,
the priest opened the heavy oak door and let him inside, where a small congregation was seated on the front row - ‘’probably
only the most devoted or desperate like himself,’’ he pondered.
The priest returned to the altar where he fumbled through the pages of a bible, he had clearly been at it for a while, since he seemed to have run out of comforting words to tell his small worried congregation.
Josh kept his head down as he took a seat in one of the back rows; he placed his blue backpack between his feet and leaned forward, lighting up the vaporizer with a hit - trying to shove his head half inside the bag.
The people at the front row was a bit startled by the appearance of the sweaty odd looking white boy, a nicely dressed white man in the front row turned his head and asked for him to get up there and said he should not fear, ‘’everyone was friends here!’’
A line of gunshots rang out on the other side of the heavy wooden door, the shock made Josh cough the second lung of Rancor out; that he had just inhaled.
The old priest in the purple robe waved at him to come sit with the rest of them. Stating that he would be safer, not sitting so close to the entrance.
Still with his head bowed and trying to walk normally he walked up the isle, as the groom in some crack head wedding, and placed himself beside the only other white person there.
Josh almost dosed off - as the Rancor hits pulsated through his veins.
The well dressed white man to his left addressed him
¨¨Rough day huh!¨¨
He nodded off, as the man gave him a gentle jab on the shoulder.
¨¨The city has gone mad, it has finally lost it’s sanity,¨¨¨
¨¨Uh huh - yea… guess so?¨¨
¨¨Guess we all have some sins to confess, don’t we?¨¨
¨¨We always do - we are born as sinners.¨¨
He yapped through the old rant, as he had done with his parents countless of times, as the man gently interrupted him, -
¨¨Yes, we certainly are! For instance; what would be the perfect punishment for the person who incited these riots?¨¨
Josh looked at him, trying to figure out if the man knew it was him?
The man looked at him as he smiled a in a coy way, as someone who have just revealed a secret he was not supposed to let out, he leaned closer to Josh and almost whispered to him, -
¨¨I’m sorry! I had planned on being more cool, but the adrenaline just got the better off me and with all the excitement going on outside…
Josh waited for more,
¨¨¨You see, I have been wrecking my head for coming up with something spectacular? but I didn’t feel inspired before I saw you stagger up the aisle, you seemed so weak like you were carrying a heavy burden, it almost made me laugh out loud!¨¨
The well dressed man shook his head as if he had found his own lack of inspiration ridiculous now, he padded Josh comforting on the knee, as if he needed not to worry, he then drew a sigh as he uttered.
¨¨Ok let’s get to work!¨¨
He got up and yanked the little black girl sitting next to josh by her braided pigtails, she screamed out loudly as he pulled her towards him, and drew his Russian customized silver chrome strontium gun from an under-arm holster inside his pinstriped suit jacket with his free hand.
The little girl’s father who had sitting next to her, instantly flew of the bench, flinging himself at Mr. Smith who calmly pointed the gun straight at his face, replying -
¨¨I won’t hurt your daughter as long as you do exactly as I say! now get your ass to work and get that cross down from there!¨¨
He pointed to the crucifix that hung behind the priest with the man-size figure of Jesus Christ on it.
The little girl wept for her daddy! as he struggled to pull the cross free from it’s hinges.
Mr. Smith assured the small scared congregation, that they would be out of there in no time, if everyone just stayed put in their places, reminding everyone that calling the police was futile since they had their hands full outside.
While reassuring everyone that he would do his outmost, not to inflict any pain on the black man or his daughter and that his only business, was that of Josh’s, whom he pointed to with the shiny gun, that looked as fake as some of the props on the Spam ranch.
The black man had finally gotten the cross free and asked if he would let him and his daughter go now? Mr. Smith shook his head and
ordered the priest to get all the rope they had and hand it to the man.
He waved the gun for Josh to get on his feet and hold cross as they waited for the old priest to return with a large roll of rope.
Mr. Smith then begged everyone a good day, as he ordered the small ensemble down the isle, Josh carrying the cross of a God he felt had deserted him, the little girl kept on weeping. It looked like some post-modern play of the walk to Golgotha, performed to a soundtrack of sheer tension.
The priest was repulsed by the incident and shouted - ¨¨You white devil!¨¨ at Mr. Smith who briefly looked over his shoulder and smirked as someone who has just gotten a huge compliment.
¨¨Oh, you bet I am!¨¨
He winked with his eye at the priest, as Josh carried the heavy cross down the aisle.
