#his guttural cry was just so emotionally impactful | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

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Humans are Space Orcs, “Paper Man.”

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED: GORE, VIOLENCE, MORAL AMBIGUITY

Ok guys, I am giving this a rated R for violence specifically. I wanted to play around with some extreme moral issues, and I ended up doing just that. So if you didn’t read the horror chapter, then I suggest very much not reading this one.

It is the third and last installment to my little prison series, so you can imagine what might be in here. I leave it up to you to decide if you can handle it or not. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. :)

I designed this specifically to expose Adam’s character to an extreme situation hes probably not emotionally equipped for.

Commander Vir wiped a smear of excess inc from the man’s skin and sat back to view his handiwork. He had to admit that he was definitely getting better now that he had figured out how to use the damned machine. Not to mention that he spent most of his free time drawing for fear that he was going to screw up and get his ass kicked.

In all honesty, he could have been a pretty talented artist if he had ever bothered to practice, but he hadn’t drawn, conventionally, since he was in middle school and, as a result, his drawing had suffered . However, now that he was in prison, he had a surprising amount of free time to work on extracurricular skills. If he wasn’t pumping iron with the others, he was working on a new tattoo design or applying the inc.

While it sucked pretty hard core to be here, he had found a relatively safe middle ground. Being able to do inc gave him certain privileges among the other humans, not to mention his personal connection to krill, who was invaluable as the crew’s medic. Having worked at the biggest trauma center in the galaxy, the kind of wounds they generally received was a cakewalk to the little alien.

The problem…..well, that was the Drev, and the fact that every human and their dog had, at one point, boasted to the larger, scarier aliens about having a member of operation steel-eye in their ranks. They did pretty much everything but directly mention his name, but they may as well have been dancing a naked jig around him with signs directed at his chest saying “Here I am come shank me.”

He wasn’t sure how well the goading would work with Drev. He had learned from Sunny, that a good Drev considered war to be impersonal, and those who beat you in battle were supposed to be treated with respect, but this was also coming from the Drev whose mother had gone off the deep end and plotted to destroy humanity, so he had a feeling he couldn’t rely on Drev honor to keep him from getting eviscerated.

He cleaned his tools off in the best way he knew how and allowed the man to finally take a look. He held his breath.

The man examined the tattoo for a very long moment, and for this horrible second, Adam feared he was about to be pounded into the concrete, “Good work Steel!” Instead, he got a heavy slap on the back, which probably would have slammed him into the pavement anyway for his trouble, but it simply sent him into a stagger, and the other man walked away flexing his arm. Adam grimaced. He wasn’t entirely sure had to do proper, post-art care was going to work down here, and just had to hope that the man wouldn’t end up with some sort of nasty infection.

His hopes were not particularly high.

At least Krill would be there to clean up the aftermath.

The rest of the humans were outside again today, but technically, all the facilities were open, still he preferred to go back upstairs to his cell for some privacy. He tucked the little case of tools into his single pocket and made his way into the building and towards the stairs. The Drev had taken the TV today and was watching some horrible remake of a classic 2000 movie. There were a lot of explosions and 0 practical effects.

Seemed like a drev thing to do, and he tried to remain unseen as he moved up the stairs and towards his cell. He made it there safely enough, got some privacy and, stupidly, stepped out just in time to meet a group of drev walking down the catwalk.

He froze just outside his room staring at them. They paused to look at him. No one moved for the longest time. Multiple arms flexed, and the large female at the front dropped her head aggressively over her throat. It didn’t take a genius to know what that meant, and before he knew it, his heart was hammering in his throat, his vision had tunneled, and his feet hammered against the catwalk as he bolted for the stairs.

A drev war cry rose behind him, and feet thundered against metal sending terrible vibrations up through his shins and knees. He made it to the stairs and nearly tripped. He caught himself with one hand watching as a life a paralysis flashed before his eyes. The thundering behind him grew stronger, so in a moment of panic, he flung himself over the side of the railing and dropped to the ground almost fifteen feet below. He took the entire impact through the inferior metal of his prosthetic leg collapsing onto the concrete with a sharp thud. Pain blossomed from that same same hip rocketing up his side and into his chest.

Something in the prosthetic snapped and splintered, but he didn’t have time to think about that, dragging himself to his feet and limping pst the tables, shoving other prisoners aside, and ducking past confused drev now being galvanized into action by the war cries of their leaders.

“RUN STEEL, RUN!” There was a thunderous roar, and a wave of humans came crashing into the tables stopping the Drev in their tracks as they tried to follow after Adam.

One prisoner wrenched a chair form the floor and clobbered a Drev in the head with it. Lights and sirens exploded around them as the guards came pouring onto the catwalks screaming for everyone to get down. The riot continued behind him as he scrambled on his busted prosthetic. He looked over his shoulder just in time to duck under the angry swing of an approaching Drev.

He hit the floor on hands and toes for a moment scrambling under a table before racing forward into one of the auxiliary hallways. A table collapsed behind him as the Drev leaped atop it. Cells flashed by him and footsteps gained.

More lights flashed, and the cell doors began to close slowly.

