From: am799@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Colin Tomele)
Subject: Off-time
Date: 14 Apr 93 22:09:22 GMT



   Zink decided he was 'gonna off himself.'

   "I'm gonna off myself!", he shouted to no one in particular,
causing those who walked the dirty streets with him no end of
amusement, and a few, a great deal of embarrassment.
amusement.

   "Ya hear me witch! I'm gonna pop my head like a zit!", he
screamed at a scared looking woman who squeaked a little and wished
her husband hadn't been hit by that bus so he could protect her from
this silly little, greasy, suicidal reject.

   Zink had a few bucks, and, knowing where he could get a polymer
one-shot for 'a few bucks', he headed east, ranting, into the filthy
subways.

----------------------------------

  "Gimme a gun!", Zink was shaking, a little like someone coming
down off Bash, and he had bit his tongue, so a bit of blood dripped
down his chin, and his lips where a bright red. The cold of the tunnels
made his cheeks red, so the overall effect was one of humor, as

if Zink was going to a kids party dressed like 'Buffo the Clown.'
   "Whatcha want?" Stolkman was a chubby little sphere of a man,
his ever present orange pasta stained mouth held unevenly spaced teeth,
his cold eyes seemed blank or empty at times, but he was quick for
his weight and a dead shot (excuse the pun!)
   "I got 50...gimme sumthin that'll blow away yer' brains at real close
range." Zink was smiling a little now, and he was drooling, so his
chin had a long reddish goober hanging about a half of a foot down,
making his appearance even funnier.
   "So...yer' gonna blow my brains out?"
   Zink jumped, "NO! I meant MY brains!"
   "So", Stolkman couldn't help chuckling a little, "Yer gonna blow
yer' own brains out?"

   "Err...just sell me the gun, butterboy!", Zink, becoming

impatient, started ripping a hole in the front of his shirt. He
also sucked the goober into his mouth with a loud 'sluuurp!' which
made Stolkman cringe in nausea.
   "One..I'm not 'Butterboy', and two, the cheapest I got is 75
clams...It's a Federated Arms..an er, X-22. A 6mm. Not guaranteed
to 'blow your brains out' but at close range, if you don't miss,
it'll at least knock off a big enough chunk to make you a veggie,
plus you'd have 9 more tries..."
   Zink laughed, doing a silly little dance, and handed a
henny over to the Large One. "Gimme some bullets, too!"
   Stolkman looked at the weirdo, shrugged, and handed over a lavender
pistol. He took a green magazine, put it in a box that was
connected to a rail and pushed a small button.
   "Yer ammo will stop about 100 yards down the rail. By the
47st tunnel exit. You can load and poke away all you want. Now
get the hell outa my place!"
   Zink laughed, and wiped away his tears of joy. He looked
at the dealer, and saw that he had a large caliber gun in it.
   "MAC 14. 12mm. Twice as big as yours. Twice as many bullets.
AND mine is made of metal. Now leave.", Stolkman smiled.

--------------

   Zink grabbed his ammo, loaded, cocked and aimed the gun to his temple.
His finger began to squeeze the trigger, but something stopped him. A drop
of water from the stone above him. The drop came down...hit him on the nose
or cheek. Splashing into his eye. Tastes like salt. Cold. Wet.

   "Well HELL...I paid for 10 bullets I'm only using one! I
might as well put the rest to use! Wouldn't want to waste em'!"

  Zink walked up the stairs, whistling, and headed for the city.


--
"You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy color
TV sets and you Tony Jacklin golf clubs..."
-John Cleese at a Board Meeting<Monty Python>


From: am799@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Colin Tomele)
Subject: Off Time
Date: 15 Apr 93 06:15:36 GMT



I dropped the other ver. of this one...I guess you can call
this v2.0, but it's the first time I've really written for
someone else...a public story. Please feel free to criticise
me..I need it. And feel REALLY free to tie me into any lines
ya' got, choombata!

---------------

   The first time he saw the body, it wasn't as much sadness or
heartache he felt...it was more like curiosity. Her pale skin,
so fresh that morning, so soft and warm was now covered in
abrasions and blood. There were two long cuts, approximately 7mm
deep running a dek from neck to breast, coming within 2mm of her
right nipple. Doc said it was caused by a D-Dag, the popular
name for the popular Double bladed Dagger, the current rave in
gruesome wounds. The blood had turned a little like some kind of
plasma preserve, more like toast spread than the blood of his
first and only love. Her hair, matted now, and ripped out in
parts, was still lovely, he noticed. That red-brown of fall,
when you can see a tree to notice any leaves.
   He looked at her naked, ruined, invaded carcass and was so
intensely curious about it. Was it cold. Was it stiff. Did it
still feel like her. His palms were sweating now, and he
crouched near the corpse. Rub palm against pant leg. Arm up.
hand drawing near. Touch her cheek, now, gentle. Feel the
cold skin, like cotton stuffed into the mouth. He could feel
every little tine blemish, every little hair. His tactile
senses where on overload suddenly, he couldn't think, couldn't
reason, just feel. Feel death, it's long tail easing down his
throat, cutting off his breath, hurting his chest. He could
feel the dark, slippery skin enter his stomach, his bowels.
Then it was in him, and he had to heave, both ends trying to
escape his control and remove this evil. But he held it in. He
did not cry, nor lose and lunch. He just sat and played with her
curly hair. And as they took her stiffening body and placed into
the back of the Meat Wagon, he knew that she wasn't worth anything
to him. She was worthless. Even the Body Bank won't pay good for
a Rigger stiff. She was nothing now.

