Hit Me With Your Best Shot

THWIRP!

The bullet left the gun, traveling across the span of space, pushing aside the air, leaving a wake. Mags ducked, the bullet just missing her by a mere fraction of a millimeter. Her heart pounding, adrenaline kicking in.

The two LEGACY hitmen were stationed on the rooftop. They had tracked down the target and had her in their sights. But for some uncanny reason, as their fingers pressed upon the triggers of their guns, the target looked out the window and straight at them.

"She's even better than what the report described," said one of the assassins. He was swinging the rifle around to track her.

"Not for much longer," the other said as he pulled the trigger.

The Rain Game

The waiting was always the hardest part. After the last shift, Max had been affected. He had disappeared, running off into the night screaming about needles in the brain. Mags tried to take off after him, but she was still wounded from the battle. If only she had caught him before he rabbited.

Mags realized Max was a cosmic instrument, and that with each shift some neural patterns would change in his brain. Like a software program rewriting itself, and that sometimes glitches appeared. This time was one of those glitches. She hoped.

Mags sat on the window sill watching rain streak down the pane. Her left hand touching the window and feeling the vibration of the storm. She was feeling what the tempest was bringing and it made her cry; a tear streaked down her cheek and past the smile on her lips.

Her laptop was open and she was perusing through the news, using the power of Google to find some weird stuff happening in this reality. She caught a news story of how a woman was being attacked by "rabid dogs" and how a heroic rescuer intervened.

There was a fuzzy snapshot of the fellow, but through the blurred photo she could make out Max. It looked like he was giving the finger to the cameraman.

"Take care of yourself, you big fool," she said. She just needed a few more days, then she would begin the hunt.

Faux Blog

An excerpt from someone's journal at UniversalBlogs - uniting bloggers of the world so you don't have to:
 
COMMUTER HELL
 
One thing I hate is using public transportation to get me where I need to be when I need to be there. Each time I do something strange seems to happen. My car is in the shop getting fixed, and I am trying to save money from not renting in order to get it fixed. So for the past few days I've been taking the subway in to work. Yee-fucking-haw.

Today, I was introduced to a strange site. I swear, it's a commuter rite-of-passage. Now I have heard stories about some of the strange stuff that happens in subways. Something akin to the Twilight Zone, but I shrugged them off as myths and legends. Now, I ain't too fucking sure.

Platform Souls

The subway doors slid open and Akimoto stepped out onto the dirty platform. His arms hidden in his robes. His eyes narrow and focused, he scanned the abandoned platform and was ready for any surprise.

Suki followed the big Norseman from the car, brandishing the Godhammer; the futuristic weapon was a huge cannon in her small hands. The whole right side of her arm lit up with an eerie glow as her finger rested on the trigger. Her school uniform pressed, she was ready for a new kind of education. Class was about to begin.

Max stepped from the car, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Smoke trailing behind him like a jet-fighter going down. He took a huge drag and blew out the smoke, then flicked the cigarette away. The baton twirled in the air like a satellite breaking up on re-entry.

"Marvelous," he whispered.

A cockroach the size of a great dane scuttled from the darkness across the floor towards Akimoto. The samurai-viking leaped into the air, sword drawn, ready to meet this horrific foe.

Suki let out a yelp of terror; she had never seen a cockroach that big before.

The Awakening Moment

Max awoke before the dawn, his body soaked in a cold sweat. He sat up on the mattress, his body tingling as if millions of flies were crawling on him. He stretched, working muscles that had been docile since he hit the pillow.

Max reached for his clothes, a pair of jeans torn at the knees and a black t-shirt with an I Want to be an X-Man logo. He began to dress, his mind wandering, thinking of Maggie. Wondering where she was at this particular moment.

He dressed like a solider preparing for war; he tied up his combat boots, tucking a knife in the secured slot. He heard movement just outside his window, reached for Pain & Joy and went to check. He saw a black sedan parked across the street; looked like it was time to punch in.

"Come on girls," Max said to the two pistols. "We got work to do."

Dawn's Early Light

Mags was waiting for the dawn to hurry up and get here. She was tired and wanted to hit the hay, but she just needed to see the coming of the day. The car was parked overlooking a bluff and she could make out the false light of day. She got out of the car and climbed onto the hood. She leaned back using the windshield as a pillow.

The sunlight would offer a safe haven from the night and she could get some rest after the ordeal she had been through. Her body was covered with bruises and scratches. She took a book of matches from her pocket. 

Flipping open the book she counted the matches she had left; only three. She took one and ripped it from its post, closing the matchbook. She looked at the single match and smiled. She waited for a few more minutes before she struck the match and said to the dawn, "All I want is a twelve hour haven, that's it, that's all..."