Outside the church a couple of looters instantly met their end - by way of the silvery gun, as they were about to break into Mr. Smith’s black; BMW - X500
The black man was telling his daughter not to be scared, as he strapped the man-size wooden cross, to the top of the car. Minutes later the odd ensemble skidded out of the church’s parking lot heading for
The Hills have lies
Hank and Ali walked carefully towards the house he had fled under the influence of experimental combat drugs earlier.
They could see from the yard, that there was a light on at the top window on the right side of the house, Hank opened the front door by kicking it inn.
Inside the hallway was dark and the house felt deserted? The darkness followed them as they made their way to the top of the staircase, and down the hall to the right, from where the light came.
Ali noticed that same smell from earlier, the harsh incense from the ballroom at the hotel, that had contributed to making him nauseas, they slowly approach the room from where the light came, the door was open and some five persons laid in red drapes scattered across the floor.
A man sat in the middle of the big room, inside a red painted pentagram clutching a gun.
Hank aimed his self modified tec-9 at him - ready to fire!
Ali wrinkled his forehead when he recognized him.
¨¨Jonsey…?¨¨
The man looked up, and dropped the gun without Hank even having to ask.
¨¨What are you doing here, lad?¨¨
¨¨Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that!?!¨¨
Jonsey looked confused; as Ali demanded to know what the hell that stunt was all about, that one of the Texan Jonsey at the crowded hotel?
¨¨I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, mate!¨¨
¨¨I shot those priests? and the monkey!¨¨
Jonsey shook his head, -
¨¨Now, why would you do that?¨¨
¨¨Cause you guys were about to fucking kill me! I don’t know why? But you fucking lied to me, saying that I would make it safe out of there!¨¨
¨
Jonsey adjusted his round glasses -
¨¨What happened was that you made the portal Jump, The device dropped through the portal some ten seconds before you came back, one of the high priest’s killed the two others as well as some of the guards and the Gorilla.¨¨
Ali looked suspiciously at him, Hank stood with the Tec-9 still pointed at Jonsey, but listened carefully!
¨¨So why did I hold a warm gun as I came, err… Back!¨¨¨
¨¨You didn’t! you picked it up; right in front of you.¨¨
Ali was shouting at Jonsey who was losing his British cool,(again) -
¨¨Yeah! So why was it warm then?¨¨
¨¨Cause the guard that had just been shot dead, in front of you had fired it twice as he fell to the bloody floor, are you daft or something?¨¨
¨¨Ok - Ok, Alright, but tell me this: why did you shout for them to get me huh!¨¨
¨¨Because I promised you that I would get you out of there alive; stupid! I didn’t want to see you dead, even thou I begin to have second thoughts on that now!¨¨
Jonsey drew a deep breath and let it out, to calm himself down.
¨¨The high priest had made a run for it, only ten seconds before you ran towards the lobby, he could have been hiding out there, and you could have been shot dead.¨¨
Ali’s eyes started to flicker, he ran his hands through his jet black undercut with the blue lines, releasing an - argh! of frustration.
¨¨So you’re saying that they chased me down the street, cause they wanted to prevent the high priest from shooting me dead!?! That doesn’t make any sense! You’re fucking lying and messing with my head!¨¨
Jonsey put his glasses back on, -
¨¨No one was chasing you in the street?¨¨
¨¨No fucking way! I could feel I was being chased,¨¨
¨¨Right lad… tell me if you once turned around and saw that someone was chasing you?¨¨
¨¨No I didn‘t! b-but I’m sure I could feel it…¨¨
Jonsey asked Hank if he would mind, if he got up from the floor. He was bleeding from his left arm, Ali walked back and forth, like an animal showing stress symptoms in a cage, shouting accusations at the round-spectacled Englishman, wanting to know how the hotel could become fully packed just minutes later, and what was up with that Texan version of him?
Jonsey lifted his voice shouting back at him, that he did not have time for this!
¨¨Listen to me, Ali. I do not confess to know every detail or any in fact about your skills. I cannot explain that scenario you describe at the hotel, ok!?!¨¨
He was clearly irritated, -
¨¨Perhaps you did another time travel? Or perhaps we all exist in another dimension as well? who bloody knows! this is black magic I recon, yea!¨¨
Hank replied with an: amen!
¨¨So what you’re saying is that if we go back to the hotel, no one will be there? is that it!¨¨
Jonsey suddenly got an idea - asking Hank; who he suspected was working with the Prophet, still had contact with that hacker genius that first had gotten track of the Foundation.
Hank whose in-ear monitor/speaker was in direct satellite hook up to Brain; was voice activated by his digital wristband; Agreed!
