Mind's Eye

[1 year ago]

He held to the steel pipe as hard as he could as he slowly slithered his body down it. Turning his head he looked down to check how far the flat surface was below him. It was made of steel and covered with rocks and debris from fallen ships and inoperable sentinels from battles fought. The floor was much closer now then before. When he first crawled unto the rusty pipe and started down the long tunnel there was nothing but an emptiness below him. Now he could see a landing. Now he could see the end of his journey through the Real. Now he could see the ship.

He clenched his body closer to the pipe and tensed his muscles just before flinging his body from the pipe and to the base of the sewer. He fell for what could be estimated as four-hundred yards before smashing into a pit of glass and shards of metal. Bones snapped and cracked as his body bounced from the impact. He lay for a moment before sitting up and shaking the dirt and glass from his head. He reached down and slowly slid his hands along his body, feeling out each shard that had wedged into his cold flesh. He wrapped his fist around a large piece imbedded into his leg, then another in his lower back. He pulled out a final piece, deep within his ribcage, imbedded so deep it was taking all his effort to remove. The edges scrapped along his bone as each inch raised out, and with a final jerk he pulled it out in front of him.

He examined the brown quagulated blood that slowly oozed down the grimy glass shard. His head then dropped down to his chest and studied the blood that slimed down the open wound a quarter inch before stopping. There was little blood left in his rigor body. He raised to one knee, then planted his hands to the ground and slowly raised to his feet. His limbs were stiff and cracked with every movement. Almost naturally he slid the large shard of glass into the waist line of his tattered shorts and moved forward.

He slowly began to stumble forward, and gazed up at the ship ahead. This was not a standard ship, it was much shorter, smaller then most. He stumbled to the hull and slowly slid his hand along the steel surface, with his fingers he made out an imprint of a brilliant horse standing on it's hind legs with wings like an angel.

"Yessss..."

His tongue flopped out of his mouth and slowly ran along his lips. He could taste the blood already. He kept running his hand along the underbelly of the ship, weaving between hover pads as he made his way to the landing gear. He used the steel strip to prop himself up and slowly began to slither through the gears into the ship. He flaccidly worked his body in and out of the gears, breaking and popping bones as need be to further himself. Without warning the weight of the ship shifted, and his fingers somehow wedged between two large metal pieces of the ships machinery. He pulled a few out with ease, but one was crushed underneath the steel. He began yanking as hard as he could, popping the bone from it's place and stretching the flesh apart until the finger ripped from his hand.

He climbed further up and found his way into the undercarriage. He rolled onto his back and glanced up, noticing a dim green light glowing through the steel platform above him. Reaching up he grasped a hold of the steel caged floorboard and pulled himself to his knees. He observed the deck above for any signs of life before gently lifting the steel and sliding it aside. Hobbling his body up, one limb at a time, he slumped it into the room above him. Finally, pulling his body fully into the ship, he laid lifeless on the steel floor.

Asamodai pulled the lever and let another pile of goop slop down into his tin bowl. He turned and faced the table where Phrack sat shoveling the same goop into his mouth, hardly taking breathes between gulps. He slumped down in the seat across the table from Phrack and raised his spoon. "Grubs up!" he said as he took a scoop of the synthetic compound they often referred to as tastee wheat. As he poured it into his mouth he began to converse with Phrack.

"So how long will you be staying this time?"

"Just a week or two. Time enough to get my fill of Jonas and Ett before I leave."

Asa nodded softly and took another bite. As unnecessary as it was, he chewed his tastee wheat before gulping it down.

"Is Ett asleep?" Asa asked.

"Yup, so is Jonas. They've had a long day."

Asa nodded. Phrack lifted his bowl and started pouring the gunk into his mouth, finishing off the bowl of slop. He raised from the seat and headed to the dispenser for seconds of the slimy substance. He spoke as he made his way across the room.

"Charlotte was really on my case today about spending time with Jonas. She says I spend more time staring at the Matrix then staring at him."

"That's silly. You can't compare the two."

"That's what I said."

