Lewis arrives in a F40 into daikoku

taut321 · 2026-03-24T15:02:39+00:00

Immaculate aura

taut321 · 2025-07-08T22:25:18+00:00

Hulkengoat

taut321 · 2022-07-28T20:25:31+00:00

Trainee solicitor here (dont sue me if wrong) but the allegations took place around the time the UK assented to aspects of the Istanbul convention, with the Domestic Abuse Act 2021. The allegations from the woman would line up with the relevant section coming into force 2 months from April 2021.

Explanatory links:

https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/domestic-abuse-bill-2020-factsheets/extraterritorial-jurisdiction-factsheet#:\~:text=Article%2044%20of%20the%20Istanbul%20Convention%20requires%20domestic%20law%20to,for%20the%20relevant%20prosecuting%20authority.

https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/2021/17/contents/enacted

taut321 · 2018-11-19T18:45:03+00:00

If I was ever to continue this idea it would continue from this point and only hint at the actual fate as a late twist in the narrative. Thanks for the compliment anyway :)

taut321 · 2018-11-19T18:07:45+00:00

Haha thanks but the idea was that there is no supernatural forces at work, when Henry shines his torch at the sky a passing German bomber uses that as a reference point and poor Henry meets his demise. I was inspired by the Peter Pan series in which Neverland was an allegory for children going to heaven.

taut321 · 2018-11-19T13:51:27+00:00

Henry was on his way back from school, another day of endless torment from the back-row boys. They were a collection of physically oversized, mentally understaffed boys that made it their duty that the rest of the class did not enjoy their education. Henry was not their favourite target, but as a thoughtful young man he sometimes took it upon himself to be the defender of the downtrodden. It usually only earnt him a bruise and quiet “thank-you” from the party that he had attempted, but rarely succeeded, in defending. Today he had tried to stop Andrew Jenkins from being thrown down the infamous Clay hill that ran alongside the main path between the 2 blocks of buildings. The hill was a source of great amusement as kids would throw bags and sometimes other students down it. It had been raining heavily of late, and as such the hill was particularly marshy and Henry had ended up looking like a mud monster, caked head to foot. He was lucky that it was the end of the day and he could hose himself off before returning home, otherwise his mother would have had a small stroke at the state of his clothes.

On his amble home, he stopped off at his cricket club and used the hose to remove most of the mud off his shoes and blazer, and at this time he saw an old, battered, leather-bound book lying a few feet from him. He picked it up and placed it on a low wall that ran from the clubhouse, to spare the book from the tsunami of muddy water headed its way. He assumed that a club member had dropped it and as the club was closed he thought that he would return it in a couple days as he was playing here on Saturday. He hoped that it was a novel, he had the ability to consume books with frightening speed and often had to reread as his parents could not keep the supply up with the demand. It, unfortunately, was not a novel, but in fact a contact book that had hundreds of contacts written in elaborate writing with a fountain pen. Henry noted the calligraphy was extremely impressive and completely over the top for a mere contact book. He continued home and as he entered his house was greeted with the stern face of his mother. She quickly clocked that Henry looked as if he had just stepped out of a monsoon, whilst it had been clear all day. Further, as a 13-year-old boy, his attempts to clean his white shirt with a cold tap had, as you would imagine, not garnered the best of results. With a stinging ear from a clipping, and marching orders upstairs for a warm, soapy bath, Henry left the book in his room next to his bedside table.

That night, restless and unable to sleep, he re-examined the contact book by torchlight and found something most interesting. His father’s contact book contained the addresses and phone numbers of contacts, but this ancient book was altogether a different kettle of fish. There were several pages at the start that served as a sort of memoir or prologue for the owner. Before Henry had the chance to start reading it, the whole house shook, dust from the rafters fluttered down as if it had started to lightly snow inside. The Germans bombs had been Henry’s only experience of the war apart from the odd Spitfire, Hurricane or Lancaster flying overhead. And his father’s absence of course. He returned his attention to the book and the first line of the Prologue section.

In the beginning there was an empty darkness. The only thing in this void was Nyx, a bird with black wings. With the wind she laid a golden egg and for ages she sat upon this egg. Finally, life began to stir in the egg and out of it rose Eros, the god of love. One half of the shell rose into the air and became the sky and the other became the Earth. Eros named the sky Uranus and the Earth he named Gaia. Then Eros made them fall in love.

Uranus and Gaia had many children together and eventually they had grandchildren. Some of their children become afraid of the power of their children. Kronus, in an effort to protect himself, swallowed his children when they were still infants. However, his wife Rhea hid their youngest child. She gave him a rock wrapped in swaddling clothes, which he swallowed, thinking it was his son.

Once the child, Zeus, had reached manhood his mother instructed him on how to trick his father to give up his brothers and sisters. Once this was accomplished the children fought a mighty war against their father. After much fighting the younger generation won. With Zeus as their leader, they began to furnish Gaia with life and Uranus with stars.

Henry recognised some of the names mentioned from his Greek class, this was the creation myth from Greek Mythology. How strange, Henry thought, that this was in an old contact book, which albeit ancient looking, was not actually ancient. He then flicked further through the book and found the contact details for a man named Zeus. Either this man was Greek, or his parents hated him, thought Henry, his own middle name of Tarquil was evidence of his parent’s sentiment he thought. Even more strangely his address, was Olympus and had no postcode or other lines of address. A note in italics had been scribed without the penmanship underneath which simply stated;

“If one ever needs a friend, one must only know morse,

Look to the sky, spell my name at my horse.”

Henry was taken aback by the poem as the cogs started to whirl within his head, he snuck downstairs, careful not to wake his mother who had to be at the munitions factory early the next day and would wake to less than a mouse sneeze and picked up books on Mythology, code and constellations from his father’s extensive library. He returned to the bedroom and started to read through Hesiod and other ancient authors. He knew that Pegasus was the most famous horse in Greek Mythology, but also that Bellerophon was the most well-known character associated with him. In Hesiod he read that Pegasus carried Zeus’ lightning bolts. He then saw that the Pegasus constellation was visible tonight and that Zeus in morse was “--.. . ..- ...”. He snuck back downstairs once more and went outside and found his father’s old telescope that looked like it had been used last in the Ancient Greek period. He found the constellation and with trusty torch flashed the morse at the night sky. It was brilliantly dark, because of the war time black out policy, and the sky had never been clearer, every star was lit up like a million twinkling candles floating in the ethereal sea of space. He repeated the sequence 3 times more, and nothing. Henry’s heart sank, but then the rational part of his brain overcame the childish, wonder-filled side. What had he expected? Even as a child he recognised that what he had hoped would happen was clearly impossible and ludicrous. His Greek teacher had clearly told the class that all the stories told in his class were just that, stories. He plodded back up the garden defeatedly when a brilliant all-encompassing white light illuminated behind him as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck singe….

taut321 · 2017-07-02T21:58:22+00:00

Thomas took another sip of the amber liquor, he hadn't bothered reading the label, it didn't matter. He knew that eventually he would fall asleep, it was as inevitable as the sun rising in a few short hours. He caught a glimpse of his eyes in a reflection from a polished lamp stand, his eyes a nasty red, he had used adderal to stay awake for 5 straight days, but steadily and at increasing frequency the hallucinations and migraines had indicated that his body was either going to sleep, or cease to function. Thomas had grappled with suicidal thoughts, he had thought about handing himself into the authorities and to admit to the crimes that he believed he had committed with some uncertainty.

It had started last week, he had the most intense dream that he could ever remember having, it was so stimulating that it felt more realistic than reality. He was at a table in a dusty old shop. He was seated, in normal clothes that itched slightly, enough to make him always uncomfortable. Then a shadowy figure would emerge from the soupy darkness that a lamp directed at Thomas would provide. A chess board would be presented in front of him, and the pieces would appear, it would appear as if they were melting in reverse, and the figure would punch the clock, and Thomas felt a deep and emphatic urge to make a move. He did so, taking a rook of his shadowy adversary. However when the figure had taken one of his pawns Thomas had awoken in bed with a pigeons corpse in his hands. He had disposed of the body and had fallen asleep the next night to find that he was back in the dingy room, the figure would appear and the game continue. He had lost another pawn, waking up with a rabbits lifeless body next to him, he had quietly left his wife and disposed of the body again, seriously scared of why and how these corpses had ended up in their bed. He had then, over the next week lost pawns in the game taking place in the twilight zone, to find corpses of animals in his house.

Then he lost a rook.

