Pulp-Noir-Sci-Fi-Thriller-Horror.
I clench the sub-nosed revolver between my teeth and begin tearing my way up the steep slope of the riverside. I would put the pistol in my pocket, but my lab coat is in tatters. Blood; my own, the police officer, three or so genetically altered orangutans, and the girls decorate what remains of my clothing like a modern art piece gone horribly, horribly wrong.She is out there somewhere. She can probably smell me for miles. Handfuls of weeds and vines drag my slathering, sweating, bloody form up the side of this damnable riverside. Just have to get to a phone. One call to the police and Im home free. Ive got the badge of the cop that I used for some parts. I think once I tell them the badge number Ill have some legitimacy to my insane requests. Levity. Credentials. Certainly not compassion, mercy or understanding, but I dont need that at this point. I need many men with shotguns, dogs,and rifles. After they see what Ive done to her they will probably kill me too, but they dont have to know it was me. Ill claim the monkeys did it.
Guess I should not have made those orangutans smarter than me officer! Well, all for the greater good! Science thrusts ahead! The Girl? Dont know where they picked her up. Probably hooking on some street corner, desperate for a new arm after a powerful addiction to some horrible drug ate her old one. Guess she shouldnt have trusted three cyborg monkeys cruising downtown in a Model-6000 to do the job! Me? I dont practice any longer. Retired.
Yes. They will have to believe me. The self-destruct timer will ensure that the evidence of my research will never be known. There is no punishment I wouldnt deserve. The most twisted execution created and endorsed by the most militant and cruel nationstate would be sweet mercy. A slap on the wrist compared to the savage chaos I have birthed and even now flee from. I have found the top of the rivers edge and remove the revolver from my mouth and work my jaw around. It was nice clenching onto the polymer grip as I climbed. Not easier to breathe by any means, but certainly helped me deal with the pain of climbing with a fractured fibula. The adrenaline is wearing off and the sweet comfort of shock is soon to abandon me. A dozen or so feet takes me to a riverside drive. I begin limping along the road. Just need to get to the phone. There is an all night diner just a ways up the road. Little out of the way place in which I sometimes grab a bite. One phone call to the police, they confirm my story with a few calls to National Defense and blam! Assess and Assault Squad arrives via Roto-Scram in a few minutes. If not them then certainly dozens of hicks with dogs and shotguns. Hicks with shotguns could do the trick if theyve got slugs. Buckshot is useless at this point. Got a little carried away with the girl. Drugs and body augmenting do not mix. Ideas come to you.
Why not make her bullet proof? Heck, I wish the hell someone would do that for me! I bet when she wakes up the fact that 70% of her internals were harvested from sub-primates wont matter at all! Shell just be happy to be alive, and bulletproof, and able to lift a small car should the spirit move her!
Drugs and cooking perhaps. I make a killer salad while on a vicious burn, but experimental State-Banned surgery on near lethal doses of super-hallucinogens? Not going to do that again. Lesson learned. Whats the worst they can-
And as I consider this I hear it. Ive heard some very unfortunate sounds in my time. I once heard a radiological contamination klaxon in school while working with some rather deadly pathogens. Ive heard a flaming homeless being beaten to death in an alley screeching his last. And if youve never made the decapitated head of a rhesus monkey recite The Great Gatsby through inter cerebral motor cortex supplantation, you dont know the meaning of the word surreal. But this? The sound she made as she spotted me across the river? A guttural half choke/half chuckle with an enthusiasm so human I almost believe for a second she knows. For a second I worry that this rampage has less to do with the amphetamine laced animal blood and more to do with a very human need for vengeance. Was it a laugh? I toss a few rounds across the river to drive her back into the brush and pick up the pace. I know shes not going to stop following me. Shes going to eat me. Just like that poor police officer who should have let my missing headlight ticket go. I just need to get to the fucking phone.
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Guess I should not have made those orangutans smarter than me officer! Well, all for the greater good! Science thrusts ahead! The Girl? Dont know where they picked her up. Probably hooking on some street corner, desperate for a new arm after a powerful addiction to some horrible drug ate her old one. Guess she shouldnt have trusted three cyborg monkeys cruising downtown in a Model-6000 to do the job! Me? I dont practice any longer. Retired.
Yes. They will have to believe me. The self-destruct timer will ensure that the evidence of my research will never be known. There is no punishment I wouldnt deserve. The most twisted execution created and endorsed by the most militant and cruel nationstate would be sweet mercy. A slap on the wrist compared to the savage chaos I have birthed and even now flee from. I have found the top of the rivers edge and remove the revolver from my mouth and work my jaw around. It was nice clenching onto the polymer grip as I climbed. Not easier to breathe by any means, but certainly helped me deal with the pain of climbing with a fractured fibula. The adrenaline is wearing off and the sweet comfort of shock is soon to abandon me. A dozen or so feet takes me to a riverside drive. I begin limping along the road. Just need to get to the phone. There is an all night diner just a ways up the road. Little out of the way place in which I sometimes grab a bite. One phone call to the police, they confirm my story with a few calls to National Defense and blam! Assess and Assault Squad arrives via Roto-Scram in a few minutes. If not them then certainly dozens of hicks with dogs and shotguns. Hicks with shotguns could do the trick if theyve got slugs. Buckshot is useless at this point. Got a little carried away with the girl. Drugs and body augmenting do not mix. Ideas come to you.
Why not make her bullet proof? Heck, I wish the hell someone would do that for me! I bet when she wakes up the fact that 70% of her internals were harvested from sub-primates wont matter at all! Shell just be happy to be alive, and bulletproof, and able to lift a small car should the spirit move her!
Drugs and cooking perhaps. I make a killer salad while on a vicious burn, but experimental State-Banned surgery on near lethal doses of super-hallucinogens? Not going to do that again. Lesson learned. Whats the worst they can-
And as I consider this I hear it. Ive heard some very unfortunate sounds in my time. I once heard a radiological contamination klaxon in school while working with some rather deadly pathogens. Ive heard a flaming homeless being beaten to death in an alley screeching his last. And if youve never made the decapitated head of a rhesus monkey recite The Great Gatsby through inter cerebral motor cortex supplantation, you dont know the meaning of the word surreal. But this? The sound she made as she spotted me across the river? A guttural half choke/half chuckle with an enthusiasm so human I almost believe for a second she knows. For a second I worry that this rampage has less to do with the amphetamine laced animal blood and more to do with a very human need for vengeance. Was it a laugh? I toss a few rounds across the river to drive her back into the brush and pick up the pace. I know shes not going to stop following me. Shes going to eat me. Just like that poor police officer who should have let my missing headlight ticket go. I just need to get to the fucking phone.
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