Footsteps were gaining, and were almost upon him as a hand shot out form one of the cells and bodily dragged him through the door, just as it was shutting. He collapsed to the concrete floor just as the Drev slammed into the bars reaching through for him with all four limbs, which it immediately regretted as a metal pipe was rammed into it’s outstretched hands. It cursed in it’s guttural language and drew back angrily.

Adam looked up to find a man standing just to his side. He was an unassuming thin man with little circular glasses, and a slightly soft physique, but he was grinning and stuck out his tongue out at the Drev who then stepped back growling and walked away knowing that he could not make it through the bars. The man dropped the pipe on the bed and turned to look at Adam.

“Close call there, Commander.”

Adam blinked in confusion and shock, “You, you know who I am?”

The man smiled, “Know who you are, I’d have to be living under a rock not to know. I have been following your career for a very long time. A big fan actually.” He held out a hand and hauled Adam to his feet, “Surprised the other's haven't figured it out yet, your disappearance has been all over the news.”

Adam limped over to the bed and sat down pulling up his pant leg to examine the damaged prosthetic. The plastic casing had been completely cracked up one side, and a few of the shock-absorbent springs had been popped from their sockets. The inside of the casing rattled. He frowned.

“I��. thanks for saving my life.”

The man just grinned, “happy to help an intergalactic hero.”

Adam awkwardly waved a hand, but inside he was more than relieved to have found someone who actually believed him. The man seemed pretty trustworthy compared to the others, and he wondered what kind of crime the man could have commuted to get himself into this sort of mess. He didn’t exactly seem like the type to be involved in overtly violent crime. Perhaps he was here on accident, just like Adam himself.

“I had actually been meaning to approach you earlier, but you got snagged up by the guys in the yard so fast, I didn’t really have the time.”

“And you weren't?” he wondered

The man shook his head, “No, I was a late night transfer. No one was here when I showed up, so I was able to fly under the radar. I don’t leave my cell all that much accept for meals, and they generally tend to ignore me.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It is, but it is also nice to have a little company every now and again. And the company of someone like you is even better. Someone who isn’t actually a violent criminal.”

“Than what are you here for if not violent crime.”

The man waved a hand, “Just something stupid. More of a misunderstanding really. Personally I think it was no big deal, but it really bothered some important people,and I ended up here. I Think they hope that I am going to rot here and be forgotten, but I don’t plan on that happening. I plan on serving my time, getting out and going back to my old life as it was.”

“That sounds nice, I would give pretty much anything to be back to my ship.” he sighed and leaned back against the concrete wall, “if I am being honest, It is nice to be around someone who isn’t totally nuts.”

“Personally, I think we should make this a habit.”

“Alright, I can agree to that…. What’s your name by the way?”

“Ted, Ted Gacey.” The two men shook hands, a pleasure to meet you.

The days turned into weeks and the weeks were dangerously close to turning into months. He had narrowly dodged a few more conflicts with the Drev, and the Boss had taken to sending him around with bodyguards as a show of force. That made slipping away to have privacy kind of difficult, but he had managed it meeting with his new friend on occasion to play cards in the other man’s single-bed cramped cell. It seemed as if the two of them had a lot in common, or at least enough. They had the same idea with current intergalactic politics, they had some of the same hobbies, and tended to agree with each other on more social issues.

It was a nice breath of fresh air.

Adam had even introduced krill to his new friend. Krill had been wary of the man from the beginning, but to be fair he was wary of pretty much everyone, and the Commander could hardly blame him. This was a prison after all, and most of the people who were here, were here for a reason, reasons they tended to make plainly obvious through their actions.

Despite being safeguarded from the Drev by other humans, he still wasn’t safe. On more than one occasion he had narrowly dodged some sort of altercation with one of the humans in the party. Generally it was over the asking price of a tattoo, which was based on yard currency in cigarettes and pills. Generally he ended up just handing them over to avoid an altercation. The issue with that is it meant some people knew they could squeeze him for his cash, and often came back to do so. He didn’t want to tell the boss for fear of being labeled a snitch, which was a pretty big insult in the yard, so he made sure to keep his earnings off his person at all times, and often lied to the guys when they came looking telling them that he had lost his currency to another guy with the same idea.

He wasnt looking forward to the day when the lying would catch up with him, but so was his current life. Of course there was also the occasional issue regarding his issue in holding his tongue, and he had ended up accidentally insulting someone on more than one occasion. He had been punched at least twice in the intervening months, but he supposed it could have been worse. He hadn’t broken his nose and both eye sockets were still in tact, so it could have been worse.

His third Issue came from Krill himself. While the little alien was mostly to fearful to do anything other than what he was ordered to do, he had an unfortunate sarcastic streak, which got him into trouble on occasion. Adam was forced to either talk the guys down, or turn the wrath away from his friend often resulting in a drop in pay, some sort of bargain or taking a hit. He was getting pretty sick and tired of it.

If he was being totally honest with himself, he had a relatively low pain threshold. He didn’t like getting kicked around. He wanted out of this place so badly, but the longer the days dragged on, the less hope he had. It was only a matter of time until something truly horrible happened, and there would be no way for him to stop it. How much was he willing to deal with?

He woke up as the hand clamped over his mouth. His eyes shot open, but his scream was muffled as the heavy, slick palm pressed into his face. He trashed against hands that held him down, but they were too strong. In groggy horror and fear he realized this was it, this was the end.

