"Famer's Story-writing debate tournament Round#1 Buddamoose VS TUF
Debate Rounds (5)
The rules and voting guidelines will be provided here:
S&G will be awarded as usual
Conduct will only be awarded to the side that forfeits least (cursing within the story is allowed as this is a story)
Arguments will be awarded for the side providing the more interesting continuation of the story.
Sources will be awarded to the side with better writing techniques and displays a better ability with writing a story.
Both sides will produce a story starting with the Instigator. One story will be created, and must be continued on from both parties within the debate. (recommended that the Instigator gives a title for their story before starting)
For more information both about the tournament and the member's involved, please visit:
"I'll be watching"
*Drip, Drip, Drip*
As he floated out of the murky depths of unconsciouness, he slowly opened his eyes... To darkness. The kind of dark that one could cut with a knife. Not even the slightest bit of light emanated anywhere. As if he were located within an endless void, the only companion being the steady drip of water that
was landing squarely on his forehead, trickling slowly down. Attempting to move he quickly realized that he could not. Shackles rattling as he tried to do so. "Oh god," he thought to himself, "where am I? Why am I shackled here? What is happening to me?"
And the thirst, oh god the thirst. If only that trickle of water would flow to his mouth, allowing him at least a tiny bit of water to quench it. But he could not even move his head, as that was restrained too. Instead the liquid simply rolled off the side, as useless as te sweat that was beginning to bead on his forehead.
His entire body was racked with pain, agonizing pain. He knew he was hurt, but couldnt see how badly, or in what way. The terror began to encompass his thoughts, a dark cloud quickly sweeping over the landscape of his consciousness, until every inch, every crevasse of every thought, was filled with it.
"HELP!!!" he croaked, "HELP ME!!!"
drip, drip, drip
The water was the only response. For what seemed like hours the man lay there. Trembling, sobbing, pleaing for help, screaming for answers. Yet none came until...
A light came on. As it did the pain the man felt intensified. Blinding effervescent light, that wracked his head in agony. He closed his eyes instinctively, praying for the darkness to return. But it did not. Slowly after minutes passed the man opened his eyes. Observing his surrounding as best he could.
He was shackled in a white room, strange symbols and markings could be seen to cover the walls. Suddenly the restraints holding his head loosened just a little, allowing him to move his head slightly.
"OH GOD!" He gasped, the markings, those symbols, covered his body, carved into him. Now he saw, why he was in pain. "WHY AM I HERE?" he sobbed, "WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?"
A chuckle was heard from behind him, "oh dear Mr. Bennett, those questions will all be answered, though, i shall say, if you truly think about this enough, you would come to those conclusions yourself." The voice that spoke sent a chill through Bennett's spine. Rasping, the S's in the mans soeech slithered about, as a snake in the grass.
"TELL ME!" Bennett plead, "please, just tell me!"
"Very well," the unknown being rasped in response, "first I shall ask you a question. Does the name Annabelle, mean anything to you?" Bennett's eyes flew wide in shock, "what!? I...dont know.. What you are talking about!" He replied.
"oh but you should Mr. Bennett, you should. You became quite familiar with her recently, one could say... Grotesquely familiar."
"I dont know what you're talking about!" Bennet spoke, "please just let me go. You're obviously mistaken."
"Oh but I'm not mistaken at all, here let me show you how unmistaken i am."
Suddenly the surface Bennett was tied spread eagle to started to raise upwards from one end. Until Bennet was lying diagonally to the ground, able to see in front of him clearly. Slowly a figure shambled into view, cloaked in robes of crimson red. He turned to face Bennett. A large hood covered his head, masking his face in darkness. The only thing that could be seen were a pair or glowing, almost demonic, red eyes.
"look to my left Mr. Bennett, and you shall see" he...it... Whispered.
A portion of the wall retracted, uncovering a large TV screen. Pictures were cycling by. Photos of Bennett. Bennett standing next to a yong girl, maybe 15, 16 at the oldest. Bennett speaking with the girl, Bennett in a car with the girl. Bennett... in the woods... digging a hole in the ground, a form wrapped in a blanket laying beside it.
As every photograph cycled by Bennett began to tremble more and more. Oh my god, he thought, how does he know? How was he able to take these! I was so careful!
"Why? Me. Bennett," the robed figure spoke, almost as if he read his mind. "Because Mr. Bennett, I see these things. I know when people commit or are going to commit monstrous deeds. My purpose, my sole purpose, is to find these people, these monsters like you, and punish them for these acts."
"Who... Who are you?" Bennett asked.
"Who am I?" It scoffed, "i've been known by many things throughout human history. I was created by god, allah, yahweh, whatever you want to call this being, to perform this purpose. But my name is irrelevant tonight. Tonight you may simply call me your judge. For I am here to judge you on this matter. To sentence you depending upon your guilt or innocence. You may also call me your Jury, for i am here to determine your guilt or innocence as well. And likewise, if necessary, I am also your... Executioner."
Bennet's eyes flew wide in shock, "please, i swear i'll turn myself in to the police, I'll confess to everything. Just please dont kill me! I did it! I killed her! Just... Dont..."
The figure cackled, "an admission of guilt? Well this will make these proceedings all the easier. Daniel Bennett, tonight you are before me to be tried in the rape and killing of Annabelle Rose. You have just admitted your guilt in this matter, and thus i have no choice but to pronounce yoy guilty of this crime... Even though," it chucked , "an admision of guilt wasnt truly necessary. As you are guilty of the crimes being held against you, I hereby sentence you to death."
Bennett began sobbing, as the figure slowly drew a knife, homding it above him, blade pointed towards his chest. The lights in the room shut off, but this time, darkness was not what pervaded the room. Instead the symbols on the walls were glowing faintly in red. The knife that was above Bennett was glowing as well.
"After many years of being kept in solitude, I have returned. Wherever there is a monstrous crime being commited,"
the room began to glow brighter
"I am sworn in the name of the most holy, to punish these wrongdoers. I am sworn to be ever-vigilant. Tonight marks my return, tonight marks the first time in eons, that i can say, that... I.. am.. watching."
The red glow flashed in intensity and the knife plunged downwards. Screams of agony, echoed, through the night.
Okeh TUF. This was just the prologue, so really the basis of the story is left to you. Its obviously set in modern times given the tv screen. But soecifically when it up to you.
How does this tie into a plot? Is this being or man the main protagonist? The antagonist? All this is really up to you.
Remember, this has started out vividly twisted, and definitely fits into the horror genre of storytelling.
Chapter 1: Blackness.
A feint glow emanated through the tiny gaps of my curtain that didn't fully cover my window. The soft orange radiance of dawn, quietly sneaked its way into my room, onto my bed, and slowly grasping me in it's warmth, as if it were gently prodding me awake.
