|Note: This is part of an experimental creative writing exercise. If you want to read more or start from beginning. You go to the Oubliette page. Please note the earlier stories are crude. 🙂|
The police cruiser raced down the streets causing chaos as pedestrians and cars scrambled to avoid the out of vehicle. As the cruiser roared down the busy street, a dull heavily armored black vehicle that resembled a SUV blasted after it. Overhead in the skies, a black and white helicopter with an emblem proclaiming its allegiance to law enforcement followed the vehicles as they sped through the city.
The Anarchist looked out of the side of his cruiser as the helicopter shown a spotlight on him. With a sudden flick of the wrist and a rude extension of one of his fingers, he used a gesture to make his feelings known to the officers on board. He looked at the old man in the black robe and thought. YOU CAN DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT COPTER.
MY PLEASURE… At that, the geriatric vanished. After a few moments, the cruiser went through an intersection. Instead of following, the helicopter banked hard left and continued its chase of what was a phantom of the pilot’s mind. A few seconds later, the cruiser made a hard right hand turn onto a ramp that opened up to an Interstate. The dark truck-like tank followed him up the ramp. As the two continued their chase on the less crowded road, the top of the truck opened and a large heavy caliber machine gun stretched out of the roof and pointed at the cruiser.
With the sound of grinding gears, hundreds of small explosions, and the jingling of brass casings bouncing off the roof, the gun riddled the cruiser with hundreds of small holes and shattered the back window. The cruiser and its occupant lost control. In a jet of smoke, the cruiser swerved off the road, down an embankment, and through a fence into a parking lot. The cruiser came to a stop only when it crashed through the front doors of a department store.
The truck followed and came to a screeching halt just outside of the store. By this point, people were evacuating and seeking safety from the impending confrontation. The driver side door opened and a large burly man wearing heavy body armor and tactical helmet climbed out. The hulking figure stood there a moment studying the scene. In the distance, he heard sirens of dozens of police vehicles racing towards his location. On his chest was large solitary star with a monochrome rendition of the American flag in the background. As the figure started walking towards the opening of the story, he reached to his hip and produced a large black handgun that instinctively projected a thin red beam in the direction in which it was pointed.
As he peered into the wreckage of the police cruiser, the lights in the store turned off. The inside of the cruiser was empty with the exception of the standard police equipment that he expected and a small pile of fake dog poop (at least he hoped it was). The figure made his way to the customer service desk. Behind the counter, he found a man and a woman huddling for safety.
They looked at him with fearful eyes and he looked down at them. He motioned for them to leave; an invitation that they did not hesitate to accept. As they were running for the entrance, the figure heard the sound of someone running through racks of clothes. As he looked in the direction, he was able to make out the crouching form of the Anarchist moving quickly among the isles of women’s undergarments heading towards the back door.
The figure began to sprint towards the last place where he saw the shadowy figure. When he found that spot, he did not see any evidence of the Anarchist anywhere. As he started scanning the rest of the store between him and the back door, the Anarchist’s deep mechanical voice spoke to him. “How is it… how is it that you can drive around in a tank and nobody gives a damn… I break into an abandoned apartment building, they lose their shit?”
The figure did not respond. Instead, he started slowly moving in the direction in which he heard the voice keeping his eye towards the back door.
“Was that your plan? Dude, why be such a dick? We agree on so much… you hate the government, I hate the government”
The figure was close to from where the voice was coming. It spoke again but from a different direction. “Other than that ‘moocher bad’ hangup of yours, we should be two peas in a hellish pod!”
The hulking figure lowered his weapon and looked in the new direction from where the voice came and then on the ground around his feet. He spotted a small round metallic object partially obscured by a large brassiere. Instinctively, the figure holstered his weapon and with a single move twisted around and sprinted towards the back door.
As if he was expecting it, he slammed into the Anarchist just as he arrived at the door. The Anarchist went sliding across the floor during which time, the skeletal faced shadow could hear laughing in the back of his mind.
DID YOU ACTUALLY THINK THAT WAS GOING TO WORK A SECOND TIME?
As the Anarchist lay on the floor gasping for air, the figure stood over him. He tried to breathe between his words, “Okay… you won… that one… two to two… we’re even… let’s continue this game… later.”
I WILL POINT OUT THAT HE ISN’T WEARING A CAPE.
He held up and waved a pair of white women’s undergarments. The hulking figure looked down at him through the visor of his helmet. In a deep voice, the figure responded. “No.”
The figure reached down, grabbed the Anarchist by the neck, and picked him up with one hand. The Anarchist grabbed the figure’s arm with both of his hands and arcs of electricity shot through it. The hulking figure reacted by dropping him. After managing to keep his balance, the Anarchist punched figure and nothing happened.