The event he had been waiting for.

The hand tightened, “Stop struggling, and shut up for a minute.” The voice hissed.

He grew very still breathing heavy, ragged breaths through his nose heart hammering eyes prickling with moisture brought on by total fear.

“It’s just me Steel, the boss. Now, I am going to remove my hand, and you are going to be silent.” A hint of relief, and he nodded his head as the hand was removed. He took a clear cleansing air of the musty cell and sat up.

The boss knelt next to his bed with krill hovering nervously behind him.

He rubbed his eyes, “What’s going on?” Adam asked groggily

The man held a finger to his lips “The boys and I just got word of someone on this block that has a less than stellar record.” Adam didn’t bother to point out the irony as the man continued, “This will be your chance to prove your loyalty to the yard kid. In the morning, we are going to fuck this son of a bitch up.”

Adam rubbed the back of his head nervously, “What…. What did he do.”

“Why don’t you take a look for yourself.” the man whispered, passing over a tiny screen showing the man’s incarceration records. As he read, Adam’s stomach twisted and hisirst reaction was one of visceral anger and an incomprehensible burning hatred. He tried to choke it back disgusted with his own feelings, but they kept coming back…. Images of his fists bloody with someone else’s blood.

The Boss chuckled darkly, “Thought you might have that reaction. You know how I feel about people who hurt kids.”

Adam wiped his mouth feeling nauseous pushing the screen back towards the boss

“So when you say, fuck him up.”

“I mean, we’re gonna kill him.”

Adam was suddenly struck with the most uncomfortable sensation in his entire life, a horrible sinking twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach negated and confused by the ravenous anger and glee that he felt at the idea. The feeling was horrible wrenching him in two different directions. One spoke with the voice of his mother and urged him to take the high road. It wasn’t his job to take care of these sort of problems, it was never okay to hurt people that is what the law was for, but another part of him disagreed. This was a lawless planet, and the law was broken besides it didn’t matter after reading that report he knew for certain that the an deserved worse than death, so really killing him was a mercy.

The nausea grew worse the more he thought. He was stuck inside a living nightmare. He couldn’t make a decision like this. Either way he would never be able to live with himself. If he chose to go along with he prisoners, he would be partially responsible for a murder, but if he didn’t he would, in essence, be siding with a monster.

The boss glowered at him with his dark, beady eyes, “You aren't going to chicken out on us are you? You know what this guy did. Not going to side with him are you because if you don’t help us ...”

He let the threat hang on the dark air of the cell. Adam felt his heart sinking even further, and now if he didn’t help murder someone he would be taking the side of the monster, and everyone would blame him for it. Who knows what would happen to him after that. He glanced over at Krill who could only look on at him in pity. He probably had no idea the internal struggle he was having right now, but it hardly mattered. Krill knew that this wasn’t going to be good.

“Who is this guy….” Adam wondered, “Someone we know?”

The man scrolled down on the report, “The guy’s name is Ted, seems to have managed to fly under the radar since getting here.”

Adam felt his heart go cold.

No no no no please no.

The screen turned to face him, and his stomach dropped into the very void itself. He knew that face, he knew that face as a friend, someone he liked, someone he had confided in, someone he had respected, someone he assumed had been innocent. He had played cards with him bemoaned their current living situation. The man had told him his crime was ‘no big deal. He felt nauseous and angry all over again. How could he help kill someone he had liked. How could he even feel remorse for a lying sack of shit that DESERVED to die. Why did he feel bad for WANTING to choke the life out of that man.

The competing emotions made him sick for real. His stomach churned.

The boss patted him on the back, “I know as a matter of course that the guy comes out once a day to eat. Tomorrow at noon, we strike. Made a truce with the bats and the beetles to get in the way of the guards so we can finish the job.”

“But… you hate the Drev.” he whispered his voice choked.

“I do, but I hate this guy even more.” He stood stretching, “I will leave you to a good night’s rest, Steel. Make sure you have your strength for tomorrow.” He got up and left as silently as he had come. Krill remained floating at the side of the cell. Commander Vir remained paralyzed where he sat. Conversations flashed through his head, he remember the man’s face, and couldn’t help his imagination as he wondered how those kids felt. Then his imaginings grew violent. He felt tendons squeeze and pop below his hands as he choked the life out of that man.

He lurched violently from his bed bracing himself with one hand against the wall as he hovered over the toilet. Behind him, his cellmate shifted in his sleep. His mouth watered as it tends to right before one loses their lunch. He squeezed his eyes shut. His skin crawled as he remembered every time that man had touched him, thought about where those hands had been and what they had done.

Saliva dripped in silver strings from his mouth. His stomach clenched. He dry heaved once, but nothing came up, and it didn’t even give him the courtesy of happening fading enough so he stood back up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Krill stood worriedly next to him as he sunk down to the floor next to the shiny silver bowl face in his hands

“What are you going to do?” krill whispered.

“I… I don’t know.” he gripped his hair in both fists still nauseous feeling sick and disgusting wishing that he could scrub off the first layer of his skin. Wishing that he had never ended up in this hell hole, “You only have one option….. You have to do it…” Krill’s voice was regretful but clearly resigned.

He dragged his fingers down his face, “I ...I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.” His stomach churned.

