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.

A Musical Interlude

The Firefly was a small piano bar located beneath a popular restaurant. It was never truly filled but it was rarely ever empty. A nice place to sit back and enjoy a quiet night.

There was a dozen people in the room when Max and Maggie arrived. Strolling in through the doors, dressed to the nines, looking like they were having a night on the town.

"This is the place," Max said as he removed Maggie's wrap.

Maggie took in the atmosphere of the small bar; it reminded her of an airport lounge, a sense of the transitory, but classier. "This is quite nice."

"Get used to it," Max said as he grabbed a package of matches from a basket. It had golden writing on it declaring the name of the lounge. "It's yours."

Maggie looked at him to see if this was a joke or not. Max just winked at her and smiled. Then he wandered over to the piano, took a seat and began to play a very familiar song.

Maggie leaned on the piano and looked at Max. "Thank you," she said and then struck into a song. Her voice was sultry and full of life and made everyone in the room smile.

Out of the Frying Pan

"I'm running out of ammo. You know I hate it when I run out of ammo," Maggie told Max. She was leaning against the wall with a machine gun in hand. She had been hit a few times by stray bullets, but she felt fine since they were only flesh wounds. "Why do we get stuck in situations like this?"

Max shrugged and checked his guns and clips. He stood up and leaned against the wall, inching his way to the doorway. Max turned his head at her and winked. He raised his guns and did a quick glance out the door. He got several rounds of fire in return.

"How many do you think are out there?" he asked. 

"Well, given the hail of bullets," Maggie stated, "I think about 50."

"I like them odds," Max replied after a few moments of silence. "Those bastards don't know who they are messing with."

Maggie gave out a little chuckle and then added, "So are we going to do this like Butch and Sundance?"

Fly

The night was humid; with the window open there wasn't much of a breeze blowing through the little apartment. Max walked over to the fan that was blowing and shut it off. 

Max stood in the room, arms akimbo. He had just finished working out and he was covered and sweat and stink. As one black fly landed on him, he glanced at it and nodded. He waited and then a few more came and landed on his body.

Max didn't move at all. He stood statuesque as more and more flies buzzed about his apartment, attracted by the scent.

He was covered in thousands upon thousands of black flies, crawling over his body like maggots on a piece of meat. He stood there and could feel them all, millions of tiny feet crawling over his body. 

His breathing was slow and controlled and his movement was practically non-existent. He was covered with a living blanket of insects, and he felt more in control.  

We need you.

It sounded like thousands upon thousands of tiny voices crying out. And it startled Max for a few seconds; was he finally over that edge? 

You need us.

The cellphone chimed. And when he moved, all the insects took flight, leaving an empty space. There was no sign of Max anywhere, as if he had become part of the insects that covered him.

The cellphone chimed again.

Max's eyes flickered open. He was laying on his bed and he reached for the phone.

Dropstate

Maggie crawled through the air-duct, uncertain of where she was going, still moving as if with a purpose. Fiery red hair pulled back into a ponytail, dressed in fatigues and sweating bullets.

"Damnation," she whispered under her breath. The gun in her hand ready for action. Stopped crawling when she heard voices filtering through the duct.

"Are you sure?" one said.

"Yeah, psychics picked up another presence about 10 minutes ago," the other said. "Be on alert for anything at all. Shoot first, ask questions later. They're prepping a seance just in case."

"What's going on exactly?" voice one questioned.

"Not sure," the other answered. "But they're paying us the bucks to shoot the shit out of whoever the fuck pentatrated the outer defenses."

Maggie began to crawl but much more slowly, inching her way closer to the screen. Saw a warehouse, tons of boxes and a few crates off to one side. She could also make out two men standing by a door. Strained to hear if there was anyone else in the warehouse section, but couldn't.

"Well, this is a good enough place to start with," she whispered. 

She positioned herself so that her feet were close to the screen, lying on her back. She drew the other gun from the holster and cocked it.

Both guards were startled when the screen fell from the ceiling. She dropped down to the floor 15 feet below, firing both guns as she fell. Bullets coughed from the weapons and hurled through time and space to find their marks.

Both men hit the floor at the same time as she landed.

The Alley

Max was battered and bruised. He staggered down the alley holding his right side. He figured that a rib or two might be broken after throwing himself out of the third story window. And bouncing off a car hood. He guessed it could be worse.

He leaned up against a dumpster for support, his brain going on pure adrenaline. 

His left arm was shattered as well, and hung at an odd angle. Not counting the three bullet wounds along it, as well. He figured there were a few more in him. He knew he could count a few more in him.

His body was covered in third degree burns, as well. Hell, he had expected a trap but he hadn't expected that half the force would be waiting for him. They had wanted him dead, and he managed to escape by taking out 300+ of the goons.

"What a day," Max muttered to himself. He spotted a butt on the ground and bent over to pick it up. "Well, at least my luck is changing for the better."