I roll over in bed, trying my hardest to ignore my senses, telling me it's time to wake up. My brain fights hard against my rationality to stay asleep, an effect from all the sleeping pills I took the night prior. I feel as if I am in a battle between myself, and my willpower. Finally, I urge myself awake with every ounce of will I have, and sit up. I grab my cell phone eagerly. My phone reads 8:10 am. As I see no new notification for messages, I instantly become somber.
No news, at all? Not one lead as to the whereabouts of my daughter after 3 weeks? The search has been going on relentlessly, on a daily basis, since Annabelle's dis-appearance, yet progress on her missing person had been going as slow as a snail waiting in line at the DMV. The police knew nothing. The search parties had still found nothing. Instantly I found myself get back to worrying. What if she was....
I have shut my mind, off, to change the subject, anything to keep myself from thinking about... What could have happened. I had to believe that she was alive, and well. I had to believe that she had just run away, and will come home soon, and forgive me for the fight we had gotten in a couple days prior to her going missing. That's what it had to be. She was just an emotional teenager, acting in accordance with her feelings. I had to believe it... Or else I don't what will happen to me.
I wearily rub sleep out of my eyes, as I decide how to best spend my day. I can't go into work, my boss gave me paid leave saying that I was too emotionally invested in what was going on right now to be able to focus at work. He didn't realize though, that I wanted to work. To do anything, to distract my mind from this. I spend every day checking in with the police, to see if they had found any new leads. Every day, was the same result. Nothing, nothing, and more nothing.
But today... Today is a new day. Surely they had to have come across something by now... I take a shower, get dressed, and get ready to head down to the police station. Just as I am heading out of the door, my phone rings.
I pull out my phone eagerly, to see that it's the San Antonio Sherrifs department. I answer on the second ring.
The answer is prompt, and authoritative, a male voice, low and pitched, but smooth sounding.
"Is Daniel Rose available?"
"This is him." I reply, excitedly.
"This is Sergeant Ross, of the San Antonio sherrifs department. Were calling because we have a lead on your daughter, Annabelle."
My heart drops at the sound of my daughters name.
"We found the print of someone by the name of Daniel Bennett. Are investigators are already working on tracking him down. We estimate that we should have him in custody for questioning in less than 6 hours."
For the first time, I feel hope, but also scared. Who is this Daniel Bennett? What could he have done to my daughter? And lastly, what could I do about anything? The heart sinking feeling of hopelessness entered my brain, as I realized just how useless I was. I would have to wait for the police to do their job.
I hung up the phone, and stick the keys back in my pocket, that I had just been fumbling with. And now, back to the waiting game.
"PLEASE! Leave me alone!" She screams, panting, sweating, out of breath. Annabelle stumbled around in the dark more, feeling her way against the walls. She knows someone's there, watching her. She has heard the scuffling of feet, and the deep audible breaths coming every few seconds. Yet, she could see nothing, but pure blackness. Annabelle had never been so scared in her life. She was, cold, naked, and exhausted. She woke up 10 minutes ago, crying from fright, and loneliness. But after wondering around helplessly, she had realized that she was completely lost. She first heard the noise a few feet away from her, instantly causing her to get up and run in the opposite direction, letting loose a scream first. Wherever she was, she assumed it was indoors, though it was big. She had just barely found the walls of wherever the hell she was.
Annabelle continued to scale against the wall, hoping to find a opening. One shaking arm covered her chest, while the other felt along the wall. It was pitch black, yet Annabelle still felt eyes on her, watching her somehow.
Then it was there again, another soft exhale, this time maybe only a meter away. Annabelle screamed again, and starting running again continuing in the direction she was already going. Instantly, footsteps quickened behind her as she moved.
She ran another 6 yards, and felt herself smash hard into the adjacent wall, where the other one met into a corner. Instantly pain flooded her arm, as she shrieked. She hadn't meant to run straight into a wall. As soon as she stopped, so did the footsteps. Annabelle could taste the tears streaming from her eyes as she sobbed.
"Please... Please..." Though she pleaded, she knew she might as well been preaching to a wall. Who ever had put her here, had done it on purpose. She had no idea what was going to happen to her, but she knew it would be sinister. Her environment was completely terrifying.
A slight draft of air caught her scent, something that was familiar to her. Blood. The iron like smell of blood got stronger, as she figured out what it was.
Annabelle got up and stumbled away another few steps, clutching her injured arm. As she expected in correspondence, two steps could faintly be heard walking in her direction, then stopping. She could hear another soft exhale.
Then Annabelle realized, that she needed to stop making so much noise. She attempted to stop herself from shaking, but to no avail. She could at least make her footsteps quieter, though every noise seemed to echo in- Wherever she was.
This time quietly, Annabelle back away, practically tip toeing.
She moved a good 10 meters away, until she felt the hard wall against her back once again. This time, she heard no footsteps in pursuit of her. It's working, she thought.
She turned, ready to go further away from the last location she heard the steps, and breathing. She took one step, then two, then three... She bumped into something... Flesh.
Annabelle Screamed, but she was too late. Two hands reached and grabbed her, one gripping her by the hair, the other by the arm.
Annabelle screamed in agony and attempted pulling away. She managed to slip out of the hand clenching her arm, but the hand tangled in her hair stayed firm. She screamed as her scalp pulled hard, away from the hand. But whoever it was, didn't let go. Instead, with the one hand gripping Annabelle's hair, he thrust her downward, forcing her to a knee.
Annabelle screamed and sobbed uncontrollably in pain, and fear.
Pure, raw fear, was coursing through her. Such a fear she had never experienced. One of complete desperation, hopelessness, and instability. The free hand hit her hard in the back forcing her to lie face flat on the ground, her cheek spattering blood against the stone floor.
As she screamed and struggled helplessly, she felt the being above her tremble, and heard the breathing quicken. The trembling was not that of fright though, she could tell. It was one of excitement, of anticipation.
Then she was forced onto her back. A bright light suddenly blinded her, and she had to squint. When her eyes finally adjusted, she found herself staring into the face of a horned beast, with a man's body. She screamed, not realizing that it was just a mask he was wearing. It didn't matter. It didn't stop her from being thrust inside like a rag doll. Eventually Annabelle stopped struggling. She wasn't dead yet, but she might as well have been. She went numb, solemn, and lifeless, defeat long accepted.
The camera light lit up the gruesome scene as the photo was taken. Off to the side a man could be seen observing the the immediate and surrounding area. Tall, at least 6 feet in height, he had a dark, tanned complexion, and eyes dark brown in color, hair the same shade. His gaze was keenly observant, showing experience in fully abosrbing every minute detail of whatever he was observing. He was currently observing the corpse that was lain out on the ground.
A corpse that had markings and symbols of an unknown origin cut over the entirety of his body. A corpse, who's heart had been cut out, and castrated. He had never seen such a grim sight, his mind barely grasping the brutality of the scene before him. A shorter squat woman, walked up to him. "Detective Grenault," she spoke, "take a look at these pictures that were found a at the scene next to the vic." She handed the photos to the man.