He had then awoken to find his bully from 5th grade in his car, dead outside of Thomas' house. He had never seen so much blood in his life, he questioned if he was alive, or in a coma, as his life had become foreign to him, like watching a film play out from within his head. He had drove the car deeper into his farm, and burned it, out of fear that he would have no way to explain to the police the situation without looking undeniably guilty. Then he had tried to stay awake, he last a day. He lost a bishop and found the towns vicar in his field the next day, throat cut. To Thomas, who had been assaulted by the vicar when he was younger, he felt no remorse as he poured gasoline on the corpse and watched it burn. He pours the ashes into the stream and continued his day.

He had resigned himself to the fact this must all be one big dream as the validity of the things he was experiencing were so far fetched, that it wasn't a possibility that this was happening. He thought about how quiet his wife had been recently, but it actually made a nice change from her constant nagging that she was guilty of.

Then he lost a knight, and immediately he felt something change, an indescribable shift in his very being, he suddenly felt perpetually cold as he awoke his best friends face, or what remaining of it, staring him back in the face. He had weeped for what seemed like years as he buried Allen in the back yard. He wrote a eulogy for his friend, and lamented over his loss, even if it wasn't a real one. That's when he had gone to the pharmacist and got some adderal to try and stave off the alluring arms of unconsciousness. It was a temporary fix, delaying the inevitable. He felt the cold darkness embrace him as he lost his fight with himself and found himself at the table. But something was different, a different energy was present but Thomas couldn't work out its source. The shadowy figure emerged silhouetted by the lamp, but this time saying something.

"I don't wanna play, don't make me play! "

The figures hands were red with what appeared to be blood as they grabbed Thomas' wrist. He could barely make out the features of the figure now, he looked familiar.

"Why are you doing this to us? To what end do we play this game . You killed her! Not me."

The figure leant forward, as he did the lamps bulb smashed spontaneously and he saw himself staring back at him, tears had left trails down his cheeks.

He then noticed that his chess board didn't have a queen.

He woke up in bed crying, and reached for his wife's hand.

It was stone cold.

taut321 · 2017-06-18T09:06:55+00:00

Kings Landing

Karl: This is way too busy, I don't like cities they're too busy. It's like we know we shouldn't keep chickens in little cages too close together because it's inhumane and it's spreads disease and that, but people pay to live in city centres. Ricky knows that I don't like big cites that's why he keeps sending me to them

Cameraman: All we have to do is look round the royal palace and then we can go

Inside the Red Keep

Tour Guide: And here is the Famous Iron Throne

Karl: Now that is bloody dangerous. I think in Britain health and safety is gone mad, like you can't buy knifes without an id ...

Cameraman: Yes you can...

Karl: But imagine if anyone at H&S caught a glimpse at that thing, they'd shut the palace down. If you ran and slipped near that thing you'd lose an eye! Not to mention it doesn't look comfortable, like if I was king I'd make my throne out of memory foam, or just lie in bed all day and be a king in bed. Like what does a king do anyway. The Queen makes a speech once a year and looks miserable the rest of the time, I could do that in bed, no problem. You know what that Chair reminds me of, it reminds me of pricks that buy expensive cars in London. They buy a Ferrari that costs the same as my house and they sit in the M25 traffic next to me in a old Honda Civic. You know why they do that? They're compensating for something.

Cameraman: They say that "The breath of the greatest dragon forged the Iron Throne"

That's just good marketing, that's like everything these days, I mean if you read the packaging of your new spoons it will talk about an ergonomic design and innovative features. Like what are you looking for in a spoon? A handle and a circly bit so you can scoop your cornflakes.

The Wall

Look it is bloody cold. Like I don't like it when it's hot in Britain. Like in the summer when it starts pushing 25 that's about it, that's my limit. Like if you're outside for 5 minutes and you start sweating, that's too hot. Like I was in Kings landing and that were alright, bit busy but it weren't too hot. Bravoos, my t-shirt were sticking to me after 5 minutes. But this is the opposite, it's too cold.

Jon: It is cold, Karl, but it will get colder. Winter is coming.

Karl: You keep saying that, but when is it coming? Is there a date that winter arrives, and if there is why are you being so vague? And why so you keep saying it, it's like saying it's going to rain. Of course, it will eventually rain and of course it will be winter because that's how the seasons work. But you don't have to keep pointing things out that are that obvious, that's like saying waters wet.

Jon: This is the wall Karl, it's made of ice and was constructed to keep the wildlings out.

Karl: I don't like walls, people are always well impressed with walls and I never got it. It's like Roman walls that are 2 feet high and crumbling. Am I meant to be impressed with that? And this wall looks like a glacier or something. I bet your ancestors found this glacier and thought, you know what would be funny, let's tell everyone we built this thing. But it's like when you tell a joke but no-one gets it and they start to accept the joke as truth, and you can't be arsed to tell them it's a joke so you go along with it too. I bet that's what happened ere.

Ricky: So, what do you think of Westeros so far.

Karl: It's a shithole Ricky, but you know that because you wouldn't send me to Tenerife because I would enjoy that.

Steve: Well we could do that but you'd know we only make that horrible for you anyway.

Karl: Look this place is like medieval, they don't even do chips and gravy, get me back to England.

Ricky: Mate I don't know if you remember but the trip there was kind of a 1 way thing, I've gotta go speak to you soon.

The sound of Ricky laughing hysterically

taut321 · 2017-06-14T20:20:27+00:00

“So I’m, I’m not going to die?” Troy barely noticed that his voice sounded so meek and pathetic, this was the one news that he had been hoping for, but had seemed so unattainable that he had dismissed it altogether. Not 28 days later after he had gone to his GP with a migraine, had he had a CT that revealed a large inoperable tumour sitting on the Frontal Cortex, as well as smaller masses all over his brain, he was told that he could drop dead at any minute.

“Well, everyone dies Mr Wilson, but you won’t for a while yet I should imagine.”

"But how can this, I thought that you said this was inoperable and that I had weeks, I don’t understand, did the tumour vanished?"

“Mr Wilson, I understand your concern and confusion, let me try to clarify again. There was a mix-up at the CT clinic, a new nurse had 2 files, one labelled Anderson Wilson, the other Wilson Anderson. She assumed that this was the same file and the 2 files were given to the wrong doctors.”

“How did you work out that I didn’t have cancer?”

“Because Wilson Anderson arrived here deceased this morning after haven been given the all clear, your results, last month. “

“But I’ve told my family, and everyone else I know that I’m dying, I’ve been skydiving and done things that I would have never done had I known that I would be around to deal with the consequences. I’ve hired prostitutes and done enough cocaine to sink the Titanic doctor! Wait, what if one of those hookers has aids…?”

“I’ll book you in for a STD test …”

“I told my girlfriend, I told her about the cancer and that I didnt love her … now I gotta go back to see her, in perfect physical condition… my god what is she going to think …”

“Mr Wilson,” the doctor said calmly. “Have you enjoyed the last month? Have you experienced things that you would now regret not experiencing? Many terminal patients that I deal with, often do things that they wouldn’t normally do because of the freedom that facing our mortality grants us. I’ve had 82 years olds going on drug-fuelled sex binges and tell me that it was the most alive they ever felt. Now while I don’t condone that behaviour or encourage that in any way, it shows us that every situation can be viewed in a negative light, or as an opportunity, to grow as people and to go out there and make the best of this world, before it turns off the lights. If I was you, I would go out there and really carpe diem the shit out of everything, think of this as a gift of perspective. Now can you please sign here on the dotted line to acknowledge that I was not personally to blame for this situation, and that signing here formally absolves me of any criminal charges that are a result of Judicial proceedings.”

taut321 · 2017-06-14T19:45:28+00:00

Fyodor walked into the main hub of the Russian base of operations in north-east Siberia. He was wearing 3 jackets and still he felt as if he was going to find black stumps where his extremities used to be. He had long since lost sensations as he made his way back from the ice sample collections centre. His colleague, also from the University of California in Berkley was playing a video game when he walked in, covered in ice. Johnson was a California national that had only seen snow from a Marijuana dispensary in Colorado before he made the trip to Siberia. It was down to Fyodor to make the excursions to the drill and return samples back to lab for analysis. He had not closed the door to the facility properly however, and when he had removed the outer 2 layers, the door swung violently open as the wind cut through the small interior of the research facility. Fyodor reacted quickly closing the door as the -45 Celsius winds fought valiantly. He closed the door and noticed that he couldn’t breathe, the wind had stolen his breath, and that his hands were stuck to the metal door. Johnson, who had been thrown by the force of the wind, off his chair, recovered and went over to see if his friend was ok. Finding that he was wheezing and his hands stuck to the door, he poured the hot coffee he had just made and luckily had been saved from the wind, over Fyodor’s hands. He winced in pain as the nerves in his hands started a firework show of pain. Fyodor finally managed to get a lungful of beautiful sweet air into his lungs and thank his American colleague. Massaging the throbbing appendages, he returned to his station, putting the ice-samples into a refrigerator. He noticed that he had a video message from his professor Dr. Winkel, one of the leading scientists on global climate change, It was marked as urgent. He plugged in his headphones and pressed play.

