Stuff on my notepad
Year unknown. The Earth is at constant war. There is no longer peace, and technology has forced the masses to submit.
An unknown force launches a gigantic spacecraft that engulfs the world in flame. Very few survived this attack, and only ten thousand humans remain on the planet.
20 years pass. Society has yet to fully rebuild. For years, they observe Mars, now mysteriously shrouded in metal.
Year unknown. The biological mutants of the last era are found roaming the Earth. Hunter Team are formed by a powerful family to exterminate the last of them.
After a night observing the metal planet, the head of Hunter Team, Graś, recalls a legend; the legend of ORION-1 — a cybernetic beast created to rend the world of sin not once – but twice. Yet while a hundred years ago this may have seemed just a folk tale, now he knows it to be real. Recalling odd details put out online such as the estimated weight of such a creature, it seems simply too accurate to the situation to not be true.
Year unknown. Hunter Team is mobilized to stop the legendary beast after gargantuan ion storms rain down from Mars, obliterating cities and killing hundreds – forcing humanity to once again retreat to the underground.
The first flame killed over 8 billion, enough to nearly wipe the earth clean. Now Orion is trying to finish the job.
I had an 80-round around here somewhere. Last I recall it was just sitting in this chair, but father must have hidden it just before the first attack. The young man sifts through various containers, looking for his gun.
Meanwhile, his fellow hunter cracks open the floorboard, and she gleams –
Ooh, looks like there's a bunch of stuff down here.
The boy springs to action and begins sifting through the dozens of various broken lever-action rifles and beach towels for some reason contained within the floor, and finds an 80-round drum magazine in the rubbish.
Here's the spare mag I had when I went hunting. Now where's... He wonders, while the girl holds something infront of his face.
This it? She questions, holding a strange – and, in the pile of rifles – out of place sub-machine gun.
Yes! That's it. Thank you, he says, grabbing the gun rather hastily from her hands. With an ugly drum round and simple, un-ergonomic front grip, the gun is not the prettiest.
The Cake of Reason
It was midnight, and the being that had erupted from the southern volcano was rampaging still, throwing away the lives of millions.
Millions lost to our lack of foresight. But we cannot do anything now. The beast never sleeps. It only grows.
I saw a child, with her mother; the child looked up to me and said,
Is my daddy doing good in the war? So I thought, this young lady knew too well of the sitaution. But still I replied to her,
Yes, I saw him just a few minutes ago preparing to depart.
Her mother cried, but she stood silent.
So I said to him, my partner,
David, is this not too far gone? Is it even possible to save merely one life at this point?
I can't leave this place knowing we didn't try. We must keep fighting.
David, surely you jest—
Can you still walk, fire a weapon? Invoke methods?
Yes, I answered reluctantly.
We will go, and we will win. If we don't…
[insert things about fighting, then finally crashing back into The Place]
It always comes back to this place.
We need to use it, David.
I have, through seeing all possibilities, failed to find any other solution.
I got up out of the rubble, wiped the dust off my coat, and walked toward the kitchen. The cabinets were still pristine, unlike the rest of the house, now destroyed by us crashing directly into it.
The third cabinet from the right side of the room, on the bottom shelf, lay a small cake, not but the size of a miniature candle, round in shape and with four candles smaller than a nail burning strong. The cake made of chocolate, and the icing on the outside like a shell, vanilla.
Are you ready? Look into my eyes. I said, taking the cake and shoving it into my mouth, whole.
I chewed the cake, which must not have taken even five seconds, and swallowed it.
O divine cake of reason, forgive us but one treason; destroy this world, in place another, the time to go, for last summer.
The final sin laid out tonight, remove of us the fatal plight;
Conteret omnia haec, respice in hac mundi.
As the roof went crashing down, everything became a blur.
The ritual was complete.
I can't even remember the context of this
I jump into where the elevator should be. Nothing but tether now. I drop down a bit as my eyes adjust, and notice I am cornered not only above in the third floor but in this shaft, too.
Let's see, one, two… I count the demons.
And then one, two, three groups of them. Oh fuck, that's 9.