Looking at them, he could clearly see the man before him, speaking to a young girl. Photos of the man digging what looked like a grace somewhere deep in an unknown wood. Photos of... he quickly shuffled the current photo in his hand to the bottom of the pile. He didnt want, nor need to give what that photograph portrayed more than a cursory glance.
"It looks like we hae a vigilante on our hands Melanie," Detective Grenault began, "we need to I.D. this man, and figure out who the girl is. The more we know about this, the more quickly we will be able to find whomever did this."
"Yes sir," Melanie responded, "i'll get on that right away." She turned around abruptly and quickly walked away. Detective Grenault walked forward, until he stood directly in front of the corpse. He could more clearly see the markings now. They reminded him of something he had seen on a TV show a few years back. There were certain similarities to Ancient Sumerian text he recalled. How odd, what could the signifigance of that be? he pondered.
He looked around the immediate ground surrounding the corpse, there were no footprints besides his own. which made little sense. How had the body gotten here if it were not either dragged, or carried? Yet another curiosity of this situation. Suddenly he could see the light of the crime scene photographers camera reflect off of somethinf in the dirt. He moved over to it and kneeled for a close look. It appeared to be a gold medallion, but he wasnt quite sue, as a large part of it was covered with dirt.
Pulling out a pair of latex gloves, he donned them, and picked up the golden object. It was indeed a medallion, but strangely, missing a chain so it could be won around the neck. On it there was a symbol that was familiar to him, where had he seen it before? Sudeenly it occured to him. The symbol on the medallion was one that had been carved into the forehead of the victim. He quickly withdrew a clear bag and put the medallion into it.
He stood up and walked over to a large black van about 50 feet from the scene. The back door was open, and inside a owlish looking man was sitting in front of a computer monitor, quickly typing away at a keyboard. "Smithers," Renault gruffed, "found this by the body, log it for me." Smithers glanced over and pushed his glasses up his nose. Renault tossed the medallion, with perfect aim, right onto smithers lap.
"sure thing buddy," smithers said, "i'll get to it as soon as i'm done logging all the other junk y'all are bringin me."
Renault turned around and walked back towards as the crime scene. As he was doing so, his cell phone began ringing. He quickly picked it up, "Detective Renault speaking, LAPD."
"Why hello Mr. Renault," a voice rasped, "its a pleasure to finally speak with you. Are you enjoying my handiwork?"
"Who is this?!" Renault demanded, "how did you get this number?"
A chuckle could be heard over the phone, "my name isnt important Mr. Renault, nor is how i got your cell phone number. Whats important is there is something you should know."
"What is that?" Renault asked, quickly walking back to the van, he jumped inside, putting it on speakerphone."
"You should know Mr. Renault, that I am speaking to you for a very specific reason." R
Renault covered tbe mouthpiece of his phone, "Trace this NOW!" he ordered smithers, uncovering the mouthpiece again, he lay the phone down next to smithers, who quickly pulled out a wire and connected it to the cell phone. Smither then franntically began typing away at the keyboard.
"What is that reason?" Renault questioned the man on the other line.
"You should know that I will not stop, I will continue hunting down and seeking retribution from these monsters. And i will not be stopped Mr. Renault."
"Really?," Renault replied, "well i think I'll have something to say about that. Vigilantism is a crime, and its my duty to hunt you down, just as you seem to think your duty is to hunt down these criminals."
"Oh Mr. Renault," the man cackled, "There js another reason why I am speaking to you now. That reason is because there is a grand plan at work. You are special detective, you have been chosen to lead a divine path, just as I have been chosen to do so. And this path, you must walk, for even if you did not wish to, you have no choice. He sees the potential in you, He sees how unique you are, He sees, no he created you for this purpose, and this you must carry it out."
"Who sees this? Who are you talking about?" Renault was obviously puzzled as he asked the questions. "I am not even sure what you mean."
"It doesnt matter right now Mr. Renault" the voice rasped in response, "just know that we will be in touch again soon enough. Until next time Detective."
The call ended. Renault looked at Smithers. "Where was the call coming from?" He asked
"This, cant be," smithers responded in shock, "it says, the call came from... Right here..."
Ok some things to touch upon
1) Whats Renaults purpose?
2) Ancient Sumerian symbols/text?
3) Why is Renault special?
Good Luck TUF
Chapter 3: Blind
"Smithers, I found something. The victims scrotum... It's missing..." The medical examiner said as he inspected the body. He then logged it into the list of injuries made to the victim.
"So what should we do?" Smithers asked Renault knowing the Detective was always brewing up some big plan.
Renault paused, and looked as if he was weighing something, before he answered.
"Let's do what we always do. Question the witnesses, gather as much information as we can and go from there." The statement seemed casual, almost un-caring.
Smithers was peeved, as he had hoped that the detective would have had some... deeper... thought process involved. Renault was famous in Texas for his high rate of solves cases, and currently averaged around a closing rate of 67% for the San Antonio Police Department. That was a record solve rate for anyone in the state. Smithers had a great deal of respect for Renault, and wished he possessed some of the same qualities.
Renault continued asking "Who knows the victim or anything about the night Annabelle went missing?"
Smithers gulped, then said "Mr. Bennet was a quiet man. From everyone we've questioned, he seemed like he was mostly reserved, and kept to himself. Some people say he was almost geeky. But he was strong, and worked out regularly. Mr. Bennet is an attorney, and mostly kept to himself outside of work. As far as Annabelle goes, we've already questioned two of the friends, the father, who has been keeping up with the local sherrifs department quite frequently since she went missing weeks ago, and her school teacher. So far we've gleaned little information from them. We don't seem to find any particular reason that Mr. Bennet targeted Annabelle, the victim seems to have been chosen randomly."
A few minutes passed by as Renault considered this information. Smithers was just about to ask something when Renault finally spoke.
" Call Annabelle's father... Let him know... What happened."
Smithers cursed. Why me? "I'm on it."
Smithers pulled out his phone, and dialed the number he pulled from the police archives.
"Is Daniel Rose available?"
(Bonus material to help add substance to the story has been added above. It is not required to read it in order to understand the story, but reading it is recommended).
Detective Renault was angry. Another crime scene was found, not even a day after the previous one was found. His department was already hard worked trying to follow the very few leads on the Bennet case.
Detective got out of his car, and walked over to the crime scene, an empty "for sale" supply warehouse, though Renault knew it was no longer Empty. The flashing red and blue lights vexed him, in the dark of the night. He pushed past the police officers who asked for his ID, and lifted the yellow police tape, as he allowed his team to follow through.
As he entered the warehouse, and forced the police officers out, he was confronted with a terrifying scene.
A strong looking man, obviously well built, was naked on a stone table, chained, and dead. Both of his eyes were missing, and there was bloody gore around his chest area.
His team was on the body instantly, calculating, measuring, and taking notes. His medical examiner went over the list of injuries the casualty had experienced, though Renault thought most of is was pretty obvious.