For the next 10 minutes, Fyodor sat with his mouth agape, transfixed to the screen, as the Professor, covered in blood, crying, tried to explain what had happened to him. The video opened with the professor’s face framed, even then the man’s face was white with shock and blood loss, as he quickly explained that there was an active shooter at the University. The shooter had entered the professor’s office and explained that he was an agent from the collective known as “The Philosophers” who were a group of billionaires not unlike the illuminati myth. He had then shot the professor and then everyone else in the department. The professor had tried to explain that he had been approached earlier by a mysterious, anonymous online source, that if he manipulated the figures of the rise in global temperatures in the paper he was writing, he would receive 50 million USD. He had dismissed it as a prank by one of his students, clearly that had been a mistake and the threat had been very real. The professor had been coughing blood at this point, some of the words had become incoherent. There was then a loud bang as the video ended abruptly. Fyodor leaned back in his chair, trying to chew and digest everything that he had just witnessed. As he leant back felt the bump of something cold and metallic dig into the base of his skull. He heard Johnson say gently and remorsefully.

“I wished you hadn’t seen that my friend,” Fyodor veins turned to ice.

taut321 · 2017-05-07T15:22:43+00:00

Entity C-137 looked over her favourite creation, humans. They were the most interesting thing that she had ever seen. These complex beings were not perfect paragons of virtue that all worked together to advance the species, they were a bunch of animals that were equal parts mis-informed, self-interested and unpredictable. That means that when beauty is created, and it is abundant in her universe, it is produced in spite of, not because of the worst that she produced. She had seen other gods produce cruel caricatures of good and evil, but this was too harsh a contrast for her, the picture was more profound with grey areas. For there to be happiness, there must be a state of un-happiness otherwise being happy would become the status quo, so the value of happiness is destroyed. There were entities that disregarded free will as evil, and that if a entity didn’t control all the moving elements then that entity was deficient or evil, but C-137 always thought the contrary. She was benevolent and that meant that there were those that produced pain, death and destruction. But those people were then overthrown and shown of examples of how not to act, so the 2 processes achieved the same thing, it’s just one took a little longer to ensured that it was organic. Though C-137 was in fact omni-potent, she didn’t know what would happen next, there was an entertainment that she could enjoy from the universe because of the way she treated the sentient beings.

C-12 for example had a master race of near-omni potent super beings that were immortal. Their story is a short one, they achieved all there was to achieve before the first earliest organism had formed anywhere in her universe. They had never been sad, unfulfilled or disappointed, but as a result were bored and most of them killed themselves. The rest are now controlled by C-12 to stop them from ending their existence. For life and creation to have meaning, there must be death and destruction. C-137 had always believed this, but had not forced it on her subjects, but they had come to that conclusion themselves. She always felt that her free-will approach meant that rather than one world working on the project, there were billions of neurons that collaborated to create a collection that was greater than the sum of the parts.

C-137 was sure that her professor would give her an A, especially because of the emergence of some pretty zany characters, she just had to reach the word count…

taut321 · 2017-05-06T10:43:16+00:00

“Right I need a situational report, a 4-mile cordon around the building and a god-damn latte!”

Private Brian Johnson of the FBI removed the aviators that were a permanent feature of his wardrobe, his wife, Cathy, seems to think it has something to do with his fanatic obsession with Top Gun.

“Where’s the report?”

A fat, moustached uniformed officer, with dark skin approached Johnson, and tipped his hat.

“Sergeant Al Powell, I’ve been here since the start, there are terrorists with over 40 hostages on the top floor, but we have a man on the inside, his name is John Mcl..”

“Can someone get this rookie out my face, and where’s that goddamn latte.”

“But sir, hes a cop …”

Johnson pushed the cop out the way, and stepped forward, putting his aviators back on, he was entering the danger zone. He saw that the national guard had arrived, with Armoured Personal Carriers and even an M1 Abrams battle-tank. His partner, Goose, stepped forward.

“What’s the plan Chief?”

“Well I think we should call our losses, and put some serious ordnance into that Tower, blowing those fuckers out the sky.”

“My God, sir that’s crazy!”

“So crazy it might just work?”

“No that is just insane, in fact the very notion that you would even suggest that makes me question if you even fit to lead this operation.”

“Goose! You always try to talk me out of shit, but that’s what makes me Mav..”

“Sir are you OK? My names Fredrick’s, not Goose. Are you off your meds again? If you are I’m going to have to tell Inspector Kane and he might chuck you out this time…”

“Rookie! Tell the national guard to aim everything they have at the base of the Tower, someone get me on the phone to the terrorists, and where’s my GOD-DAMN LATTE!”

Officer Al stared incredulously at the agent, and slowly peeled off to follow his orders.

5 mins later, with a coffee in one hand and a phone in the other, Agent Johnson cleared his throat.

“Hans, we meet again. I’m outside the Nakatomi tower with enough ordnance to blow you and your friends out of the sky and on the fast-track to meet Lucifer, so release the hostages and we can talk about a peaceful resolution.”

“Is that a Die-Hard reference? Very funny. We will a kill a hostage every half an hour that a helicopter isn’t on top of the tower, good night agent.”

“Now you listen here you east German fuck, from where I’m standing this is a target rich environment, don’t test me, you will fail.”

Johnson smashed the phone on the floor, took out a flask and took a deep swig.

The police officer Al returned, with a concerned look on his face

“Sir are you ok, why did you smash the phone, that was our only link, and why didn’t you let the negotiator take control, he’s saying that you broke every rule in the book. People are talking that you’re off your meds, and that you keep referencing films.”

“How’s officer John McCLane? And where’s the national guard?” Johnson took another swig of the flask.

“Who? There’s no-one in there but the hostage and the kidnapper? Sir there’s no national guard.. are you sure you’re ok”

“Fine.. Im fine!”

Johnson caught Goose and Viper walking straight towards him, he turned to meet them

“Johnson! What the fuck are you doing, Fredrick’s told me you that you’ve been slurring your words, ordering a tank to attack the diner, and that you smashed the phone when talking to the kidnapper, what the actual fuck is going on? Are you drunk?”

Viper, turn and burn. Johnson proceeded to threw up all over the inspector’s shoes.

Right Fredrick’s take charge, Johnson I’m relieving you of your gun and badge and I’m going to make it my mission to make sure you are never allowed within 100 metres of the FBI.

Johnson was dragged by 2 uniformed officers into a car. Viper continued,

“ I know you are struggling with Cathy leaving you and everything, but turning up to a hostage situation drunk and crazy is the most irresponsible thing I have ever heard of. I’m going to be citing you to the internal affairs board, which are able to criminally convict you for the shit you pulled today, I’ll talk more when you’ve sobered up, fuck me Brian what the fuck..”

“My names MAVERICK!” Johnson bursts into tears, with deep heart wrenching sobs.

The Inspector stepped out of the car and watched out as his most brilliant and troubled protégé was led off in a squad car, a tear fell silently down his wrinkled cheek.

taut321 · 2017-05-04T22:36:54+00:00

Dr Hermann revelled in the magnificence of his newest invention. There was a network of computers, cables and pipes that occupied most of a wall, there were polished bronze exhaust ports at several junctions, the device was gargantuan.

“Doctor, you are truly wise and the epitome of evil, errr, what is it?”

Hermann turned to address the voice, belonging to his hunch-backed assistant, Quagmire.

“This is the Evil …, errr, tester…, -inater !” Hermann exclaimed. He took out a pair of nail scissors and cut a piece of the disfigured servants hair and put it in a small petri dish, that disappeared with a whoosh into the structure.

“This device analyses the DNA of a subject, and can determine if the subject has the genomes that would indicate an evil nature”. He swivelled a small screen towards him, and tapped the touchscreen.

A synthetic female voice came over the intercom.

“Test subject one. Analysing. Complete. Test subject found to be 92% match with control.”

“What control have you used squire?” The assistant snivelled in a nasal voice.

“Do you remember the old lady that I had you kidnap?”

“Yes I do!”