¨¨Brain, are you there?¨¨
The crew cut nodded affirmative, Jonsey asked him to get Brain to look thru the footage of the hotel from the rest of the afternoon, after Ali’s escape…
It took a minute while Hank had Brain in his in-ear monitor, he nodded and confirmed, that there was no such scene as Ali had described!
All surveillance cameras had been functioning, and it looked as if the dead bodies were still in the ballroom, otherwise the place seemed completely deserted.
Jonsey had calmed down; he looked over his glasses with his pale blue eyes.
¨¨But what I do know is, that I was here tonight with these last remaining high priests of the Foundation, who were gathered here to try and get you back to do another portal jump, they had sent for two henchmen to get you,¨¨
¨¨I killed those fuckers!!!¨¨
Hank bragged with a: ‘‘what are you gonna do about it attitude?’’
Jonsey told them that he was glad that he had done so.
¨¨But I would not have let that happened, I have realized that this has got to stop here tonight, It has gone far enough and I am not proud of what I have done!¨¨
He ran his fingers through his slicked back hair.
¨¨You see I have worked many odd and eccentric requests through the years and never once have I failed my employers!… you see I once had a client, request for me; to deliver the spear that supposedly had been used to kill Jesus! to a similar cult.
I’m not really sure why they wanted it, something about world domination? but nothing ever happened!…
That was back when the Vatican was shipping out all the relics during the occupation of Europe.¨¨
He smiled; fondly reminiscing the old memory.
¨¨I even managed to get the lost arc, believe it or not? to another brotherhood like cult, it wasn’t that hard to switch those things in the chaos as the war culminated and the panic spread in the Vatican…
The same world conquering nonsense, and again nothing happened of course!¨¨
He drew a sigh and massaged his arm where a bullet had hit him, -
¨¨So you see I took this job as just another high paid mumbo jumbo nonsense, coming from a bunch of eccentric bored millionaires…
But this time however I’m afraid it’s real, and it’s no longer about some far fetched utopist world domination fantasy, as it was with those other relics and clients,¨¨
Ali and hank shivered when Jonsey told them -
¨¨It’s about world annihilation!¨¨
He asked Hank if he could pick up the pistol he had dropped again, which he allowed him to.
Jonsey put his hand on Ali’s shoulder, and with regret in his voice told him, -
¨¨I’m sorry chap, that I got you into all of this, I may have done a lot of shit, but I am not a doom bringer! I will not let them end the world… Even If it’s the last thing I do; I will try to stop them!¨¨
Hank asked him if he knew where the high priest with the doomsday device were? Jonsey told them that one of the high priests that he had killed had confirmed his suspicion that the high priest - had taken refuge on the air force base, on the outskirts of town.
The base also served as an experimental lab, funded by the Foundation!
Hank hung up on Brain and offered Jonsey their services, Ali however did not seemed thrilled about that suggestion - which led to a smaller argument; finally Jonsey butted inn. -
¨¨Listen I perfectly understand, if you don’t wanna get involved; the Foundation is to blame for the requiring the Doomsday device.
I believe that no more mercenaries will be sent after you.¨¨
The druggie in the filthy rave gear considered Jonsey’s words, -
¨¨Yeah that’s what you said back at the hotel, and see how that turned out?¨¨
¨¨As I said at the hotel you are free to go, the high priest has already gotten the device from you, those dead bodies here, are the remains of the very last members of the Foundation,¨¨
He turned to Hank -
¨¨I’d appreciate all the help I can get right now, you seem to know your way ‘round weapons? that’s ace, we’ll go to the air-force base immediately and try to fight our way inn!¨¨
Hank gave Ali a lecture on how he was as much responsible for the damage done, not because he was ridden by guilt, but more because he was afraid of being alone, if there were more henchmen after him. He finally opted to go with them…
Jonsey requested that they wore some official black Foundation windbreakers, cause the staff at the base was used to seeing employees from the Foundation come and go, if anything should go wrong? they would not get shot without a warning!
They put the jackets on as they returned to the buggy outside, Jonsey got in on the small backseat.
It looked like the black smoke from the many fires took the night shift, from the gray daytime smog…
The purple and orange night sky had settled as the many fires lit up Los Angeles and its vast array of ghettos which had become all out riot fests, still it was the downtown era that was the pinnacle of the party.
It seemed like the unbearable summers heat and the tensions running high had finally reached it’s climax.
The tension had been stirred with two lethal ingredients, the cold shootings by the LAPD of those four black teenagers last week, combined with the antics of Josh and the Nazis, had proved to make one dangerous cocktail.
Even from up here you could smell the fires of burning metal and buildings. The summer wind carried a spicy toxic breeze, as the road took another turn, they drove parallel to the old Hollywood sign, suddenly, Ali spotted something disturbing, that made him holler out for Hank to stop the vehicle!