"Who is it?" Renault asked.
One of his detectives, Detective Yang, with an open laptop eagerly spoke up, as if he thought volunteering as much help as possible would earn him points with the Detective.
"Records show that he is one John McAnthony, a former member of the Navy, Marine Corp. Clean record, not even one parking ticket. This doesn't fit the 'Holy Killer's' MO."
The holy killer, was the name given to the man responsible for the kill in the Bennet case. The name was given due to the weird religious material, and marking found on the scene of the crime, all of Latin origin.
Renault inspected the body, and noticed the victims hand was enclosed on something. Renault ordered his detective to open the hand, and the Asian did so.
Inside his clenched fist, was another gold medallion, similar to the one found yesterday.
Renault's phone then rang, again the number was unknown. Before Renault opened it, he beckoned for Yang to track the call, this time they would be better prepared.
Renault answered the call. "You have been busy, it looks like."
The voice replied cooley. "True Justice never sleeps. It never tires. Maybe in your humans meek and feeble minds it can. But that's why I am here to intervene."
"So what's your excuse this time? McAnthony was completely innocent." Renault's accusation was flat, and impenetrating.
The voice chuckles in response, then speaks: "That's the problem. This society is so quick to judge, to overlook, that they miss details. Because of this, there are hundreds of thousands of killers just like McAnthony, living free and happy in the world. But I see people. I know them. I understand them. And I bring Justice. You and your police department will easily turn someone loose if you lack the ability to prove there guilt. I am here to close those gaps. I am here to set these people truly free. I know you don't understand John, but you will, soon. You have been chosen to understand."
Renault was angry. "I don't care if you think what you did was right. You still have committed a crime, and I will do everything in my power to bring you in for this. How could human ever do this to another living person?"
The voices response was quick. " Well it's a good thing I am not plagued with humanity then, Detective." The line disconnected.
"Dammit!" Renault exclaimed. "Did you trace it?" he asked Yang.
"Um.. Yes.. But just like last time, the call came from here..." Yang said nervously.
Renault pounded his fist on the stone table angrily. What was going on here?
He was starting to feel queasy, the scent of blood, the odd religious symbols, everything made him nautious. He needed to end this.
This twisted, but intelligent Vigilante was starting to give him a head ache.
His team worked for hours, on end. No fingerprints or DNA were found, just like last time. There was nothing to trace down the killer with. Whatever game this freak was playing, he was winning. And he was good.
Renault tried to think of it as a game too. To open his mind up as the killers, as he had often done to solve his many other cases. He had dealt with serial killers before, this one will be no different.
I just need a lead... Something... Anything...
Renault Racked his brain, and searched through all the evidence 4 times.
Nothing. He went back out to the van, and sat down vexed, as he tried to contemplate everything.
The detective logged on to one the the open laptops in the van. He searched through his database and found something, that might help.
According to the reported article, 16 years ago reports of an ancient burial ground were given to the Police Department. Excavation reports found bodies under a civilian address in San Antonio.
The skeletons were old, thousands of years old. Detective Renault looked at the pictures closely.
"Smithers, come here!" He called opening the van door. Smithers came diligently into the Van.
"Smithers, what do you see in these pictures?" Renault asked.
Smithers looked, but was only confused. "Just skeletons, Detective. Why?"
Renault zoomed in on the picture of one particular skeleton. "Look closer. What do you see familiar about this skeleton?"
Smithers just looked lost... until he saw it.
"Triangles, Detective. The same symbol that was Mr. Bennet's Forehead, and all over the crime scene."
"That's what I thought I saw. Alright, I need you to pull up the address of the persons home you found these under, now Smithers."
Smithers was already on it though.
His results were astonishing.
"Detective... This house belongs to Daniel Rose..."
1. How does rose tie into this?
2. How does the killer plan on using Renault?
3. What IS the killer?
Renault stood still, deeply contemplating this new developement. Sure, it was highly cooncidental that Daniel Rose's house happened to be the one that this burial ground was found under. But was it really enough to say Rose was the perpertrator of this vigilantism? Maybe...
"We need to go and bring Mr. Rose in for questioning, " Renault finally spoke. He exited the van and walked toward his vehicle. Getting inside, he turned it on and drove off. He had some phone calls to make before he brought Rose in.
Arriving at The Rose household, Renault sat for a minute, observing it. It was a rather large victorian style home. Three stories in height, by his estimation, at the least 10 rooms in size. The bushes around the deck were overgrown. Lawn uncut, the house itself appeared decrepit. Boarded up windows, faded paint. It looked as if it hadnt been inhabitated for years. Renault exited his vehicle and approached the entrance. Knocking on the door, he stood and waited for the answer. A couple minutes passed and none came. He knocked again. Still no answer. With a third try, Renault finally heard a voice yell from inside, "I'll be right there!!"
A minute later a tall, exhausted, and depressed looking man answered the door. "Mr. Rose?" Renault asked.
"Yeah, I'm Daniel Rose. What can i helo yoy with?" Rose replied.
"I'm here to arrest you for the murder of Daniel Bennet." Renault stated. Rose's eyes went wide with shock.
"What!? Who is Daniel Bennett?" He queried.
"We can talk down at the station, Mr. Rose, for now, I'm going to have to cuff you. I'd appreciate your compliance but it isnt necessary. Now please step outside slowly, turn around facing the wall and place your hands flat on it above your head. Rose did as Renault asked. Renault then quickly patted him down, and cuffed him. Once done, he led Rose back to his vehicle, and helped him into the backseat.
How odd, Renault thought, he hasnt really put up much objection to this. This entire time, he has simply been entirely docile.
"What do you mean? I certainly didnt kill that monster!" Rose retorted in disgust. That bastard who killed my daughter is a murderer. I'm not, doing so would just stoop me to his level!"
"Mr. Rose, you have clear motive to. He did kill your daughter after all." Renault said.
"AND SO I'M FVCKING ECSTATIC SOMEBODY ACTUALLY DID. AT LEAST HE FOUND OUT WHO KILLED MY DAUGHTER AND GAVE HIM HIS PROPER RETRIBUTION! SOMETHING YOU INCOMPETENT FVCKS COULDNT EVEN GET CLOSE TO DOING! YOU IMBECILES JUST THOUGHT SHE HAD RUN AWAY FROM HOME! HOW DOES IT FEEL KNOWING SOMEONE IS BETTER AT YOU'RE JOB THAN YOU ARE RENAULT?" Rose roared, losing control. After he did so, he slumped back in his chair seemingly exhausted. Renault just sat there, shocked. That was the first time he'd seen Rose lose control like that.
"I... I'm sorry," Rose began again, "you have to understand, my daughter is dead. She was my everything. I havent slept in such a long time, and now you arrest me for killing her killer? Its just so appalling. Havent I been through enough? Why cant you just leave me alone. I honestly just want to be left alone..."