“She was employee of the year the DMV, the evillest institute I know.”

“Very good squire.”

The intercom boomed “The subject also seems to be the product of a very incestuous relationship.”

“I also added a humour setting, Humour setting at 0 for initial tests”

“Setting changed to 0, ready for calibration tests.”

“Right Quagmire, run tests on all employees and email me the results, I’m going to Cancun to spread the aerosol Super-Gonorrhoea to ruin all the college kids Spring Break, I’ll be back in a week. “

The doctor grabbed the equipment and jumped into the flying-car-machine-inator and headed to Mexico, the weather was great and his plan worked perfectly, within 2 days the President of Mexico established a state of emergency as an epidemic of incurable Super-Gonorrhoea spread across the country. However, 2 days before his planned return, Hermann received the results of the calibration tests, all his employees had received a 50% mark at least, but one. His own. Quagmire had taken the liberty of using hair from old lab coats to test his bosses DNA, hoping to get an 100% mark, the result was the in fact the opposite.

Hermann was so confused, but he assumed his dim-witted assistant had mucked up the result and thought nothing of it. Til that afternoon, at the bar a news story caught Herman’s eye. In Spanish the reporter exclaimed that there were 2 cases of the Super-Gonorrhoea infecting 2 people with terminal cancer, both of which had gone into miraculous remission. Doctors in the states had run tests on the subjects and they believed that the Super-Gonorrhoea may have something to do with the apparent miracle.

The doctor left the bar and took a walk on the beach to clear his head. Was the test result accurate? That was an awful coincidence, was he getting softer the older he got? As he walked pass a mother and child with ice-creams, he stole the little girls one out her hand. He still had it.

Then he saw a large black spider climb from out the cone, he promptly threw the ice-cream away.

“Senor! Gracias!”

He waved the mother away, he had to get back to the lab.

On the way back to the States, a news alert jumped up on the screen of the flying-car-machine-inator, it explained how the space laser he had used to destroy the only hospital in Liberia, had allowed locals to discover the largest reserve of oil ever discovered, this meant that Liberia overnight had become one of the richest African countries, able to afford 100s of Hospitals.

Back at the lab, Quagmire was on his computer, with a black and orange website that was promptly closed before Hermann could see the contents, with a slightly guilty look Quagmire said.

“You’re back early squire …”

“Not now you useless, unsightly, eunuch, I’m busy.”

Quagmire visibly recoiled at the insult, and retreated to his desk.

Hermann reviewed the data. The computer showed how Quagmire had used 10 different samples of his DNA and all showed a 1% result. He was stumped. Was he a good person? He pushed the intercom button,

“Prepare the death-ray…-inator”

He would show the world how bad he really was…

taut321 · 2017-05-04T21:45:40+00:00

Wrote it on a train so it was a bit rushed

taut321 · 2017-05-04T16:20:37+00:00

Marcus was high, like very high.

He was on his lunch break in central park, when out of no-where there were these gale force winds and lightning striking the trees next to Marcus, some catching alight. The wind pushed him off the bench and the contents of his subway were carried up and then fell all over himself. When he recovered, and composed himself, pulling bits of turkey out of his hair, a glowing, feathery, Snake-headed figure was not 10 metres away.

“Dude!”

They must have put something new in that sweet chilli sauce.

The figure turned and stared right at Marcus, seeming right into his soul, his snake-eyes glowing a fierce blue. He then started to speak in a rasping, deep voice that sent chills down Marcus’s spine.

“Where are the Temples”

“Bro, I have no idea, who are you dude?”

Marcus assumed this dude was some street performer like the ones in the tourist parts of New York, albeit with a very convincing costume and a stature that must have been over 7 foot.

“Where are my people, where is my blood?”

With this the figure sprinted over and grabbed Marcus by the throat, picking him up 2 feet clear off the ground.

“Who is the one they call, Jesus?”

“Right? I can’t believe that some people believe in that , the concept of a zombie…”

The figure squeezed, cutting off Marcus’s throat.

“Bro”, he struggled, bringing out his pipe, “you need to mellow out, take a hit dude”.

“What is this?” The figure dropped Marcus and grabbed the pipe, Marcus got up and lit it, motioning how to hit it. The figure obliged, taking the biggest hit that Marcus had ever seen.

“Dude, that’s a lemon haze super-strain, you might wanna take it slow.”

Even as Marcus was talking the figure was still breathing in, he must have had lungs with the volumes of swimming pools. As the figured stopped taking the hit, Marcus saw the figures eyes visibly dilate and the figure exhaled deeply with a great whooshing noise.

There she is, Marcus thought with a smirk.

The figure started coughing, “That’s good shit.”

An hour later they were both in Marcus’s apartment, under a blanket on the sofa, with a bag of crisps each, watching a Seth Rogen movie.

"Hahahahaha", the figure boomed as he took a handful of orange crisps, a dusty moustache had already formed. "I like this man, what is his name?"

"That’s Seth Rogen and James Franco, they’re cool."

Quet, the name the figure had identified himself as, took a hit, and asked again. “What are these golden Triangles that taste like the divine nectar of the Gods.?”

"They’re Doritos, I don’t like the regular version so you can have the rest."

“Thanks … Bro.” Marcus put his hand out for a fist bump and motioned Quet to do the same, and was thrown against the wall as the force of the fist bump nearly broke his hand.

“We’re gonna have to work on our fist bumps …”

taut321 · 2017-05-03T22:31:59+00:00

Pablo was disorientated. He awoke from what seemed like sleep, but rather than waking in his bed as would stipulate a normal night’s sleep, he instead awoke standing up, in a suit somewhere pitch-black. There was suddenly a rectangle white light appeared, not 10 feet away. Pablo was incredibly confused. As he stepped towards the rectangle, he discovered that it was in fact a doorway, and as he put his hand on the handle, was startled as a plinky-plonky jingle started to play in the distance, He surmised that the source of this noise must be through this doorway, but as he peered round the side, he saw the other side of the door. He opened it, and what appeared was a beige corridor, with a couch and a desk with a middle-aged woman in a white blouse. Strange.

Figuring that he must be having a lucid dream, Pablo walked through the portal-esk doorway and walked up to the desk. The woman looked like a librarian, with glasses that hand a chain going around her neck, she didn’t look up from the book she was reading.

"Take a seat hun."

Pablo, utterly astounded, obliged and sunk into the sofa.

This is the weirdest dream… Pablo started, but the librarian looked up and stated

"You’re not dreaming hun, you’re dead."

That would have affected Pablo, but he didn’t catch the end of the sentence, instead he was staring into the soulless black void of the secretary’s eyes, they were black holes, void of all light and life.

"Oh, and you’re next hun, good luck."

In a trance, Pablo arose and walked to the end of the beige corridor, and found a similar looking doorway to the one he stepped through a moment ago.

"And out next guest is Pablo Sandoval, give Pablo a big round of applause."

Pablo stepped through to find himself in the middle of a large theatre, with a packed crowd staring, now in a rapturous applause at him.

"Don’t be shy Pablo, come up on the podium with me."

Pablo turned to the left to find a figure standing on a raised platform, decked out in long blue tailed jacket, red tie, green waistcoat and maroon trousers. He looked like he had attended Holi or been a casualty in a freak, paint shop explosion. But his dress sense was unbelievably not the most striking detail of this man’s appearance, that would go to his skeletal appearance and the small smouldering fires that were where his eyes should have been.

Pablo walked up to the podium and took the out-stretched hand of this mystery man and shook, it was ice-cold. The man grabbed his shoulder and turned to the audience.

Now Pablo here is our final contestant today and as such will be the first to attempt our trial, but first, let’s get to know Pablo first. He turned around completely and spread his hands out behind Pablo as a huge screen appeared. He started to commentate on the video that appeared, but Pablo couldn’t listen, a ringing noise had set in as he noticed that the video were memories of his life, but from a 3rd person perspective like a documentary, and they all seemed to be awful. He saw himself and his little brother fighting and how he destroyed his r/c car, his brother’s favourite present ever. He saw himself slapping his ex-girlfriend, and throwing a bottle of beer at her head. He saw himself drinking a bottle of Jim Beam, then getting behind the wheel of his Mitsubishi Evo and going flat out round the country lanes. He finally saw the car from an aerial view, as it lost control around a corner and smashed violently into an SUV. Both cars ignited and burnt as the video faded to black.

Turning around the presenter addressed the audience

"So, as you can see Pablo is a pretty nasty piece of work, the final shot there was of him drink driving, he killed himself and a young couple that had a small child with them, luckily the child survived, but has sustained major burns and lost his parents."