The deafening sound of rotor blades - came off an LBN news helicopter that hovered above the road, with the projector lights aimed towards the big bold letters!
On top of the O’ in Wood, stood a large black man who lowered down a cross, from a rope; with what looked like a person having been tied to it - in a Christ like pose. ‘’He was certain it was Josh from earlier.’’
Hank swung the buggy in a half circle, and aimed his Tec-9 at the well dressed man at the bottom of the city’s trademark, who had pulled out a shiny silver chrome gun. The Ex-marine fired half a round into the man who first hit the black BMW X500 parked next to him and then fell to the ground. Hank then aimed and fired at the black guy on top, just as Ali shouted for him not to!
The black man instantly threw himself flat on top of the huge O’ letting go of the rope.
The cross with the bound Josh, who had dangled in the middle of the letter O’ in the sign - now came spiraling down, as the top of it hit the grass covered slope, the Christ figure broke off as it tipped over on the wooden side and began to slide headfirst towards the road where the buggy crew awaited, a little black girl ran out from the black BMW.
She ran round the Big letter and started to climb the ladder that reached to the top of it, as she called for her Daddy, who shouted that he was alright, and that she should be careful, but hurry!
The news helicopter from LBN,(that Mr. Smith had called for himself to document the crucifixion/execution of Josh,) live streamed the footage of the spectacular site:
It now filmed how Josh was freed from the Cross, and stuffed into the buggy. It was apparent that they would be followed closely; Hank mumbled something as he reached underneath the driver’s seat.
On top of the O’ in Wood, the little girl was crying in her Daddy’s arms, he held her tight and assured her that everything would be okay and that they would remain up there till everything had calmed down.
Hank had found what he had been looking for, a self made mini bazooka, which he now aimed at the helicopter above, it was the first time he tried it at a live target, the rocket that launched from it pierced the glass, and exploded upon impact with the roof of the chopper.
The little girl and her father looked straight into the fireball that came down on top of them, and upon the old brand of Tinsel town - like a malicious chariot that had swung too low from the heavens above.
The buggy set in gear again and speeded down the winding road aiming for the army base.
Dima Wood who had witnessed it all on the recently replaced synz-screen in his office, walked towards the big window frame that faced the burning city that once had symbolized hope for him, but which at this very moment spelled only failure and despair.
He stood with his back to the footage that now showed one of the new deluxe whorebots he had sent out, and lost track of this morning, in what looked like a shoot-out in the parking lot of a cheap motel downtown, as two of his employees came in to replace the synz-screen who had suffered a recent blow by a bottle of vodka.
- He thought about taking his own life, now that Jessica - the light of his life had been taken away by religious fanatics, just as his wife had been some twelve years earlier. And maybe he would? but not tonight…
He thought about it for a second, as if it were sport results
Muslims - Wood : 1-0
Christians - Wood : 1-0
it was time to really drunk - the Romanian way of solving ones’ problems, and when the hangover would pass, he swore to make it his final mission in this life, to hunt down every single bastard that worked for the Foundation.
Deserted
Josh started to wake up a little from unconsciousness as they speeded through the new-Mullholland intersection, heading towards the outskirts of town.
As they drove on, the noise from the myriad of sirens slowly drowned out, then the smell from the fires subsided; at one point it all felt like a distant memory to Josh, whose thoughts drifted towards Jessica as soon as he was no longer high as a kite.
His backpack with all the great dope was gone, he would give his right arm for it now, anything to take the feelings of unfinished love and unrepented guilt away, and make him comfortably numb.
He wished for the sweet comfort of the Rancor to wrap it’s loving arms around him, and hold him till everything went away, tears streamed down his cheeks, as he turned his head to the roadside of the darkened desert, he longed for the destruction of the city of angels: a city that had shown him love and hate and rise and fall - ‘’in just one year it had chewed him up and spat him out.’’ The city of angels was caving in, as a reverted decaying phoenix from the ashes, the irony came full circle, ashes to ashes - dust to dust.
Phoenix, slight return…
Mr. Smith woke up… he could not quite make out what he saw as his eyes were tearing up, due to the intense heat of the flames surrounding him.
It looked as if a helicopter had penetrated the O’ in Hollywood sign, like a giant black mosquito on a white glazed donut, he laughed a little to himself; which hurt like hell - as he coughed up some blood.
In fact his entire body hurt like hell, even thou his bio-mechanical right arm had taken three of the six bullets that had been fired at him, the other tree bullets had unfortunately been caught by his torso, and were now sending painful signals to his main cortex.
