i n

F

BIGGER

SMALLER

COURIER

GEORGIA

TIMES

VERDANA

COMIC

l

RECENT

POPULAR

e

u

 ^{(it's beta!)}

"DAMN YOU ALL!

YOU CAPITALIST FUCKING FAT SHITHEADS!

HOW DARE YOU?

HOW THE FUCK DARE YOU?"

"hahaha will you listen to that fool" I snort into my milkshake. Across the grimy plastic of the Makkydees tabletop, Elsie gives me a look so old it was positively saurian.

"Shut up and drink your milk Dom, I'm sure the police will be here soon"

And they were, slamming through the heavy doors with riot battons out they clubbed the man to the ground, his blood seeping across the patterned linolium in a terribly cliche way...

"c'mon, lets go catch the early train home" sighs Elsie to the background cacophany of boot to groin combat. Reluctantly I agree, I had been hoping to prehaps go catch a short film at the local Odeon before leaving, but El was probably right, we needed to get some shut eye before work in a few hours time.

The walk to the train station was pretty uneventful. An ambulance crashed past us, en route to the Makkies probably. Seemed a bit of a waste to me, there were more needy people on this dank turd of an excuse for a street alone than the fool in the 'Donalds...

We boarded the train leaving for Stockton a few seconds before departure and took our seats near the front, in the 'elderly and disabled' reservation spot.

Screw what the oldies and spaks wanted, these were our damn seats now. Fuckers.

As El checked her watch for like the hundredth time I finaly lapsed out of consciousness, my head banged on the luminous yellow 'saftey' rail, making a resounding crack and causing my blood to start flowing freely...

As I blacked out I remember seeing El check her watch again, sighing, and carefully move her bag out of the way of my blood.

When I finaly regained consciousness I was still on the train, the blood had dried on the floor and seat and my scalp had one fat scab across it. El was nowhere to be seen. How long had I been out?

I managed to get up after a few false starts and made my way to the door which slid open with suprising ease.

Damn, looking around I was clearly at the end of the line, which meant a long walk back down the line to my stop.

Swearing I set off, carefull to keep away from the tracks incase of delayed trains coming along. After about four hours or so of trudging I got to my stop. Scrambling incompitantly up the rusted iron ladder bolted to the wall I made my way across the station and out into the polluted and noxious morning air.

I let myself into mine and El's appartment unit, flopped down on the bright orange '70s revival' sofa with pink polka dot pattern and stretched my legs out across the thick green carpet. Presently El arrived, she gave me a disproving look as she opened the door but said nothing. I knew nothing needed be said. I would receive my dismissal form from my company within one to three days for failing to attend work in concord with my contract, and would be rendered obsolete within two weeks if I failed to establish a new contract. Which was unlikely with a fucking great scar on my head.

"Piss" I said, dispassionately.

"Thats one way of saying it" Said El from the Kitchen cubicle, "Personaly I'd say; "twattery"

She came in with a pair of beers and handed one to me before going and sitting on the 'strawberry red ressurection era' pouffe by the TV.

"I'm gonna get some sleep, then I'll go find a new contract I suppose" I said, finishing my beer hurredly.

"I'll wake you in about two hours then" was the terse reply.

Damn she was angry with me...

"Thanks" I said as I stumbled to my room and fell into the warm embrace of a true deep-sleep.

I awoke to the sound of screaming.

Dom's fist landed again on the old beggar's face, the man screamed but Dom did not stop.

He punched the man again and again, till his hand was slick with blood and the ancient mans face was obscured by it.

"I hate you." Dom whispered in the mans crimson spattered ear.

Turning, he stood, pitched one last vicious kick at his lifeless victim before hurrying out into the busy street beyond the alley.

Finally his head was clear.

Since the screaming of the kettle had woken him his day had only got worse.

Failure to gain a new contract had followed and compounded his waking migraine, and the wound on his head wasn't looking great. El reckoned some of the rusty metal had flaked into it and was infecting the injury.

He caught sight of his face in a bright shop window as he bustled past with the crowd...

"dammit I look like a spak..." he muttered to himself.

At least the migraine had abated a little.

Violence often helps.

*************************************************************************************************************

El wasn't in the apartment when he got back. He made himself a coffee.

Then he took the coffee and, fully clothed, went and stood in the shower whilst drinking the steaming hot brown stuff.

Thirty minutes later he heard the door open and a bag was thrown down somewhere in the kitchen.

"What the fuck are you doing?" El called out from the hall.

"I'm being a fucking student of modern art."

"Well you can do that in the fucking Tate not here messing the place up."

She walked to the open door and stared at him for a few seconds through the steamy air.

"Get. Out." It was an order.

Dom picked the last of the bum's teeth from his knuckles before obeying.

"I hate it when you talk like that." he said, stepping onto the deep fluffy towel arranged next to the tub.

"I hate you" She was still mad.

She was always mad.

Dom had never quite fathomed out El's character, she seemed to suffer from permanent rage, constantly vibrating from the strain of not exploding and ripping your head off. When she spoke to you she gave the impression you had approximately the same value as a small ornamental trowel.

Of course, this made her an excellent manager down at the factory where she was contracted.

"Got a new contract yet?" she demanded.

"Of course I don't, if you hadn't noticed I look like the winner of Taiwan's spak of the year contest. And you know my file isn't exactly squeaky clean."

"Its the military for you then. Or sweeping."

Dom grunted. The military was NOT a good option, there were at least three wars seemingly raging constantly, and the casualty rate was obscene.

As for sweeping...

"Either way, unless you can get hold of your rent somehow your gonna have to move out. Theres no sodding way I'm paying for some non-contracted, filthy, bum-killing bastard to live in my apartment."

Dom nodded. "I wouldn't expect you to..."

Rent was due in four days.

Time to begin planning....

"Theres something about horror. It's always 'out there...'.

That and an 'it'.

This continuing theme seems odd to me, especially since the minds that developed it are 'in here'."

Death is only half as terrifying as the insanity most of us live in.

************************************************************************************************************

A large eye fills the vision. The pupil is small and dark. The iris is grey, flecked with blue. Around the whites dark veins lie, occasionally pulsing with the juices of life.

Slowly, the eye rotates, rolling gently back in its socket.

The rest of the head and body follow, slamming into the sheet steel floor with a heavy thudding boom.

Blood trickles steadily from Dom's nose as he stares blearily at the dimly lit ceiling.

************************************************************************************************************

This isn't the way I'd have chosen it to go. Maybe if I'd had a coke instead of a milkshake at the 'makkies that day, maybe the caffine would have kept me goin'. Maybe I wouldn't have lost my contract.

Well to late for that shit. I've been 'recruited' now. Forced into this 'peace keeping force'.

Dammit I'll be lucky to see my twenty-fifth year of livin'.

************************************************************************************************************

The drill sergeant grins. His scarred lips pulling back slowly, revealing broken and yellowed teeth.

His boot is heavy and dark, the leather well polished. The light catches it as it is swung, dazzling reflections suddenly obscured as it crashes into Dom's ribs.

Dom spits blood.

Something feels broken down there.

************************************************************************************************************

I'm gettin' the fuck outta here. First opportunity I get I'm off. This grinning moron will kill me if he gets the chance. If I can maybe nick some kit, get home, then flog it on the black market I could afford the surgery to get this fuckin' scar removed.

Not a great plan.

But it's the best I got right now...

************************************************************************************************************

The sergeant's great leering face moves down closer to Dom's.

"And that private, is your basic training!"

************************************************************************************************************

Thank fuck I'll be sent off to war soon...