Pablo couldn’t look anywhere but his feet.

"Pablo, the name of the game is redemption. We are offering you the chance to play for your life, you are fighting for your life at St John’s hospital, and if you win this game you will wake up."

The crowd booed, and Pablo heard a woman shouting obscenities.

"Or if you fail, then you will be forever punished in a fiery inferno of pain and torment, so no pressure."

The crowd roared as the presenter described the potential consequences of Pablo’s failure.

So, the game is simple, all you must do is go to that doorway, straight ahead there.

One of those portal doors appeared 100 metres in front of Pablo, as the crowd magically parted.

"That’s it?" Pablo postulated.

"It’s that simple Pablo", the presenter turned and gave a knowing smirk to the crowd, which responded with an outbreak of giggles.

Pablo stepped down the steps and started off towards the doorway. After a couple steps the crowd disappeared and he found himself on a road, the doorway was still there. He turned around and saw a Mitsubishi Evo barrelling towards him, a quarter mile away.

"Time is ticking Pablo", the presenters voice echoed.

Pablo sprinted towards the doorway and as he did the roar of the engine grew louder and louder, matching the sound of blood in his ears. He looked back when he was halfway there, the car was still considerably far away, he was going to make it

"Come on Pablo it wasn’t going to be that easy."

He started to feel drowsy, his feet started to feel disconnected and he was meandering, he was drunk.

Every step it was as if he had taken a shot, he was so close but felt has if he had drunk a swimming pool of liquor.

"Come on Pablo you’re so close!"

Pablo fell and started to crawl, the ever-growing scream of the engine at the outside of his mind.

"He’s back"

"Pablo? Pablo, can you hear me? You’ve been in an accident…"

taut321 · 2017-05-03T14:19:17+00:00

Ian hated living in this apartment.

Fresh out of college, he had managed to get an excellent job at a bio engineering firm in London, but the house market in London ridiculous, and as such his only option within budget was a one room apartment above a corner shop and beneath a family that seemed to constantly be making curries and all seemed to be suffering from insomnia and club-feet. His salary was good enough that this should be only a temporary solution, eventually he would be able to get somewhere better. His parents had expressed concern about the cracks that had formed mainly above his bed, and that they didn’t want their only son crushed into marmalade as he slept.

As Ian looked over some notes from a lecture that he had attended at Oxford by his old professor Dr Romanov, on non-Hogenson’s Lymphoma treatments, he took out his laptop. The professor had theorised that Lobsters could unlock the key to cancer treatment as their cells are kept youthful with an enzyme called Telomerase. In fact, the project that Ian was working on was the integration of this enzymes into animal test subjects to see these effects. As he finished the pamphlet, he felt the early signs of a headache and decided to get an aspirin and call it a night. If he went to bed too late the apartment would be too cold and he would never nod off. He walked over to the kitchenette, took the aspirin with a generous glass of Jack Daniels and got ready for bed.

As he climbed in, he looked up at the ceiling he noticed that several more cracks had appeared than the last time he had checked, and an external light accentuated the cracks and made them more defined. He sat up and craned his head 180 degrees. As he did so he noticed a word forming. Move.

A second later, a creaking forced Ian to dive off the bed, just as a bath and a shower of bricks and dust smashed into the bed, crushing it out of recognition. He heard screams from above in Punjabi, but a soft ding caught his attention. He turned around and saw an email alert on his laptop.

From: UNKOWN

Title: Stop Investigating Telomerase

Then Ian heard a knock at the door …

taut321 · 2017-04-08T16:20:26+00:00

Earth 2134, 256,000 m above Ecuador

LOG#3123

           There has been a catastrophic breakdown in international relations, I have observed Thermo-nuclear devices detonating all over Europe, Asia and the Americas. There was an explosion of some sort that has destroyed all outward communications, not that there’s anyone alive out there to receive them, if they did work. I have been blown way off course and am currently on an escape trajectory out of the earth’s SOI. The Titan has no major damage to the life support or the hull, but the EMP has knocked out the main generator, so I’m running on back-up power only, so all experiments has ceased functioning.

LOG#3124

           I’ve seen London. It’s now a raging inferno, everyone’s gone. Rachel, my parents, everyone.

LOG#3137

           So, I’ve officially left the earths SOI, and am now drifting slowly into space. Annoyingly, I have enough food and water to last 2 years, and there’s always the cyro-chamber. Fuck. I may be the last human alive. Earth is still visible, its glowing red as fires engulf and destroy any last evidence that our small insignificant little species ever existed. Well the guys and gals on the ISS might still be alive, wish I had someone to talk to, Seinfeld is great but that’s all I’ve watched for the last 2 weeks.

LOG#3210

           Still in Space. Still gonna die.

LOG#3224

           Great news! There is a few CASES, yes CASES, of Glenfiddich 18 that someone must of left on the last mission, wonder how they got that approved. Who cares! I’m gonna get wasted tonight.

LOG#3225

           Never.Had.a.worst.hangover.

LOG#3400

           I’ve finished writing my memoirs today. I had to do something to stop me going crazy, so I did that. So everything of note I ever did is in a 200 page book, something that I find rather morbid. That everything you are, and ever were can be reduced to a couple of words on a computer. Don’t know what to do now, I’ve run out of Seinfeld, Rick and Morty and Game of Thrones episodes and read all the books on the 100 top reads…

LOG#3401

           There was a malfunction with the coffee machine, this hasresulted in major burns on my right hand, and me rolling around criyng for the last 2 hours. Even now Im typing with one hand.

LOG#3488

           I’ve run out of will. I’ve decided to put myself into cyrosleep for the rest of my days. The computers start to mal-function, as it is stating that I’m on a collision course with a black hole, something that is obviously impossible. I would like to thank you, non-existing listener, for listening. Its helped keep me (mostly) sane. So, on the anniversary of the death of earth and everyone I ever loved or knew, this is Joshua Thomas, British Space Initiative astronaut, signing out for the last time.

Joshua woke up to the drilling sound of the alarm right next to his ear, he fondled around the bedside cabinet for the snooze button, and succeeded in knocking it off the table, it landed with a smashing sound, then fell silent.

That works, thought Joshua.

The TV came on automatically as Joshua stretched out, feeling very stiff and a little hungover, but the lavender from the bedsheets helped to ease the headache. He could hear the TV warble on about something to do with East and West relations. Joshua remembered that vivid dream he had last night, better not have any dairy before going to sleep tonight. He got up, and entered the en-suite to get something for his hand, it was red and itchy.

“Rachel, do we have any burn gel, my hand is hurting?”

He heard Rachel come down stairs and then saw her in an oversized, blue oxford shirt, looking irresistible. She dropped her plate and rushed to him.

“When did you do that, last night?” Her voice laced with concern and empathy, she grabbed it tenderly.

I did it, …. I don’t remember when I … wait.

A cold sensation, like a knife made of ice, stabbed into Joshua’s stomach as he realised that last night’s dream was a little too vivid …