The matched sparked up, creating a world of fire at the end of the stick that burned a bright yellowish-orange as dawn cracked the horizon, lighting up the area. The spell was said and the ritual was cast.

Maggie smiled and closed her eyes.

What is One Drop of Water to a Rain?

Like ants at a picnic.

Max watched the people moving about, go about their daily routines, oblivious to the truth that their ignorant minds refused to see. He felt like screaming at them, to tell them to open up the passage and see the world for what it truly was. 

What's happening to me? 

His mind on fire, changing hue like a thousand stars going red dwarf. He really didn't know why the hell he wanted to shout at them. He had been through hell, or was it that hell had been through him; he didn't know what version it was.

Like a needle injecting a rational thought into his brain, a tear streaked from his eye just as a rain drop touched his arm. He brought his arm up to see the water droplet as it streaked down his skin, gravity calling.

"Stop it," he muttered looking at the sky. "I get it. I fucking get it okay."

Of Trains and Whistles

The shunting of the train was like a soothing lullaby; Mags found her eyes growing heavy. The music of the city lulling her to sleep like a mother would a child. After the past few days she needed this time off to hone her body. 

I'm so tired, she thought. I could sleep forever.

The sandman's magic enveloping her like a New York City blackout. She closed her eyes and for the first time in aeons she dreamed of home.

Chime.

Her eyes snapped open and she picked up the cellphone. Noticing Angst's number on it.

"Hello there," she said.

"Maggie," said Angst on the other end. "I was wondering if we could hook up for a coffee?"

Maggie paused. Angst didn't really like coffee; she said it gave her nightmares. It was a warning of some kind.

"I'm fine," Angst said.

And this confirmed her suspicions.

"No," Angst said.

She pocketed the phone and grabbed her katana.

Craptacular

Angst blinked. She stared up at the sky and couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Craptacular," Frank muttered. He grabbed the two-way and spoke. "Ah guys, I think we got bigger problems than we thought."

"Tell me," Mags voice crackled over the radio.

Angst brought up the uzi and began to fire. Frank fired off a couple of rounds, holding onto the radio. "If I tell you that Angst is firing an uzi does that tell you something?"

"We're brushing up here and then we'll be there A.S.A.P," Mags stated. "Hold on!"

Vortexing

Max really hated vortexing; it gave him the feeling of being born again. But right now it was a necessary evil. He fired several rounds behind him and leapt from the roof of the building, turning back with both guns blazing. Several slugs zipped along through the air, three of them missing their marks but the other four hitting home.

He knew that it wasn't enough to kill the abomination, just slow it down some.

He saw the glimmer of the vortex and smiled.

He fell through and it felt like the universe was ripping at his soul, tearing chucks out of it and then pasting it back in random patches. This was the main reason why he hated using it. 

He emerged somewhere, sometime, and he knew right away that he was in serious trouble. The shift was 40 feet above a home and he plummeted. Feeling like Wyle E Coyote, he balled up and hit the roof, crashing through and landed on something soft.

"What in the name of Jesus Christ," the startled man on the lazy-boy chair shouted. He had dropped his tv tray onto the floor.

"Sorry," Max said. He stood up, dusting himself off. He glanced at his chronometer and smiled. He fished into his pockets and found several hundred dollar bills there and laid them on the table. "This should cover the damages."

Faux News

Man Falls Through Roof
by K. Chadd
Staff Writer

Gerry Attrick had just sat down and was enjoying the local news when someone unexpected dropped in on him.

At 6:40pm, Attrick was sitting down watching the television when a man fell through his ceiling and landed on the couch. 

"I heard this popping sound and then wham this fellow came crashing through the roof," said Attrick. 

Attrick describes the man as late 20's or early 30's, dressed in tattered jeans and a bright red t-shirt with yellow target symbol on it. 

The man got up, shook his head and glanced at Attrick and said he was sorry, then he bolted out the back door.

"It was like it was from some kind of movie," said Attrick. "The man stood up and dusted himself off and asked where he was and then apologized for the disruption."

Attrick said the fellow gave him a ton of money before he left.

A police spokesman said that they are looking into the matter and all flights from the airport reported nothing unusual or no missing passengers.

Rave On

"Well, isn't this cozy," Max said, dusting some dirt off his shirt. They were in a huge underground chamber filled with outdated army vehicles. As if someone was preparing for the big one and to their disappointment it never came. 

"All we need is a DJ and this could be the perfect place for a rave," Suki interjected. She held a pistol with both hands; she had seen some cop shows and it always showed them carrying a gun this way.

"Maybe," Max said. He glanced around and he could imagine a rave going on here. He could see Maggie cutting up the dance floor, her long red hair flowing like a sentient being dancing with the music. "Yeah."

MORGANFOKKER SAYS THAT IT IS NOT YOUR PROBLEM