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Dexter Morgan
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08-03-2011, 04:24 AM
Targus Targets
The following will be written in homage of a friend, Rozalyne, someone I promised I would write for. It will be written by myself over a period of time.
Nevertheless, I would love to know what others think about it! Please do not hesitate to let me know, right? But note that it's a first-draft, so it's not the best thing in the world.
Last edited by Dexter Morgan; 08-07-2011 at 07:55 PM..
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Dexter Morgan
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08-03-2011, 04:27 AM
Have you ever had one of those days where things just seem to go wrong all the time? Where no matter what you do, the world just finds a way to screw you? Have you ever woken up and found a cat glaring at you, or your dog chewing your favorite shoes? Your power out, or a headache brewing just under the surface? None of that happened to me this morning. Except the cat. But then again, he always glares at me. It wasn’t something that heralded the coming whirlwind of Hell that would crash down on me just a few hours later, when I left the rain-slicked road behind to drift into the underground garage beneath the Snow Island police department and Special Operations building. I usually didn’t have to come in on Sundays, since it was the day of the island’s weekly game of Targus, which I voiced from the caller’s box, which basically resembled a watch tower and had various camera angles on the field.
But of course, something had to happen. It was one of those days, where anything and everything could go bad. And it usually did. That obvious notion was only reinforced when someone grabbed me as I walked to the elevator to leave the garage, reaching around and snatching the dagger from my belt and unsheathing it, holding it to my back. I didn’t move, and whoever grabbed me kept my arms behind me and the blade pressed into my jacket just enough to let me know it was there. “You’re the guy, aren’t you?” He asked in a breathless, hoarse voice. “You’re that Daren character, aren’t you? The one who can’t die?”
“Depends.” I tried to rearrange my arms to a more comfortable position, but his cold hands just clamped harder onto my wrists. “Who wants to know?” Glancing back, I could only see a scar half hidden behind light brown hair.
“Me. I do. I want to know.” He pressed the blade into my back, letting it cut through my jacket and poke me through the shirt. “You’re Daren, don’t play stupid.”
“Right, I won’t. Who the hell are you, though? What do you want from me?” I looked up, spying one of the security cameras pointed right at us. The stranger obviously didn’t catch sight of it.
“I… I want… Freedom. I want you to stop following me! You’re coming after me for murder, and I didn’t do anything!”
“You did, Keegan.” I recognized him then, the case I was working on with police chief Ron Sumner. “You killed those girls, those schoolgirls. They didn’t do anything to deserve it. You’re going to jail---” I gritted my teeth as Keegan Jerald pressed my dagger into my back a bit more. “---And you’re going to die. We don’t let murderers live on this island, Keegan.”
“Stop saying my name!” Keegan twitched hard, twisting me to the left, and at the same time, the elevator doors opened to a chorus of officers spilling into the garage with guns held at the ready. Ron Sumner and a red-haired man I had never seen before followed, taking lead. Keegan shuddered in place, as though contemplating where to run, holding my wrists harder than ever. The group of seven officers, led by Ron and the red-headed stranger, formed an arc in front of us. “Back, get back!” Keegan’s voice was desperate, more than it had been before, a rush of adrenaline fueling the shiver in his tone. He said something else, but I didn’t bother listening. My gaze was on Ron, who was about to speak.
“You set me up!” I threw the accusation like a dart at its board, and it didn’t miss its mark. “You bastard, I knew I shouldn’t have come in!”
“No, Daren, I called to set up a trap. I didn’t think it’d… you know, work out like this.” He kept his arms up, a signal that let the officers know not to make a move. “Keegan.” He tried to look past me, but Keegan was using me as a shield. “Look, you don’t have to---”
“Oh, cut the shit, Ron!” I snapped at him, patience run into the ground. “You.” I nodded to a black-haired officer. “Kill this fool so we can get on with our lives! Do it, save a cell in the prison!”
Keegan gasped, pulling me back just as his grasp on the knife found the lever at the top of the hilt that forced the blade to extend. A gunshot rang out as soon as I felt a pain run through my back and out from between my ribs. It must have cut through my lung, but mostly missed my heart, because breathing was both horribly painful and almost impossible. With the gunshot came a rush of voices shouting to one another, voices that were fading fast. I felt another sharp movement, that of the knife’s blade being wrenched out of me, and with that I felt the ground come up to meet me.
The world vanished. Silence and dark blindness ruled in the kingdom of my mind only for a moment, it seemed. It was almost as though someone let the air back into the room, and I gasped at its sudden presence. Without opening my eyes, I listened. People were walking, all around me, a zipper sounded, squeaking wheels. I was out for more than just a moment. Something was weighing down my chest, something warm, and when I managed to squint in the barrage of painful light in the ceiling, I found myself still in the garage, with new people mixing with the police that had come to meet my killer and myself. Something blocked the glare of the light then, and I had to focus to see the face of Ron Sumner.
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Dexter Morgan
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08-03-2011, 04:34 AM
Lifting a heavy arm, I waved him away and sat up. My body felt heavy, as though it had been submerged in lead and left to dry. A dull pain lingered in my chest, and when I put my hand up to feel it, I discovered a pooling of blood that made my shirt stick to me. Ron grabbed my hand and hoisted me up, and for a moment the room spun. “You all right, Daren?” Ron asked. He was a big man, solid. He kept his dark brown-gray hair short and his brown eyes were always wide and watchful.
“Fine, I’m fine.” I said it as I almost fell over, but the dizzy spell only lasted a moment. Turning, I saw the coroner standing near Keegan Jerald as he was loaded into a black bag. He had been shot in the head, brown hair matted, green eyes open and staring. He almost looked surprised. “You didn’t shoot him fast enough.” I noted.