"I understand Mr. Rose," Renault spoke, "i'll be back. I think you could use a little bit to gather your thoughts." Renault stood up and walked out of the interrogation room. Melanie, the woman from earlier was standing outside, waiting.
"Well?" She asked.
Suddenly Renaults phone rang, he picked it up, "Hello?"
"You very well know its not him Renault. He doesnt have it in him. He's not like us." It chuckled.
"Don't compare yourself to me. I'm an officer of the law, you're just a twisted vigilante using religion as an excuse to perform vigilantism."
It cackled, "oh Mr. Renault, we're more alike than you are admitting, and probably even know. Remember you're special, and tonight, tonight you'll find this out exactly how much alike we truly are."
"What are you talking about?"
"Corner of elm and hickory, Mr. Renault. Dont be late, and dont think of trying to bring others. Not saying you arent more than welcome to. But... You still wont catch me, and it will still result in the same outcome regardless. You and I will finally come face to face. And just as a little incentive to do this, you might want to check your interrogation room." It replied.
"WHAT?!?" Renault gasped, he ran to the observation room, Rose, was... GONE.
"Surprise Mr. Renault. Now its time to find him. Best do a better job than you did of finding Annabelle... and... YOUR WIFE." Suddenly he...it... began demonically laughing.
"What... WHAT ARE YO-U... HOW DID YOU KNOW-..." Renault trailed off.
"Elm and Hickory, Renault, dont be late. Rose is depending on you. Lets try not to let him down twice."
"HOW THE HELL DID ROSE GET TAKEN OUT OF HERE?" Renault roared, "somebody look at the surveillance tapes of this room. We need to figure out what happened! AND LOCK THIS WHOLE STATION DOWN NOW!" He hit an alarm on the wall. "NOBODY GETS IN OR OUT OF THIS STATION UNTIL EVERY INCH OF HERE HAS BEEN SWEPT!"
Questions to answer:
1) What will they find on the surveillance tapes
2) What will they find in the sweep of the station
3) What will occur that night when Renault goes to finally meet the mysterious vigilante?
Good Luck TUF
"How did this happen?" Renault was furious. So furious, that no one on his team was eager to answer.
"Play the security footage. NOW. The camera was on the whole time, we must have caught something." Renault said, his face contorted with stress.
Melanie was the one to speak.
"Way ahead of you Detective. The screens blank. Someone has electronically hacked our systems, and broke into our security hold." As if in confirmation to her words, the alarms that were previously blaring annoyingly, were instantly silenced.
Renault pressed the buttons again, to trigger the alarms, but was met with silence only.
Then the lights went off.
A few panicked murmurs were exlaimed, and someone cursed.
"What the hell is going on here? Someone get a flashlight!" Renault screamed at the officers who weren't already scrambling around the department.
A couple beams of light pierced the darkness like a couple of holy sabers, as the police officers found the flashlights.
"What the hell is happenening?" It was Yang's voice, Renault recognized.
Renault already knew the answer.
"Someone is escaping."
Just then, as if time had simply been resumed after being on a long pause, everything came back on. Lights, alarms, cameras, everything.
"Dispatch some officers out there now!" Even as he screamed this order, he knew it was too late.
"We'll catch whoever kidnapped Rose." Smithers responded, and grabbed his weapon, and belt, ready to run down with the officers already en route.
"Why are you so sure Rose was kidnapped?" Was Renaults only reply.
The search had been called off. They as usual, had found no evidence of the escape. Renault realized that he needed to focus all his efforts on the meeting with the religious killer tonight, and had officers standby in various hidden locations around the place they had designated to meet.
Renault was scared. Not of meeting this twisted monster, but of how much power it possesed. The sheer confident power it held over him, and his department. How the first time in his life he felt helpless. Never had he faced a case that was too challenging for him. But this was different. This was peronal. His wife was brought into this, and now, he had to do something. This was a dangerous game he was playing, but he realized he didn't have much of a choice but to play. The killer knew something. Knew something about him personally, that no one had ever known. Meeting him would be crucial. Also he needed to satisfy his slight curiosity, despite the high level of danger that Renault realized he was obviously in.
"I am going in by myself, LT, Margo. It's the only way this will work." He said firmly to his superior officed.
Margo responded with a stern voice.
"You will respect your rank and position. You will do what you are ordered. I am afraid I can't send you in there without back-up."
Renault was peeved, and argued in turn "But sir! This is not the man to pull one over on. He will know if I have back-up. We are talking about the person who broke into the security mainframe of one of the most secure government facilities in Texas, among several other notable crimes."
Lt Margo, and Renault argued for 10 minutes about the situation. Finally Margo caved, and saw eye to eye with Renault.
"Okay, I am going to trust you, as you've always been my number one detective. I hope you are right on this. My one condition is that you will wear a wire. Police escorts will drop you off and post a mile away. No if's, and's or but's, about it. Roger?"
Renault was angry about the wire, but he figured arguing further would only worsen his position, se he responded in kind.
"Roger sir, Thankyou."
Renault Saluted, and Margo returned the gesture.
"Good luck out there." And Renault left the room.
Renault arrived at the designated location 5 minutes prior to when he was supposed to be there. At Elm circle, and Hickory Street, was a small cross section on the west edge of San Antonio, where consumers often shopped at the popular strip mall.
It was late. Few cars were out, and the remaining customers were now leaving the stores as they closed.
What an odd place to want to meet... It seems to... Public.
All the better for him, though.
Renault sat on a bench, at the corner, and waited. Time went by slowly but surely. Eventually the light of the head lights from the last car in the parking lot, dimmed into the distance.
Renault had officially waited 35 minutes, with no sign of his new friend.
Ha! What a waste of time. This was probably a set up, to distract the police while he hunted and killed another victim.
Renault was just about to leave, when he saw it. At first, he hadn't noticed it because he had mistaken it for graffitti that blended in with the rest of the light pole. But un-mistakenly, Renault was staring at a symbol he had seen quite a few times now. The one on the medallions, the one on the victims foreheads. The triangle, and the circle.
What did it mean?
Sketched next to the symbol were the words "Kitty's PL".
Kitty's PL. What did that mean? Then Renault suddenly came to a realization. Kitty's was the name of a mini part, just across the street from his current position. He then pieced together that PL stood for "Parking Lot".
Renault wearily made his was across the street, considering his options. What was he going to do when he met his the killer? Would he be able to detain him? The man was obviously strong enough to handle Mr. Bennet and McAnthony.
Instictively, Renault put his hands toward his hip, where his gun normally would be. But Renault remembered he was supposed to have left it back in the police car, and tried to calm himseld down in other means.
Renault arrived in the parking lot. There was nothing odd or strange about the lot, other than one lone vehicle, in the middle of the parking lot.
That's wierd, everyone should be gone by now.
He cautiously walked over to the car.
Renault looked in the window, to see a black bag covering a large bulk of material.