He noticed how the camera had melted itself into the head of a journalist from the LBN chopper, that lay closest to him.
He spent a further good ten minutes dragging himself into the drivers’ seat of the BMW,
Five minutes later he managed to get the car turned around and drove down the winding road, he knew that he needed medical care immediately! as soon as he had gotten himself patched up! he would come after Josh.
His mind was filled with thoughts of his first recent failure! and of how everyone in Los Angeles, and especially his employer for the past ten years had seen him fail like a lousy amateur, he managed with great pain to dial the emergency unit, ‘’he had for special occasions,’’ as he reached the bottom of the hill, it started to flicker for his eyes due to the already severe loss of blood, the metallic bonfires became an orange blur before him.
He lost control and the black BMW - X500 crashed directly into an overturned tourist bus in the intersection leading from the hills. The rioters and looters, instantly took notice, and ripped the door open, they dragged Mr. Smith who had been saved by the airbags into the street where he was beaten to death,(due to his skin color.)
one of the many news helicopters that hovered the city sky documented this direct to the many homes, and to the office of Dima Wood who raised his glass of Vodka, and gave a half hearted salute to his former henchman, he couldn’t be bothered to break his third synz-screen of the day.
Doomsday raid
They reached the limits of the premises of the army base as the sun had almost set.
Hank And Jonsey discussed the plans for their entry, and of how they could incorporate Brain, who had the ability to do some hacking into the mainframe of the base’s control system.
Ali and Josh leaned up against the buggy,
The disillusioned ex-skater commented that they should just had let him die at the cross!
Ali tried to convince him that he would possibly have a better chance to survive if he chose to stick by them? but he declined the possibility; stating that - Jessica’s Father’s men would hunt him down no matter where he went? but he refused to die at their hands, he would do it on his own.
Ali who unexplainably felt some kind of sympathy; asked him ‘’if it wasn’t some kind of sin or something to do that?’’
Josh confirmed that that was exactly the point! the only way to escape the doctrines of his former religion, he was almost certain that God did not exist - ‘’but just in case!’’
so he wouldn’t have to spend eternity, with the only one that could have saved him from this mess his life had become.
He started to walk away from the buggy - in direction of the gloomy desert.
Jonsey returned to Ali asking him a bit concerned about his friend? to which he just shrugged his shoulders.
Hank had called up Brain again back at the Spam ranch, who was up for the task!
his laptops were glowing as he punched in the codes that Jonsey had provided him with.
He entered trough a small breach in the army base defense system.
some fifty meters away, the lock on the electrical sliding gate - opened silently.
It dawned on Ali that he might still have some of the traffic light colored pills from earlier, he reached for one of the asymmetrical pockets on his baggy black and green parachute pants.
He found a couple of the see though ziplock bags from the extra stash Diego had kept. He got out a handful - which he shared with Hank, making sure that they got one of each color, since he still wasn’t sure which pills had caused the super enhanced combat skills that morning? so it was better to be safe than sorry.
It was decided that Jonsey would stay at the entrance, due to his wounded arm, he was already shoving signs of losing strength,
he informed them of what the dying high priest back at the house, had told him about the invention of a machine to do portal jumps. -
They had required the doomsday device from Ali, to open up the realm of other dimensions. But now that the priest who had committed mutiny, and held the device to his own disposal, he would probably already have made a portal jump himself? to require the last piece that would complete the doomsday machinery and that he would most likely activate it, as soon as possible?
There seemed to be only one sleepy guard at the control booth near the gate that had already been opened by Brain, the buggy drove up to it, the guard woke up and asked about their business there? - which made Jonsey draw a gun with a silencer and kill him with one’ well placed shot! Jonsey then handed them two keys he had taken from one of the high priests he had shot back at the house. Telling them that they were crucial for working the portal machine!
Meanwhile Brain, had gotten a blueprint map of the perimeters up on one of his old laptop screens.
From which he could guide them into what Jonsey had located as the middle section of the compound, by way of the GPS device on Hank’s armband computer,(he had kept after being discharged from further service after the Mexican war.)
They moved into the inner perimeters of the compound. -
The combination of the Green alert pill with the yellow fly pill proved a lethal combination for the few enemy guards that stood no chance at the odd tag team, before they could alert others,
Hank mentioned ‘’that it was disturbingly quiet for a military base?’’
Only a helicopter on a nearby pad, indicated that it had been active off lately.
The lack of resistance,(was startlingly suspicious especially to Hank.)
minutes later they snug down a corridor that Brain had guided them towards, without encountering any further resistance.