“Well…” Ron chuckled a bit nervously as I searched the ground all around me. “At least you were the one he caught and not someone else. I mean… What are you looking for?”
“My knife, where is it? Still in my back?” I reached behind me, but only felt damp cloth. Ron shook his head and pointed to my right, where a light seemed to be flashing. I turned to find the red-haired man---who actually resembled a young boy---holding my still-extended dagger with an odd smile on his face. “You.” I snatched it back and switched the lever, and in a series of clicks the clockwork in the handle forced the blade to retract. When it did, I replaced it in its sheath. “Who are you, anyway?”
Ron put his hand on my shoulder and stepped up beside me. “Matt, get to my office. We’ll be up in a moment.” He said quickly. The one he called Matt nodded quickly and hurried away. It was that moment I realized Ron’s hand still on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off.
“Who was that?” I demanded. “What’s he doing here, I haven’t seen him around before.”
“That’s Matthew Black. He’s the new detective.” Ron smiled. “Wanna know something, Daren?” He poked me in the chest, but quickly wiped his hand on his pants. “He’s your partner.”
“No!” I must have looked like an idiot, standing there with my mouth gaping and my eyes wide. “No, Ron, you can’t do this to me! I’ve told you before, I don’t work with anyone anymore! Not since ‘69!”
“Well that’s about to change.” Ron ran his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “He’s just come here from Nevada and you’re the best one to show him around, help him ‘learn the ropes’. You have to give him a chance.”
“No. I won’t do it. I won’t. You can’t make me.”
“Stop being a child about it!” Ron pushed me to the elevator after a nod to the others in the garage. “You’re going to your office, you’re going to get changed, then you’re going to come to my office and meet Matt. That is, in case you haven’t already scared him.”
“Won’t he have questions?” I watched Ron press the up button and the elevator doors opened. “You know, about… this?”
“Oh, sure. But I’ll be up in a bit, so you won’t have to be alone with him.” The doors began to close, but Ron put his boat-like foot in between them. “Matt’s already been informed of the island’s happenings, about who and what lives here, but not about you. I’ll take care of it before you get there.”
“Joy.” My sarcasm was left unchecked and I was pushed into the elevator. With an exasperated sigh, I poked the button that read ‘25’ and rested against the back of the eight-foot by eight-foot box as it slowly rose. I hadn’t had a partner in this business since 1969, not since I let down my last one and he died because of me. The knowledge of having someone else at my side, someone I would probably get to appreciating, worrying about every day, it bothered me. It made me itch, like bedbugs infested my clothes. Without really thinking about it, I reached up to my chest, to feel the cloth of my shirt. Originally a plain beige color, something rather normal in comparison to what I generally wore, it was stained dark red, very dark.
With a jolt, the elevator came to a halt and its doors opened. I stepped out, into the deserted hallway. Unlike most buildings, with their harsh florescent lights and white walls, white tile floors and textured white ceiling, the interior of Snow Island’s police and special forces building was a little easier on the eyes: An oak-paneled floor in the hallways, light brown walls, lights that were covered with lightly-tinted cases that didn’t induce an immediate headache. It’s why I hated leaving the island; everywhere else was so glaringly lit, it was almost blinding. With an appreciative glance to the floor, I went left, where the hall led to two parallel rows of desks.
The nearest young woman glanced around with a smile, which quickly faded when she saw me. “Oh, Daren. What’s happened to you? And so early in the morning?”
“General psychotic attack. Leaves a good shirt ruined sometimes, doesn’t it?”
She nodded at that, and returned to her computer. I picked up the pace a bit, turning the corner to another hall and walking down to the fourth door on the right. Unlocking the door, I looked inside before actually entering. The lock was not the best in the world, and any skilled lock-pick could get the door open. No one was moving in the dark, so I flipped the light switch and stepped inside, closing the door and leaning against it. I could feel it, a terrible day ahead of me, almost as uncomfortable as the bloody shirt I had on. But I put off moving for a while, trying to convince myself some good would come of it, possibly make me less of an ass. Probably. Most likely not.
Last edited by Dexter Morgan; 08-04-2011 at 07:09 AM..
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Dexter Morgan
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08-03-2011, 04:40 AM
I keep my office as clean as possible, the windowless thing more long than it was wide, half the left wall covered in bookshelves and the rest with wooden cabinets. The other wall was covered with random pictures, mixed with things I had taped up. Reminders, notes, things I felt interesting at the time, they were there, more or less, and out of the way. My desk was right in front of me, about ten paces from the door, stacked with papers here and there and a desktop computer. Snapping myself out of the half-trance I was put myself in, I went to get another shirt on. I usually kept a good number in the bottom two drawers in my desk.
Taking as much time as possible, I changed, trying to find distractions to put off leaving just a few more seconds. After finding the articles taped and tacked on my walls a bore, I trudged out of my office in a clean brown shirt and a little farther down the hall. Ron’s office was at the end, with a nice view of the forested area of Snow Island, the West District. I could hear soft conversation inside, but nothing to really make out what they were saying. With a pent-up breath, I put my hand on the doorknob and turned.
Ron’s office was paler than mine. A light gray carpet, white walls. A diamond-shaped lighting fixture hung in the middle of the square room, two tall bookshelves flanking a row of low-rising metal filing cabinets. His desk was in the corner to the left, where whoever sat at it could see the windows and their views, but there was a couch sitting underneath those windows. Matt was there, and Ron was leaning against the wall across from him beside a clear whiteboard. Matt smiled when I entered, but there must have been a sour glare on my face, because he quickly looked at the ground. Ron stepped up to me and closed the door.