"Yeah, she's been in a naggy mood lately. She's still on my case about repairing the starter. It works, but it could work better. Then there‘s the kick bag I want to put in the supply room. I still haven't gotten around to it yet, but she says if I don't I‘ll become her kick bag."

Phrack nodded and chuckled softly as he filled his bowl and turned back around to the table. Asa continued on.

"She's also been on my case about our locations. She says I keep choosing these hot spots to park the ship. Says that if anything were to happen to us it would be all my fault, but, it‘s not as dangerous out here as it used to be. I mean, it‘s not like sentinels are still on the hunt for any sign of life."

"She's just worried about our son." Phrack claimed as he took a seat.

"Yeah, I could see that." Asa agreed.

He raised the spoon to his mouth and stopped half way as a putrid smell streamed up into his nostrils. He slowly put his spoon down, back into the bowl, and began to sniff the air like a hound out on the hunt. Phrack stared at Asa with his head cocked to the side as he wondered what had possessed his friend to start sniffing the air. Suddenly the smell hit Phrack like a ton of bricks and he pushed his body back and pinched his nose.

"You son of a *CENSORED*, you farted!"

Phrack pointed at Asa with a crooked smile on his face from the assumed joke. Asa shook his head violently and pointed right back at Phrack.

"That wasn't me, that was you."

"Nuh-uh!"

The two bickered for a moment like two kids on the playground. They laughed and continued accusing for several minutes. Finally they settled down and began to question the smell.

"Well, if it wasn't me, and wasn't you, then who?"

"Probably Ett, you can smell some of hers a mile off."

The two laughed hysterically for a moment.

"I don't know," Phrack said. "Maybe it's not a fart."

"Yeah, now that you mention it, it is a bit too raunchy to be a fart."

"God, it's getting worse."

"It's so horrible, yet I can't help but think it's something familiar."

"It smells like.." Phrack stopped and inhaled a large whiff of the smell.

"It smells like burning flesh." Asa interrupted.

"You better go check it out."

"Me?!" Asa blurted out, "Why me?"

"Cause it's your ship."

"But.. My tastee wheat is still warm." Asamodai claimed.

"What are you talking about?" Phrack questioned, "That goop is never warm."

"No, the friction from it pouring through the pipes heats it up a little." Asa debated his phony claim.

Phrack and Asa stared at each other for a moment, testing who would break first. Finally Phrack raised his spoon and quickly dipped it into Asa's bowl and took a taste of his tastee wheat.

"There," Phrack began, "argument settled. It's cold."

"Bastard." Asa teased as he slowly raised from the seat.

"I'll go check up on Jonas, make sure it wasn't him."

"Right-o"

Asa and Phrack split paths as Phrack went to check up on the baby and his love, while Asa began his search of the ship. After checking the laboratory right quick he felt the upper deck would be better left alone, seeing as how he knew what was in each room. Ettaric and Jonas in one, and his bunk in another. The mess hall, and the bathroom. Always a simple run through. He climbed the ladder down to the main deck and strolled past the operator's station, and through the small rows of chairs that granted their ability to jack into the Matrix. Though dark, he could see no signs of any abnormal activity, nor could he catch on to where the scent was leading him.

He sniffed the air a bit more while looking around the room and pinched his nose.

"God it stinks." He said to himself as he continued on.

He walked slowly to the end of the deck, heading to the staircase that lead to the lower deck. When he reached the entrance he lifted the hatch to the stairwell and let out a cloud of stench that flustered its way up into his nose. He knew right then the smell had to be coming from the lower deck. Not wasting any time he skipped the staircase and simply jumped down to the steel platform below.

The dim green light glistened off the side of his face and he looked around the hallway. His first stop was the supply room. He creaked the door open and gave a look around. It was dark, almost pitch black had it not been for the small lighting that hung above. He walked in and began searching between the stacks of supplies they kept stowed away. It was no surprise he found nothing, for he could tell the stench wasn't nearly as putrid in the room as it would be had he found the source. He slammed the door shut and made his way back into the hall.

"Gah, where is this coming from?!" He exclaimed. The smell was beginning to burn his nostrils.

