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I read Gamefreak's post about Quake stories, and was spurred to write my own. I wrote it in about half an hour using Abiword, enjoy! (I would have made it longer, but got lazy.)
Click. The tip of the gun smoked, but little else occurred. Now of course there was still a bloody scrag staring down the barrel, but of course that wasn't a new occurrence either. I had my way at him with the now-blunt tip of the hatchet I had found a few rooms back-as my original axe had been long shattered-and killed the beast. It hit the ground with a thud as it's greasy blood pooled on the floor. I sighed, it had gotten outrageously monotonous since I had first walked through the god damned slip gate. "You're saving your country" "You're stepping forth for all mankind" "You're--" I had heard it all, and truly it was just an excuse to send me into the overrun bases, drive me into hell, and then close the gate behind me so no one else could go back through. I was tired, and the stench of that monstrosity was enough to buckle that muscle-bound Sergeant who pushed me into that damnable gate. I sat down on one of the grimy steps and recounted the events that brought me there.
The military was fun. You didn't need wit, and the only skill required was the ability to shove a pistol into a man's eye and shoot. I'd been playing the army game for a good 15 years, and my mind had become like an iron trap--one that had been left out in the rain and rusted shut. While my mental fortitude was equatable to a gerbil wheel, I was physical perfection. I had the muscle, the reflex, and the trigger finger that made a great soldier. Now, I was pretty low on the army chain, but like any good trooper, I kept my ears open. Talk had been going around base for some time about secret experiments going on underground. I didn't doubt it, because our government had a knack for keeping things hidden until a civilian with a big mouth found it. But this was different, this was sinister, this was big. Teleportation! Our government, tired of the whole "let's drop stuff by aeroplane" game, decided that we'd be better off just transporting them through the phone lines! Now, I wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but if I grasped it correctly--and I've had plenty of time to think--it worked like a sieve. Items would be broken up into small enough pieces to fit through the grate, shot through a phone-wire, and then spat out the other side. It seemed logical enough, but my reasoning had one fatal flaw. There aren't any phone lines in hell.
I was called down one day to be interviewed, the bulky Sergeant sitting behind the ridiculously tiny desk. We went through the quick one two for a bit until he finally leaned over and got to the point. Apparently this teleportation device was called a "slip-gate", and my explanation was decently correct, excepting a few major parts. He told me of three planes of existence, and if I got his drift; which I'm pretty sure I did, there is full, empty, and somewhere in between. Full space is what every human occupies, empty space is any area that contains nothing (including gasses), and the in-between is called "slip space". Apparently if something meets neither the requirements of full space or empty space, it's considered slip space. I didn't know what qualified as slip space, but the Sergeant assured me of it's existence. He started talking about physics or something when I began to dose off, but was quickly jolted back into consciousness when he told me my mission. The slip-gate had successfully transported packages from one area of the base to the other, but the last package didn't make it to its destination. It had been sent to the small valley outside the base, but when that area was checked, it was no where to be found. I'm sure you can understand what he asked next. I was playing detective, and delivery boy. I had find the package, and bring it back.
I went through the various stages of decontamination, being sprayed down, having a metal-dye injected into my blood so they could look at it with X-Rays, the works. After the several days of torture, I was finally "fit" to go through the gate, even though I felt like a steaming pile of dog shit. They loaded me up with a backpack, some water, and some general survival tools; I was a happy camper. Just as I was being ushered into the teleportation booth, the Sergeant handed me a shotgun and an axe that looked as if it had just been pried out of a tree. He then preceded to push me into the booth, and punch the button on the side.
There were swirls, vapors, and there might as well have been smurfs because it felt like my first acid-trip all over again. I started feeling sick as the light blinded me, and as I shut my eyes, I became truly oblivious of the depth of the shit I had just lodged myself in. I opened my eyes and expected to see a grassy meadow, or maybe a supply depot off base. But when I opened my little eyes; I saw a piss yellow wall, fluorescent lights that could radiate a native of New Jersey, and and room that was so poorly kept, even the corner-cutters of the United States government couldn't put up with. I started walking around and looking for the package, it should have been easy enough, it was a red block with the initials "U.S.A." written on it. I didn't find a damn thing, and started to head back. I stepped into the slip-gate and closed my eyes. It must have been a good five minutes before I realized I had gone nowhere. It wasn't working, it had been so easy last time, just a step in and BANG! But that wasn't the case, I knew that I was going no where fast, and attempted to find another. I walked through one of the base's many quick-opening doors, fancy--for such a dump. It was a while until I made my way outside, a green paradise if you're a colourblind midget. This place was as much shit-hole outside as it was on the inside, but I payed it no mind, it couldn't possibly get much worse. I walked across the bridge and almost got to the other bridge before I heard a shout. Thank God! Human life! I turned to see something that could very loosely be called a "man". He was ugly, bloody, and hunched with a face that a mother could throw a knife in to. He yelled at me one more time and I took a step, that's when he grabbed his hand and I realized what he was holding. In addition to the rustiest shotgun I'd ever seen, his canine friend looked rather starved and ready to eat, and I was looking pretty tasty at the moment. The dog lunged at me and started tearing at my chest. I quickly grabbed for the shotgun on my back. I almost got it too, but came up a bit short. The hatchet lay in my hand, and I thought there was no better time to use it. I hacked at the pounding pooch for a while until it fell to the ground, its master looking at me with an even uglier look on his face--however hard to believe it was. That's when I reached for the money, and pulled out the military-standard shotgun. Two quick blasts, and my ugly friend was face-up on the ground. That's when I finally realized, I wasn't Kansas, or even North Carolina, anymore.