“Daren,” he said, “you’ve met Matt. Get that look off your face and stop acting like you’re ten.”
I repressed the desire to roll my eyes and stepped up to Matt. He stood and stretched out his right hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Snow.” He said. Taking his hand, I cringed inside. Half because of his kid-like features, though he was probably a little more than twenty-two or so years old, and half because of what he called me. Mister Snow. No one calls me that. It’s always Daren, or Snow. Never a Mister. Unless it was a child who didn’t want to seem rude.
“Just Daren.” I said, stepping back. “No formalities.”
“All right, Daren.” Matt smiled. It seemed to make his brown eyes glow with energy. “Ron’s said I can start immediately, so I’ll be up for anything.”
“You’re sure?” I glanced at Ron. “I mean, you don’t know much about the island…”
“Oh, I learned about it from a friend in the academy back in Nevada.” Matt looked out the window. “He came here for vacation a few times and got to learn a lot about the place. But I don’t think he’s ever told me about you.” He studied me for a moment, making me feel uncomfortable. “You aren’t like the others, that can’t be overlooked. I mean, what I saw earlier…” He laughed, as though still in shock. “I didn’t know anyone could even have that ability, to suffer a mortal wound but be just fine a few minutes later?”
“Actually, Matt, there’s an interesting story behind that.” Ron barged in. “Daren would be happy to tell you.”
“What!” I glared at Ron, who nodded curtly.
“Yes indeed, Matty, Daren wouldn’t mind at all.” He folded his arms with a smile. “We haven’t got anything major for you guys to focus on right now, and he’s got the whole day before the Targus game tonight. You two talk a bit while I go out for a bit. There’s a meeting a few of the special agents want me to be part of.” With that, he turned and left before I could even respond.
Left alone with the kid, I nearly shuddered. He had taken to sitting at the end of the light beige couch again, turned to see outside the rainy windows. “Nice place, what I’ve seen so far.” He said. I skirted the edge of the office to one of the chairs near Ron’s desk and sat. “I heard it’s like this for six months?”
“Yes. Six months out of the year, rain falls. The other six months, tourists flood East District and Central District since it’s so bright and sunny. It’s why there are so many hotels and the like around East District’s beaches. Some of the especially good ones are here in Central District, in the center of the island because it’s the entryway to all the other Districts, not that you would want to visit all of them.”
Matt leaned forward, watching me with a curious look. “How’d you manage it?” He asked. “How can you survive being stabbed like that, with no wounds? Do… you mind me asking?”
“No. I don’t mind anyone asking me anything.” I sat back. Of course it was a lie. I minded if someone asked a certain thing, but only if it was something stupid or repetitive. My past, on the other hand, I didn’t mind talking about. It was too far away to even matter anymore. “I lived in England, back in 1605. When I was twenty-five, I came down with an illness brought on by a demon’s parasitic curse. I almost died, if not for a stranger. He owed my parents favor, and that was the perfect time to repay. To save me, he took my soul. Do you know what that does to someone, apparently?”
“No, what?” Matt seemed genuinely intrigued, but something was behind his gaze. Something I couldn’t directly identify.
“It takes away your ability to age, or to die in any way. I’ve heard a lot that the body is merely a vessel for the soul, and when mine was taken, it left my body as no more than an empty shell, still able to feel and think and seem human in every way, but without something to lose, I don’t die. In a way, I live a faux life.”
“I don’t think so.” Matt shook his head. “It’s more than that.”
“You believe what you want.” I stared past him, out the window at the scene I’ve seen so many times. “But after you live for more than four hundred years, it doesn’t really matter anymore what the answer is, know what I mean?” I shook my head. “No, apparently not. How would you…?” I let my gaze fall on him. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Oh my God, it’s younger than I thought.”
“I graduated at the top of my class.”
“Oh, I’m not saying you don’t know what you’re doing, or you aren’t good at it.” I leaned forward to put a bit more emphasis in what I said. “You learned in Nevada. That’s in the United States. We aren’t a part of them, or any other country. In a way, we’re our own country, with our own laws and rules and government. Whatever you learned there is only half relevant to what you’ll be exposed to here.”
Matt was almost in a trance, staring at me and nodding slowly. “Er, but what about the government? Who’s… the leader, or…?”
“I am. The entire Snow family used to be, actually, until they died out about a hundred fifty years ago. I’m the only one left, so I’m the ‘leader’ as you call it. The technical government is made up of the Special Operations men and women, those who also deal with nonhuman affairs off the island.”
“And what about laws? They come to you if they want to put new laws in order?”
“The laws haven’t changed since a few hundred years ago; the newest ones were only brought along with technology, and they’re basic and easy to understand. You can read about those in the history books. Ron has a few, I do, and a couple others. There are some in the libraries… Anywhere, really.”
“So you’re the final word on the matter?”
“Yes, so what? Isn’t your president the final word on your matters? Or do you have to go through that whole rigmarole of taking it to fifty different people in fifty different branches of fifty different mini-governments, then maybe it’ll pass into a law? I never cared about learning your overly-complicated process, but I hear it’s a bit like that.”
I studied Matt. He seemed to be at a loss of words. Until he opened his mouth: “How can they trust you?”
“Oh, we’re targeting my trustworthiness?”
“W-well, I was just---”
I stood, but didn’t approach him. “I’m four hundred twenty-two years old, Matthew. Most of those years were spent as an investigator, putting myself before everyone else because I was expendable, I could come back if some maniac killed me. I never tried to send someone into a dangerous situation if I could go before them, I never lied to anyone without very good reason. I was the first-born of my family, Daren Snow II, I watched this island grow and expand, and if I can’t be trusted, no one can. And you have no right to trust whoever’s your president now, but you follow him blindly and listen to every word he says, to every word they all say.”