They reached the control center, where they were met by a strange looking machinery, resembling an egg shaped capsule with heavy tubes attached to it, and what seemed like dry smoke? That rose from underneath it?
The two operators at the giant control board, were shot in the back of their heads, their lifeless bodies rested at board of the vault - where panels and buttons were blinking everywhere.
Hank consulted Brain about what to do? the blueprint of the control vault came up on one of his laptop screens.
Red lights were flashing to where the keys would go, as the rest of the motherboard went dark.
‘‘I seems like the high priest with the device has escaped through that egg shaped metal thing behind you, and the high priest will return within minutes, according to the timer info!’’
Brain told them to get the two keys out, which Jonsey had given them and insert them into the desk, it would shut the portal machinery off and prevent the high priest from returning.
They each held up a key, Brain ordered them to stop what they were doing, for a minute! Hank confronted him.
¨¨Well what is it Brain? Why are we stopping now?¨¨
‘‘The strangest thing just happened, y’know! One of my laptops just flickered on, and I’m watching you guys at this website live! right now I assume?’’
¨¨Come again Brain! What the hell are you talking about?¨¨
¨¨It’s on a page that looks like it’s by the Foundation, I don’t get it?¨¨
Hank asked him what the hell it mattered anyways!
¨¨Well probably nothing, Hank? ok hurry up, there is only a minute left, it says you have to place the two keys at the exact same time, to shut the mechanism off!¨¨
They counted to three, and then inserted the keys into the control pad, Brain asked them to count to three one more time, and turn the keys counter clock wise.
It took a couple of seconds before anything happened, then a descending echo rung out and the green light disappeared from the egg shaped machine, the smoke that felt like inhaling dry-ice in their throats subsided as well after some ten seconds, Hank and Ali high-fived each other.
Hank asked Brain if he was still there?
¨¨Yeah I’m still here hank, but it’s strange it seems like my laptops are downloading like crazy right now I can’t seem to access, looks like its because of that code you gave me for the hack, it’s like they have been taken over?¨¨
Hank was in a great mood, now that they had just saved the world and joked - that perhaps Brain needed to get himself a virus update?
¨¨That site you y’know; the Foundation site I said you guys were on right!¨¨
¨¨Yeah what about it?¨¨
¨¨It’s strange cause after you guys high-fived each other the video transmission stopped, and there was a new headline banner popping up,¨¨
Hank asked a bit annoyed if it mattered, and pointed out that he was always so damn paranoid!!!
¨¨Yeah - yeah, okay Hank, I probably am, but before it read -
’The end justifies the means. Go purge!!! And after the video signal stopped it changed to - have a happy ending!¨¨
Hank laughed out, asking him: so what!?!
¨¨Well now there are just a couple of digits counting down?¨¨
¨¨Down from what?¨¨
There was static on the line for a couple of seconds, then Jonsey’s English accent, was heard, -
¨¨Hank you guys need to get out of there right bloody now!¨¨
¨¨Jonsey there’s a lot of noise on the line it sounds like you’re in a chopper or something?¨¨
¨¨I am, now just get the bloody hell out of there and into the buggy, head towards Vegas, do NOT! go back to LA, you hear me, I’ll call you up soon, now get back on the highway!¨¨
Hank nodded as he pointed to Ali that they should get out of there. They ran down the empty corridor again, with the paranoia and adrenaline effect from the pills, still pumping thru their veins.
They ran outside where there had been a chopper on the pad before, Hank uttered something about; ‘’Jonsey must have taken off in it somehow?’’ They ran towards the gate where they found the buggy with the keys in the ignition.
Hank jumped into the driver’s seat again with Ali as shotgun, who kept asking Hank what the rush was all about!?! and where Jonsey had gone?
¨¨Later! Jonsey will call us in a minute; so chill the fuck out!¨¨
They were back on the road going as fast as possible to get as far away from the army base as they could, the empty highway towards Vegas laid stretched out in front of them, while the setting sun were drowning somewhere beyond the horizon, in all it’s orange splendor on the black and purple horizon of the desert.
Jonsey called Hank up again, demanding that he give the headset to Ali,
¨¨Well done old chap, job well done! couldn’t have done it better myself,¨¨
Ali could not help but smile, for someone who had not accomplished anything else in his life; besides completing various Tres console games, he actually felt proud of himself for the first time ever! He made a thumbs up gesture to Hank who smirked as he kept his eyes on the unlit desert road, pushing the buggy to its limits.
¨¨Thanks Jonsey, it actually feels pretty good, but tell me - why should we rush out of there like our asses was on fire, and not return to the city?¨¨
all of a sudden Jonsey changed his accent to more of a southern drawl.