Renault quickly opened the door, and lifted up the bag, and regretted it almost just as quickly when a human head rolled out of the bag, and onto the seat.
Renault almost screamed, and puked, as he looked at the blonde female head before him. What the Fvck!?
He backed away from the car, gazing almost tranced at the symbol engraved in her forhead. Renault heard a footstep behind him, but didn't even move, or turn to face whoever it was behind him.
"What did this one do?" Renault asked solemnly.
"All in good time, Detective. But first, we have a busy night ahead of us." It was the voice, of course, the same one he had grown to depsise over the last week.
Renault started to turn. Instantly, the figure behind him boomed across the short distance. Renault felt the sharp sting of a needle pierce his neck, before he could turn to fight back.
Renault grasped at the arm carrying the needle, pulling on it with no use. The drug worked fast. First Renault felt his world spinning, his arms grew weak, and felt nauseated. Then, Renault blacked out.
The net time Renault woke up, he was tied down, naked, strapped to a stone table just like a relic. It was then, the detective knew he would die, tonight.
1. What is going to happen to Renault?
2. Is Rose a victim, or an accomplice?
3. Who or what is this Killer, anyways?
TO BE CONTINUED BY BUDDA!
Buddamoose forfeited this round.
Unfortunately Buddamoose was not able to make the last round due to a busy schedule, so I arranged it with him, to post his response via a dead link which can be found above. It is pertinent to the story that the viewers click on this link, as I will be continuing off of this.
Chapter 7: Zenbetna
(Bonus Material can be found with this this link, again, reading it is optional)
Renault experienced many things in that moment. So many things, in fact, that he to him, it was all just a collated jumble of nonsense.
But when Renault picked out an individual emotion, or feeling, he could hone in on it, focus on what it was, and understand it.
The first the Renault noticed was, his pain was gone. Completely. As if he hadn't just been carved into, and stabbed just moments ago.
In fact, as far as the physical realm was concerned, Renault could feel absolutely nothing.
It was then that Renault realized the most shocking and confusing information. His body... Was gone. He no longer was a physical being. A soul, drifting, into a void of dark, black empty space.
There was no movement, and no where to move. Renault had been transformed into a thought, empty, floating, and weightless.
Suddenly, a fear enclosed Renault, a fear he had never felt before. It was intensified, as Renault was completely helpless, and exposed. Renault had never been so vulnerable. The complete lack of control made him feel almost claustrophobic (Renault realized feeling like this was an oddity given his open state of being). Then the thought occurred to him.
Am I dead?
Suddenly, the black environment, seem to reverberate as if it sensed his thought, as if he were actually speaking the words. His thought was identifiable, which severely interested Renault. Where one could normally attach a voice to a different person, Renault could do the same with the way his thought had sounded- No that wasn't the word. The sense of hearing could not accurately be defined by any of his earthly senses. It was almost a different concept of reality in and of itself, he realized, as he judged the sound of the thought he had projected. It had a flavor to it, one of aged loneliness. The thought had a solemn ring to it, with a tint of hope.
The that almost could be distinguished as belonging to something else, however, Renault knew it was his own thought. He could almost completely connect to the thought, and felt he understood everything about himself, just from having projected his own question.
A sense of eerie fascination resignated from his being, as he tried to process the paranormal requisitions of his surrounding presence.
No. I told you I wouldn't kill you Mitchell Renault. I have simply made you... Whole.
The response vibrated through him, as Renault could sense the presence of every word deep within him. As with his own words, Renault could define the flavor of the presence that had just made itself known. This one was aged, unlike his however. This one was really old, almost thousands of years. It was intelligent beyond belief, experienced, and excitable. It was as if the thought contained an air of dark eagerness, of something soon to be fulfilled. The patient exaberation of inglorious satisfaction, was permanent in the thoughts of the other.... thing.
It thought again.
I know you are confused, Mitchell. I know you are afraid. I can feel it. In this, your current state, I can see everything. In this state you are truly vulnerable, and unlimited. The prison humanity has placed you in, has been lifted. Just as you can sense who, and what I am, I can truly understand you as well Mitchell Renault.
Renault had so many questions, racing through his... what did he call it anyway? Brain? Mind? He figured that would be a good place to start.
What am I?
The normal eerie vibrations drifted through his being, as the other presence responded.
You are your soul, Renault. Or at least that is the most human term I can associate it with. Here, there are no physical names, properties, or definitions. Everything simply IS.
Renault tried to understand, but was having trouble. He decided to ignore his inner conflicts, and ask the bigger question posed on his mind.
Where is "here"?
As soon as he said the words, he could feel an odd rythmitic vibration flow through him, from the other soul. Renault finally decided that this was humorous, that the other being was laughing.
Like I said, there aren't any names defining properties. However, humans from an ancient civilization who have developed myths on the existence of this place, have commonly called this place Zenbetna. You, Mitchell, are in the place of origin. Where everything, begins, and continues. I did not say end. There is no such thing as an ending, Mitchell. Mitchell, have you ever thought it odd that humans commonly associate the death with the end? Even religious zealots who have manipulated themselves into believing in a God, and an afterlife, are more philosophically indulged then those who believe otherwise. There is no end, Mitchell, only a continuation. While humanity suffers, their soul counterparts thrive, here, in the continuity.
As the being finished, Renault could suddenly sense another presence. The presence seemed to drift by his thoughts, casually gazing in on him, viewing everything he was, as it slowly dissipated, and eventually was out of range. Renault felt violated. He the sould had completely seen everything he was, secrets, hopes, dreams, and had drifted away as if he had viewed nothing more than an interesting spot of paint on the floor.
Renault didn't want to waste time understanding everything that was going on around him, but decided it was time to get to the point.
Why did you bring me here? What is the purpose of all this?
The response came quickly.
Mitchell, I cannot begin to explain to you now my reasons, as we are running out of time. However I have selected you for this, because I can see you. Most souls choose not to return to humanity after they have been requisitioned back into ZenBetna, however, I was different. Humanity, is an inevitable process we all must survive. It is an enlightening process that few souls understand before partaking of it. However, I have found corruption, in it's operation. Humanity, is an obstacle, a harmful prospect to the being of other. In a very short, and non-decrepit version, my goal here is to eradicate corruption completely from humanity, to make the acquisition of eternity a more pilferable solution. Divinity, vs Shackles. Darkness, vs light. Souls who have been corrupt, souls have abused their right to be, must be eradicated. I have taken upon myself, a great responsibility, and I wish to succeed in this. Mitchell, when one returns to humanity after living the full extension of one's life in humanity, they continue to see. I saw, and I searched. There are others like, me, though few. None of them possessed the will, or motivation to help me in my quest. But then I found you, Detective. And when I found you, I knew you were the one who could do this. Who could finally bring the plan I have yet to explain to you in full effect. I saw that you possessed the qualities, to overcome human shackles, to break free, and to ordain yourself in your energy. I saw every thing in you, that would be needed to complete my task. And now I am going to ask you, to help me.
