The Uniform

Max strolled through his apartment, naked. As he walked past the table he picked up the cellphone. Beads of water still clung to his body. His thumb danced over the numbers and he brought it up to his ear, continuing to walk to his bedroom. He tossed the towel that was draped over his shoulder onto the hamper. 

Come on, he thought. Pick up already. 

He let the phone ring as he surveyed his closet. He had several t-shirts pressed and hanging from hangers. He selected the neon orange t-shirt with the word DANGER in bold black letters across the chest. He went to the drawer and pulled out boxers and some wool socks. On the floor were a pair of canvas pants with tons of pockets. There was no answer.

"Damnation," he muttered as he turned off the phone. Then he dressed in his uniform of the day.

Music Soothes Thy Savage Beasts

"We're going to have a whack of trouble in a few short seconds if you don't hurry up," Max said nonchalantly. He was leaning up against a water cooler. Sipping the cool liquid from a plastic cup.

Maggie's fingers were on the tumbler; she was turning the dial with elegant ease. Her eyes closed and her head cocked to one side as if listening to what her fingers were trying to tell her.

Max figured that someone had tripped the silent alarm; he was pretty sure that it wasn't him or Mags that did so. Maybe it was that security guard that had been watching a western on a laptop, when Max had walked up beside him and asked him if it was any good. The security guard had looked startled and Max had cold-cocked him. Max was thinking now, maybe he should have killed him.

"Anytime now," Max said. He crumpled up the plastic cup.

"Just keep your panties on," Mags said. "I'm just about there."

And like magic the lock clicked into place and Maggie turned the handle to open the door. She smiled like a cat in a room full of canaries as she peered inside and found what she was looking for. And old 45 record.

Faux News

Nun Questioned In Triple Slaying 
By Ksen Daniels
 
HOLYTREE (Reuters) - Sister Margaret Mary, a 77-year-old nun, is being held for questioning in the deaths of three people. 

The sister is apparently the sole survivor of a fight that had taken place in a church, in which a priest and two men were slain. 

"An angel from heaven arrived and saved me," Sister Margaret Mary, dressed in a black habit and veil, said.

"These three 'demons' had entered the church to be destructive, but a lovely red-haired angel came crashing down from the heavens, with a sword of light by her side, to banish the demons," she had told the press.

Police refused to comment on the situation, stating that it is still under investigation.

Gunfire Choir

The gun spoke for him. 

He guessed that the recipient of the bullet didn't like his response. But it still made Max feel good. He was having one hell of a bad week, and this day put the capper on it. He needed a release and he had found it. 

There was a thud in the distance. 

"Okay boys, let him have it!" a voice shouted, and then followed that with a hail of bullets. 

Max was resting against the wall, cigarette dangling from his lips. The sound of bullets bouncing off concrete, marble, plaster, metal was beautiful music to him. Soothing the savage beast.

Method Acting

They stood there looking at him. Eyes wide and full of terror, mouths dropped open as if to make primal screams. The sound of the gun going off was enough to make anyone do a double take. The culprit who had come in and fired the shot was long gone.

Max shook his head and couldn't believe what had just happened. He really wasn't expecting to get shot at all today, and had been off his guard. The group of teenagers stood there in shock, watching blood pour from the chest wound. They had never seen anyone get shot.

Max dropped to his knees. He felt a little discomfort. It felt like his chest was on fire, the bullet seemed lodged to the left of his heart. He knew that it was a fatal shot and he didn't have much time left. 

"You okay, Mr Cube?" one of the kids asked. Max didn't know which one but the voice was vaguely familiar.

"Yeah," Max said. He tried to get up but it felt like gravity was his enemy at the moment. He saw one of the girls reach for her cellphone. "No calls, please. I'm alright. Let this scene play out."

He got to a chair and pulled himself up into the seat. Ketchup. Ketchup. Ketchup, he whispered to himself. He fumbled into his vest pocket for a pack of smokes and it dropped from his hands.

Ketchup.

He reached for the pack on the floor but Kara picked it up and handed him one. He brought the cigarette sluggishly to his mouth and then fished a book of matches from out of his pants pocket, an old faded book with once golden letters declaring a place long forgotten. He flipped it open. He knew he didn't have much time left. There were two matches remaining, and he took one. 

He struck the match a few times until it lit and then he brought it up to the smoke that dangled from his lips. It took great effort and strength to do so. He sucked in the flavour of the cigarette and he closed his eyes. And he smelled ketchup. The kids were crowding around now.

"And that's what we call acting," Max said. His eyes opened and he stood up. 

"Wha...?" There was several gasps. They were stunned to find out that this was all part of the class.

Max opened up his shirt to remove a baggie that was once filled with ketchup. And he smiled.

Mobile Hospital

His brain was on fire with the intensity of a thousand stars going supernova. The pain was so fierce he thought that death would be a welcome relief. Max was shouting incoherently at those around him, his words making no sense to the closed minded.

"He's going into cardiac arrest. He's dying," a medic shouted. "He should be taken to a hospital!"

Morganfokker turned his head and glared at the medic. "I have my orders. It's all part of Project: Legacy."

"But... But he's turning blue from lack of oxygen. His BP's dropped below the scale. It's a miracle that he's still alive," the medic said. He was just a field surgeon with no experience at all in psychology. He really didn't know what he was doing here, but it was his orders.

