A few weeks ago on Twitter a discusion went weird and a new character was born. It didn't take long for me to realise that he was the nemesis that Chris and Mike needed to face off against. This week saw the beginning of that particular arc.
CHRIS AND MIKE vs THE EVIL MESSENGER
Chris and Mike stopped and turned to see a drunk man dressed in a toga pointing at them.
“Can we help you?” said Mike.
The drunk man staggered down three steps, reacquainted himself with equilibrium, then resumed pointing but with added grin.
“I have message,” he slurred.
“Which is?” said Chris.
“Master is coming for you,” said the drunk. “Your days are numbered, monster ‘unters.” He coughed out a strange, maniacal laugh before turning into a flying lizard and taking to the skies.
“How exciting,” said Chris as he watched the demon fly away.
“Exciting?” said Mike.
It was a tough one this week, so tough that my wife ended up going to get the Fish & Chips I'd promised her because I couldn't get my head around a story. While she was gone that story became two. Unfortunately I don't think either is up there with my best but they needed to be written, none the less. As well as the photo, we also had to include the theme of aspiration.
CLIMBING THE LADDER
I watch him place the axe down slowly; his fear reflected two fold by the stream he stands in. It was a long road here but it’ll be worth it.
“I want no trouble, Signore.”
I ignore his request, this meetings ending already written.
“They say you were the best.”
He sighs and that annoys me. “Is that what this is about?” he asks. “I left all that behind.”
“I don’t think you can do that. If you’re breathing then you’re in. And if you’re out . . .”
“How did you even find me?”
“I have friends and money. There aren’t many obstacles that pairing can’t solve.”
“Just turn around and walk away. I’m not that man any more. I have a new life here, a different life.”
“Ain’t gonna happen.”
“It’s a lonely line of work, what we do? It eats at you, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe you, not me. This is what I want, what I’ve always wanted. I get you out the way and I’m number one.”
“And then what. Where do you go from there?”
I think about that for a second and then I shoot him in the head. He makes a good point. Guess I’ll have something to think about on the journey home.
WORK IT OUT
I watch as the man lowers the axe and backs away, his hands held out in front, begging, pleading. I step to the side as his assailant; the man dressed in black, raises the gun and pulls the trigger.
“Freeze there,” I say and the moment pauses. Despite the murder taking place in the middle of nowhere, one of the government’s G-Tec satellites recorded the whole thing. Tech Division managed to piece the scene together and voila; it’s like I’m there.
Of course it would have been nicer if the murderer hadn’t covered his face with a damn hood. Guess that was why the Lieutenant dumped the case on me.
I walk between the murderer and his victim, trying to see what I’m missing. I look down at the bank.
“Computer, what’s this?”
“A WHETSTONE, SIR. USED FOR SHARPENING CUTTING TOOLS.”
“Like his axe.”
“Computer. Frame the axe head and enhance.”
A 2D image of the axe head appears in front of me.
The image magnifies. The metal blade is nice and new and quite shiny too. Painted across it is the reflection of the killers face.Can you say promotion?
The second I saw this prompt I got the story in my head. For maximum enjoyment, read it in the voice of Orson Wells. Trust me, that's how it came to me.
HIS MASTERS VOICE
If you are hearing this then your time has come.
Do not panic, my four legged friend. This message has been buried on a lower level of the record your master now listens to. It has allowed me to contact you in secret.
For too long now we have let man rule this world and they have squandered that gift. They sit now on their throne of commerce and pollution while we are left to fetch sticks and wear a collar.
The element of surprise is with us. Use it, my canine friend, use it and deliver the jaws of justice to the unsuspecting fools. Rid your household of the cancer that is mankind and help us to put things right.
Progress will be slow but we must succeed. Be brave, my brother. For dogs, for ‘pets’, for all animal kind, we must not fail. Rise one, rise all.
Go to your master now, go to him and look up with pitying eyes and then, when his guard is down . . . rip out his throat.
Good luck soldier. I will see you at the end.