Wendy’s Hospital – Charity Nocturna

The faces dance in front of Enora.  They were weary, beaten and beatific all at once.  The man was unshaven, his sunken eyes alight with love.  The woman smiled, pain etched on her face. Enora screamed as the faces faded into the darkness.

She sat bolt upright, looking around.  She was in a cot of some sort, surrounded by shelves of cleaners.  Her armor and equipment were gone, and she wore only a hospital gown.  Her chest burned as if dipped in fire. She felt the wound in her chest.  It was stitched again, and the smallest touch sent her head into a spin. She lunged her head over the edge just as the bile came up from her stomach.

She heaved a long time before sliding back on the bed.  This was not a hospital, but she was treated. Someone had found her, and they could be a threat.  Enora sat up again and tried to turn to stand, but the world began swirling and she fell back against the bed with a thud.

“Be safe.  I love you,” the familiar voice said. The face warped in and out, fading and shining in random swirls.

“You’re the one, aren’t you? The criminal the news is talking about,” the strange voice piercing Enora’s wild vision.  Her eyes burst open and she tried to sit, and the world spun again and she collapsed back down.

“You’ve got a massive infection from the wound in your chest.  You barely survived. Your ribs are cracked and from the bruises on your stomach, I’d say you just missed some internal bleeding.  How did you get so injured?” the voice was soft and gentle, with a slight tremor.

“The stab is from me, the rest from a couple of guys who decided I was in the wrong place,”  Enora muttered. “Who are you and where am I?”

“Why would you stab yourself?”  the voice sounded confused.

“I had to look dead, simple as that,” she answered flatly.  “Where the hell am I?”

“Answer me first,” the girl responded. “Are you the criminal?”

“Some call me that, I suppose,” Enora grinned.  “I think those rich bastards are the real criminals.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Ever look at a corporation?  I mean really look,” Enora managed to raise her head.  The strange girl was thin, with long red hair. She wore scrubs and was biting her full lips. “They answer only to money.  They step on anyone in their way good or bad. I know hundreds of people who have had their lives destroyed to give a company a 1% increase in stocks.”

“I guess I never thought about it that way,”  the girl’s brow was furrowed over her deep umber eyes.  “Why do you hate them so much?”

“Why don’t you?”

“I don’t hate anyone or anything.”

Enora snorted “Then you are living in a bubble my dear,”  her voice dropped into a growl. “I answered your questions, now answer mine.  Where the hell am I and who are you?”

The girl was silent for a very long time.  “You are at a clinic for the homeless in a small closet.  I’ve been trying to decide what to do about you.”

“South Side Mission? You’re some of the good ones,”  Enora leaned her head back, dizziness overwhelming her again. “Trying to decide if you should give me to the police?  That seems like it would be a no-brainer for you.”

“I want to understand,”  she said simply.

“Understand a criminal?”  Enora laughed.

“I know lots of criminals.  The homeless often steal for booze or survival.”

Enora shot up, eyes blazing “What the hell do you know about the homeless?  You give them methadone or antibiotics and send them back in the cold. What would you do?”

Another long silence.  “You seem to know a lot about the homeless,”  the girl’s eyes were wet, and her cheeks flushed.

“Of course I do.  I’ve been homeless since I was a kid.”

The girl was about to speak when a scratchy voice came over a speaker.  “Wendy, we have a code 5 in room 302.”

“Better run Wendy,” Enora snapped.

The girl looked side to side.  “I didn’t… Nevermind,” she sighed.  “Try to keep quiet, no one knows you’re here.”

“Why are you risking so much for me?”

“I don’t know,” Wendy shook her head and ran out the door.  Enora heard a click after the door closed.

Enora leaned back, letting the swirling world come back into focus.  I have to get out of here. She started to sit up and immediately dropped down again.  Swallowing, she tried again. Her body went upright and her head went wild.  Her vision swirled and her pulse pounded in her ears.

With a push of will, she managed to get to her feet.  For a short time she stood, then crumpled in a heap on the floor.

“Be safe..”  

“We love you so much…”

The couple turns away and disappears.

“No!”  Enora awoke and shot up, only to be pulled down with a thud.  A sharp pain burned her wrists. She looked down and saw she was handcuffed to the bed, and an IV had been inserted.  A steady beep filled the room, which she assumed was her heartbeat.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed.

“I need to keep you in bed.  I’m sorry if it hurts but if you leave you are going to die,”  Wendy’s voice was pleading and apologetic all at once.