Krill stared at him in confusion sensing a but.

“But…. I want to…. Krill he he LIED to me, and he…. The things he’s done.” he shook his head as a flash of inhuman or perhaps superhuman anger rushed through him, “he deserves to DIE!” Krill took a step back from him in surprise. The anger faded again to a dep profound sickness, “Krill I… I don’t know what to do. Killing people it isn’t right, hurting people isn’t right, no matter how much I want to do it…… and i want to do it Krill. I've never wanted anything so bad before. I it scares me.” His voice dropped to a whisper.

Krill rested one of his appendages on the man’s shoulder face buried back in his hands, “I don’t entirely understand.”

He looked up agonized green eye caught in the dim light of the cell, “I…. he deserves to die Krill…. After reading that. I want nothing more than to kill him. That’s the most monstrous inhuman horrible thing that a person can do, and every…. Every fiber of my being want to hurt him, wants to make him suffer.” His voice hissed through his teeth with the strength of his anger before churning downwards, “But ... but I’m supposed to be better than that, Krill. Commander of the UNSC I am an upholder of the law, I i cant stoop to beating people to death. I can't do this. If I did this I would just prove I’m not worthy to hold the position, and I would disappoint everyone who has ever known me I’d disappoint myself. Id become one of them.” He glanced towards the door, “Thi issue is supposed to be something for the law.” He tugged at his hair in frustration, “But the law here is so twisted….. Krill I…. I don’t know what to do.”

Krlil Could only stand and watch helpless as the human struggled internally. Krill himself understood what was logical. The idea of a moral right and wrong was not something he could entirely comprehend. Things either made sense, or they didn’t and right now following rule of the gang was the only thing that made sense. The guy deserved it, the commander wanted too, and he would be punished if he didn’t, so there seemed to be only one logical course of action.

But then again, the man had always had a strong ‘moral compass’ and it could potentially cause some severe psychological damage if he did…. Something that other species would never have to deal with. Either way he would lose.

Krill tried to comfort his friend, but paranoia made him return to his cell for fear of retribution leaving Commander Vir alone in the dark curled in a ball head in hands wishing more than anything that he could be anywhere else than struggling with his own indecision. The gut most human part of him leading to violence while the higher part of him told him it was wrong.

He didn’t sleep that night.

The star rose on an unsuspecting landscape. The prison doors opened with a buzz and prisoners staggered rubbing their eyes groggily as they moved out into the hall. Commander Vir stepped from his room like a zombie eyes red face pale, only to be greeted by the other members of the crew who shared wolfish, knowing looks.

He didn’t have the stomach for breakfast, and sat, staring down the hall with a hammering heart. The hours ticked on bringing him closer and closer to a decision.

His heart ached.

Sitting out in the yard, head bowed face down, he still hadn’t come to a decision. He could hear the other humans muttering around him with anticipation for what was to come. He wished the guards would take notice of the strange behavior and act on it. They had to know something was up, with the prisoners sitting around doing nothing, looking hungrily towards the mess hall doors like a pack of ravening animals.

He didn’t want any part of this.

He had never thought in a million years that he would have to make this sort of decision, and what was worse, he hated how he felt. He wanted nothing more than to watch this guy get what was coming to him.

If he really was a good person, if he really cared, wouldn’t he tell someone?

There was a sharp whistle, and all the men on the yard stood eagerly from their seats and headed towards the doors. His heart sank into his chest, and he stood but had trouble making himself move. A hand clamped about hi shoulder from behind, and he was shoved towards the open doors, “Don’t chicken out on us now Steel.” Smiley whispered from behind.

He was pushed through the door sitting down at a table slightly away from the others. He had ordered Krill off to his cell for the duration of what was about to happen. He didn’t want the little alien to have to see what was about to happen. If he could have, he would have made it so that HE didn’t have to see what was going on.

He didn’t see how the guards couldn’t sense what was about to happen. The tension in the air was palpable and could have been hacked through with a dull knife. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, hoping that the man would not come through those doors. Perhaps he would stay in his cell today, and no one would be the wiser. Perhaps someone would come and find him before this was all said and done, and he wouldn’t have to hear about it.

He tried to fight back those thoughts, the thoughts of a coward. Just because he wasn’t here didn’t mean that he should ignore it. He couldn't’ just wash his hands of the situation

He SHOULD get up and tell the guards what was going to happen and consequences be damned.

But another part of him, a secret dark part of him….. Refused to bring himself to do it. That man knew what he did. He had made the decisions that brought him here, he had done something unforgivable and disgusting, and now he deserved to get what was coming to him, it was only fair after all the things he had done. It wasn’t Adam’s responsibility to go out of his way to help a man who deserved nothing better than death. In fact, death was to easy of a punishment in his opinion.

There were just some things that were unforgivable.

He felt, rather than saw when the man entered. He sensed it on the tensing of the air. Even the Drev had chosen to make themselves scarce retreating to their cells or the catwalks high above to watch what was about to happen. It seemed as if only the guards didn’t know. Or perhaps they did, and they didn’t care.

He sat hunched over his trey praying, and felt his heart tighten when a shadow darkened the seat across from him.

He couldn’t bare to look up.