The rest of the piss-ant base was the same, snot-faced grunts, hungry dogs, and shitty water. I made it to the bottom of the installation with ease, my military training keeping me on my toes. I saw a small warehouse near the bottom of the place, and though nothing of it--that is, until I saw the slip-gate. There's more than one of these damn things? If it was anything like the last slip-gate, it wouldn't lead anywhere fast, but I decided it would be fun to try. I stepped into the slip-gate and closed my eyes, expecting nothing, I quickly walked off. I opened my eyes and stopped. I wasn't surrounded by those pissy walls, I wasn't blinded by those god damn lights, I wasn't any of those things, I was; however, in the darkest, dankest, smelliest, ugliest, and most bizarre place I'd ever seen. It looked like a castle, and like any good knight, I decided then was as good a time as any to start looking for the princess.
I don't like to remember the rest, the monsters, the traps, almost being crushed by a ceiling, or being torn at by a rusty chain saw. It all became so ridiculously monotonous, and between stapling one of those greasy mutants against the wall with a nailgun, or firing a military-grade rocket straight into the mouth of one of those armoured cans of beef, I lost track of it all. But that brought me here, and it was a story for another time. How I had got here didn't really matter to me, how I would get out was the story of the fucking century. I cocked the barrel of my shotgun and started walking, it would be a haul, but I was a cowboy.
How I Became a Cowboy
Click. The tip of the gun smoked, but little else occurred. Now of course there was still a bloody scrag staring down the barrel, but of course that wasn't a new occurrence either. I had my way at him with the now-blunt tip of the hatchet I had found a few rooms back-as my original axe had been long shattered-and killed the beast. It hit the ground with a thud as it's greasy blood pooled on the floor. I sighed, it had gotten outrageously monotonous since I had first walked through the god damned slip gate. "You're saving your country" "You're stepping forth for all mankind" "You're--" I had heard it all, and truly it was just an excuse to send me into the overrun bases, drive me into hell, and then close the gate behind me so no one else could go back through. I was tired, and the stench of that monstrosity was enough to buckle that muscle-bound Sergeant who pushed me into that damnable gate. I sat down on one of the grimy steps and recounted the events that brought me there.
The military was fun. You didn't need wit, and the only skill required was the ability to shove a pistol into a man's eye and shoot. I'd been playing the army game for a good 15 years, and my mind had become like an iron trap--one that had been left out in the rain and rusted shut. While my mental fortitude was equatable to a gerbil wheel, I was physical perfection. I had the muscle, the reflex, and the trigger finger that made a great soldier. Now, I was pretty low on the army chain, but like any good trooper, I kept my ears open. Talk had been going around base for some time about secret experiments going on underground. I didn't doubt it, because our government had a knack for keeping things hidden until a civilian with a big mouth found it. But this was different, this was sinister, this was big. Teleportation! Our government, tired of the whole "let's drop stuff by aeroplane" game, decided that we'd be better off just transporting them through the phone lines! Now, I wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but if I grasped it correctly--and I've had plenty of time to think--it worked like a sieve. Items would be broken up into small enough pieces to fit through the grate, shot through a phone-wire, and then spat out the other side. It seemed logical enough, but my reasoning had one fatal flaw. There aren't any phone lines in hell.