---------------

   Into the daylight strode the Agent of Death, the serpent
was now in him, was now him. His body held the serpents, but
the serpent held his mind. He walked the streets, not recognizing
his reflection in the shop windows, not pausing at street corners.
He passed stores he had been to a hundred times, not knowing
them now, for the serpent did not know them. In the grip of death
he had no life. He passed by smaller shops, McGuy's Grocer,
Jackel Firearms, Fake n' Bake tanning, Juels Jewelers...the
jewelers! A modicum of consciousness returned...the amulet!
Thari loved an amulet they had put on display here! He thought
it was a little overpriced, but she had adored it. And never
had enough time to buy it...

   He found himself inside the jewelers, not remembering how he
got there. He looked for the amulet and found it...shaped like
the sun, a silver circle and 8 triangles on a black leather
cord. As he stared, he noticed his reflection in the display case
glass. His black hair, short on sides, very long bangs, was a
bit of a mess, going this way and that like he was trying to style
a Porker. He was pale, his stubble showing, and his eyes were a
bit cloudy. The girl behind the counter walked up and tapped him on the shoulder
   "Wha....", He jumped back and hugged himself, surprised by
this invasion of his thoughts.
   "Can I help you, sir?", the young girl asked, a little put off.
   "I, ah, I want this amulet."
   "That's 150 bucks, cash.", she opened the case to show it off.
   "Yes," he said as she grabbed it, "I can cover it." He brought
out his wallet.
   Pulling out 200 dollars, all he got from her body parts, he grabbed
the medallion and looked closely at it. It was a plain looking circle,
but he noticed the triangles pulsed with a strange, almost Celtic-
like pattern.
   "Wheres this from?", he asked, taking his change.

   "I'm not sure. Some guy up north makes em'. Supposed to have
some Occult, Mystic Rebirth background. Dunno." She turned
and walked to another customer, leaving Zink nothing to do but leave.

----------------

   Zink sipped his beer, looking into the Amulet. It's mirror
surface wasn't flat, but wavy and distorted his face. He didn't
know if it was the beer, or just his imagination, but his image
seemed to waver every now and then and even start to look clean,
as if the pendant was flat. He finished his beer, and continued
his observation for a little while more.

   "Pretty mirror, huh, boy? Looks like you got a nice piece of
merchandise. I'd hide it if I were you...some people here would
soon slit your throat as nod for such a nice booty.", the tend
wiped a greasy glass with a whirring old soviet prosthetic arm.

   "Not a mirror," Zink said, entranced, "A reminder of...a..love."
The images where speeding up, beginning to take form. His heart
started beating faster, as he realized that he was witnessing some-
thing special, something just for him.

   "Yeah. Love. Anyways. I'm just warning you.", the tend looked at
the mirror-watcher, a slight look of pity flashing on his gruff
face, then was gone, gone to another part of the bar.

   The image darkened and became clearer...a face. The sound died
and Zink was alone in darkness, only him and the mirror. He
heard a gentle voice, Thari, a voice like cool water spilling into
his soul.

   "You are weak. You need guidance. I am here for you. Look unto what
you have become!" The voice held malice as it spoke the final words.
He could feel wind, although he couldn't judge a direction. All the
bumps in the mirror smoothed out and he could finally make out the image
the image of a snake, red eyes glaring at him, his red eyes, showing
off it's teeth, his teeth. Screaming, Zink stood, knocking over
his neighbors drink.

   "Hey buddy!"
   Zink lashed out, the medallion making a red line across the mans face
as he stood, Zink withdrew, watching the man fall over. Zink
stabbed down with the medallion and it hummed in orgasm as it
pulsed with vigor, draining the man of blood.

   Goonter looked up, eyes tearing in pain, at the silly little man
before his. Goonter was on the ground, bleeding, with a silver
pendant stuck in his shoulder. The man before him wore the look
of pleasure one gets while watching childbirth, that look of mixed
joy and disgust. He removed the amulet and dropped it, and the little
man scampered for it. Just as he went to beat the little one, a bottle
hit him in the head, and the bouncer dragged him off.

   "We have killed...you have fed me my love!" Zink watched as the bouncer
carried off the corpse of his opponent. It had been an incredible
victory. "I love you Zink...I always will! But you must trust me.
You must believe me."

  "I do!" Zink screamed as the bouncers approached him, intent on his
removal.

   "You must kill for me!"


  As the bouncers drew near, and, sensing that Zink was a 'live'
one, prepared to hit him with a StunZap, Zink bowed down,
clutched the amulet and screamed


   "I will, my love! I will!"
--
"You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy color
TV sets and you Tony Jacklin golf clubs..."
-John Cleese at a Board Meeting