¨¨Cause I need you alive, boy!¨¨
Ali wrinkled his brows and asked Jonsey to repeat that?
¨¨Well you see, I need your ass alive, and you ain’t worth much to me, dead.¨¨
It dawned on him that Jonsey now spoke with the same accent as the man behind the desk at the hotel earlier, he instantly got Goosebumps all over.
¨¨J - Jonsey? was that actually you earlier at the reception then, what the hell is going on?¨¨
¨¨Yes sire‘, I have been messing with your head for a long time now,¨¨
He tried to suppress a spiteful laughter, -
¨¨Look, it’s just important that you stick to the course to Vegas: Or you’ll get your asses blown off!¨¨
Ali asked him what he meant?
¨¨You just directed A-bomb warheads at Mexico city and in less than twenty minutes the neo-commie government, will release their own kind at the city of Los Angeles, that being similar, A-bomb missiles I suspect?¨¨
¨¨Jonsey have you completely lost your mind! are you a fucking schizoid or something!?! we just saved the fucking world from that high priest returning with the final last doomsday device!¨¨
Jonsey made the kind of frowning sound one makes, when someone is saying something really ludicrous, -
¨¨Oh come on Ali, there is no such thing as a doomsday device, you’re such a dreamer, just like your old man. You don’t even remember that portal jump in the ballroom, am I right?¨¨
¨¨…right, I don’t!¨¨
¨¨That’s cause it never happened, I just had to tell you a story suggesting that you had magical powers like your old man. all I had to do was spike your soda with a high dose of LSD and some horse tranquilizer, then wait for you to pass out, so I could revive you with an adrenaline syringe to the heart - and all of a sudden you’re starting to see the proof!¨¨
¨¨Fuck you Jonsey! I give up, why don’t you just tell me what the hell you got to say before I throw this headset into the desert and forget I ever met you, you crazy fuck!¨¨
There was silence for a bit…
¨¨Alright, let me explain it to you bit by bit. it’s important that you can tell the story accurately, when they apprehend you,¨¨
¨¨Who!?!¨¨
¨¨The Police or the feds! ¨¨
Hank looked a little distressed at Ali now, he reached over and pressed a button on the head set, that directed the voice signal out through the speakers in the car.
¨¨Well you were just such an easy target Ali, the whole history with your daddy and his magic, your druggy secluded existence and your Dimensions game addiction, all you needed was a little push… ok, a big push then!¨¨¨
¨¨So fucking what Jonsey, it’s all a scam as you say? I could not portal jump and neither could my old man, so you had me going there for a while so fucking what!¨¨
Jonsey chuckled in his southern style, -
¨¨So fucking what you ask?!? very soon you’re going to be America’s most wanted man. You have just caused the destruction of good old Tinsel town,¨¨
¨¨No I haven’t! cause if I couldn’t portal jump - then neither could the high priest, meaning that machine we shut down was fake and meaning there is no such thing as a doomsday device, now is there!¨¨
¨¨You’re catching on fast boy, and you’re right all that portal jump, doomsday device hoola baaloo is just nonsense, made up to justify the existence of the Foundation,¨¨
¨¨Ok, so there is no Foundation either? then why make it up?¨¨
¨¨‘Cause all great tragedies need a conspiracy to distract from the obvious facts!¨¨
¨¨I’m trying to keep up with your nonsense Jonsey, but I’m telling you, you’re very close to be talking to your self in the desert.¨¨
¨¨I’m sorry, I keep sidetracking myself - But the short story is that you and Hank are the only survivors from the Foundation, and that’s why it’s great if you guys can keep yourself alive, until they apprehend you.¨¨
¨¨You just throw one curveball after another as far as I’m concerned, Jonsey. so what if the cops think I work for the foundation? - it doesn’t exist anyways. I haven’t done anything wrong? in fact if anything I tried to save the fucking world by shutting that device off at the base.¨¨
¨¨Yes - but what people will see is two guys wearing the Foundation’s jackets rushing armed into a military base, igniting the missile warhead aimed at the commie regime south of the border,¨¨
¨¨But no… that’s not what happened, we… I - I never pressed any -¨¨
¨¨Ha ha - I know that sonny, that’s not really the way to actually launch a missile strike, the entire military compound was fake as well of course, it has been abandoned for a long time, Pointdexter launched those stolen warheads from somewhere else, but he used Brain’s computer, and by having Brain entering that code I gave you - Those data is being uploaded to federal agencies right now! all the evidence of a nut case doomsday cult in the desert, and you guys rushing in there to releases those missiles, you see where I’m heading with this, boy!¨¨
¨¨Ok so people will see me and hank representing the Foundation, I get that… but w-we weren’t really doing any of that did we?¨¨¨
¨¨No of course you didn’t, but people believe what they see! Your old man could have told you that, its all smoke and mirrors my friend.¨¨
¨¨There are still some loose ends, if you ask me,¨¨
¨¨Oh! I hope not, spill it, -¨¨
¨¨There will be other people that can back my story!¨¨
¨¨ Who do you mean? that crazy Australian Nazi gang who was a chapter of the Foundation, who were killed in a shoot-out with the LAPD downtown Los Angeles. Or Josh the crazy crack-head Christian that is lying dead in the desert right now, with a bullet hole in his head, and my gun in his hand?¨¨
Ali picked his brain for a second, -
¨¨There must have been others, what about the platoon that apprehended me at the Spam ranch! do you think that they will all keep quiet? ¨¨
¨¨Since I paid for their stay at the Hilton, and the A-bomb should hit within less than fifteen minutes, yeah I’d say that everyone in LA.