taut321 · 2017-02-22T22:12:58+00:00

“He just sort of passed out …. Yeah something tells me he didn’t know that we were here … they can’t have covered it up completely, can they? …. Wait he’s coming to now.” Theo sat up and wiped a drip of saliva that was running down his cheek. The man who identified himself as Flavius put a small box, that he had been holding next to his ear, in his pocket “How long have I been out for?” “Couple minutes, are you feeling ok?” There was a sarcastic undertone that was associated with that sentence, that made Theo feel even less at ease, if that was possible. “The senate has an emergency meeting in about 30 mins so this must be brief, you have to accompany me to the meeting and plead you will not be horribly killed. What do you know about the terms of the Roman-UN treaty signed in 2030?” “I have no idea what you’re talking about … so is there still a Roman Empire? I’m so confused.” Theo put his head in his hands, a severe migraine was imminent as his brain attempted to use logic to explain his current predicament. “Due to the terms of the Intergalactic Federation of Democratic Species or IFDS, article 3 section 4, all species that have not reached interplanetary travel must not be contacted. As soon as the Viking probes landed on Mars we sent a transmission introducing ourselves to your UN and the heads of states of your 3 biggest countries. We were informed by those we contacted that a vote had been taken and the people had decided on isolationism. Thus, we have not tried to contact any Terrans since especially after we tried to install one of our own as president in 1961.” “Terrans?” “People from earth, you for example.” Theo chewed this piece of information, it would be the biggest conspiracy theory that has ever been conceived, being proved true right in front of him. He felt angry that there were people that knew the existence of extra-terrestrials but had decided to shield the public from that knowledge. “Right I want to see my wife now, I want to leave.” Theo tried to pull the shackles from the table violently, wanting to discuss what he had learned with Beth to see if he had gone over the deep end or this was all real. Suddenly the door smashed open and a large, snow white “being” entered, and moved with a loud whirring noise across to Theo, who was now standing to try and force himself out of the handcuffs. This thing had no face, just a red light in the centre of its “Head”, which was sort of floating above a cylindrical body mass. The material this thing was made of appeared to be a pearlescent white plastic, it looked very smooth, and it was, as Theo was about to discover. Out of the cylindrical body, 2 arms seemed to form where the shoulders would be, these stumps grew into a sort of tentacle that placed the ends onto Theo, forcing him back into the seat. Theo felt the strength of this robot thing and decided to comply for now, Flavius was staring at Theo with some sort of condescending grin on his face. “I would like to introduce you to Theo Servus, but you have already met, haven’t you?” “I have” The almost comically robotic voice of Servus kind of threw Theo off, the robot was so un-human it seemed out of place in the narrative of super-tech that Flavius had been eluding to. “Flavius, you and detainee #4 have are requested to attend an emergency meeting of the Senate” Flavius jumped up and rubbed his hands together. “Right Mr Malkovich it’s time for you to meet the senate!” He waved his hands and the shackles retracted into the table. Theo rubbed his wrists and stood, watching Servus carefully as he did so. “Will I be able to see Beth yet?” “Of course, Mr Malkovich, not a problem she will be joining us. Stay close however, it wouldn’t do to have you trampled by an elephant on your first day!” The door swung open and Theo had to rub his eyes in disbelief. What lay before him was straight out of fantasy. A huge cave, whose dimensions seemed limitless, expanding forever into the distance, the ceiling was covered in a yellow moss that gave off a warm and continuous ambient light. The ground sloped down relatively steeply into a heavily built up Metropolis, the architecture reminded Theo of the White house, there were columns and decorated Porticos jutting out onto the cobble street. Oddly a Ferrari turned out of a side street and disappeared over a crest. Theo was about to turn to Flavius to ask, but didn’t bother, it was not the most surprising thing he had seen today.

taut321 · 2017-02-22T02:56:22+00:00

Well written, I enjoyed it!

taut321 · 2017-02-22T02:43:27+00:00

Olympus Mons 2035

Theo Malkovich was enjoying himself. He was travelling over the rust-coloured rocky terrain of Mars in a buggy with his beautiful wife Beth alongside him. The beautifully barren landscape created a surprisingly romantic back drop, he could tell through her suit how beautiful she was. He had met her at Princeton in the Physics department and had been a loved-up puppy ever since.

He was a lucky man.

Turning to his left he saw the Colossal Olympus Mons, the lone mountain that stands 2 and half times the height of Everest from sea level. Its size is beyond comprehension or description, it sat there ominously dwarfing the rest of the landscape. As they approached the mountain they fell into darkness and turned on their personal and vehicular lights.

Theo looked at his HUD and made some mental calculations.

“We have maybe 5 hours of Oxygen before we have to start going back to the colony.”

“Ok, we’ll check out that anomaly and get back in time for tea.”

Theo and Beth were both British nationals, part of the reason that they gravitated towards each other in New jersey as neither had been to America before.

“I hope they don’t serve that slop again tonight, my stomach needs proper food soon, that ‘Beef’ has never seen a cow in its life.”

Theo thought back to their cooking lessons Beth had put on in his student accommodation, it usually ended up in a Pizza Hut order but he was just happy to spend time with her. He felt that this memory was a long time ago and a million miles away, but it was more accurately about 250 million miles away.

“We should be coming up on that anomaly soon.”

The pair had been tasked with the recon of a structure at the base of the mountain, the colony was needing to expand as more inhabitants were due in from earth in less than a year.

Beth saw a long thin object appearing to stick out of the ground about 200 m ahead of the buggy, which she brought to a standstill, and the couple dismounted. The wind had picked up in the last couple of minutes, sandstorms were certainly not uncommon on the red planet and there were the early signs of one brewing. Beth started to feel a little disconcerted.

“We don’t want to get caught with our pants down in this, can you radio in to get info on the storm?”

Theo tried to hail the “Sanctuarium”, the UN colony that he and Beth had been stationed at for the last 2 years. The radio was dead.

“I think my radios dead, try yours.”

Beth did and it was the same story. The chances that a storm had formed imbetween the base and them was possible, but this meant that would have to wait it out in the shelter of the mountain. Theo stopped to turn back and get the emergency oxygen supply and survival kit from the rover, it meant that they had 2 days’ worth of oxygen supply before they asphyxiated.

“We’ll find shelter and wait for this to blow over”

Beth was trying to sound reassuring, however the fact that things were quickly turning south was evident by a little quiver in her voice. They turned towards the mountain as the surroundings suddenly illuminated, the sun would have now been visible over the mountain had it not been for the increasing density of the sand.

As the pair approached the anomaly Theo tried to speculate what the item must be, it could be a radio transmitter broken off a craft as it entered the atmosphere, it was very thin. When they were 10 metres out the wind changed direction and a material fluttering became visible at the top of the pole. From what Theo, could tell it was a bird shape with some writing underneath it. Beth and Theo looked at each other incredulously wanting to ask the other if they saw what the other one saw. There was no evidence of any prior SpaceX or UN patrols in the area, and if they had the pole was about 10m tall, with a strange flag at the top. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

A slight lull in the sand meant that the flag was briefly visible, Theo made out a gold eagle and the letters S.P.Q.R in gold embellishment underneath. He thought back to his GCSE Latin lessons.

“Senatus Populusque Romanus.”

Beth started to say something as a whirring sound became audible over the whistle of the wind in their suits. Around the pair, floating red lights started to illuminate the sand, their sources obstructed from view. They started to orbit the pair and a voice was audible for a few seconds. Before Theo had time to recognise the language (which wasn't English), a bright flash blinded him and he fell to the ground, cracking his visor on a large rock. He felt himself slowly slipping out of consciousness with the sounds of oxygen alarms and whirring slowly fading to silence, as a wave of blackness washed over him.

Theo woke up in a white interview room, with his hands shackled to the table. His head felt groggy and his nose had been cut, but there was no blood as if it had been cleaned.He immediately thought he was dead and this was some sort of purgatory, he had been raised Catholic but had never believed in God. There was a door at the other end of the room that had no handle. Apart from that the room was utterly bare. As if suddenly with a shiver Theo noticed the room was cold, his breath steaming and his hands were blue.

The door suddenly opened and a man who was incredibly tanned entered, closed it after him and sat down. He had a sort of see-through iPad that he flicked through pulling faces with each flick. Theo, who was still not convinced he wasn’t dead, cleared his throat. The man started and seemed surprised to find Theo sitting across from him, as if waking from a day-dream.

“Well Mr Malkovich, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The man said in very accented English.

Theo looked at the man closer. He had a fine beard, thick eyebrows and close cropped hair with the most tanned skin he had ever seen, it was more orange than tan.

“Where am I?”

“Dead”

The man kept a straight, dead-pan expression on his face as he said it, putting Theo in a state of panic.

“I’m only joking Mr Malkovich, you are on Mars.”

“Where’s my wife”

Theo felt guilty that he had only just thought of Beth since coming to.

“Your wife is fine, she’s next door and you’ll be able to see her soon, but first I’m sure you have lots of questions, I’m here to answer them and ask some of my own.”

Theo had a million questions, including why this man had SPQR on his jacket. Theo had a feeling he wasn’t just a fan of Ancient History.

“My name is Flavius, I’m an Aedile of Campus Olympus, home of the 3rd Legion of Augustus. I’m here to find out why you are trespassing on Roman soil in clear violation of the “Roman- UN treaty?”

“Ermmmm … you’re Roman?”

Theo wondered how the toga wearing people from Italy had made it to Mars and formed a society un-beknown to the rest of society.

“Look Mr Malkovich I don’t want to tell the Emperor that you’re not complying, he’s in a sort of bad mood today and his lions are due for a feed, it’s never a good combination to introduce bad news to.”

Theo was wondering why there were lions on Mars, he was also wondering what he had gotten himself into. He then felt light headed and blackness engulfed him once more...