His next stop was the fuse room. As he opened the door another cloud of stink blasted his face. There and then a chill went up his spine as he realized it must be coming from inside. He crept in slowly and searched the room. In the far back, down the many rows of fuse panels he noticed a shadowy slump laying on the floor.

"Hello?"

He cried out, but there was no response. Fists clenched he moved forward to the object, curiously investigating. One foot in front of the other he made his way across the room. Finally he reached it, and tapped it softly with his toes. He knelt down, and gagged half way as the smell intoxicated his nostrils, almost making his tastee wheat feel the need to return to his mouth.

"Hello?"

He questioned again as he reached down and laid his hand gently on the shoulder of the cadaver. He slumped it over to reveal the horribly degraded face of what once was a man. Once again he gagged, this time getting a taste of his meal.

"Oh god."

He said as he examined the rotting flesh. The body lay lifeless, eyes looking up to the forehead with half a mouth flapping wide open. He examined it further, guessing to himself how this corpse may have found its way into the ship. He stared deeply into one of the wounds, one so deep he could see a small portion of the still beating heart that lay beneath the ribcage. Staring intently he began to lose himself in a delusional dream that possessed his mind. It was a dream of death, one the imagination created of a story that never existed. Suddenly, a booming clank was echoing though the hallways, and Asa whipped his head around violently to inspect the noise, still holding a part of the deceased.

"Phrack?"

He called out, but was left with silence. He waited for a moment, then shrugged, assuming nothing more then his mind playing dirty tricks. As he returned his gaze to the carcass, he quickly noticed the eyes had shifted, and no longer looked up, but instead directly at him. His jaw fell open, and before he could react he was met with the cold hand rapidly grabbing a hold of his temple and smashing the other end of his head into the side wall.

Asamodai's body slumped down and began snoring thunderously. The body raised and stood, hunched over Asa's comatose body. It gave a smile, and blood slowly poured out of it's mouth as gravity slowly took control over it.

‘One down.'

It raised its head with a certain satisfaction, and stumbled forward, tripping over Asamodai. Slowly it made its way across the room, and out into the hallway...

Phrack grazed Jonas slowly across the head with his index. He admired his son sleeping. If Charlotte only knew how much time he really spent watching his child. He glanced over at her sleeping across the room, floating away in some dream world perhaps. He smiled with a certain satisfaction and made his way out of the room, certain that everything was in order. He shut the door softly, and made his way along the catwalk. As he pressed forward toward the mess hall, he heard the soft scrape of footsteps below him.

"Hurry it up Asa, your porridge is getting cold." He teased as he stepped into the mess hall, softly shutting the door behind him.

He grazed her hair slowly from her forehead. A cracked smile stretched across his face as he stared down, drooling a dry mix of saliva and blood above her soft skin. He kept grazing her, gently running a finger across her silky face. He had long lost a sense of feeling, but to him the action triggered memories of a smooth surface he once knew as flesh. It had been so long since he touched another human, that is, in a comforting manner. She rustled in her sleep and tossed a little, slightly waking from the cold touch that hovered above her.

"Phrack, dear, come to bed."

She said as she pulled the blankets tighter around her body and squeezed her eye lids shut. The corpse let out a soft undertone moan and he laughed within it's head. He let another strand of hair fall from his finger tips.

The cadaver nodded in the silence of the steel room. His eyes and weight slowly drifted across the room, from the sleeping beauty Ettaric, across the rusted steel walls, past the hazed mirror, and to the crib. He slumped his foot forward and let out a tiny childish laugh. When he reached the crib the baby slowly awoke from it's gentle slumber and stared blankly at the corpse that stood above, smiling like a jackal over a carcass. It reached down and tickled the tummy of the infant with it's lone finger, the baby laughed slightly, as blood was slowly pouring from the finger unto the baby's soft romper suit. He licked his lips and giggled along with the child in a sadistic sense, absorbing the vulnerability in the air.