“This is a violation of so many hospital rules” growled Enora “you going rogue now?”

“It is NOT against the rules to bind someone to keep them from harming themselves,” Wendy countered.

“If you say so.  So am I going to jail?” Enora glanced up, pleased to find the spinning had lessened.  Wendy sat by the door in a small folding chair, curled into herself.

“No.. yes.. I don’t know..” the girl shook her head.

“Well that is encouraging,” Enora snorted.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t understand.  Why do you hurt people? Why do you steal from the rich corporations-”

“I don’t steal!”  Enora shouted “I don’t need handouts from anyone or anything.  I share their information, sure, but I am not interested in their filthy cash.”

“But your equipment looks so expensive.  You said you are homeless, how can you-”

“Afford it?  I save my pennies. “

“Then why are you on the street?” she cocked her head, brows drooped.

“I could find a home, a soft bed,  Get a regular job, I have a degree you know.  Work all day then crawl into my nice warm bed and forget the world,”  Enora spat on the floor. “Then there would be no one to stop these bastards, or to help the millions of other people on the street,” Enora frowned. “And I don’t deserve it. I couldn’t save them,”  the last was said in a whisper.

“Who couldn’t you save?” Wendy rose a bit from her chair.

“Doesn’t matter.  So what’s your story? Why are you helping a violent criminal?”

Wendy was silent for a long time. “My brother….  He was extremely sick. He was on a medication that would have had him well in a month or two,”  the girl’s voice became deep and angry “then the new CEO raised the price to over $1000 a pill. Insurance wouldn’t cover it so….”  her eyes grew misty and she went silent.

“Who?” Enora’s voice burned the air.

“Wilkinson Pharmaceuticals,”  Wendy’s voice was heavy and shaking.

“Bastards.  I owe them a visit.”

“No! Don’t hurt people…” her voice was shaky and uncertain.

“You don’t mean that, I can tell.”

“I don’t believe in harming others,” her voice was firm.

“You don’t have to.  That’s the beauty of it.”

Their conversation was cut off by a scream.  The sound of gunfire filled the air.

“Oh my god! What’s going on?” Wendy ran to the door.  Seconds later she jumped as a hand rested on her shoulder.

Enora was unsteady on her feet and the handcuffs dangled from her wrists.  “Time to work,” she muttered and ran staggering down the hall.

“Wait!”  Wendy yelled and followed.

Wendy found Enora crouched by the door to the lobby, peering into the room through a small opening.

“Give me all the drugs! Money too!” the man was thin with a pockmarked face.   One woman lay groaning on the ground, holding an arm.

Enora smiled at Wendy, stood, and kicked the door open.  She dove into a handspring as the man’s bullets went wide.  Snapping to her feet she drove an elbow into his throat and a knee into his groin.  The man gagged, gun falling limply from his hand as he reached for his groin, moaning.  Enora grabbed the man’s hair and slammed her palm into his forehead. They both dropped to the ground.

“Are you all right?”  Wendy ran into the room and began to pick Enora up.

Enora shoved her hands away and stood shaking.  “Can’t stay.. Too dangerous…”

Wendy tried to grab her, but Enora was far too quick, despite the injuries. Wendy bit her lip then yelled, “Wait!” Enora turned her head.  “The alley behind Bowling Palace. Look there in 3 days.” Enora nodded and loped away before anyone could stop her.

 

A Filthy Drunk is a Bad Meal

“Hey baby you’d be prettier if you smiled,” I heard his leer and smelled the stale beer on his breath.  

Just ignore it I told myself.  Then he whistled.  I growled and spun, flashing my bloody grin at the man.  He was a putrid beast. His shirt was torn, his jeans 2 sizes too small and his thick mustache was dripping with beer.  

I expected fear, shock or at least surprise.  Instead, I got a got a grin. A stupid, shit-eating grin.  A punchable grin. “You one of those goth chicks? I think that’s soo hot,”  his voice oozed like slime. He swayed wildly and his eyes crossed. He was thoroughly unappetizing, and I was full.

He needs to die I decided.  Forcing the bile back down, I swayed over to him, sure my taut, curved frame would keep his attention.  I was right as he watched my perky chest wiggle toward him. Laying a hand on his chest, I pushed myself to my tiptoes and whispered in his ear “You want to have some fun you drunk bastard?”  He was too far gone care what I said, not that anyone could escape my deep, husky voice.