Last edited by Dexter Morgan; 08-05-2011 at 05:27 AM..
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Dexter Morgan
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08-04-2011, 07:10 AM
Matt fell silent. It was almost as though I completely degraded all he believed in, until he nodded and smiled. “I understand, Daren. I get what you’re saying, and I’m sorry for saying it. I had no place to doubt you.”
I felt my eyes grow wide, staring at the boy like a half-completed science experiment in my freezer. He was too… accepting. Too kind. It was almost sickening. But I left it at that. “You’ve seen the place, then? Know your way around?”
“Yeah, it’s a pretty simple layout. I like how it’s set up.” Matt smiled and turned his gaze back outside. “I’d like to see what’s up in those trees.” He said. “Looks nice.”
“It’s a strange part of the island. Usually the wolves go up there if they can’t control themselves during transformation, which makes it difficult to really live there year-round, so it makes tall, strong gates necessary.”
“There are a lot of werewolves?”
“They make up twenty percent of the island’s population. The vampires make up thirty, and the exceeding population coupled with their superiority complex, they conduct searches for strong wolves and force them to fight in underground rings. I’ve been leading parties to stop it, but there are still a few going strong we can’t track down.”
“That’s terrible!” Matt swung his gaze around, an intense stare boring into me. “When did it start?”
“The birth of the fighting rings? Oh, well before the 1800s, certainly. Quite a few vampires just seem to have much more self worth than werewolves. Although they tend to get bored, waiting around for the next full moon. I’ve seen them capture demons and force them to fight during the rest of the lunar phases.”
Matt shook his head. “That isn’t right.”
“I know. That’s why we’re trying to stop it.” I folded my arms, but a new sound came forward in the silence between us. It wasn’t Matt, oddly enough; it came from the door. A scratching, tapping. Opening it, I found no one, but something brushed past my legs. Glancing down, I found a Siamese cat staring at me with bright green eyes and a folded paper in its mouth. Jackson. He’s a Shapeshifter, someone who seems human but has the ability to take on the form of an animal. It was a general change, the power spanning to any mammal other than human, but Shapeshifters were made to have a distinct animal they took on, and their eyes and hair mirrored their animal form while in human form. Jackson Stewart, his animal being a Siamese cat, had beige, brown, and black tinted hair, and bright green cat-like eyes. I told this to Matt, who could only nod and stare at Jackson as he sat in the middle of the floor.
He was sent to give me the paper, and before I even took it from him I knew what it read. The Targus teams were at the arena, and it was two hours before the game. I was to go to the arena and set up my callbox, and I often went to the island’s home team captain to pass the time. But I took the paper anyway, scanning it and reassuring my assumption.
“Matt, I think you’ll have to come with me today.” I sighed. “Or if I can find Ron, he might give you a task, if he isn’t in a sadistic mood.”
He nodded and stood, and when I opened the door, Jackson darted out. It was easier for Shapeshifters to wander in their animal forms, often their deliveries are faster and they get messages through the building easily. It isn’t strange to see dogs, cats, monkeys, rodents, and a multitude of other furry animals bustling around the offices. I led Matt, following Jackson, whose paws were much faster than two feet, down the hall, through the public office area and into the longer hall just outside. Halfway down, walking in silence, Ron emerged from another hall that branched off the main one.
“Ron!” I jogged the last few yards and glanced back to make sure Matt was there. He was. “Er, Ron, I have to go to the Targus arena, what were you thinking about having Matt do? Stick around here, take him around the island…?”
“Oh, he’s staying with you.”
I stared at him silently, trying to understand though I knew already what he said, and he wouldn’t change his mind. “So… He has to come with me. To the arena. Where I’ll be busy. Where quite a few people will be in three hours, expecting me to keep up with what’s going on in the field.”
“Yep. It’s not like you haven’t had distractions in the box before. Besides, what better to kick off his first week on the island than with a Targus game?”
I felt lightheaded. It was an odd feeling, that almost made me giddy. A faint voice called it before my conscious mind did: Incoming Insanity. I laughed, shaking it off. “Fine. I’ll take him to the arena. I… I don’t suppose it’ll do much harm.” I forced myself to finish the sentence through gritted teeth, and Ron smiled, disregarding the sign.
“Good boy, Daren! I’ll be to the arena in an hour, still have a couple things to take care of.”
“Can’t wait.” I stepped to the elevator and punched the ‘down’ button. With a glance to Matt, I almost grimaced at his wide smile. Ron breezed past us, obviously content with shackling this newbie with me. As the elevator arrived, I knew the day would be steadily annoying.
Last edited by Dexter Morgan; 08-07-2011 at 05:33 AM..
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Dexter Morgan
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08-07-2011, 07:40 AM
The only way I can describe it is maroon. His eyes and hair are maroon. It’s got a brighter red tint to it in the light, but under the bare bulbs hanging from the high ceiling of the underground Targus arena, it was dim. I’m still not sure why I noticed it about Matt, but I had to look at something other than that overly-excited boyish face when he turned that wide smile on me. The drive to Sylvia’s Oasis, the lounge that held the entrance to the arena, was almost unbearable. All the boy spoke of was Nevada, namely Las Vegas. I’ve never been, personally, despite being called to the States on many occasions to deal with nonhuman affairs. I had no idea what he was talking about. Luckily he fell silent just as we pulled up in front of the bar, and for the rest of the time, he was staring as though a child transfixed.