“Good morning, Commander. I missed your company this morning.” The sound of the man’s voice made his skin crawl. His heart began to race and he felt a sudden overwhelming burst of white hot hatred. The feeling scared him, and he tried his best to choke it down, but it wouldn’t go. Sensing the man there, hearing his sniveling voice and thinking about the times they had made contact with each other. Handing over a card or even shaking hands.

It made him sick, and angry.

He made no noise.

“Is everything alright.” The man wondered.

Another shadow crossed over his back. He could feel them gathering behind him. The man before him went silent head tilted back to look upwards at the looming figures beginning to gather around the table.

A hand landed on the Commander’s shoulder, “Steel…. This…. A friend of yours.” the voice was cold and hard.

There was a long silence.

“I don’t want any trouble.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezed, “Steel.”

Commander Vir lifted his eyes from the table, making contact with the pleading expression of the man across the table. His watery grey eyes, his unassuming appearance, his receding mousy hairline. He looked like your average middle-aged man…. No, he was a monster wearing the skin of an average middle aged man.

Commander Vir felt as if he was watching himself in third person over his own shoulder. The boyish, wide eyed, honorable side of him was violently beaten down and dragged into a closet as something worse appeared materialized from the darkness in his head. The natural man took the controls cold and hard empty emotionless a creature of self satisfaction, the Id, the part of him that wanted nothing more than immediate reward, sadistic, hateful, envious, and carnal.

It had no mercy.

And it was as if from the opposite side of the glass he heard himself say.

“No….. he’s no friend of mine.”

And like his words had been the damn that held back hell, the hounds were released, and a moment later the room was filled with the uproar of screaming voices and cries of horrific animalistic agony.

Adam was pushed to the side, and the table at which he sat was overturned as a riot of men threw themselves past him. He hit the floor and rolled to the side coming to land in a crouch just to the right of the overturned table. The room echoed and clattered.

Screams of absolute agony cut through the air. Sirens blared red and bloody painting the walls in a hellish light.

Something cracked.

Screaming.

He crouches watching a writing mass of bodies, a horrific amalgamation of man’s worst instincts piled together in a many legged many armed creatures. Hands raised and plunged downwards violently, repeatedly. Blood painted the floor like a Jackson Pollock painting done in red. The screaming grew until it was no longer human, a guttural animalistic wale that rent the very air around them.

They were tearing him apart.

Adam felt the corner of his mouth twist in grim satisfaction, and then immediately snapped back to reality choked with disgust and horror. Rooted to the spot doing NOTHING watching a man being murdered before his eyes, and yet...

In the midst of it all, he couldn’t bring himself to intervene.

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder shoving him forward, “GET IN THERE.” The boss growled hand coming away covered in blood. A small part of himself, that animal from earlier snarled at the door to his cage.

A part of him wanted more than anything to join in.

Watched in satisfaction as he got what was coming to him. He relished the poetic justice of it all, while at the same time feeling disgust at himself. The world around him seemed to flow in slow motion. Small droplets of blood leaped into the air where they caught the light before falling back to earth. Something else cracked.

He felt his heart jumped with a sick excitement.

“No.” he whispered

The world lost all sound. The screaming faded and died. The boss cut around to look down at him, “What.”

“I said, no.” he whispered again.

A body skidded past them on the floor ragged, torn.

Eyes narrowed, anger flared in the depth of two black pupils. He rose in Adam’s vision, “You would side with the FREAK!” “I side with NO ONE .” Adam spat.

The man stared at him, a once, predatory friendliness turned to ice, “You will wish you had never been born.” but he had more immediate matters to attend to, turning and joining the climax of the fight. Adam remained rooted to the spot sick horrified as bone snapped, and the body went silent and limp.

They didn’t stop there….. They kept going on and on and on as Commander Vir stood on and watched. The tables had all been overturned, blood painted the floor in wide arcs. And there he stood doing nothing, neither joining or helping. Holding back like a coward, like some kind of sadistic animal looking on like an unfeeling king watches an execution, watches men women and children hang from a rope. The men pulled away from the bloody husk twisted and broken on the ground, and at that moment Adam Vir was hit with a sense of horror and self loathing he couldn’t have comprehended even ten minutes before. The bloodied corpse grew up in his vision until it filled his head, dead staring eyes boring into his soul, a snapshot that would remain with him forever.

A man he had condemned to death with his actions and his words.

He was a sick twisted bastard.

And he had allowed a man to die…. Had encouraged it with his innaction, had wanted it. And deep down, he had relished it in a deep sick part of his mind he felt no remorse.

He was glad the sick fuck was gone.

Perhaps that’s why he stayed, he could have run knowing what was coming, but he didn’t deserve to run. He didn’t deserve to fight back. He didn’t even close his eyes as the circle closed in around him, men covered in blood like a pack of hyenas feeding on carrion returning to finish off a wounded prey animal.

The boss stopped a few feet in front of him, body painted with the world’s most horrific body paint, “Now that we’ve gotten rid of one sick fuck, we now have to get rid of the sympathizers.”

He saw the first coming, could have dodged…. But he didn’t.

HE was hauled to his feet by smiley jerked off his feet by the front of his jumpsuit. Hoisted into the air so that his toes were dangling inches from the ground. Lights grew up in his eyes as he stared upwards watching the balconies and the surrounding Drev staring down at him like the council at his trial their expressions uncaring…. Even pleased.