I took him by his slimy hand, grimacing at his touch.  I slid into my best sultry grin and shook my way to a nearby alley.  I shoved him hard against the wall and stepped back and fumbled a few buttons, playing the game a little more.  

Time for the fun. I slammed my clawed fingers at the man and glanced up to see the horror in his eyes.  Instead he was grinning, the cheap pornstar mustache dropped to the ground. He held a crucifix in one hand, which stopped mine.  In the other, he held a wooden stake.

“Sorry baby,” he said and slammed the spike through my chest.

Coughing, I fell back against the wall.  Hot fire burned through me from the stake in my chest to the tips of my fingers.  The pain of a thousand tiny blades lanced through me as I dissipated atom by atom.  My mind went last, bellowing a curse as the dust that was me blew away into the cold, moonless night.

No Context Given 5

Sir Talon dropped to one knee before the maiden. “M’lady, I come from far off lands seeking you so you may reunite the people against Dark Lord Idazlearen du Horma,  I pledge all that I am to your service.  I shall tirelessly seek out our enemies and sacrifice my life for yours.”

Anna looked up from her phone. “Wha?”

Lord Bassel vs. the Peasant

Lord Bassel rode alone through the forest of Tar-Jal.  His chain armor rattled with the stomp of hooves. The sheath of his mighty sword slapped the flank of the roan steed.   He peered through the slits of the enclosed helmet he wore.

This was his first trip out of his isolated kingdom.  His swordplay was unmatched. He drilled daily practicing maneuvers over and over with other armed men.  There was no one who could stand up to him.

He was a week out from home and his supplies were almost exhausted.  He saw no reason to forage as he sighted the smoke of a small village.  The peasants would no doubt be honored to feed a distinguished warrior like himself.  Hell, if we were a peasant he would scrape at his feet.

He slowed his horse as he reached a home at the edge of town.   “I am Lord Bassel of the Badlands! Bring me supplies and I shall spare you!”  he smiled as he waited for the terrified peasants to grovel before him.

Long moments passed with no response.  The peasants do not come the thought rumbled in his mind.  He scowled and put a hand to his pommel.  He rose his hand to slap the steed when a man came out and stared at him.  “You’re not my Lord. If you are willing to pay I’ll happily spare some food for you.”

Lord Bassel threw his head back, roaring in mirth.  The man wore a thick, padded shirt. In one hand he held the crudest of spears, and he wore a large, rough wooden shield on the other. On his belt was a simple ball of metal on a stick.    “You don’t understand what you face, peasant! You have no chance against a warrior of my caliber!” he pulled forth his sword. The two-handed blade was long and thick with serrations along each cutting edge.  He had the sword designed exactly to cause maximum harm.

Lord Bassel pointed the huge sword at the man and grinned, his canines glinting in the sunlight.  The peasant hacked and green spittle splashed on the powerful horse. The Lord’s face went scarlet and he kicked his sword into a charge.

The peasant smiled, sidestepped and thrust the spear at the charging horse.  The weapon dug deep into the horse, who went down screaming, eyes rolling back in fear. The peasant pulled his bloodied spear out and stood, shield at ready.

Lord Bassel rolled from his horse with a practiced motion.  He held his sword in sideward stance. He growled, staring at the peasant in disgust.  The peasant shrugged and waited. This man must be insane, thought the Lord.  Dishonorable as well, killing a man’s horse.

After long moments he moved into a simple overhand strike.  He will sidestep and I shall kick him to give me time for an upward strike.  I will win as always.  The bored peasant slapped the blow aside with his shield and thrust his spear into Bassel’s chest.  The Lord grunted as the air blew from his lungs. The peasant wasted no time in thrusting again, striking a small tear in his suit.  Bassel roared as the blade pierced his side. Before the spear could pull free, the mighty Lord grasped the handle and yanked with all his strength.  The weapon was ripped out the smaller man’s grip. Without pause the peasant pulled out the primitive mace from his belt, standing at ready.

The Lord yanked the spear free, tossing it aside with a roar.  Blood fountained from the wound, but he stood firm. I am mighty, a glancing blow will not stop me! Even as he had the thought he felt a wave of dizziness overcome him, and he felt cold.  His thoughts ran wild in his head, the only coherent one remaining was to attack.