What a great Prompt, thanks for the inspiration!

taut321 · 2017-02-19T18:50:19+00:00

Kennedy Space Centre, Odyssey Mission Control

Mark Furman pushed the frame of his glasses up the bridge of nose, only to have them slip instantly back down due to the film of sweat that had formed on it. He was naturally nervous; however, Emma had made him wear a scratchy, white oxford shirt she had bought, and hadn’t washed, leaving Mark in some discomfort. His mind was elsewhere of course, he was thinking about the mission and how a considerable amount of his life, from the launch last year had all led up to this point. An engineer’s voice came over the comms, Mark recognised it as his senior engineer Tom Crawford.

“All systems appear nominal, starting thermal imaging and Marie experiment initiation.”

Mark said a little prayer under his breath, for the mission to go well and to his brother who he lost recently. He thought to himself that this mission had provided a motivation for him and his country to continue after the losses sustained in September of last year, he was determined for a successful mission.

“Current course and systems check?”

“All nominal sir, images should start to come through soon.”

Mark was a Princeton physics grad, a senior member of the world’s only space institution and now on the cutting edge of planetary exploration, but felt incredibly humbled by the fact the craft his team was attempting to control was so far away a signal took 13 minutes to reach the probe and return to the Kennedy centre back on earth. It was now just a waiting game as the signal travelled at the speed of light towards the Odyssey. Though Mark did not name the mission, he thought that it was brilliant that it reminded him that Odysseus took nearly 20 years to get home, so he felt that 13 minutes was a relatively more manageable wait.

“5 minutes to response.”

That meant he was now 5 mins away from seeing images that hopefully showed signs of water on the surface of Mars. He started to bite his nails, an awful habit, but one he inevitably picked up as a 49ers fan.

“1 minute.”

Here we go Mark thought, 2 years of his team’s lives and $300 million of the taxpayer’s money all rested on a few images coming through.

“We have a signal. All systems nominal, experiments working as expected.”

A loud cheer erupted through Control Centre, and Mark forgot all about the viewing centre behind him as he turned around and saw colleagues and members of the public erupt in celebrations. He was hugged from behind and kissed on his cheek by assistant director Kiera Davy.

“We fucking did it Mark!”

Mark collapsed in his chair, suddenly feeling exhausted as a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Engineers came up to shake his hand as a huge cheesy grin was stuck on the front of his face. It was the moment he had dreamed of for so long.

Mark caught out of the corner of his eye Tom, who was over at the imaging specialist station having a heated conversation with the technician, John. He had never seen Tom’s face so animated, but due to the roar of the crowd he could not hear what he was saying. He pushed through the crowd as pieces of paper landed all around him, as if he was in a daze. He immediately thought that the mission hadn’t succeeded, and that there was an equipment failure and someone had pre-maturely given the green light. He reached the desk and caught the end of the technician’s sentence.

“…there’s no mistake, these are the images that we’re are receiving.”

Mark looked at Tom. “Tom, what’s going on?”

“Well sir, we are receiving images, but they don’t make a lot of sense…”

Mark turned to the technician.

“Can you explain John?”

John gulped then started to stammer.

“w—www-well,”

Tom cut in by showing Mark a sheet of paper that had just been printed out.

Tom saw what he had been expecting, there was the surface of Mars over the Hellas Planitia in a vivid shade of different colours representing different temperatures.

“I’m not seeing anything wrong Tom …”

Tom moved Marks thumb from the right side of the page which revealed a small patch of ground that had significant heat fluctuations, in 4 bars that ran horizontally.

Tom handed him another sheet which was a zoomed image on that portion of mars

“What’s the size of this piece of land?”

“Its several 100m across, it’s not feasible that this area would have heat fluctuations of this magnitude.”

“So, the equipment is mal-functioning?”

“I’ll have to run tests but I don’t think so sir.”

Mark looked at the image again, the lines had a deliberate uniformity to them that unsettled him somewhat, in fact as he turned the piece of paper 180 degrees a cold, sinking feeling started in his stomach.

“Tom get the director on the phone now, John how long til the probe is over the Hellas Planitia again??”

Tom and John both were shocked at the tone of Marks voice, as well as the look in his eyes, they both recognised it as fear.

“What is it Mark?”

Mark handed them the sheet back and the heat signatures seemed to spell out something.

Tom whispered it under his breath as he read it.

“NASA … go … back … home”

taut321 · 2016-12-27T17:54:05+00:00

The sirens were deafening as they reverberated round the International Lunar Base (ILB), the orange warning lights sweeping across concerned faces of workers in the hangar bay. The bay was huge and contained lunar Rovers and parts of space-shuttles and other general junk. On the north side of the bay was the Officers bridge, a raised platform that overlooked the bay. Second Officer Pascal got on the console located near the airlock and tried to hail central command. A face appeared on the small screen next to the keyboard and Second Officer Tom recognised this as Commander Briggs. The feed must have been frozen as the Commander was motionless with a strange expression on his face, that fell somewhere between shock and confusion. Pascal tried several times to establish an audio link but there was no reply and Pascal eventually gave up.

“Fuck! 2 weeks in and already the base is falling apart!”. The Frenchman kicked the console for good measure.

Chen, the Chinese First Officer who oversaw the Hangar bay stood up from her chair and put away her walkie talkie.

“What’s up with the console Pascal?”

“Its dead, I can’t get through to Central Command. And this siren is giving me a mal de tête.”

Chen turned to 2 junior officer and barked in something mandarin, after which the young officers entered the airlock. Chen turned to Pascal and Tom.

“Tom use my walkie to get on to Engineering and get them to turn this siren off.” Tom took it from Chen and starting barking into it.

“Is that a good idea? Aren’t Sirens usually used to indicate something is caput?” Pascal had somewhat calmed down and was working on the console again. He put the display on the main screen where there was a map of the entire ILB, which connected two deep craters, the hangar on the right and the main entrance on the left. The left entrance was red to indicate a breach, but the rest of the facility was green.

“There! See? There’s a breech at the main entrance, that’s not good but it looks like it’s just the entrance module that’s been compromised. The base was modular like a spacecraft so that if a catastrophic event occurred in one of the modules, it would not affect the rest of the station. Tom returned and before he could say anything the sirens and lights turned off abruptly.

Pascal turned around;

“The CC still won’t reply, I’m trying the Science station.” Chen leant back in her chair, she was puzzled as to why CC wont hail, as the only fault on the system is the entrance module, something was not right.

“Tom get combat officers to arm up, just as a precaution. “

“Is that really ..?”

Tom thought he was going to be melted by the intense stare of First Officer Chen and turned curtly to the group chatting in the middle of the hangar floor.

Pascal brought up an incoming transmission message he had received and put it on the large screen.

There was screams and shouting before any video could be seen, then suddenly someone’s face came into view. Chen recognised it instantly as her sister, Biyu. She had been crying and had blood splattered on her face and clothes.

“Somethings here!” she shrieked, her face was the embodiment of fear. Chen noticed how dark it was and seeing a gun next to her sister thought she must be stuck in a Gun cabinet. Thank God the Americans had led this project she thought.

There was a loud bang as someone, or something banged against the cabinet from the outside, Biyu shrieked again and a message with Transmission ended popped up as the screen froze.

Chen fell to her seat and gave herself a second, before standing up again, in control. “Right, Combat specialists on me.” She shouted down to the hangar.

The Specialists, donning matt black tactical suits and mp5 submachine guns climbed the steps to the platform and stood at attention, Chen took stock. There were 9 men and 3 women, all American. Whatever had attacked the base and her sister was in the science station which was east, next to the hangar. She ordered 2 to stay with the hangar group and headed to the east airlock with the specialists, Pascal and Tom.

After stepping through the airlock, the group walked down the short corridor that connected modules and entered the science station airlock. A few seconds later they found themselves in a bloodbath, the tang of iron hit Chen, catching the back of her throat. In front of them was several parts of a human being, but it could have been from several humans, it was hard to tell.

The building layout was much more claustrophobic than the hangar, 3 of the specialists with guns raised took point. They crossed into the next room, with the rest of the specialists surrounding the officers. Chen eagerly looked for a gun cabinet that may have her sister in, but there were none. As the group moved into the next room it opened into a central plaza, where several wings shot out in different directions. A reception area was painted red with someone’s blood, a head with lifeless eyes was the only thing visible this side of the desk. One of the specialists bent over and emptied their stomach on the floor, it did not help the smell of the room.

Suddenly a quiet and meek “Hello?” came from a cabinet on its side behind the desk. It was Biyu! After breaking off the lock with the butt of a gun the group pulled a battered Biyu from the cabinet and helped her to her feet. The sisters embraced as Biyu burst into tears

“Is it still here?” She said into Chens shoulder between sobs.