“You had your orders.” The man spat. “And you stood there like a coward.”

Adam locked eyes with the man, “You;re right.” He said simply

The first punch was a kidney shot and had him on the ground writhing in agony within the first few seconds. It was hard to remember what happened next. The boot to the face, kicked in the side, the chest ribs. He was punched in the head, it was all a blur of faces all anger and malice. People who had once considered him a friend now drove their bodies against him in a frenzy that painted his blood across the floor with that of a deadman.

The latch to his prosthetic snapped. Metal was ripped away from his body.

He screamed once, was kicked in the stomach and choked on his own missing air. But he didn’t fight them, he didn’t deserve to fight them.

He curled up into a ball forearms covering his face and despite the pain and the agony, he refused to pass out. He didn't deserve that. Inside his head visions of that bloody…. Thing repeated over and over and over again

Voices swelled up around him, yelling and barking. Men cried out in pain, and with one last kick to his thigh, he was left lying in a pool of his own blood face resting against the cold concrete/ Voices rose above him, grabbing him about the arms and dragging him away. He heard the voices of the guards, watched the lights overhead pass over him in sharp streaks. Something warm trickled down the side of his face. Spilled onto the floor to be smeared into the concrete.

A door opened, and he was thrown inside.

A concrete room with no windows, a steel door, no bed and a hole in the far corner.

In tremendous pain, the man pulled himself sitting back on his knees and stared down at his hands covered in congealing blood once steady. As he watched they began to shake uncontrollably. He hunched forward hands to his chest face contorted into an expression of pain, and agony, not from the wounds, ot from the pain, but from the realization of what he had done.

A sob escaped him, and he didn’t try to fight it. His body ached with horrific pain with every racking sob. Tears tracked pathways through the blood on his face and fell to the ground a delicate pink.

What had he done?

He had sat there, and he had watched a man brutally murdered. And he had done nothing about it….. A part of him had even enjoyed it.

He watched in turmoil as the picture he had crafted of himself shattered into a million pieces and cascaded around him to the floor. The upstanding, moral man who always did what he knew was right, who was taught by loving parents to take the high road, who modeled himself after superheroes, action heroes, and his own idols. Someone who protected the innocent, upheld the weak and righted the unjust…. Was nothing more than a paper man.

A sham.

A fake.

A lie.

He sobbed into his hands which morphed into screams with the sobs were no longer enough to express his self loathing. What kind of man was he, couldn't even stand by his actions once they were made weeping like a pathetic child.

He lay, cold on the floor for hours and hours staring at the far wall listening to the distant echoes of the prison. As he calmed he took stock of himself swept up the pieces so that he was all together despite being broken.

Though he wished it had never happened, he could change nothing now. He had done what he had done. The ends didn’t justify the means, and just because he hadn’t done anything didn’t mean blood wasn’t on his hands. How could he know what was right do you save a monster because it's morally right, or stand by and watch a monster die because that’s what it really deserves. What gave him the right to make that decision.

He lay there for what must have been hours but could have been days his skin growing sticky and then crusted with drying blood. The door to his cell opened, “Get up.” When he couldn’t do it on his own, he was hauled to his feet by one of the guards. Together they walked, and hopped, back down the halls and onto the yard. The entire room was quiet as they stared at him.

He couldn't have cared less that they could see him in such a sorry state, what did it matter now. The paper man had crumbled, they might as well see it. He was left sagging on one leg in the center of the room, and he didn’t bother to move. The men got to their feet glowering down at him with a mixture of expressions. Time moved around him as if at double speed

A figure scuttled towards him from the darkness, and to his surprise, krill took his hand.

He had never done anything like that before.

He looked down.

And the alien looked up at him, though he said nothing.

The room grew tighter, men approached from all sides, “Krill, you should go.” His slurred through swollen, painful lips.

“No Commander.” krill responded

The guard withdrew, and the room shifted forward. This time he did close his eyes. It was one thing to see another man die, but to watch Krill caught up in this was to much. He tried to urge the little alien away once more, but he refused, wrapping his spidery arms around his human friend all too sure that he was going to die here.

But if that was the case, he would not let his human die alone and suffering.

Adam leaned his head against Krill eyes tight shut.

“It’s going to be ok.” The alien muttered

Adam felt a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.How very human….

Empty platitudes.

The little alien had learned a lot.

A shadow cut past them. He lowered his head.

And the room was split in half by a Drev battle cry so powerful that it rattled the walls and the floors. The man above them staggered back hands over his ears. The catwalks clattered, and the ground shook. Adam opened his eyes lifting them towards the sky, not expecting to find an angel, but getting one in bright blue.

Sunny stood on the catwalk above face contorted with a livid anger that cowed guards, drev and humans alike, “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE.” She snarled at the human standing next to her, turning and shoving Drev two to three feet taller than her out of the way with the ease a bowling ball goes through pins.

The human scampered after her, “We… we had no idea.”

Sunny rounded on here, “DID YOU EVEN BOTHER TO FIND OUT.” Behind her, a member of the UN and the chairwoman of the GA stepped through the doors faces shocked and appalled as they looked about the room and the conditions in which the prisoners were being kept.