The tunnel into the arena was wide, dimly lit, but when it came to an end and the arena opened up, Matt paused. The cavern was massive in height, held steady with iron load-bearings lining the roof and holding the lights in place. We stood to the right of the call box, which stand twenty feet over the topmost bleachers and rested against the back wall. The arena is rectangular, the size of a football field with two goals at each end made of chain link fencing. The walls surrounding the arena are about twenty-five feet tall. They were simple layouts, simple lighting, the simple stone-carved everything obviously enthralling Matt. He sighed. “This is an amazing thing.” He said. “Looks a lot like a football stadium.” He looked at me. “You… like football?”
“Too many rules.” I started down the stairs between bleachers, pulling him along. “I don’t like any game that has too many rules, regulations, and too many eyes on the players while they’re living their own lives.”
“So you don’t like any games other than this one?” Matt stumbled on one of the stairs, almost falling into me.
“No.” I instinctively put my arm up to block his fall. “Too tame. Too many safety precautions. Our players wear jeans and tee shirts, and shoes with simple rubber soles. No grips. You see the arena?” As we got to the bottom bleacher, past the guard rails, we leaned over and I pointed to the ground. It’s a light tan, slightly cracked in places, and the only line drawn on the field is right through the middle, signaling the halfway point where each team met to begin the game. “That’s all two feet of dry, packed soil.” I told him. “It isn’t forgiving. The ball used in the game of Targus is five pounds of rough leather. Hard to throw on a whim.”
I directed him back to the stairs and into the arena itself. He tested it as we crossed the area to the dark tunnel across from us, and nodded as though confirming what I had said. “What’s this place made of?” He asked then. “Is it just a hole in the ground…?”
“No, it’s carved into an old magma chamber. You know islands are made of volcanoes formed over a very long period of time, Matt. The volcanoes that made this island is extinct, so we’ve found very good uses for the hollow chambers and tunnels. We moved all the factories, the crypts, the science labs, and the Snow Island prison all down here.”
“Prison?”
“Yes. Anyone who breaks the law comes to the underground prison. Murderers are killed in turn, we have a very active death penalty. Those who haven’t killed, but have committed the same crime or a series of harsh crimes, will be put in prison for their entire lives. They will never see the sun again. It’s a harsh reality, but it’s really very effective.”
“What about the ones who… live forever…? I mean, vampires and demons and angels, people like that? Can’t they use their power to get out, or overcrowd the cells?”
“After a few dozen years, they either go insane and kill themselves or are killed by another inmate in a fight. If we have a particularly interesting person who has the ability to become spiritual or mist-like, we have to lock a blessed object around their wrist or ankle that saps their power.”
Matt nodded, but started rather roughly after realizing where we were: At the mouth of the tunnel. I pushed him along, since even in the cool air of the arena, the tunnel was rather chill, and a bit darker. We moved down the slight slope for a silent few minutes, then as the tunnel went both left and right, I moved him left, and through the double doors that were open. The other set of double doors at the end of the shorter tunnel were propped open, and I could hear voices.
With a knock and a shove, I pushed Matt into the room so he wouldn’t hesitate. A group of six men looked around, scattered around the locker room, and their faces lighted with recognizing smiles. Calling greetings all at once, one in particular stood and started forward. Though he was young, his hair was pure white and most was held in a tight pony tail, and his bright brown eyes were framed with black rectangular glasses. Vince Phoenix, the captain of Team Phoenix of the island’s Targus team, appeared thin and dorky, but his appearance was a huge deceit. He was fast, certainly, and traded his glasses for contacts during play. He smiled, taking my hand.
“Daren,” he said with a nod. “Haven’t seen you in… what, six days? Who’s your friend?”
“Erh, friend is… a bit of a stretch.” I glanced at Matt, who had gone forward and seemed to make friends with the rest of the team almost as though he had known them years ago, and had only just come to meet again. “Ron hired him, and damned if he didn’t pair the boy with me.”
“How old is he?” Vince studied him. “Doesn’t look twenty!”
“He’s twenty-one. Graduated in Nevada from some police academy, and thought he’d come here to start his career.”
“That’s a bit of a switch.” Vince laughed. “Hey Kit, c’mere!” He motioned to a larger man, one with dark brown hair and who seemed a bit older than the captain. Kit Holland was the vice captain for the team, who took over for the captain if he was injured beyond playing ability. Breaking away from the group, he loped over.
“What’s goin’ on?” He smiled and nodded at me in greeting.
“We got a newbie to the force.” Vince said, pointing to Matt. “What’s his name, Daren?”
“Matt Black. Nevada boy, came here to start his law career.”
Kit chuckled. “So he’s with you now? Oh, Daren. I’m sorry Ron loves screwing with you so much.” With another laugh, he put his arm playfully around my shoulder. “I’m glad I risk my life in the Targus field. Too much work, what you do.”
“At least you only work once a week.” I shrugged away and stepped to the rest of the team, and Matt. One member was young, and very small. He was actually seventeen and the youngest Targus member ever to be on a professional team. Also the smallest, he was relied on to speed through the other team when the others couldn’t. His name is Benny Smith.
The largest of the team, the muscle, is also the oldest at forty years. Marcus Hughes is dark-skinned, dark-eyed, and dark-haired, and can not easily be knocked down. He has been playing the game for most of his life.
The last two are twins, Blu and Carter Adams, both with naturally spiked black hair and bright blue eyes. Blu is the meek one, usually acting as goalie while Carter tended to bound into the thick of things on the field. They are of average build, not too thin and not overly-muscular.
Matt was in the midst of them all, as though one of them. That overly-friendly persona had charmed the entire team. “Matt.” I caught his attention. “We shouldn’t stay long. C’mon.”