As the thoughts ended, Renault felt frustrated, with the confusing predicament he was faced with.
Finally he answered.
Why would I help you?
The beings reply was short, and dry.
Because, Mitchell, I can re-acquaint you with your wife.
Renault said nothing, as he attempted to process the thought.
I plan on putting some details on Zenbetna in the link below, as added bonus material if anyone wants to read it.
I am not going to post questions this round, as they are pointless. I'll let budda go where he wants with this one.
What I mean is that once you have helped me, and it is time for you to move on. I can ensure that you and your wife are reunited. Maybe not on the mortal plane, but most certainly in the "life" that comes after life. I can ensure that the both of you will remain together for all of eternity, never to be parted. I know this is tempting Mitchell, I know even despite you have misgivings. You want to know what it is I want from you. Sadly, that I cannot say until you agree to help me.
"What will happen once I agree to help you? How long will this task take?"
If you agree to help me, you will be returned to the mortal plane. You will become what is known as a watcher, or as it was originally known as, a "Vigilem." As for how long this task will take, is impossible to say. Jusy know that eventually I will no longer need your help, and at that time you will be free to leave to mortal plane, and be reunited with your wife.
Renault contemplated what he had just been told. He had somewhat of an idea of what a vigilem was given his previous experience with the man who claimed to be one. The concept of becoming that was repulsing, but his desire to see his wife again was quickly overriding that repulsion.
"If i choose to decline, would there still be a chance I would be able to see my wife again?"
I will not lie to you, yes, there would be, but it wouldnt be a guarantee. In fact it wouldnt even be that likely. The concept of reuniting with loved ones after death is a rather false one. The afterlife does not work lke that. It would be better if it did, but even beings such as I cannot change the way things are to that extent. We can manipulate, we can work through "loopholes" if you will, but to completely change what is, and what is done, is impossible.
"Well then how is it that you are able to guarantee that I will be reunited with my wife?"
Like I said, beings such as I can manipulate, and work through loopholes to make sure these things can happen. But it is difficult, and not easy to accomplish. I myself only will do such things for those that truly deserve it, those that do great services, and those that truly will appreciate the great effort and cost it takes to accomplish such things. Vigilems are those I hold in high esteem, because they are in extension, a part of me once they become so. Vigilems thus are able to appreciate the effort and cost, because they feel it as I expend the energy required to do such things.
"Will it change me permanently? Or will I return to my previous state, upon finishing your task?"
Again, I cannot lie, it will change you. Being closely linked to a being such as I will change the way you percieve things. It will change your mind in a permanent manner. Indeed, you are incorporating me, and I you, into each other. We will truly become as close to one whole being as we can get, while still remaining distinct individuals. As for appearance, your mortal form will indeed change. Your appearance in Zenbetna though, is utterly under your command. You will appear here, as you want to appear. I habe no control over this.
Mitchell muller over this, and finally spoke, "yes, I'll do it. I will become a vigilem."
Excellent Mitchell. I am pleased you chose to help me. Now comes the time that I fully bring you into my being, and you will truly become a Vigilem. When this is over, and I will warn you, it will be excruciatingly painful, you will awake back in the mortal world. Remember, your past life is gone, you are no longer a detective. You are no longer Mitchell Renault, you are Vigilem. You cant go back to your old life after this, even if you try. Although, you will have no desire to anyways.
It began as a warming sensation. Renault could feel its presence encompassing him. Swirling about, it was intensely pleasurable. Then, out of nowhere, it started to hurt. Pain, slight at first, nothing more than a sting. But slowly, excruciatingly slow, it began to worsen. It felt as if needles were being pressed into his being on every point. Then the warming began to burn, as if boiling water were being doused on him constantly. Then it worsened even more so. His entire being, wracked with it, that same presence, squeezing his essence out of him. Squeezing out his humanity. Until finally, Mitchell felt nothing, nothing at all.
Then he felt as if he were falling, deeper and deeper into the void, until finally, darkness...
Mitchel awoke, in the same place he had entered Zenbetna from. He looked around, and saw that the knife was still protruding from his chest. The previous vigilem naught but a pile of dust. He grasped the handle, hesitant to pull it out, until he heard it
Pull it out, it will not hurt. You cannot feel pain anymore Mitchell
Slowly he withdrew the blade, and just as he was told, he felt nothing. The next problem was the shackles, he pulled at them, and almost effortlessly the shackles snapped upon his pulling. Slowly standing up, he walked out of the room. As he went down the hallway outside the room, it hit him.
He doubled up, his thoughts being flooded with images, sensations, thoughts, spoken words. He could see, oh my god, he could see someone being killed before him. A small child, no older than 10, screaming off to the side, as a hatchet was being swung down upon a woman. Oh god, what could he do to stop this!?
you can do nothing to stop it Mitchell. You are a vigilem, that means you will see these things happening. You will know what to do about them, all vigilems do.
Mitchell lay on the floor, as the scene passed through his mind. The killer, he could see him, he knew where he was, what his name was, everything about him, stopped swinging the hatchet into the woman, and turned on the child. He slowly approached, and then swung.
"STOP IT!!!" Mitchell screamed aloud. And just like that, the scene ended. He was wracked with despair, terror, pain, he could feel it throughout his very core. But there was something else, something that was slight at first, but quickly growing. Anger, anger at what he had witnessed. Anger at the senselesness of the violent act. Anger that quickly burst into rage. He would find this man, he would cause ten-fold the amount of pain the man had caused himself. He would give that poor woman and child retribution.
Excellent Mitchell, let the rage guide you. Let it lead you into doing what you know must be done.
Mitchell finally stood up, and saw a window at the end of the highway. It was night outside. He began sprinting at the window. Drawing closer and close, until he finally jumped through it, shattering the glass, roaring as he did so. And just as he began falling, wings, the same demonic looking wings the previous vigilem had, popped out, and Mitchell flew off into the night.
SHAZAM, lets make this ending good TUF ;). Haha, i'll be honest this could actually sooo continue for a very long time. Easy novel length story could be made from this :P
I look forward to reading your last round.
Chapter 9: Finally Free.
Wings. Renault couldn't grasp the concept. How his body suddenly felt so... Confident. Jumping out of that window, as if he had been doing it for years.
As he flew around the dark streets, being good at staying hidden, away from from the bulk of civillian life, he managed to find himself a safe spot on about a few hundreds yards from where he could... Feel... The harm being done.
He debated with himself mentally on what his next course of action should be.
Suddenly he felt it again. Yes, felt it. He could feel the womans horror. She was still alive. He dived off the roof of the home, and flew towards the door of the house he could feel her inside. He retracted his wings into his back effortlessly, still surprised by the sudden natural ease of the movement. He still had his gun, that he had retrieved before taking off. He pulled it out and opened the front door to the house cautiously. Instantly, the scent of blood met his nose.
