Sadfish

Jimi couldn’t help himself. He always laughed when the rains came. The lightening and the thunder rolling after it like a puppy dog chasing its masters heels. It was hysterical.

He was laughing now, a slight under his breath chuckle. The wind-whipped misty rain of spring coated the barrel of his nine with ephemeral diamonds. Below him he could see her running, she slipped in between crates and boxes. Here she paused and looked furtively around, but never up….never up, they never. Looked. Up. Jimi’s chuckle became peeling thunder across the warehouse as his  nine laughed with him. Once, twice, thrice.

He flung two silver discs over the catwalk railing and melted into night.

Infera-Origins and setting part one

“This is the City. The city you see is the same as I see, I just see more deeply. Where you sense danger and steer clear, I sense opportunity and plunge in. When you look at me you see a young woman, pretty and fit. In a social setting you might buy me a drink, maybe ask me out. When I look in my mirror I see the same thing, but I can also see what lies beneath.”  —-The Infera—

“The world has discovered demons, entities of unknown origins that can be brought forth by those with the training and the gift. Summoned into specially prepared containment units, they are the new renewable energy and sorcerers are the masters of this power source. When you turn on a light, an imprisoned demon expends a minuscule fragment of its essence to make it happen. No, your fridge doesn’t have a demon inside it. That’s like each appliance having its own nuclear battery. They store the demons in special power plants and send the energy by wire to your home. Such a safe and environmentally friendly energy has made Earth a paradise.

Or course, like any power, there are a few safety concerns. But never fear! The best Sorcerers we can find attend special classes and over see every step of the process. In the rare chance of a containment breech you can find information on what to do in your emergency  manual.”——Radio Advertisement—–

“There are two classifications of demons. Those that we use to heat our homes is what we refer to most often. These are weak willed entities willing to serve without much effort on our part. Of course this raises some “ethical” questions among those who are uneducated, who like to decry it as “slavery”. To put that to rest for you, I have two things to say. The first is that they are definitively not sentient as we would recognize, the second is that even if they were sentient, they are happy to simply be on Earth…. any questions?  Oh, yes, the second type we refer to as Daemons….Don’t mess with them.”—Intro to demonology class—

“There was a small containment breech today at the Norshocton facility, the demons were quickly contanined with minimal effort and damage thanks to great efforts on the part of the local authorities. Next up, the Craneworth Lions scored a run in the bottom half of the ninth……” —News report—

“When we entered Norshocton Middle School it was like walking into a nightmare. The teachers were hung…some by their guts…from the ceiling. They <gasping choking sound> sorry, they were still lecturing. We swept the building as the EMTs took down….I don’t know, bodies? Anyway <erratic heavy breathing> The kids? Yeah we found them. They had assembled in the lunch room and were building something….no I don’t know what it was, big , square, made of tables and chairs. When we entered they turned around… their eyes, glowing and black? then normal. they were confused, it became a mass of crying panicking children. <deep breath, long pause> Yeah so that’s it. I am gonna go to Murphys’ and have a drink.“—Officer Edlebrook, Norshocton PD tape recorded report—-

“A local man, police officer, and hero was found dead this morning in his apartment. Anthony Edlebrook suffered a brain aneurysm in his sleep last night. He is survived by his parents and his fiance. Calling hours are…..”                                                        —-Front page, Noshocton Gazette—-

The Infera

“Quiet, the Infera, She comes!” Old Thom hissed as he bounded from his door lookout back to his stool. The patrons of Hellsgate Bar&Grill went silent, except for one guy and the jukebox that he leaned on.  They watched the door while pretending to look down at  their drinks, slowly warmed by nervous fingers. The barkeep stood with one hand under the bar, those who sat there looked even more nervous than those at the table.

The door swung open, revealing a petite woman in an unbuttoned priests cassock of black leather. Her stark white hair flowed glacially around her torso as she examined the room. Her black eyes met the eyes of each patron, their gaze compelled to peer into those bottomless pools. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, The soul of the Infera is a long way from its home.

