A Chance Encounter

"You're him right. You're Max."

"Yeah," said Max as he changed the clip in his gun. He had spent several rounds and now the jackets lay about him like a lazy dog. He stood before the downed tracker, who was just a freaking kid.

The tracker looked up at him and smiled. "Finally, a chance to meet the legend himself. And I can't believe he's going to be the one to finish me off. That's so cool."

"Well, after all, you did try to kill me," Max said. He squatted down over the soldier and reached inside his pocket and pulled out a neon pink book of matches, the logo stating that they were from Club Hanky Panky.

"No offense man, just doing my job," the tracker said, laying his head on the concrete. The tracker chuckled.

"None taken," Max replied. He lit two cigarettes and took a long puff from them both, then he took one and gave it to the kid. Max stood up.

"Before you do this, can I get your autograph? Make it out for my mother." The kid told him what to say on it. Max wrote it inside the matchbook. "Can you send that to her?" the soldier asked.

"Sure kid," Max smiled.

The soldier cracked a huge smile, his lips bloody. "My mother's a huge fan of yours. It'll do her good knowing her son was taken out by the best there is."

"Why don't you give it to her yourself, kid," Max said. He dropped the matchbook on the ground beside the soldier. "What's your name?"

"Dobie, sir."

"Dobie eh?" Max chuckled. "I like that."

There was a long pause, then the kid coughed.

"When you need a better line of work, look me up, Dobie," Max said as he dialed 911 on a cellphone and dropped it beside the kid and walked down the alley like a shadow being consumed by night.

A Strange Musical Interlude

Max pulled into the lot; he parked the car and slid out the door, leaving the keys in the ignition. He reached over and grabbed the book that was sitting on the passenger seat.

As he walked away from the car he instinctively turned in a circle, making sure he had not been followed. He tucked the hardback book under his left arm. His t-shirt declared Witness This!

He walked past a mother pushing a cart with her child in tow. Max could hear the little girl sing a verse from an obscure song. He walked to the mall doors and he could faintly make out the tune of the song that the girl was singing.

He walked through the doors and into the mall. The cool, controlled air greeted him like an old lover. He smiled. Three kids were sitting just inside the door and had picked the right time to sing the next refrain of the song. Max glanced at the boys, who for the life of them didn't realize what they were singing. 

Max passed an old man sitting by a fountain; the hunched fellow was reading a paper, but Max could hear him humming the continuation of the song.

Just then the mall speakers came on and the announcer said the next line in the song, picking up where the old man had left off. 

"This is the place," Max whispered to himself. Then he realized that what he said were lyrics in the song.

A smile larger than a crescent moon cracked his face. He took the book and opened it to a random page and in the words of the first sentence were the next lyrics of the song. He saw his intended destination, strolled inside and there he saw her. She was sitting at a table, a book in front of her, and she looked up and smiled at him just as the waitress placed down two cups of java.

"I was hoping you'd get the message," she said with a sly smile.

Perfect

He hated this reality the moment he awoke in it. 

Sitting on the curb, waiting for the taxi. His thoughts pondered back to the past few days. The sky was blue, there was no hint of pollution anywhere, and everyone greeted each other with a nice hello.

His clothes where bright and pressed, his t-shirt declared nothing at all. He didn't know what he was supposed to do here, or why he had been brought here in the first place. The birds chirped sweetly, the sun always rose, the mornings were always cool. 

And the whole freaking landscape was just suburbia. He wanted to go back to what he knew; to him this was alien. Maybe tomorrow.

MORGANFOKKER SAYS THAT ALL SELF-EXPRESSION IS SELF-INDULGENCE

* The Professor explains it all

version theory

Fragmented Window

Maggie looked out the window and down at the street; a car had just pulled up to the curb. The driver got out and Mags walked back into the kitchenette, placing the .44 on the stove. She grabbed a cup off the shelf and poured herself a coffee. The mug itself was old and chipped, the handle looked like it had been glued in place. 

She reached inside the fridge and took out the creamer. The room sat in total silence, except for the gurgle of the coffee pot every now and then. She went to the living room and selected a vinyl album from the shelf, put it on the turntable. She could hear the little pocks and hiss from the stereo. To her it sounded truer than the digitally processed music of today. The coffee in her hands was like a soothing nectar.

She lit a few candles; they began casting their flickering light, creating the proper atmosphere. Three candles lit, should set the proper mood, then she reached for a basket filled with rose petals and scattered them on the floor before the doorway. She spritzed the air around with a perfume. She stepped back into the kitchenette as the door was being unlocked.

The Cosmic Vibe

Trump walked across the rooftop heading towards the ledge of the building, where Max was sitting with his legs dangling over the edge. A styrofoam cup of coffee stood on sentry by Max's side. Trump hardly made a noise as he approached Max. 

"Hello Trump," Max said without looking back, his eyes closed.

"Can I ask you something?" Trump asked, as he sat down on the ledge beside Max.

