8 | 3 : Three Years of Hell

Posted: 08/07/2014 in Three Years of Hell
Tags: , , , ,

This panic was unreal.  I’m just a normal guy.  My powers make super powered people normal when I think of them.

It took several seconds before I realized they were running towards something.  Something that I assumed was called Samantha.

I followed, running as fast as I could to the building they all surrounded.  She’d used her powers.  I knew it.  There was no way there would be such a panic if she hadn’t.

I’m easily beaten, I know that.  When I fight, I bring people down to my level and try and fight them one on one, or overpower them with whatever advantages I have.

Margaret is rather easy to handle.  She makes prisons to hold people as long as she likes, but she needs a line of sight.

Samantha is a different beast.  While I have had no extra powers due to my unusual origins and Margaret has had hers tailor into the best protection from an attacker, Samantha’s power became warped.

I saw the building.  Samantha was definitely in there.

“What the fu-”

A stray comment from a guard as I walked up the the building that held Samantha.  It was clear that the building has been influenced by powers.  The glass bent, wet.  The doors and windows lost their corners.  The ground around it faded into a new colour, pinkish.  The building stunk, even from where I stood, behind a crowd of soldiers.

The guards were backed up.  Maxwell stood outside, closer.  Next to him, Margaret and a third cape I didn’t recognize.

They made Samantha upset.  I knew it.

I barged past the guards as they barely noticed me, engrossed in the sight.

Maxwell saw me first.

“Unperson, why is Ryan here?”  he asked, looking behind me as I turned around.  Unperson smiled.

“I followed him when he freaked out over a question.  I was going to subdue him but there were bigger issues, boss.”

Maxwell looked cross.  “…We’ll talk about this later.”

I walked up to the doors, ignoring the commotion.  They let me.  Did they trust me, or…

I turned around to face Margaret.  She must have told them.

I turned back at the building and nearly placed my hand on the door handle before it moved, snapping teeth going for my fingers.

“Nice try, Samantha,”  I muttered, kicking the door with a boot.  The inside hit me with a wave of stench as the hallway dripped with all forms of liquids.  Bone and cartilage held the new interior up, as mucus, pus and other wonderful liquids dripped from above.  I took a step inside, the soft warm dampness soaking my sandal and touching my bare foot.  Reddish brown.  Gross.

“Samantha?”  I called out, taking more steps inside an stroking the walls gently, like last time.  “It’s me, Ryan.”

No response.  Only the sounds of dripping piss and vaginal juices from somewhere above as it splashed into a puddle on the hallway floor responded.  I smiled at the use of body hair for a rug as I looked at the sight inside.  Clever.

An eye failed to close in time as I turned, looking at the first door in the former hallway.  Two soldiers floating in amniotic fluid, given freedom to breathe with airway umbilical cords.  One saw my and beat on the window a few times trying to scream for help.  At least she’s playing nice, I thought.

The next door wasn’t as nice.  It was stomach acid instead.  They were still fighting, pulling away at the bone door, banging at the windows for dear life.  I moved on, quietly.

“Samantha, I’m here to help,”  I said, moving slowly down the hallway.

A scream from behind.  I turned around, quickly.  “You promised to make it okay!”

The mouth, lungs and and throat belched out a nasty smell that nearly floored me.  I took a step back into something that grabbed my foot.

“Samantha, I won’t hurt you!”  I yelled, pulling my leg out.  Teeth and bone shot out, filling the hole with shit stained spikes.  I sped up after regaining my balance.  She was hiding.  More doors, more soldiers.  I’d help them by helping Samantha, I thought.

A mass of muscle blocked my path as it contracted.  Blood seeped from it, slowly.  She was in the room behind it.  I turned to a Bone door and kicked with all my might, piss pouring out and nearly washing me away.  One soldier scrambled to his feet, panicked.  I grabbed him, trying to calm him down as he tore off the amniotic breathing mask covering his have.  He stunk of fecal matter and dried blood.

“Wha- wha- what,”  he repeated, shocked.

“Calm down.  Just stay here and don’t move,”  I said, petting him.

He lashed out, knocking me on my back and ran down the hallway.  He never even reached the door before a large bone swung out, ripping wall and slicing his feet off at the ankles.  I turned to the wall, ignoring his screams.  I warned him.

The wall in the office was soft, soft enough to could cut open easily if I had a knife.  I saw that the other soldier was dead, drowned in urine.  It didn’t take long before I had a knife in my hand from looting the man’s corpse, and I began tearing my way through the walls, like it was a jungle bush and I had a machete.

I broke through, covered in various liquids as I cut a tube pumping a mixture of liquids and it sprayed me.  The bone was easy to get past.  Kick it down, hard.

“I’m sorry, Samantha,”  I said.  No liquids filling this office.  It was a pit trap into more stomach acid, smooth, oily skin serving to lead victims in.  I opted to just cut my way into the hallway, slicing flesh and organs away.  A bone spike shot at me from inside the wall, but I dodged it, having it only clip my hood.  I grabbed it and cut the hood off, unhindered by Samantha.

She was there, in a room surrounded by a cage of bone, an amniotic sack suspended by a mass of tendons and ligaments.

“Samantha!”  I shouted from behind the door.  “Wake up!”


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  1. Ok, I am I’m the oddest mixture of confused and interested and lost and intrigued.

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