With a nod and brief word of departure, he stepped toward me, and when I pointed to the door, he went outside. The others looked at me, quiet. “I’ll be hoping for a win this time.” I said. “Not like last week.”
“Oh, that was horrible…” Blu put his head in his hands. “Worst failure ever!”
“Good, we’ll not be expecting that this time.” With that, I turned on my heel and walked out, meeting Matt as soon as I left the locker room.
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Dexter Morgan
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08-07-2011, 09:27 PM
“You guys lost last time?” Matt asked.
“Yes. It was a rough game, and took six hours. Terrible loss, after all that.”
“Actually, Daren, who do you go against?”
“Teams from other countries. They found the game entertaining both to watch and play, so they formed teams of their own. Targus is illegal for its lack of rules and the brutality of the game, so they practice in secret before coming to the island for the game. Tonight’s opponents are from Brazil, team Dominguez. Teams are named after the captain. Our team is Phoenix, named after Vince.”
Matt nodded, quiet as we emerged out of the tunnel and back into the light of the arena. People were already starting to come in, migrating down to the bottommost bleachers for the best views. Matt was looking around, his odd reddish eyes not quite studying. He seemed almost overwhelmed by everything I told him, everything he’s seen and heard, perhaps by where he was. I had to direct him to the stairs again, but at least he was quiet.
At the top of the steps, I turned him right, and we moved past the early viewers and to the callbox. The only entrance is through a trap door, accessed by a ladder. Before arriving below the box itself, I shook Matt. “Hey, look.” I pointed above our heads when he blinked and nodded. “We’re going up there, come on.” Without another word I climbed the ladder, a wooden thing with metal bearings to make it last longer, and pushed the heavy door up and out of the way, forcing it to connect with the magnet that would keep it from falling down. Leaping into the box, I glanced down again only long enough to see Matt working his way up, and stepped to the other end of the box. It was a simple thing, really, with the monitor screens and desks to the farthest side, a disk-shaped lighting unit in the middle of the ceiling. The glass windows in front allowed a good view of the arena, though the four monitors allowed me closer inspection of the field and both team’s time-out boxes behind the goal posts. There were several chairs cluttered around, and a rug on the wood floor to absorb a bit of the echo that would sometimes fill the box.
“Nice place.” Matt stepped into the box and looked around. “This is where you spend the game?”
“Yep. I’m the caller. There isn’t an elaborate setup, so it doesn’t call for more than a single watchful person keeping an eye on things.”
“Why’d they pick you? I mean, you’ve got your job on the force, so wouldn’t it…”
“It’s not so much a job as a necessity.” I drew the mic closer to the edge of the desk. It was tall, but not so much to be over my chin. Its stand bent easily, to follow me if I went into an overload and had to observe a number of screens at once. Not that it’s happened before, but precautions are precautions. “I do this because it’s one thing I genuinely enjoy. It’s something fun for the islanders who want to get away for a night, and for me, it’s one of the last things that… I consider unpredictable.”
“Come on, Daren. There are other things in the world, things you have to… like doing.”
“Not particularly. I like finding criminals, killers, creeps. I like reading. I like… the rain of the island, the ocean. But other than that, people in general bother me. It’s a curse worse than the demon’s that nearly killed me four hundred or so years ago.”
“Daren…”
“Matt, tell me something: If it came down to dying of a demon’s curse, or having your soul taken to spare your life only to be unable to die, age, or be killed, which would you take? Consider the long-term effects of having your soul taken. You might lose contact with reality, or come to hate everything in the world, or lie around and wait for death, when it’ll never come.”
“I’d… I’d rather die.”
“Perfect. My parents never asked me what I would rather do. They never considered how I would be later on, they just wanted me to live.”
“I see.” Matt was silent for a moment. “Have… Have you ever tried to find your soul again?”
“Oh, I know who has it. I know where it is.”
“Then why don’t you go get it back!?”
“It’s not that simple.” I fiddled with the mic stand. “No no, not that simple. It’s not like I can suck up my soul and be normal again. Once it’s taken, it can’t be given back. Not to the same person, and not by any way anyone knows of. All we know is how to take a soul, but once it’s taken, that’s it.”
Matt nodded when I looked back at him. He stepped across the box and took a seat. “Sorry to hear that, Daren.”
“Don’t say sorry. I don’t care anymore. Now that the rest of the Snow family line is dead, who would the islanders trust? I’m of the main family line, the first son of the original Snow. I’ve been here longer than anyone else on the island, I’ve never gone back on my word. I suppose there’s a good thing about living forever.” I turned my gaze on the stadium. People were more abundant then, clustering in groups or singular, sometimes a pair or trio would meander through the bleachers, finding a good seat. But I only thought about what I just said. A good thing about living forever. Perhaps it was a good thing I was still alive, still around for the generations whose families so trustingly followed my family to a new life away from England, escaping the religions that tried to kill them for being nonhuman, escaping the hatred and blame. But even so, it really did nothing for how I saw the world. Corrupted.
Someone forced themselves up the trap door and into the box. It was Ron, slightly out of breath from hauling himself up. “Daren! So you’re here already.”
“Of course, Ron. I don’t stall.”
Ron sat in one of the chairs by Matt. “Let’s hope Phoenix wins this one. That loss last week was hard. We’re a joke to Canada right now!”
“Canada.” I huffed, switching on the monitors. “Canada. I can’t believe we lost to Canada.”
“They’ll be cocky when they come back.” Ron assured me. “And we won’t forget our loss! I’ll tell you what, we won’t let them get out with more bragging rights.”