Max nodded; he opened his eyes but did not divert his attention to Trump, just looked ahead. The pupils of his eyes looked like distant stars twinkling.

"What the KLF are you doing?" asked Trump. He wasn't sure what was going on. 

"I am not sure yet, just waiting for the vibe to hit me," Max replied.

"Vibe?" Trump repeated the word.

"The cosmic vibe." Max paused, grabbed the coffee and took a pull from it. "This reality here isn't aligning." 

Trump sat there and looked at Max.

"When you learn to open your mind, you will feel the vibrations," Max said.

Trump thought about it for a moment, then frowned. "I don't understand." 

"How can you?" Max smiled, and his eyes were warm and secretive. "After all, you're only a cat."

The Tease'd

begin teaser

FADE IN.
INT. DARK AREA - NIGHT

MAX is lying on a bed. He is covered in sweat. We see movement behind his eyelids, REM sleep, he tosses and turns in his bed.

His eyes pop open wide. He reaches for the gun underneath his pillow and fires of a shot in the darkness. We hear the sound of a thud.

Max jumps from his bed, and walks over to the body. His eyes still searching the darkness. He bends down and checks the pulse, the intruder dead, blood spilling from the clean head shot wound.

His cellphone rings. 

MAX: Hola.

VOICE: Did you get my message?
 
MAX: Crystal clear.
 
VOICE: You know what you have to do now.
 
MAX: I know. But when this is over I am coming for you.
 
VOICE: I shall be waiting.

end teaser

Boom!

Max crashed through the drywall with guns blazing. 

The Underbelly Kings didn't even know what hit them. 

Bullets flying through the air like angry wasps, the sound of bodies hitting the floor was keeping in time with the beat in his mind.

A Moment with Maggie

Violence is no novelty to Maggie. She has seen her fair share of death and destruction. So now here she sits on the edge of the building looking down upon the crime scene. Many cops are below. They arrived moments earlier. They also failed to see her sitting there, like a bird on a wire; she didn't want to be seen.

She feels the first tinges of hunger; it is a good sign. It indicates that she is still alive. Her long red hair billows about her as the wind sweeps through the city, like a long lost lover.

Her cellphone dances.

"Speak to me," she says.

"Did you have to take him out so soon after the other?" the voice on the other end asks.

"It had to be done," she replies coldly. "You know it had to be done. Soon as I picked up on the trail."

Her katana is on the ledge beside her, the drizzle washing the red stains from the blade. The cops below her are going about their business like ants tending to the hive. She will need to disappear again for a while, to lay low and wait to see what was going on.

She hates the day after. She knows the press will make it more mundane than it actually is.

Tomorrow's headline will declare to the city that the 12th slasher victim was found. They will give the name and the address of this supposed victim. Nowhere in the paper will it say that this victim was one of the hounds of hell unleashed from it's prison many years ago.

"Only one more to go," she says to the voice and then shuts off her cellphone.

Like Realities for Water

INT. SUBWAY CAR - NIGHT
 
SUKI is sitting near the back reading a comic book. MAX is two seats down wearing a cowboy hat and a t-shirt that declares "OLE". He is slumped down trying to catch a few winks. AKIMOTO is standing - he has an mp3 player and is listening to some tracks.

The subway car is zipping along many realities at the moment; mutants, dinosaurs, aliens, futuristic persons, hollywood stars, and the like all merge with each passing platform.

The train begins to slow down a little. AKIMOTO takes off his head phones and places the mp3 player down on a seat. SUKI closes the comic book and checks the Godhammer. Max straightens up and stretches. He takes the cowboy hat off and places it on the seat beside him.  

BISHOP:
(voice over the intercom)
Arriving in destination in 1 minute.

The realities past the windows are slowing down, revealing full scenes. Our trio of heroes pay no mind to what is going on, all focusing on the stop. Getting up and walking towards the doors. Each of them taking a different doorway to the platform.

On the platform are myriads of human-looking beasts, drooling and dripping blood. They seem to be a mockery of humanity at it's worst.

MAX:
(whispering as he brings his guns up)
Showtime.

Like a Dove Amongst Ravens

Maggie stood and looked around; she was looking for something but couldn't remember what it was. She was sure that whatever it was that she was looking for was here.

She walked to the window and looked out and saw nothing but the blankness of space and time. She was trying to puzzle it together. Something was chiming and she couldn't tell what it was; it was the most annoying sound that she had ever heard.

"Maggie," a voice calls to her, carrying a hint of surprise.

Maggie turns to see the being made of energy, no features, no face, just a bright light of sorts. 

"Are you okay?" the voice asks.

Maggie has something new growing inside her; she thinks it is fear. Is it fear? She doesn't know, but it's the first word that popped into her brain. The energy being steps towards her.

"Ain't you going to answer your cellphone?" the voice asks.

"Sell... fun?" Maggie said the last word; it sounded strange and foreign as if she was using her vocal chords for the first time.

"Maggie?" the energy being asked, stepping closer. "What's happening?"

MORGANFOKKER SAYS THAT IT IS INEVITABLE