“Right… super strength” winced the Anarchist in pain. He quickly put a pair of sunglasses on his bony face and begged, “You wouldn’t hit a guy wearing glasses?”
The question was met with a monstrous backhand that sent the Anarchist flying into a rack of shirts. The moment seemed infinite to the Anarchist; as his face planted into the floor, his mind screamed. AUTOPILOT!
The Anarchist rolled over groaning a bit. Suddenly, as if he got a second wind, he did a kip up just in time to dodge a couple of blows from the hulking figure. Using the figure’s momentum, he grabbed the figure and flipped him to the ground. As a finale to his attack, he threw his cape to the ground and then drew a pair of rods from their scabbards on his back. With a quick action and a click, he joined them to form a staff.
During this time, the hulking figure worked to stand. Once he was able to get to his feet, he looked at the Anarchist. As the Anarchist waved his hand, he said, “This is not the vigilante you are looking for.”
Two two dark figures just stood there staring at each other. Though he could not be sure, the Anarchist thought he might have heard the hulking figure laughing at him behind the visor.
“This is not the vigilante you are looking for.”
This time, the hulking figure let out an audible chuckle. He revealed a glowing disk on his arm. “Your mind tricks don’t work on me.”
The Anarchist took a defensive stance with his staff. “Damn… who did you kill to get one of those?”
The hulking figure charged at the Anarchist with fisticuffs. Every possible blow to the Anarchist’s body were easily blocked and dodged. In the midst of the scuffle, the figure reached for his handgun but ended up being disarmed for his effort. Several more swings from the figure were met with blocks by the Anarchist. This time, the Anarchist found an opening and with the sweep of his staff, he tripped the figure who slammed to the ground.
The prone figure was met with a flurry of blows from the Anarchist’s staff but none of them seemed particularly effective. Outside the store, the parking lot was filling with flashing red and blue lights. Both of the combatants noticed this new development. With a quick salute, the Anarchist ran for the door and out into an alley and residential neighborhood.
Out in the suburbs in the early hours of the morning, the Anarchist snuck up on an old farmhouse and opened the door to its cellar. He climbed down into a small room. Rather than odd collections of potatoes, turnips, and carrots, the walls were lined with racks of computer servers and network hardware. A small folding table with a well-worn office chair stood in the corner. A darkened laptop, with only a few small lights indicated that it was on, slept on the table.
The Anarchist grabbed at his skeletal face and with a click, it came off. He sat the mask on the table to reveal various electronics and air filters. He picked up the laptop and disconnected it from its charger. This act woke the laptop from its slumber and it displayed the silhouette of a person with the letter “A” used by anarchists on its screen. The man walked across the room and opened a dirty white miniature fridge. He extracted a bottle of dark lager from its contents.
As he sat down on a broken down recliner, the voice entered his mind again. WE NEED TO TALK STRATEGY.
The Anarchist sighed and sat the laptop next to the chair on the floor. He took a long drink from the dark bottle. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE STRATEGY? IS THIS GOING TO BE LONG? I HAVE TO BE SOMEWHERE IN ABOUT FOUR HOURS.
NO… THAT IS NOT THE STRATEGY THAT I MEAN. WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE STRATEGY TO KEEP YOU FROM GETTING YOUR ASS KICKED BY DARKY AGAIN.
Clearly, his first thought about the long-term goals of the Anarchist was not what the voice wanted to talk about. THAT WOULD BE NICE, he thought as he uncomfortably shifted in the chair and started wondering if he might have cracked a rib to go along with the loose crown he received in the fight.
YOU REMEMBER THAT DISK ON DARKY’S ARM? THAT IS A PROBLEM… A BIG PROBLEM.
The Anarchist remembered seeing the disk during the fight and was going to ask about it later. The voice did not usually convey emotion through their conversations but this time he could feel fear. YES… WHAT IS IT?
I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S CALLED BUT IT REALLY MESSES WITH MY POWER. IT MEANS THAT DARKY HAS TO BE WORKING WITH SOMEONE IN THE GOVERNMENT. MORE CONCERNING, HOWEVER, IS THAT HE KNOWS ABOUT ME.
The part about the government got the Anarchist’s attention. Dark Liberty used to work for the government in the past before he saw the corruption for what it was. It made sense that he still had some contacts. That would explain how he was able get that body armor, tank SUV, and now this mystery device which seems to be freaking out his partner.
I’M INTERESTED… WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN MIND?
I’M GLAD YOU ASKED… FIRST, LET’S TALK ABOUT THAT DAMN CAPE.