The man at the juke box continued to have his one sided, drunken conversation. While the machine belted out Inxs’  ”The Devil Inside”. As the song kicked on the bartender broke and pulled out his shotgun with super human speed. Only to find that the Infera was already holding a revolver aimed at his head. A sweat broke out across his forehead, he was sure her arm had never moved. She smiled, an almost saintly look upon a face of deathless white porcelain, as she thumbed back the hammer.

The pistol was too large for such a small body, but she held it steady in one hand with no effort. Crimson runes writhed down the length of the barrel, a very quiet chittering giggle seemed to emanate from the weapon. The barkeep saw that the chambers were empty.

Noticing his gaze, the Infera inclined her chin at the pistol. “Sometimes he has a mind of his own. The ammo appears, or it doesn’t, for reasons I can’t even guess at. I do know that the more Demkin I kill, the more ammo I have. As you can see, I am kinda low at the moment.”

Gunspell

I climbed slowly up the crumbling and heaving rock face. Grunts of effort pain escaped in ragged breathes around the killing blade clenched in my teeth. Cold sweating in hard bead as I pulled my weight with bloody palm and broken fingers steadily up.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see other cliffs crash down like waves of stone. Melted face specters folding themselves into nothingness as the escape the death-throws of this dying world. They hissed at me in seething anger, howled in sorrowful anguish, as the seas boiled away beneath the shifting carpet of spreading color.

Slung in its holster, I felt the ebony barreled hell gun tremble in anticipation. It wanted its pound of flesh, payment was due in full.

Above me I could hear the sorcerer calling out every spell he could think of to shore up his crumbling home. Between conjurations he looked down at me, his face all nerve sweaty. I told him once that I would tear this whole, damn world apart to get to him.

Bend Back

Bend Back

“We took the switch car out around New Cairo. Coming around the turn so fast the bumper threw sparks a foot left. We were hot, heavy loaded with a cargo of fresh synthetic organs.

Ben leaned out of the window and let his clawhammer throw ceramic at the lead Blackfoot. He hit, score on the grill, and sent the whirling lights left of center. I grinned like I do each time I see him pop cop tops. I grin a lot.

Another notch on the on the ‘hammers stock later and we pull hard into San Leone with a law tracer tearing up the grit to our rear. The receiver and his Goboys are up the road waiting to catch.

My eyegear microzoomed and I see the public toilet look that tells me they didn’t expect the Blackfoot escort. The braindry Goboys are flash fast with their bioguns and start spitting burning plasma at the badge parade.

The front of the switch dipped, hard right, and dug into the cheap crete road. There was whirling, a blur of shapes, and a sensation of flight before everything was all curtains.

I woke up thinking bendy like, showtime. Slowly the cheers of the crowd became the cry of a bird. I opened my eyes and stared into the face of death. Death and time. Death as a black winged bird. I gave up and let my self slide back into the dark pool.

I felt a sharp pain between my eyes and I sat up swinging. The startled caw of a scavbird, and furious flapping panicked me. After a flurry of hidden spiderweb antics I realized I wasn’t being topped. I remembered what had happened, as I took in the scene of twisted wreckage and human parts.

Moving towards the crime pile, I found Ben’s Clawhammer and retrieved it for him. I approached our car and stopped to look at Ben’s head, I retrieved that for him as well. After a few more steps I stopped and looked at poor Ben.

“Balls.” I threw the head as far as I could and shouldered his gun. The streets of San Leone were butchers market sale day and grilled. I found the extra cerammo and the rest of Big Ben in the burning, battered switch. There were a lot of people who weren’t getting a valentine this month.

As that part of the tranjob was a fail, I went to the receiver and took his paycase. I stood stork in the empty street and changed up my ‘sitch. There I was with half a mill in paper, a fully loaded Clawhammer mark seven, in the middle of fukback Nowhereton. I had little to shite in choice, so I just began booting down the gritway. That’s when you trolled me, why I look like a shitstick, and why I need a ride”

He watches me with tin doll eyes as he licks the spittle from his lips. Eyes keep stitching down to the paycase. Drag off the cig.

“Now…I have a big gun, an angry bird, and fifty miles to HQ. The buzzing in my head tells me to kill you, or give you half the leaf in this case. Which do you think I should do?

The drybrain tea farmer opens the door, I climb in, and we head off. A minute later and I am driving down the road watching a meat sack being eaten by crows in the rearview.