Sunny came to to toe with the leader of the Drev yard. At first the large female didn’t move, but a single look from sunny cowed her into groveling submission as sunny shoved past and marched down the stairs. She nearly body checked one of the prisoners over the railing and onto the floor fifteen feet beneath when he did not move fast enough.

Leaving the Chairwoman and the representative above, Sunny raced across the floor and skidding to kneel at Adam’s side. He lifted his head to look at her dried blood cracking against the movement.

A look of pain crossed her face, and a single hand gently cupped the side of his face tilting it this way and that, “Oh Adam, what have they done.” She whispered

The light above him grew very very bright filling his vision with light, “I’m a paper man,” He whispered, but that was all he could say body slumping into her arms. A murmur grew up around the room.

Sunny hugged the human against her chest.

“Commander!.” Two voices from above, and two marines came leaping down the stairs heedless of their uniforms.. Ramirez and the short, blond hair female marine ‘Maverick’.

“The hell did they do to you.” The Maverick snarled glowering at the other prisoners standing quietly back in a wide circle.

Their discussion was interrupted as the warden stepped onto the catwalk, ‘I DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHO YOU ARE; YOU HAVE NO JURISDICTION HERE!” “THE HELL WE DON’T.” The UN rep snapped, “By GA law, any HUMAN allowed off earth or mars remains under the jurisdiction of the UNSC in accordance with the first intercelestial peace accord put forth by the GA in 4018. Furthermore all Tesraki Drev and Rundi subjects are bound by GA bylaw, so YES we have jurisdiction, and we have allowed this to continue long enough. FURTHERMORE.” he said speaking up over the protests of the warden, “You have violated at LEAST 50 intergalactic bylaws, and amendments. What is this 2001, we know what humanity is by now AT LEAST. Not to mention that we show up here and find one of our Commanding officers kneeling in a pool of his own blood, only to learn that you didn’t even bother to verify his identity.”

“He had no prints in the system.” The man snarled

“ONE PHONE CALL. JUST ONE PHONE CALL. And that is not even TOUCHING on his right to counsel, or a fair trial. We don’t just THROW people in prison based on circumstantial evidence. He was sent here to get down to the problem of intergalactic hormone trade only to be beaten half to death by men no better than animals in a prison, the likes of which we haven't seen since the late 2000s. You sir are a DISGRACE to the ENTIRE HUMAN RACE.” Commander Vir was only half listening idly staring at the lights as someone wiped blood from his face.

“Get him up.”

Someone ducked under one of his arms and he was hauled to his feet. He tried his best to keep one leg under him, but was finding he wasn’t a great amount of help. Maverick supported his one side, while sunny took the other. Ramirez, based on a look, made it very clear what would happen if any of them tried anything grabbing krill by the hand and pulling him along.

It all felt like a dream as the steel catwalk passed below him, and the doors slid open. The prison faded behind him into a maze of hallways.

He was out, he was free.

…. He was finally……

Free.

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adambarnardphotos · 8 years ago

Text

The Undertaker and The Undeniable Truth

The crowd booed loudly as The Undertaker walked down the entrance ramp of the Spectrum in Philadelphia in 1992. Led in the ring by the equally pale and slightly more unnerving Paul Bearer, Undertaker set his sights for the ring, ominously sizing up his opponent. I felt the warmth of the stadium dissipate, giving way to a cold that ran up my spine, or so I had thought I’d felt. I sat with my eyes wide open under the bent brim of my Seattle Mariners hat, mesmerized by this gigantic and, apparently undead, man walk slowly and methodically towards the ring. I had no idea what “kayfabe” meant as a squirmy seven year old. I just knew this thing was the scariest thing I’d ever seen, and that my attention was completely focused on him. I was so entranced in his entrance, I couldn’t hear the roar of the crowd as his opponent, Jake “the Snake” Roberts, entered the ring to begin their match. I was captivated by the energy, the pageantry, the excitement of a WWE (then WWF) live event, and The Undertaker captured all of that by himself.

That day at the Spectrum was a wonderful touchstone in a lifelong fanaticism with professional wrestling. My brothers and I spent hours acting out all of our favorite promos from the Ultimate Warrior, belting out the theme songs of our favorite Superstars, and became deeply distressed at any sign of Hulk Hogan losing the upper hand. Saturday mornings were sacred, the squared circle our church, and the Superstars our Biblical figures, with their storylines as hallowed as the stories of Moses and Abraham. I can’t think of my childhood without the thought of the WWE in my mind. My brothers and I agonized over which Superstar would win the Royal Rumble and who, if anyone, would beat the Undertaker at Wrestlemania. WWE had grown with us, with Hulk Hogan and Randy Savage giving way to Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels, then giving way to The Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin. Each year that passed brought a new storyline to become deeply involved with, new drama to be captivated by, a new Wrestlemania to desperately wait for.

We couldn’t have known as children the impact The Undertaker would have on professional wrestling and a generation of children, including the wide eyed, brown haired little boy in the nosebleed section of the Spectrum that day in 1992. His storied career has spanned more than three decades, the majority of that time as “The Deadman”. We watched him slay giants, be buried alive, become one of the darkest villains in the history of sports entertainment, transform into the American Bad Ass, and then take his rightful throne as the real “Mr. Wrestlemania” (sorry, Shawn Michaels, but you know it’s true). Last night, after his loss to Roman Reigns at Wrestlemania 33, the Deadman placed the pieces that made him iconic in the middle of the ring and symbolically brought an end to his historic career.