Who might have been willing to come forward connecting some dots, like all the actors I had hired to play guests and staff at the hotel earlier, or the security service where I hired all the silent suits, - will all be fucking dead!¨¨
Ali went silent…
¨¨That’s why I need you and Hank alive, you are the only ones left to tell the story, the missing link.¨¨
¨¨But why the hell are you telling me all this shit?¨¨
¨¨Cause as I began with, all great tragedies needs a conspiracy and Ali, you’ are that conspiracy - !¨¨
¨¨And what if I won’t tell it.¨¨
Jonsey chuckled again, -
¨¨Oh you make me laugh boy!… I figure you’ll lay low for a while, but the feds will get you sooner or later And then, you will spill your guts; trying to save your sorry ass. Yapping on and on about how some guy’ set you up making you believe you could do portal jumps? and orchestrating some big scheme with you guys wearing the Foundation jackets, but for every detail, you’ll just make an already far out conspiracy seem even more far out.¨¨
Ali had almost gone numb, as he asked -
¨¨¨What’s in it for you Jonsey?¨¨
¨¨Lots of money my friend, my employers - are the families in Las Vegas. The problem they had was that the newly elected mayor H. G. Lambert, could not be bribed to not launch the plans of building the casinos, Las Vegas is already under great stress as it is. The state owned Slots & Dice chain would had taken a huge cut of the gambling market. Well… it would just be too big a market to lose.¨¨
¨¨Honestly Jonsey, isn’t it just a bit far out that the Mob, will kill millions of people just to not lose some cash!?!¨¨
¨¨‘Suppose it is! but that’s how it always goes: Isn’t it a bit far out that the government will stage a terrorist attack on it’s own country, just so the army could get bigger contracts? Its always about money somewhere down the line, boy but it’s not very sexy. works better with terrorists!¨¨
¨¨I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about?¨¨
¨¨Doesn‘t matter, just an old ‘conspiracy’ from the previous century.¨¨
Hank had been able to hear most of the conversation: he furiously grabbed the headset from Ali! -
¨¨I’ll expose you, you goddamn son of a bitch!¨¨
¨¨Oh yeah, sure you will Hank and remind me again, why was it you were kicked out of the Marine corps?¨¨
He went silent…
¨¨Yes, subject was developing paranoid schizophrenia, most likely caused by post stress symptoms. Booyaa! You’re a ticking one man terror cell, that’s what the media will say, they should have dug up your records in an hour or so?¨¨
Hank was grinding his teeth’s now.
He heard the pilot saying something over the speaker in Jonsey’s microphone about approaching Las Vegas and Jonsey shouting at Pointdexter to keep his trap shut.
¨¨Well Jonsey, it seems like we’ll see you in Vegas?¨¨
¨¨Hmm, touché’ ok… enjoy your freedom as long as it last boys. ¨¨
Jonsey hung up and the line went dead.
The hi-strung combat drug induced duo looked at each other.
¨¨So do you think he was lying to us?¨¨
¨¨To be honest, I really don’t know what to think right now?’’
The drove on for a good fifteen minutes, the phone signal seemed jammed, they could not reach Brain and neither could he contact them.
Suddenly the evening sky lit up, followed by a formation of a mushroom cloud about the same time as the impact hit them as a deep low frequency sub wave, that pushed everything in front of it.
the blast shook the ground underneath them, it shook the car violently, but it stayed on the road.
Hank regained control of it, just as it skidded to a halt -
Straight ahead on the road stood a woman pointing a gun at them!
- To be continued…