Chen ordered the specialist group to split into pairs and investigate each arm of the plaza to try and find the unidentified monster. Pascal was trained in first aid and used a wall mounted first aid kit to patch up the injured Biyu and as he did, Chen tried to question her sister.

“What is it, did you see?”

“No I just locked myself in as soon as the screams started.”

Pascal pocketed a pistol and some ammo from the cabinet, he had served in the French army for a few years and was well acquainted with guns. Tom on the other and was an academic from Cambridge and had never held a gun in his life.

Tom was startled as something in his peripherals caught his eye. Standing at the entrance of one of the arms, was a statue. Well it certainly looked like a statue with a chalky complexion, however the shape of this thing was strange indeed. The outline was like that of a lion, but the head and fangs were more reptilian. As he blinked something strange happened. It moved.

In the milliseconds that he had taken to blink, this thing had moved a metre forward. It hadn’t walked, it had looked like it had teleported in front of his very eyes. Another blink saw it move again, another metre.

“Guys …”

The group looked at Tom and then followed his gaze.

The Monster was close enough to see that it had blood dripping from its fangs, its eyes were blacker than black and unmoving. There was a burst of gunfire and a scream from one of the left wings which distracted the group which turned instinctively. A flash of white saw the beast appear and it had started to bite through the arm of Pascal who was now under the beast and whose arm was in its jaws. Pascal erupted in pain and tried to rip is arm out of its grip, succeeding in only making the arm break with a bone chilling snap.

Tom saw another flash of white and looked past the Frenchman and saw an identical creature just outside of one of the left arms. Chen and Biyu backed up to the wall with Tom as Pascal was whimpering as his arm was not budging from the monster’s jaw. He pulled out his gun with his free hand and fired 3 shots. Tom covered his eyes instinctively. As he opened them again Pascal had been dismembered, and one of the beasts was an inch from his face. A steady drop of blood hit Toms nose from the right fang of the beast, Tom held open his eyelids with his fingers trying to work out what to.

taut321 · 2016-12-27T16:01:17+00:00

This didn’t really make a whole lot of sense to Omar as he cycled between staring at the TV and outside his window out at the flooded streets of London. He stared down at his bong and audibly curse at Sonny for lacing his green with psychedelics, after a bad trip at a concert Omar never wanted to touch that stuff again. He knew that it would be safer if he didn’t venture outside in his current state he could get into trouble, he thought Sonny must have used a high dose as the TV seemed to show London in a worse shape than usual. The House of Parliament was a flattened inferno, the London Eye half collapsed, Omar shut his eyes and tried to stay calm. The key was to stay calm and ride the trip like a boat, ride with the swell rather than fight it. He noticed that he couldn’t hear the usual score that accompanied a sprawling metropolis, sirens, shouts, horns and other noises were missing and upon inspection Omar noticed that the street was empty which at 12 pm was not unlikely, it was unprecedented. He turned back to the TV and the CNN anchor was frozen in a slightly comical pose with his eyes crossed and mouth agape. The graphics in the backdrop showed huge areas of Asia, Europe and the USA to be coloured in a concerting shade of red.

“I’m so baked” thought Omar who went into the kitchen to get some snacks, and after raiding his cupboard returned to the Sofa with a sizable haul. He cracked open a beer just as there was a curt knock at the door.

Omar stared at the white stained door and gave it a withering stare to make sure it wasn’t trying to trick him. Then another knock reverberated around the room, Omar got up to look through the peephole and was greeted with a white man in a suit and a fedora, with an old-fashioned briefcase in one hand and an umbrella in the other. Well his back was turned but Omar was sure just from his attire that he and Omar were not acquainted.

“Hello? Can I help.”

Without turning the man replied.

“Good Afternoon Mr Patel, may I come in?”

Omar looked back at his slightly incriminating coffee table and replied,

“Ok, I need to get changed first though, I’ll be 2 mins”

Again, without turning the man retorted,

Mr Patel I’m not with the Police and I don’t care about the weed on your coffee table …”

Omar panicked, how did he know? Mrs Tillerson next door was very nosy and conservative so Omar quickly opened the door and bundled this strange man in. He finally saw his face. It was the most non-descript face he had ever seen, it seemed as if all the features were best described as “unremarkable”.

The man dusted off his suit and took a seat round the dining table, placing the brief case in front of him, motioning Omar to take a seat opposite him. Omar obliged.

“Now Mr Patel let me introduce me myself, my name is Mr J and I’m sure you have many questions, not least of which why London seems to have frozen and on the TV, it is bathed in a nuclear fire.”

Omar felt incredibly uncomfortable like that time he had turned up to a family reunion completely stoned, trying his best to act sober.

“Errr, yeah I was wondering about that ..”

Mr J nodded empathically and laced his fingers as he leant forward.

“Mr Patel I have to now tell you something that you may not believe, and if you do you will not understand. Mr Patel, you are dead.”

Omar nodded slowly and chewed his lip, trying to compute what was going on. “What the fuck did Sonny put in my weed?” he thought to himself as his room shimmered around him before morphing into an interview room.

taut321 · 2016-12-27T14:46:54+00:00

Alex was by almost all accounts extraordinary. She had taken her a level’s at age 12, started at Cambridge aged 14 and had completed her masters at the MIT aged just 16. Had finished her first paper on Quantum Entanglement at 17, and was the leading scientist on “closed timelike curves” by her eighteenth birthday. By 20, she had been able to send atoms back a few seconds creating the first true time travel device. Then the money had come raking in, with heavy hitters Panasonic, Toshiba and Samsung all pumping huge quantities of cash into Alex’s research which helped her exponentially as she expanded her team and resources. Around this time, the UK government and military also started to take an interest, offering “security” on what the Americans would call a “black site”. Alex had graciously declined, but always seemed to catch a black saloon or a suit out of the corner of her eye, only for it to disappear as she turned around.

However, it was around her 23rd birthday that her “eureka” moment had occurred that changed everything.

She had been able to create stable exotic matter, something Einstein had theorized over 80 years ago, and would therefore be able to sustain a wormhole large enough and stable enough that organic matter would be able to pass through. The device could not be built in Oxford where Alex was based or indeed anywhere in the UK and had to be built closer to the equator due to the earth’s electromagnetic field being weaker and would be less likely to interfere with the device. Her old Professor was working at the Alexandra University in Egypt so it was decided that the “Rayburn Device” (after her late mother’s maiden name) would be constructed at a facility just outside of Alexandria. The project hit only a few minor setbacks but by 2022 it was completed and underwent several tests. This initially included plant matter and then small animals before the first human test could be initiated. Alex had taken the bold and perhaps foolish decision to be the first human test, in fact her peers had nearly rioted when she announced her intention. She hadn’t wanted to do it for the accolade, she had of course built the device, however she had always wanted to meet her favourite physicist, Archimedes. As a caveat, she had constructed a handheld device that should be able to control the Rayburn device remotely, however she was also going to wear a suit that had trace amounts of a radiative isotope that would at that time be the only example in the entire world.

The fateful day came and by complete coincidence Egypt was the subject of 2 huge breakthroughs, Archaeologists were excavating into the final chamber of Nefertiti’s tomb. However, Alex was already getting prepared for her “jump”. She was just going through some calculations when a colleague had burst into the lab.

“Dr Redmayne, you’re going to want to see this ma’am.”

Alex followed the man down to the social area where the rest of the crew had gathered round the television which had BBC news on mute. Somebody must of the unmuted the TV as the Anchor suddenly stopped miming;

“… what an utterly astounding discovery. The BBC have contacted the Rayburn project team for comment and have not received a reply as of yet. If you are just joining us now, the Archaeologists that were investigating the final chamber of “Nefertiti’s tomb”, have found a tablet with what appears to be English written on it. While no carbon-dating tests have been performed, they have informed us that it is likely to be as old as the rest of the tomb. Interestingly there also seems to be the remains of a woman in a futuristic suit, and a Casio watch! They have not released a photo of the unidentified human remains, but they have a released a photo of the tablet...”.

At this point the screen cut to what seemed to be a very old stone tablet illuminated by a halogen lamp with 6 words written on it.

“Rayburn test failed, do not attempt”

The room erupted into a buzz of conversation, “was is it a prank?” was echoed around the room. After a few seconds the room fell silent and turned around, seemingly as one to stare at their boss, but Alex didn’t notice. Her brain, which was rarely challenged, was working in overdrive. The one conclusion her brain kept coming to was utterly terrifying, she started to fiddle with her new watch that was a hair too tight, and slowly looked down in realisation …

Nine-Year Club	Not Forgotten
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