Life is funny sometimes. Some days bring reminders of good moments in your life. A cigarette smell brings you right back to the afternoon you spent swimming in your Uncle Lon’s swimming pool, while he enjoyed his Marlboro Lights and black coffee on the covered porch of his Levittown home. A crack of a baseball bat connecting with a 98 mile an hour pitch sends you to the hazy summer afternoon spent in the blue seats of Veterans Stadium with your brothers, dad, and favorite perpetual teenager, Uncle Rick. Waves crashing against the sandy beach transports you to the summer of your first vacation crush when you went to Cape May Courthouse with your mom and brothers, and the impending heartbreak that comes with saying goodbye when the trip is over. While her name has been eternally lost in translation between your short and long term memories, you can see her brown hair blowing in the wind as you threw sea shells into the ocean with her, and you can hear her laugh at the terrible joke you told her seconds before she kissed you. Wonderful, amazing moments that push the course of your life in new, exciting directions, and these life receipts, whether tangible or connected to senses, connect you directly to your past.

Other days are reminders of mortality and the unstoppable aging process that precedes our inevitable fate. Those reminders perpetually yield an absolute sadness, a melancholy that lingers over my daily routine like an obnoxious itch on your leg after a mosquito bite. It’s like a bitter aftertaste from a terrible drink your brother swore was delicious, and you knew better than to trust him on his decision making, but you drank it anyway, and no amount of water will dilute its foul remnants. No one and no actual thing prepares you for each loss you experience in life, nor do they buffer you from the successive losses of your childhood that accompany each passing year. There’s no guide to prepare for the first major loss in your life, as Uncle Lon slips away from cancer. The life lessons and tough skin Uncle Lon’s passing brought most certainly did not prepare you for the loss of Uncle Rick, also from cancer. Although you were older when Uncle Rick got sick, and you “convinced” yourself you could handle it because you knew it was coming, that the inevitability of his passing was sealed in his book of life, you’d literally give anything to sit and enjoy a Burger King cheeseburger and talk Phillies with him for another five minutes. You lose close friends by way of accident, and each loss never gets easier, as if I’m expecting the sudden, unexpected, and emotionally devastating passing of Scott Palek to somehow cushion me from the air constricting, guttural reaction I experience when learning Jeremy Fischer passed. Forty pounds and twice a day anxiety medicine told me that I wasn’t cushioned at all. They all become immediate reminders that the only constant in life is death, and, to quote John Mayer, “we’re never going to stop this train.”

Wrestlemania 33 brought one more reminder of this nonstop train. I remember speaking to my wife a few days before Wrestlemania 33, and saying, “I can’t believe Taker’s wrestling again. I don’t know how much more his body can take. He’s getting older, he’s probably past time to hang it up.” I said these things, not at all expecting him to do just that. I had the same thoughts about Goldberg, Sting, and other titans of professional wrestling coming back for one more round. Like Goldberg and Sting, The Undertaker owes us no more than he’s already given us. He’s entertained me, my brothers, and legions of fans across decades, putting his body and safety on the line in death defying, jaw dropping, heart pounding fashions, each and every time. I, like so many others, plead for more entertainment, more excitement, more action, but in reality, we’re pleading for a return to times long past. We project these fleeting wishes onto The Undertaker, a man who represents the last tangible piece of those times. The Undertaker hasn’t transitioned into that next plane of existence, like Robin Williams, The Ultimate Warrior, Chris Farley, Ryan Dunn, and countless other people, places, and things that no longer exist but in memory. The idea of him, however, his aura, and what he represents, now joins that plane in my mind. The Undertaker was the last tangible piece of my childhood that existed. I could watch his matches and remember that day vividly in the Spectrum, and become lost again as a child, discussing with my brothers whether or not was really dead and what was really in that urn. As I turn the calendar of another year of life, I find myself a year older, and another year as a father. I’ve shifted the life roles from child to father, and my father has become the wise grandfather, imparting wisdom and guidance on days where I can’t imagine my children acting any worse, and him gently reminding me that days like today don’t come back, and the better way to view life was to just breath and enjoy the ride. I snap back into the moment, looking towards two sets of little eyes above chocolate covered faces, and then repeating the Aladdin song to hear the sweet singing voice of my oldest serenade me one more time.

The seven year old boy is crying quietly, arms draped on the railing of the Spectrum, pulling his bent brimmed Seattle Mariners hat over his face to hide the tears, as another one of his heroes, and another, perhaps final, piece of his childhood makes the inevitable transition from present to past, short term to long term memory, taking its place with Uncle Lon, Uncle Rick, lost loves at the beach, and infinite life receipts, to peek out from time to time to remind us of who we are, the roads we’ve traveled, and where we’re headed next.

But I’m sitting here, typing through tears, saying “…maybe one more match for us? Please?”

Thank you for everything, Mark Calaway. You have made my life better and enjoyable in measurable ways I’m not sure I could accurately describe, and I thank you for every single moment of joy, excitement, and entertainment you’ve provided me.

#undertaker #wwe #retirement #wrestlemania #death

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