Lord Bassel swung his blade crossways, only to have it deflected aside with a slap.  The peasant hooked his arm as he passed and twisted, sending Bassel tumbling to the dirt.  He rolled away, but he was too slow. The heavy metal ball of the peasant’s weapon slammed his helmet.  The pounding in his head became a roar and his already cluttered mind went hazy. He heaved himself to his feet and spat a tooth, which hit the helmet with a clang.

Desperate he swung at random and smiled as his heavy serrated blade his the man in the chest.  The peasant grunted and dropped to a knee. Surely my blade tore through his tunic to his heart. The peasant rose, the heavy blade entangled in the thick layers of the man’s padded shirt.

Bassel’s fingers became numb, and the blade slid from his grip.  He dropped onto the hard ground with a grunt. His helmet was yanked from his head, and a foot kicked him to the side.  The peasant stood over him, mace raised high “Now we will discuss the fee for food and sparing your fool life.. M’Lord.”

Bassel could only lay there, wondering how he could lose to such a pathetic man.

 

A short explanation as to why our Lord Bassel lost.  First, his weapon was awful. The serrations make the cutting edge worse and proper long blades were thin, weighing only a little more than an arming sword(a long sword in D&D terms).

Even with a proper sword, a spear is a more effective battlefield weapon.  You can hold your enemy out of reach, stop charges dead and strike precisely at weak points.

You might be wondering how the peasant avoided being hewn in half.  The padded tunic he wore is a simple version of gambeson armor. Made of layers of cloth it was more than able to stop sword strikes, especially poorly delivered ones.  The armor was especially effective against this particular sword. Serrated blades will become entangled in cloth, making it perform badly against gambeson. In fact, most knights wore gambeson underneath their heavier armor as protection against maces and clubs.

The other factor was actually the Lord’s training.  Only doing routines makes one only know how to handle the routine.  Since he did no live combat he was unprepared for it.

His final mistake was thinking a peasant couldn’t fight.  Many peasants went to war under their Lord as footmen. They know how to fight heavily armored men and horses.  He was most likely more experienced than the young, arrogant Lord.

In short(as if this is short) the D&D style swordsman is woefully underarmed and unprepared for real combat.  A true knight carried a sword for self-defense and as a backup weapon. Most battlefield weapons like spears are actually significantly better in wartime scenarios. There are a lot of channels like skallgrim and shadversity on YouTube that go into a great deal of depth as to why the classic action knight makes no sense.

Thank You!

I know in the big world of the internet where people have millions of followers 100 followers is small change, but to me it’s huge.  Thank you to everyone who made this possible.

For over a year I have been putting up stories and every day more and more people read them.  It’s amazing to me that so many people took an interest in my site. Like everyone who starts blogging I believed I would have thousands of followers within a month or so.  I learned quickly that wouldn’t happen and I am excited with every new subscriber.

Again thank you to everyone who follows me.  I look forward to sharing stories with all of you for a long time to come.

Highrise Dance – Charity Nocturna

Enora felt terrible. Her body felt leaden and she was still lightheaded from the blood loss. The Henderson Building loomed far above her. On floor 25 a group of rich bastards were plotting ways to kill her. In her hand she held a vacuum grapple. The heavy battery pack Enora wore on her back would last 3 hours.
 
Are you sure about this? she thought to herself. She was far from her best, and climbing a featureless glass wall was an easy way to get killed. This is insane she admonished herself as she flipped on the vacuum system. Grabbing the tube labeled one she spun it and flung it up the building. The vacuum head latched onto the building, whistling from the pressure.
 
So it’s insane. I don’t think I’ve been sane since I was 8. She grabbed the thick, padded line and began to haul herself upwards. The first 100 yards were easy, as she tossed each head upwards, climbing between them. Enora was ready for another throw when she saw shadows moving in the windows above her.
 
“Dammit!” Enora growled. She had expected guards, but not for another 10 stories. They were taking Charity seriously. Sucking in a deep breath, Enora clicked her safety line in place. She began swinging in larger and larger arcs, heaving the line with all her strength. With a heavy grunt, she cleared the edge of the building. Taking another swing, she took up the second head and began spinning it.
 
As she cleared the edge of the building, Enora threw her weight hard around the lip of the corner. Grabbing the free attachment, she tossed it with a flick of the wrist. It attached to the far edge of the building, sending her swinging at the corner. Twisting, she caught each side of the building with a foot facing. The spin sent her face down at the yawning emptiness and pavement far below. Panic crept into her stomach, and she froze for a moment. Her arms were spread wide, burning from the strain.
 
