normie
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One day, somewhere, in a town...
"Thief!"
There was an old man with wrinkles, and near-bald hair, he looked like his life was not going well. He was hiding in an alleyway. He was calm, but had a devious grin on his face. It was not very dark where he was hiding, but it was good enough. He heard footsteps. Fast footsteps. A man came running into view, and in a flash, a figure leaped at him, and jammed a needle into his neck.
"Good night Damian". The victim moaned, but not enough to make any sense. He collapsed.
Sometime later...
...Where am I? Wah? What is this? Damian Lance, aged 42, awoke in a small crowded cage hanging a few feet in the air, barely big enough to hold him. It was cold; it was dark; it was dreadful. The cage was located in a steel room, several stories underground. It was like no one had been there in years.
"Help! Help me! Heeelp!" yelled Damian. He grabbed the bars, shaking them violently. Progressively, Damian worked his way around the cage shaking the bars, searching for a loose one; only hearing a quiet "click".
A TV, about six feet in front Damian, showed static, then a clown. This was not your ordinary clown with bushy rainbow hair, and a red nose. No, this clown was pale white, with red spirals on its bulging cheeks, and loose black hair.
"Hello Damian". The clown's mouth moved with a deep voice simultaneously.
"Who are you, and how do you know my name!?" asked Damian.
"That does not matter. What you are about to hear does," informed the voice. Damien griped the bars tightly. "I have been watching you for quite some time. You have spent most of your life stealing from people, and murdering those who got in your way. For much to long, you have ignored the pain you have caused others. Up until now, you have been the predator, but now, you become the prey."
"What do you want!?"
"I want to play a game... The devices attached to the end of each bar in your cage, are charged with enough energy to heat up the bars to over eight hundred degrees, burning you to the bone".
"Gasp"
Damian's eyes began to water. "In this game, there are rules, and you must abide by those rules, or the consequences will be dire, and the cage will be locked forever. When this message is finished, you will be given 1 minute to lower the key hanging directly above your head..." Damian looks up, to find a key hanging from the ceiling by a thin chain, just out of his reach. "To bring the key close enough to grab it, you must use the tools before you, that will save your life." In Damian's cage, there were eight knives glued to the top bars of the cage, with the points sticking upwards.
"Simply pierce yourself with the eight knives before you, to the handle, and I will grant you with this key. You have used these tools, to destroy the lives of others. Will you go through their pain, to save yours? You might be in the room that you die in".
"Why are you doing this?!"
"To help you. Oh yes, there will be blood". The screen showed static, and then blackness.
Damian was not very empathetic, he had no clue what true pain felt like, he just didn't care when it was cursed upon others. Therefore, he was not as scared as he should have been. Those two seconds in-between the end of the message, and the start of the timer, felt like an eternity. Damian heard beeping. "59, 58, 57" The clock was ticking. He grabbed a knife, and ripped it off one of the bars, staring at the shiny blade. He put the knife against his left arm, putting a little pressure on it. He clenched his eyes tight, for only a little stream of blood flowed down his arm. "47, 46, 45". He took, a deep breath, and thrust the knife towards the cut he had gave himself. His arm stopped, hovering an inch above his arm, shaking. He started shouting. He felt somehow it would overwhelm his own screams of pain. Damien pulled the knife back, and thrust it fully into his left arm.
"Aaaaaaaaahh! Damien yanked the knife out, letting blood spew out of his arm. He quickly slid it back in, to stop the bleeding. "36, 35, 34" Damien thought to himself. He could thrust all the knives at his arm at once. The consequence was worth giving up one limb. Damian, ripped the remaining seven knives off the bars, and didn't hesitate to get out of the cage. Clenching his teeth, he let four more knives enter his flesh.
He started to cry again. Deeply.
"I’m sorry! I won’t do it again. I'll turn myself in! Please!" Damian yelled. ...No reply. Damien took another glance at the beeping clock. "21, 20, 19". He had wasted far too much time. He vigorously repeated his previous steps, but this time, it was not as dreadful. Damian continued to cry, knowing it was all over. He heard the cranking off a chain, and the key slowly lowered into his reach. He clenched it in his hand, and ripped it off the chain. No longer was he crying of fear, he was crying of happiness. Deep inside, he knew what he did was wrong and that he truly needed to pay. This...man, he was helping Damian. He was trying to change him. "13, 12, 11" Damien was fidgeting with the lock, trying to get it open. The key was so small, and when something is that size, you're bound to lose it. The key slipped through Damian’s fingers, and landed on the floor, clanging lightly. Damian was not clear of what had just happened. He looked down. There was the key, lying flat on the ground, three feet below him.
"Nooooooooo!!!" His arms reached as far as they could between two of the bars. "4, 3, 2" Damien's life flashed before his life. His history. Now he truly understood why he was here. He could never have truly paid the full punishment for his crimes. He deserved to die. Damian heard the last voice he would ever hear.
"Game over". Damian heard the click of the lock, sealing forever. He was still reaching through the bars when they started to glow. He yanked his arm back, squeezing it tightly. The bars started to glow blazing red. His eyes widened, and then shut tightly. He did not scream. He only thrashed about, shaking violently. He started slowing down; then stopped moving…
< Message edited by Eukara Vox -- 5/20/2010 16:06:48 >
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