I was called down one day to be interviewed, the bulky Sergeant sitting behind the ridiculously tiny desk. We went through the quick one two for a bit until he finally leaned over and got to the point. Apparently this teleportation device was called a "slip-gate", and my explanation was decently correct, excepting a few major parts. He told me of three planes of existence, and if I got his drift; which I'm pretty sure I did, there is full, empty, and somewhere in between. Full space is what every human occupies, empty space is any area that contains nothing (including gasses), and the in-between is called "slip space". Apparently if something meets neither the requirements of full space or empty space, it's considered slip space. I didn't know what qualified as slip space, but the Sergeant assured me of it's existence. He started talking about physics or something when I began to dose off, but was quickly jolted back into consciousness when he told me my mission. The slip-gate had successfully transported packages from one area of the base to the other, but the last package didn't make it to its destination. It had been sent to the small valley outside the base, but when that area was checked, it was no where to be found. I'm sure you can understand what he asked next. I was playing detective, and delivery boy. I had find the package, and bring it back.
I went through the various stages of decontamination, being sprayed down, having a metal-dye injected into my blood so they could look at it with X-Rays, the works. After the several days of torture, I was finally "fit" to go through the gate, even though I felt like a steaming pile of dog shit. They loaded me up with a backpack, some water, and some general survival tools; I was a happy camper. Just as I was being ushered into the teleportation booth, the Sergeant handed me a shotgun and an axe that looked as if it had just been pried out of a tree. He then preceded to push me into the booth, and punch the button on the side.
There were swirls, vapors, and there might as well have been smurfs because it felt like my first acid-trip all over again. I started feeling sick as the light blinded me, and as I shut my eyes, I became truly oblivious of the depth of the shit I had just lodged myself in. I opened my eyes and expected to see a grassy meadow, or maybe a supply depot off base. But when I opened my little eyes; I saw a piss yellow wall, fluorescent lights that could radiate a native of New Jersey, and and room that was so poorly kept, even the corner-cutters of the United States government couldn't put up with. I started walking around and looking for the package, it should have been easy enough, it was a red block with the initials "U.S.A." written on it. I didn't find a damn thing, and started to head back. I stepped into the slip-gate and closed my eyes. It must have been a good five minutes before I realized I had gone nowhere. It wasn't working, it had been so easy last time, just a step in and BANG! But that wasn't the case, I knew that I was going no where fast, and attempted to find another. I walked through one of the base's many quick-opening doors, fancy--for such a dump. It was a while until I made my way outside, a green paradise if you're a colourblind midget. This place was as much shit-hole outside as it was on the inside, but I payed it no mind, it couldn't possibly get much worse. I walked across the bridge and almost got to the other bridge before I heard a shout. Thank God! Human life! I turned to see something that could very loosely be called a "man". He was ugly, bloody, and hunched with a face that a mother could throw a knife in to. He yelled at me one more time and I took a step, that's when he grabbed his hand and I realized what he was holding. In addition to the rustiest shotgun I'd ever seen, his canine friend looked rather starved and ready to eat, and I was looking pretty tasty at the moment. The dog lunged at me and started tearing at my chest. I quickly grabbed for the shotgun on my back. I almost got it too, but came up a bit short. The hatchet lay in my hand, and I thought there was no better time to use it. I hacked at the pounding pooch for a while until it fell to the ground, its master looking at me with an even uglier look on his face--however hard to believe it was. That's when I reached for the money, and pulled out the military-standard shotgun. Two quick blasts, and my ugly friend was face-up on the ground. That's when I finally realized, I wasn't Kansas, or even North Carolina, anymore.
The rest of the piss-ant base was the same, snot-faced grunts, hungry dogs, and shitty water. I made it to the bottom of the installation with ease, my military training keeping me on my toes. I saw a small warehouse near the bottom of the place, and though nothing of it--that is, until I saw the slip-gate. There's more than one of these damn things? If it was anything like the last slip-gate, it wouldn't lead anywhere fast, but I decided it would be fun to try. I stepped into the slip-gate and closed my eyes, expecting nothing, I quickly walked off. I opened my eyes and stopped. I wasn't surrounded by those pissy walls, I wasn't blinded by those god damn lights, I wasn't any of those things, I was; however, in the darkest, dankest, smelliest, ugliest, and most bizarre place I'd ever seen. It looked like a castle, and like any good knight, I decided then was as good a time as any to start looking for the princess.
I don't like to remember the rest, the monsters, the traps, almost being crushed by a ceiling, or being torn at by a rusty chain saw. It all became so ridiculously monotonous, and between stapling one of those greasy mutants against the wall with a nailgun, or firing a military-grade rocket straight into the mouth of one of those armoured cans of beef, I lost track of it all. But that brought me here, and it was a story for another time. How I had got here didn't really matter to me, how I would get out was the story of the fucking century. I cocked the barrel of my shotgun and started walking, it would be a haul, but I was a cowboy.
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