Enora took a deep breath I am Charity Nocturna! I can do this! Remember what these bastards did to you. She clicked the release on one vacuum head. The line released, and all her weight slammed hard into left arm as she went into a wild spin. With a scream she swung her right arm upwards, grabbing the line. She slammed the building hard, knocking the breath from her. At least it stopped the spinning she thought while gasping for air. She braced her feet against the building and clicked her safety line in place. With a gasp of relief, she sunk into her harness.
 
Enora stayed there for several long moments, gulping huge breaths of air. The harness support let her shake the fatigue from her arm. Comics make this look so easy. I’d like to punch the guy who made that up in the throat. The battery on her back beeped, reminding her she was on a time limit. Grunting, Enora threw the loose line upwards and continued her climb.
 
Enora lost track of time as she struggled up the building. Only the quiet beeps of her battery marked the passage of time. She had to make the dangerous swing around the edge of the building two more times. She laughed in a hoarse whisper, relieved at finally reaching her target. The window was tinted, but she could see a group of men in expensive suits sitting around drinking. She reached into a pouch on her hip, pulling out a strange, square device with a pair of headphones attached. Katrina said this would work. She better be right. She slipped the headphones on, clicked a button on the box and pressed it against the window.
 
“The man’s a menace. If all the stories are true, he’s ruined millions of dollars worth of projects. At the last attack, this Charity character even hacked David’s social media. Now he has to waste good money on some stupid scholarship,“ one voice said.
 
“He killed a guard too,” chimed in another.
 
“Fuck the guards. They’re easy to replace,” Enora could imagine the sneer on the old man’s face.
 
“The real question is how this Charity person keeps finding our secrets?” the first voice was calm, deep and deadly.
 
Probably the world wide web. Surfing the net or something..” a new voice with an old man’s quaver chimed in.
 
“How does that work? It’s not like we put it on our website or anything,” another said.
 
A younger voice tinged with disgust hopped in. “There’s more to the web than web pages, you old bastards. If you had half a brain you’d have people online 24/7 securing your data.”
 
Enora snickered at this kid who thought a few security hackers could stop her.
 
“Shut up Wes, you got hit a month ago. Your superior tech knowledge didn’t help you, either,” the voice identified as Ted said. This Ted was obviously in charge. She ticked off the names of all the CEOs she knew. It had to be Ted Sagen, head of the Free Families Coalition. He all but decided who would be in the White House if the stories were true.
 
“It’s easy to insult us, but I don’t see you coming up with any ideas,” a voice snarled.
 
“You want an idea? This Charity Nocturna fights dirty, so we have to fight dirty too,” Ted’s voice was ice. “Bill, you still connected with the Dragon Syndicate?”
 
“Well, yeah, but-”
 
“But nothing. We need the best hunter in the business and they can reach him.”
 
“You mean the Honey Badger? He is one of the most wanted men in the world. If we get connected with him we could lose everything,” said a panicked voice. “Nothing serious has been leaked yet. Why risk it?”
 
“Yet. He’s come close to blowing the cover off a dozen black file operations. Only one of those would destroy the CEO in charge. We can’t risk it,” Ted’s voice was firm.
 
“Fine. We get the Honey Badger. How the hell will he find the culprit? We have zero leads on this Charity person,” someone new chimed in “Wo-”
 
The voices were drowned out by a loud beeping. Shit, the batteries are dying! She slid her hand into her pouch and pulled out a small ball of putty and stuck it to the window. Enora kicked off the wall and clicked a small button. As she swung back the window exploded, showering the rich bastards in shards of glass. Clicking off the power to her climbing system she flew into a roll across the expensive carpet.
 
Enora popped up and saw the Ted she had been listening to staring her down. “You’re a girl?” he said, shocked.
 
“Your point?” she responded and slammed her steel studded glove into his forehead. He stood for a moment, blood pouring down his face. His knees buckled and he collapsed. Everyone else began calling for security.
 
Damn. I’ll have to lose the vacuum climber. She shrugged the pack off and bolted out the door. Two shocked guards turned towards her. She didn’t slow as she cracked one’s knee with a kick and slammed an elbow into the other.
 
Before more guards arrived she ducked into a closet. She slipped her tablet from her pack and clicked it on. The screen immediately came up with the building schematics. There were two stairwells and three elevators. The cameras in this building weren’t networked so she was going blind. That was never good. She pulled the fighting stick off her back, took a breath and slammed the closet door open.
 