“Yeah. How long left?” I glanced at him.
“Oh, an hour.” Ron looked at his watch. “I’ll go get a seat with the others now. You two be good up here.” With that, he chuckled, and I forced myself to stay still. Matt was smiling again, looking about him. With a sigh, I left the monitors to come on and sat on the other side of the room. It was an hour until the game started, and I had nothing else to do.
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Dexter Morgan
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08-08-2011, 05:31 AM
Oddly enough, that hour passed rather fast. Matt did most of the talking, about what he did in Nevada, what it was like, how often he went to Las Vegas with his family and what his family themselves were like. But I hardly listened. It was difficult to follow him when he still annoyed me, and I was still fuming about being put with him. Even so, he seemed perfectly content with talking on his own and my giving a nod of understanding every now and then. As he went on about someone from the academy named Ryan, I glanced up and to the back of the box, where on the wall a clock hung. The time read three minutes to eight in the evening.
I jumped up just as a small bell rang within the box. It signaled my cue to cut into the chatter that filled the stadium and to call out the teams from their safety. With a test of the mic, I brought on the beginning of Targus with my eyes on the monitor with the magnified field.
“Settle down, Snow Island, and turn your attention to the field before you. Now for you who've never seen the game before, the rules are simple! Get the Targus ball to the opposing goal by any means necessary! Two ten-minute time-outs for each team are allowed, no killing opposing team members, first team to thirty two points wins! Players injured may choose to remain in the game, anyone with a serious injury that hinders play will be taken out for medical care. Tonight, a stormy October, we have a formidable team going up against Phoenix! Let’s turn our attention to the eastern tunnel, where we’ll be meeting Brazilian team Dominguez. They’re a strong team, by the looks of it!”
From the tunnel, the Brazilian team started taking the field. The captain and vice captain were brothers but looked nothing alike. The smallest of the six looked well over two hundred pounds. “And taking the field, Abel and Adriano Dominguez, Elias de Souza, Felix Costa, Luis Monte, and Mauro Ferreira.”
There were mixed emotions when the Brazilian team took the field. Some people booed, others clapped and whistled, most were silent amid whispering conversations.
“Now taking the field, our own team Phoenix!” With the introduction, the crowd became much more active, yelling, whistling, clapping and cheering. “Here comes Vince Phoenix, Kit Holland, Blu and Carter Adams, Marcus Hughes, and Benny Smith.”
The teams arranged themselves on the center of the field. Team Dominguez, in blue shirts, stood to the left, team Phoenix, in red, to the right. Vince stood to the front as everyone else took a careful place all around the rest of the right side, and Abel took to standing on his side facing Vince. A ball keep, a young, mousy kid, hurried to them, and set the Targus ball between the captains. There was a five-foot difference between them and the ball, and I could see their faces. They were glaring at one another, something brought on only by the desire to win, nothing more. When the ball keep scampered away, they set themselves, ready for the call.
“The ball is in position. With that, let the game begin!”
Vince and Abel shot forward, Abel grabbing the ball first and heaving it into the arms of Elias, who took off with the entire Dominguez team. Marcus bounded into Abel, knocking him down and loosening his grip on the ball, and Benny grabbed it and darted away, taking a risk in going alone to the opponent’s side alone. Felix grabbed him by the back of the shirt and threw him into the wall nearby, and with a pained look on his face he dropped the ball, which was scooped up by Felix and thrown a third of the way across the field, grabbed by Adriano and thrown to Luis. He took off, dodging both Marcus and Carter before diving into the goal.
“That’s a point for team Dominguez!” Reluctantly, I switched the left button on a small black box in front of the monitors. On both the left and right side of the arena, on the back walls, a scoreboard flipped to show the change. Two points for Guest. “It’s still early on, let’s see if Phoenix can come back from that!”
Luis stepped up and tossed the ball to Kit. Immediately, he flew across the field, bounding into Mauro and then Abel, knocking them both down, nearly running over Benny before passing the ball on to him. Holding it under his arm, Benny skirted the north edge of the field. Vince caught up quickly, and Benny tossed it to him. Vince rolled the sack of leather like a bowling ball and it smacked into the goal.
“Phoenix is on the board with two points!” The gathering exploded in cheers for the first right goal of the night. As Vince threw the ball to Mauro, they started off again. Mauro threw the ball over the heads of Kit, Blu, and Carter, into the waiting arms of Felix. Marcus, in Felix’s blind side, threw a punch to his stomach before he could even move, and he dropped the ball. Abel skidded into Marcus’s path, snatching the ball and rolling it past Carter to Adriano, but Benny scooped it up and tossed it to Blu. Blu seemed to get an adrenaline rush as soon as the ball got to him, because he shot off across the field, smacking into Elias and knocking him down. The ball hit Dominguez’s goal.
“That’s four points for Phoenix already! Let’s hope they can keep up this streak!”
Unfortunately, they didn’t. Just after Blu let Abel have the ball, Mauro tackled Benny hard, falling on top of him. Benny didn’t get up immediately, but when he did, he seemed winded and in pain. A quick conference with Vince and Kit let him stay in the game, even as Dominguez scored three more goals. Kit blocked many of them, Blu acting more like a hyperactive gnat than a human as Vince kept close to Benny, watching his every step. “Phoenix isn’t working up to their potential. I think they’ve had a good run, don’t you all think?” The spectators booed in unison. “Let’s get ‘em going, then! Let them know you’re behind them!” A chant started. “Phoenix! Phoenix!” It grew to a massive state, shuddering the arena and rumbling in my chest. Matt joined in, watching the screens from beside me, obviously mesmerized by the game itself.