Morganfokker growled. He got up from the desk and went to the cubicle. Max was rolling around on the bed, his body convulsing against the restraints. Morganfokker shoved the medic aside and reached for a silver case. He took out a needle filled with a strange liquid.

"What is that?" the medic asked.

Morganfokker didn't answer; he administered the serum into Max's neck. And Max dropped like a sheet, his eyes rolled back and he went still. Splayed on the table like beef on a butcher's block. Morganfokker smiled.

The Conversationalist

After a long puff, Max butted out the cigarette in the clean ashtray. He sat there at the table, looking at the man sitting across from him. The man was cold and efficient, like an automaton, hands clasped on the table before him.

"So Mr. Cube, what else do you have to say?" the automaton asked.

Max drummed his fingers on the oak table; he could feel that it was real wood and he liked the touch of it. He reached over to the pack of cigarettes to his left, which caused Mr. Automaton to frown more. "Smoking does kill you," it said.

"I know," Max said. "Same with crossing the street."

Number One Hit

Max got out of the car, which wasn't unusual in itself. But this car in particular was going at 79mph at the time. That was no concern to him. What concerned him the most was the fact that there was an explosive device in that car that was about to go off at any second.

He had jumped from the car onto a moving flatbed trailer, scanning the 3 feet distance between the car and the trailer, like a skater doing an axle. He landed and turned to see the car he had been in explode with the intensity of a sun going nova. He shielded his eyes.

"Damn," he said as he realized he left his ipod on the seat.

Drifting Away

It happened to be a beautiful day in the city. Max was sitting on a bench by a fountain, watching the world slowly go by. For the past few days he had been troubled by recent events and just wanted to take some time to adjust.

Skateboarders zipped by, as well as cyclists. Mothers walking their kids. A young girl skipped by with a bubble wand, releasing several into the air.

A bubble drifted pass his line of sight, breaking him out of his current thoughts. The bubble danced in the wind momentarily in front of him, just enough to get his attention before it moved on. Max looked at the bubble and thought of it as it's own tiny universe.

Looking at the bubble as it drifted away, he imagined several universes inside that bubble, billions of stars and the possibility of life in there. The bubble drifted out from his line of sight and Max smiled. 

At any moment he could have been a vengeful god and destroyed that universe. But then he thought that it deserved it's natural course of action, just like this reality.

Where Do I Begin?

The subway pulled up to the platform and Maggie stepped on. She took a seat away from the others and slipped on the earphones. Delirium was just starting, 'Innocente', and that song brought a smile to her face.

Maggie let the music flow through her, the ipod doing it's duty and making the world her movie. She now knew Max's fascination with music; if you lived your life like a movie, have one killer soundtrack.

The city flowed by like a river after the rain, and she closed her eyes. The past couple of days were a blur, which was literally true, since several reality shifts had occurred and really caught her off guard. One minute you're at a nightclub dancing to the music, the next second your in the middle of zombies who want to tear at your flesh. Though, Maggie thought, that wasn't necessarily much of a difference.

"Penny for your thoughts," the gentlemen said, breaking Maggie from her daydream. She looked at the fellow and smiled. He had gotten on at the last stop and took the seat right across from her. He wore dark sunglasses and Maggie couldn't read his eyes, which meant one of two things.

"Must of been a nice thought," the gentlemen added.

"It was," she lied.

Tea, Sir

"Konnichi wa," the man behind the counter said. He looked toward the door to the shop when the chimes jingled. He saw a young man strolling in and walking through the tables up to the counter.

"Are you The Guardian?" Max decided to be direct. He was tired and had gone through hell and he wasn't in the mood for any games. He fished out a bent coin from his pocket and tossed it on the counter.

The old man nodded and pointed to the counter stool. Max took a seat and a cup of herbal tea was placed before him. The tea's aroma was tantalizing and very tempting.

"How can I help the young dragon?" the old man asked. 

Max took a long sip from his tea and savored the taste. "I was told that there was a young woman in here about three weeks back. She had a cat and a cheerleader with her.".

"Yes," The Guardian said. He placed down the sharp knife and walked over towards Max. "A very fiery one at that."

Max glanced around the tiny shop and then back at the old man. "Not too bad at all. I see that it didn't take too long for the repairs."

The old man chuckled a little and then he waved to Max to join him behind the counter. "I presume that you want to meet up with your friends."

It was Max's turn to nod. "But it can wait til after this tea."

Figure of Speech

Max reached for the canteen, unscrewed the cap and took a long pull. He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt and then handed the canteen to the kid. Suki waved her hand; she wasn't too thirsty.

"You better take some of this," he told her. He glanced behind them to see if anyone had been following. "Who knows when the next time we'll get an opportunity like this."

She took the canteen and took a tiny sip and then handed it back to Max. He put the cap back onto it and then tossed it into the jeep. He took out a pistol and showed it to the girl.

"You know how to use this?" he asked her. "In the next few hours we are going to be in a whack of trouble."

Suki nodded yes. Max checked to see if it was loaded and saw that it was.

"You don't talk much," said Max as he handed her the gun. As soon as she held the weapon in her hands she seemed like an old vet.

"Talking is just a waste of energy," Suki answered. "My grandfather says energy is useful bottled up and when the time comes to use it, you use it."

"Well, what do you know," Max said with a chuckle. Suki hadn't really said much at all since he had rescued her from a group of Tongs. "She really knows how to say a word."

Suki smiled.