Upon smelling the blood, Mitchell kicked the door open heavily, and walked in with his weapon at the high ready position. His sight picture was perfect, his hand steady. He wasn't immortal, but he felt godlike. With out pain, without fatigue, his hand barely movied unless he wanted it to.
The scene looked like a normal household, minus the exception of a broken chair, and shattered glass in the main kitchen at the entence.
He heard a noise, to his left, down the hallway, a slight shuffle. Instantly, he aimed his weapon in that direction. He aimed at the first door in the hallway. He heard the shuffle again, right from behind the door.
This time, Mitchell kicked the door open again ready to fire rounds into his enemy.
Instead Mitchell was confronted with horror. Directly in front of him, was a brutal bloddy mess of unrecognizable human flesh.
Blood filled the room, and the air smelt abosutely horrible. Renault dropped his weapon in shock, unsure of what to do.
He could make out a blonde woman, with gashes in her neck, and on her arms and chest. They were deep, and she was bleeding out quickly. Mitchell knew instantly that she would bleed out in a few minutes. Saving her was completely out of the cards. But that wasn't the most horrible part. The worst part was what she was holding. Tears streaming down her face, as she choked sobbing uncontrollably. In her arms, was a boy. The same boy that Mitchell had felt earlier. Dead. Cut up, and hacked everywhere. The woman gurgled, and then looked into her sons eyes.
She went still, but her lips were unaudibly moving as she stared into the boys still open eyes.
She looked sad, but at the same time love filled her eyes. Mitchell then saw a connection, he knew he could never fully understand. The love between a mother and her child.
The woman let out a final gasp, and was gone.
Mitchell fell to his knees shocked. Tears flooded his eyes. Tears of rage.
"AGGGHHH!" Mitchel screamed at the top of his lungs, and collapsed in defeat. He was too late. There was nothing he could do now. She was dead, and so was the boy, and the sick fvck who did it, had gotten away. Mitchell pounded the floor repeatedly, until his knuckles bled. He felt wild, insane, with intense anger. He pulled at his hair and buried his face in the floor, trying to erase the image he had just seen, knowing that it wouldn't matter. This would never leave him. He knew this would haunt him for the rest of his life. There was nothing that could change that. Mitchell finally got up, still emotional, and dizzy. He had to get out of here. He needed to collect his thoughts, and regain himself somewhere else, not here. Mitchell had seen things like this all the time, but this was different. Normally it was after they were already dead for at least several hours. This... This he had witnessed. He had seen the hate in the mans eyes, THROUGH his eyes. He had seen the fright in the childs face, as he was struck down. And he had seen a mother die for no reason, clutching on to the last thing on earth she valued, more than anything. He had watched her drift into death. Mitchell could only hope that the woman would enjoy the realm of Zenbetna, as most souls did.
Mitchell felt sick. He stumbled out into the hallway. Just as he left the door, an axe swooped down by his face, missing him by a hairswidth. Mitchell, even with his heightened senses, was too confounded to react quickly. His bloody attacker howled and thrust the axe downward again. Mitchell moved forward to miss the blade of the axe, and was hit heavily upon the head from the shaft of the axe. Of course, he didn't feel the pain, but from years of experience, Mitchell couldn't help but flinch from the attack, he knew would have been devastating otherwise. Mitchell kicked the surprised man heavily in the groin, and watched the man topple over.
Mitchell wasted no time, as he raised his gun. Mitchell wanted the man to suffer. He wanted him to feel pain. He imagined himself torturing the man in front of him for hours, as he forced the man to reconcile for his sin. The thought pleased Mitchell. Suddenly Mitchell Forced himself the squeeze the trigger.
Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang!
Mitchell shot the entire clip ino the man skull.
He then left the house, and flew. Up, and away from the disater he had just become apart of. He flew, high, far beyond the reach of human sight, into the cloud, where he flapped, and hovered. Alone, quiet, and to think for himself.
The familiar voice entered his head.
Now, Mitchell, you know. Now you can understand me, can't you? You know why I do what I do?
Mitchell said nothing, affirming the voice's question.
I do have one question though. Why didn't you do it? Torture him, I mean? Come on Renault, I know you felt it. The anger, the hurt. Any soul would. Why didn't you make him suffer the way he made them suffer? You gave the man a gift, killing him like you did.
The voice was not being coy, clever, or manipulative. It sounded genuinely curious.
Mitchell was still hot with adrenaline, and emotions, but he understood the question. The truth was, he knew, but he didn't really know how to answer.
Mitchell Mused for a while as he considered how to reply.
Finally he answered.
" I have agreed to do this thing for you, so I can see my wife. And maybe I also feel a little responsible for the innocents, for the victims, just as I always have as a detective. But I will not become him. The man I just murdered. I ended his life, because that's what justice has deemed neccesary of him. But I will gain no pleasure from bring him pain. Making him suffer, will not bring back the woman, and her child."
Mitchell, felt satisfied with his answer as an accurate description of how he actually felt on the matter.
So be it. I have to dis-agree on your methods, and philosophy, but I suppose it gets the job done. The voice responded.
Then Mitchell saw another image, someone running, down an alleyway, being chased by another larger person with a blade. Mitchell didn't feel mentally stable enough, but he knew was he had to do. This was his call, and he would answer.
Only 500 more to go, and I will re-unite you Mitchell, with your lovely wife.
Mitchell Renault nodded. First comes first, saving the world. He kind of felt like a super hero, in a sick and twisted world. Maybe he could shine some light. But he had to be fast. He had to stop things before they happened. He couldn't just be an avenger, he had to be a protector. And he knew he could.
As Mitchell flew off towards his destination, one more question finally occurred to him.
"Who are you, anyway?"
There was a breif pause.
I thought you already knew. I came into this business recently. Yes, I think you know I was dead before I returned from Zenbetna. Let's just say you will be seeing a lot more of Daniel Rose.
TO BE CONTINUED!
(Thanks budda for the great writers debate! Good luck in the voters!)
3 votes have been placed for this debate. Showing 1 through 3 records.
Vote Placed by morgan2252 4 years ago
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Reasons for voting decision: Both sides did a very good job! I had a really hard time deciding, but I'm admittedly a little bit in favor of con. However, I enjoyed pro's side of the story as well, and I'd hate for him not to award him any points. So, I award 3 points to con and 2 points to pro.
Vote Placed by likespeace 4 years ago
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Reasons for voting decision: I enjoyed the tale! Per my comments, I felt Con's telling and s&g were slightly better, but compliments to both the creative writers, and good luck with future stories. :)
Vote Placed by lannan13 4 years ago
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|Had better spelling and grammar:||-||-||1 point|
|Made more convincing arguments:||-||-||3 points|
|Used the most reliable sources:||-||-||2 points|
|Total points awarded:||0||3|
Reasons for voting decision: I enjoyed this story and it is a hard call but I'm going to have to go with tuf for being more descriptive and other then that it's just to close to call. Good luck to the both of you.
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