Disturbed in the soft slumber by the faint laughter of her child and an unfamiliar, Ettaric slowly turned in her bed to look for the noise. At first she saw her love, Phrack, playing with their child. She smiled wide at the feeling of love within her heart. Her vision blurred into clarity as shapes and forms began to come into view. She then lost sight of her love, and saw before her son a horrid figure of death. It wore little but a burnt tattered pair of pants, and hunched over with a broken back. It's skin was crisp with black and brown burnt flesh. With little to no hair, it's lifeless yellow eyes glared down menacingly at her child. In a heartbeat her feeling of love and bliss was replaced with fear. Her heart slumped up into her throat and she gagged with rage as she dove from the bed.

"Get away from my son!" She screamed, standing fiercely, prepared to defend her child.

Jonas began to cry.

The cadaver turned with a bloodthirsty rage, instantly prepared to battle his next victim. She hopped close to the corpse and flung her arm back with her momentum then across the decayed face with a backhand. There was a snap and the corpses head flung to the side, but his body remained still, unaffected from the strike. It's eyes darted back to Ettaric, and there was a pause. It slowly raised it's head and licked it's lips as Ettaric began to pull back for another blow, but instead the body reacted and interrupted her attack with a slam to the throat by his cold four-fingered hand.

He thrust her body against the wall with vengeance, slamming her back across a table and into a mirror. She winced with little pain and slapped at the corpse in her defense. He held her close, his face nearly pressed against hers, continually holding his sinister smile. She struggled as tears began flowing from her face. He reached into his pants and slowly removed the shard of glass that had pierced his chest on his way down the sewers. He raised his hand from her throat to her jawbone and straightened her gaze into his.

"I can taste your fear."

He whispered softly into her lips. Without hesitation he let his cold green tongue fling from his mouth landing with a slop directly between her chin and lower lip. It moved slowly up, gently across the corner of her mouth to her cheek, devouring her sweat and tears that ran across her pale silky skin. She gagged as she struggled frantically. Her eyes darted around the room in distress, noticing the e.m.p. gun she had always kept close by her bed when she slept. The tongue continued up to the corner of her eyelid and she closed them hard as he began forcing his tongue into her socket. She stretched her arms out and pushed his body back a mere foot, then slammed her head forward into the creature's skull.

It stumbled back two steps and held his head. Ett quickly dove for her gun as fast she could before the cadaver recovered. The body swung around with rage and raised the shard of glass. She grasped the handle and raised to her feet, slowly swinging it in the direction of the body. It flung forward, and before she could fire she was being slammed against the wall once more. A loud snap went off as he raised his knee into the wrist of the damsel, pinning her arm against the wall. Holding her neck once more, he raised the dirty shard of glass and dropped it violently down beneath her collar bone. Blood flung forward and splattered in the face of the cadaver. Ettaric let out a soft shriek of utter pain. Her body stiffened up as her bright red blood flowed profusely from the wound. The corpse slowly ran his ghastly tongue across his lips, cleaning the blood from his mouth. He tightened his grasp on the glass and shoved it deeper within the body of the girl.

Ettaric's body began to slump down. She fell forward unto the corpse, staring into it's eyes with a painful gaze as she drifted to the floor. Her grasp let go of the e.m.p. and she collapsed fully on the putrid feet of the dead man. The corpse raised it's head with satisfaction, then slowly moved the gun across the floor with his foot, away from Ettaric. He paced for a small moment before snapping his limbs down and retrieving the e.m.p. gun. Ettaric laid there, still bleeding from the shard that remained lodged in her torso. She slowly moved forward, stretching her arms out with a weak will to continue fighting.

"No." She moaned.

The body began cracking its back into a straight position till it stood completely upright. It looked around the room, first at the baby, then at the gun in its hand, then to Ettaric. It grinned menacingly at the injured mother, left in complete vulnerability. It slowly moved the tip of the gun across the floor, swinging it above the head of Ettaric. She looked up into the barrel.

"No." She moaned again as her eyes softly fluttered.

"No." He replied, with a smooth voice. "You'll be handled personally."

The gun swung away, and his back began to crackle once again as it returned to its arched stature. It slowly made its way across the room, e.m.p. in hand, towards the cradle.