The Resi Corporation
07-03-2004, 02:33
Footsteps, running up a metal fire escape through the driving rain. A lone figure in a trenchcoat climbed up the steps with obvious haste and desperation, grasping frantically for the siderails to help themself up the rusted path. One foot slipped on the slick metal, and sent the figure sliding back against the siderail. A gasp of pain escaped the lips of the figure, a woman's gasp. On her feet again as if nothing had happened, the figure bolted up the stairs after a second's rest, finally reaching a thick metal door at the top of the fire escape. With fire in her eyes, she rammed her shoulder into it and knocked it off of its rusty hinges, making it slide into the unlit hallway behind it. Not pausing to nurse the pain, the figure ran through the now open doorway and headed through the mildewed halls towards a source of dim light far ahead of her. Gasping for breath, the exertion was obviously taking a high toll on her, but she didn't care. She had only one thing in mind, reaching that light and stopping what was to be the end of life as we know it. The wooden uncarpeted floor crunched under her feet as she ran, and even cracked in places, but now was not the time to worry about such petty dangers.
Reaching the light, the figure wheeled around to face another doorway, this one open a crack. Delivering a shattering kick to it, the door flew open to reveal a lone man holding the source of all this light. It glowed a ghostly orange hew, now shifting to yellow, and sometimes to dark orange. In this light, she could see a man in his mid-twenties with dark skin and thick white hair. As he slowly turned to face her, she could see the silver cross he wore on his neck glint in the light. He smiled a twisted wide smile, his white teeth gleaming and his eyes brimmed with insanity.
"Well hello sister," the man said, "so glad you could make it here. It would be a shame to not have some opposition to my efforts here, very anti-climatic, in fact."
"Shut up!" the woman yelled back at him, "What you are doing is madness! Drop that at once, don't even think of using it."
"Oh, and why shouldn't I?" the man laughed, "Once the Grandis mecha is complete, it will have enough firepower to obliterate this puny world. This plasma battery is the final piece, and once I insert it I will have my revenge on the scourge of human life! You of all people should know what I'm talking about, Dawn."
"You don't know what you're saying, you've gone insane!" Dawn yelled at him, "Don't make me kill you, Damion!"
With that, she whipped off her trenchcoat and revealed a six-shooter, which she whipped into her hand and pointed at Damion.
"What's stopping you, sister of mine?" Damion asked mockingly, "One shot will end this nightmare, you have six. Pull the trigger and save the world... or can you?"
"YOU BASTARD!!!"
A flash of light, a loud bang. Damion froze, and dropped the plasma battery. Blood trickled down from the hole Dawn made in his forehead, and as he stared up at her, dying, the same insane smile remained on his face.
"AAAARGH!" Dawn screamed, and pulled the trigger two, three, four, and five more times. The gun was out of ammo, and Damion no longer had a head.
Standing there, looking down at his corpse, Dawn dropped the gun. It was so easy, she thought, it was amazing how easy it was. She began to laugh at how simple it was to destroy such a major threat to the existance of humanity, simple chuckling at first, then manical laughter that rang through the empty corridors. She kneeled down and ran her fingers through his blood, then lifted them up to her face to look at them. She watched as his blood dribbled down from the tips of her fingers into the palm of her hand, and from there to the already bloodsoaked floorboards.
She had saved the corporation, nay, the world. But at what cost?
Reaching the light, the figure wheeled around to face another doorway, this one open a crack. Delivering a shattering kick to it, the door flew open to reveal a lone man holding the source of all this light. It glowed a ghostly orange hew, now shifting to yellow, and sometimes to dark orange. In this light, she could see a man in his mid-twenties with dark skin and thick white hair. As he slowly turned to face her, she could see the silver cross he wore on his neck glint in the light. He smiled a twisted wide smile, his white teeth gleaming and his eyes brimmed with insanity.
"Well hello sister," the man said, "so glad you could make it here. It would be a shame to not have some opposition to my efforts here, very anti-climatic, in fact."
"Shut up!" the woman yelled back at him, "What you are doing is madness! Drop that at once, don't even think of using it."
"Oh, and why shouldn't I?" the man laughed, "Once the Grandis mecha is complete, it will have enough firepower to obliterate this puny world. This plasma battery is the final piece, and once I insert it I will have my revenge on the scourge of human life! You of all people should know what I'm talking about, Dawn."
"You don't know what you're saying, you've gone insane!" Dawn yelled at him, "Don't make me kill you, Damion!"
With that, she whipped off her trenchcoat and revealed a six-shooter, which she whipped into her hand and pointed at Damion.
"What's stopping you, sister of mine?" Damion asked mockingly, "One shot will end this nightmare, you have six. Pull the trigger and save the world... or can you?"
"YOU BASTARD!!!"
A flash of light, a loud bang. Damion froze, and dropped the plasma battery. Blood trickled down from the hole Dawn made in his forehead, and as he stared up at her, dying, the same insane smile remained on his face.
"AAAARGH!" Dawn screamed, and pulled the trigger two, three, four, and five more times. The gun was out of ammo, and Damion no longer had a head.
Standing there, looking down at his corpse, Dawn dropped the gun. It was so easy, she thought, it was amazing how easy it was. She began to laugh at how simple it was to destroy such a major threat to the existance of humanity, simple chuckling at first, then manical laughter that rang through the empty corridors. She kneeled down and ran her fingers through his blood, then lifted them up to her face to look at them. She watched as his blood dribbled down from the tips of her fingers into the palm of her hand, and from there to the already bloodsoaked floorboards.
She had saved the corporation, nay, the world. But at what cost?