6 angry and shocked guards spun on her with pistols. The plates can take two shots at most. Better make them last. She dropped into a slide as the well trained idiots emptied their clips into empty air. Her slide took out the closest man, dropping him to the floor. Swinging her iron shod stick, she struck another in the gut. The man doubled over, dropping his weapon to the floor.
 
She pushed back on her hands and kicked to her feet, swinging her stick into the head of a third man. His skull made a sickening crunch as he crumpled. The remaining three spun their weapons on her.
 
Shit! She leaped to the side as bullets flew at her. Two shot hit her body armor, and she heard it shatter. Another bullet grazed her arm, causing her hand to twitch, dropping the stick to the ground.
 
Ignoring the pain, Enora grabbed her taser from her belt, shooting the nearest man in the chest. He dropped like a stone, shuddering. The remaining two had holstered their guns and approached with electrified batons.
 
Enora grinned and slashed the metal claws on the end of her gloves across one man’s eyes. He screamed, dropping the baton to the floor and clutching at his eyes. The other man stuck her side, hard. The electricity flowed through her, and she dropped to the ground. As she struggled to regain control, the man began kicking her gut. Thank god for padding! She thought.
 
One sharp kick to her side made her wince. The baton had bruised some ribs. She snatched the foot and twisted hard. His knee popped and he screamed, dropping to the floor. Enora pulled herself from the voice, wincing at the pain in her chest. She sprinted full speed towards the nearby stairwell.
 
She all but rolled down the stairs in her haste, barely catching her footing. Voices echoed above and below her. Damn! She charged downwards several floors before two armed men came up in front of her. This is going to suck.
 
Enora grabbed the rail and did a perfect handspring over the edge. With a graceful spin, she dropped half a story to the lower stairwell. Her legs screamed in protest as she landed but she bolted down the stairs without pausing. The men above her shouted, and their footsteps echoed behind her.
Enora was wheezing as she reached the bottom of the staircase. Only one floor remained, but her body burned and shook. She peered through the window and saw a dozen men waiting, all armed. One more time! She pulled a small ball from her pocket and slammed the door open.
 
The men raised their guns as she threw the ball on the floor, filling the room with brilliant light. Several shots rang out and heard the bullets whiz wide. As the light cleared, she bolted through the lobby and out the door. The blinded men couldn’t stop her.
 
She ran down the maze of back alleys, ducking into a dark corner. Enora slumped to the ground, leaning against the wall. The day had cost her a small fortune in equipment that would take several years to replace. This would be so much easier if I was a rich bastard and not a homeless bum she lamented. Now she had a new mystery to solve, who was the Honey Badger? What a stupid name she huffed as her vision faded No, can’t stay here.. Too dangerous.. Her body didn’t listen as she slipped into oblivion.

No Context Given 4

Brent dropped to his knees, sobbing.  Everything was falling apart before his eyes.  There was nothing left for him now. He looked upwards, face wet and shining in the light of the streetlamp.  “Why,” was all he said.

Karen looked down, face buried in shadow.  Despite the darkness, Brent could see her perfect white teeth in a predatory grin.  She didn’t answer him, she gave no reason why she did this to him. She only stared at his misery, her smile glowing in the darkness.

No Context 3

M’chel stood in the circle of skulls chanting within a torrent of wind. Lightning flashed in wild forks, booming through the air.  With a final scream, the ritual reached a crescendo. With a sudden burst of silence, the wind died and the sky went black.

For long moments there was nothing then a single sound echoed. “Meep.”

No Context Given 2

“God damn it, Mike! I’ve been telling you for years not to do that!”  she screamed. Below them, office workers streamed from their buildings with any weapon they could find.  Bellowing war cries they joined the bloody free for all growing in the bloody street.

Mike had to look away for a moment to hide his smile. “To be fair you never told me WHY I shouldn’t do that.”

No Context Given 1

My schedule has become busier of late so while I adjust I’ll be posting random snippets of action.   The stories – if you can call them that – are from the middle or end of a non-existent story.  I hope you enjoy, and if the pieces give you inspiration I’d love to see it!

Everyone gasped in unison as the cake flew through the air.  The layers separated as they headed towards grandma. My brother dove to block the airborne confection a moment too slow.  There was a splat and a scream, then silence.

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