Benny was speaking with Vince as Blu retrieved the ball from their goal. Benny nodded, taking the ball from Blu and pelting it at Abel. With a shake of the head, Benny jogged into the mess of players. When Kit brought Abel to the ground and tossed the ball to Benny, he ran. The gait seemed oddly hindered and slightly lopsided, and as he tossed it to Marcus, Luis batted him into the wall nearest him. Vince shouted above the catcalling crowd, signaling for a time out. “All right, team Phoenix is going for a time out! We’ll take a ten-minute breather and resume the game then.” I watched the Brazilian team retreat to what in baseball would be called a dugout, just behind their goal. Vince and Marcus were helping Benny back to theirs. He seemed pretty beat up. Matt was watching the screen with a pained look on his face.
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Dexter Morgan
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08-08-2011, 11:12 PM
“He’ll be all right?” Matt asked when I turned away from the monitors. “Those were some pretty bad falls.”
“I don’t know yet.” I went to sit in one of the chairs. “We’ll have to wait for a notification from the floor. There’s a watchman down there who keeps me updated in case of any potential or obvious injuries so I can relay the information to the crowd.”
Matt nodded, sitting across from me and lacing his fingers under his chin. He seemed worried about the kid. “He isn’t old enough to play any professional sports like this.” He said at last.
“Matt. Things are different here. If someone can do something, and do it well, and deal with whatever effects it has on them, it’s up to whatever they decide.”
“What’d his parents say?”
“He doesn’t have parents. Blu and Carter look after him. Believe me, Matt, Ben can take care of himself. Broken bones, concussions, cuts, scrapes, fractures… It’s all part of the game. There’s a consequence to playing a rough game without padding. We understand the dangers, but it doesn’t look like it’s about to stop any time soon, does it?” I heard something click, followed by static and a voice speaking. It was incomprehensible at first, but I reached behind me and grabbed the walkie talkie from the back of the chair. “What? Axle, you say something?”
“Benny’s in no shape to keep playing.” Axle’s voice was garbled from the people all around him. “We’ll have to get his leg in a splint, and some pain killers.”
“That figures. Broken ankle?”
“Probably fractured. We’ll have the medic take a look and see from there.”
“All right then. Tell the boy not to strain himself, right? And give the radio to Vince.”
“Right.”
I waited. In my mind’s eye, I could see Benny being set onto a stretcher and carried to the team’s locker room, where there the medic would take care of his leg for the remainder of the game, and he could watch it from there. Vince’s voice came through: “Hey, Daren. We’re not doing very well, are we?”
“I’d say. Vince, what are you guys doing? We have a new detective on the police force! We lost to Canada last week! I can hear Dominguez laughing at us as we speak!”
There was a long pause, in which I glanced at Matt. He was staring at me. “I know, Daren.” Vince sighed. “We’re way off our game tonight. But Benny’s down and out, and we’re not letting these bastards win! If not for us, it’s for Benny.”
“That’s my boy. Your time-out’s up, so get ready.”
I set the radio in the seat and went back to the monitors. Moving the mic back to me, I clicked it on. “Our ten-minute time out is up in flames! We’ll get back to the game, but short one member on the Phoenix team. Benny Smith was injured beyond ability to play, with a possibly-fractured ankle.” The crowd made a loud ‘aww’ of disappointment. Their favorite player of the Phoenix team is Benny, ever since he joined the rankings. I’ve assumed the general population loves an underdog, and small, young Benny is who they go for. “All right, we’re not happy about that, but it’s only to be expected! Back to the game, it looks like we’re digging right back into it!”
Vince immediately grabbed the ball when I signaled the beginning of the game. I could sense a burning drive within the entire team, who had obviously constructed a very detailed plan of any possibility. Vince threw the ball to Kit, who dodged Abel and rolled it past Felix to Blu, diving away from both Abel and Adriano. Blu kicked it across to Carter, and Carter put all his weight behind a rather spectacular throw that smashed the ball into the opposing team goal. The crowd burst into cheers, quickly followed by hisses and boos as the guest team struck a goal almost immediately after that.
Marcus rammed Abel into the wall, throwing him down and falling on top of him, perhaps on accident, but most likely for revenge. The game was halted only for several minutes, and the medic deemed Abel too injured to continue play due to a head injury and several fractured ribs. Without a time out, the game continued. Mauro had the ball, and ran close to the south wall with it held close to his chest. His overbearing gait was laughable, looking much like a bull on its hind legs, but he was strong and difficult to bring down, even for Marcus. He still scored a goal.
Marcus took over the ball then, and what seemed to be an act of annoyance and anger at the other team, threw it most of the way across the field. “Good God, look at that! I can tell you one thing, Marcus isn't playing around anymore!” Miraculously, Kit caught it, and got to the goal without much interference.
The game went on much like that, often being tied for more than ten minutes at a time. When Carter grabbed the ball, Felix pushed Marcus into him, smashing him into the goal fence just as he grabbed the ball. Though the point counted, Carter was knocked out and had to be taken off the field. As a result, Marcus bowled down Elias and Luis, but lost the ball to Adriano, and another two points were against Phoenix. Adriano gave the ball to Vince, and he took off. “Right down the middle! People, that isn’t safe, Vince is open for an attack from any side if he stays his course!” He shouldered through Mauro and Felix, and almost tripped on Mauro as the bigger man grabbed onto his leg. Yanking free and holding the ball close to his chest, he took it up and with one hand and tossed it over Luis’s head and into the goal.
They tied at twenty-eight points not long after that; Adriano, who had taken over as captain for the Dominguez team, called a time-out.
“Daren!” The radio called my name almost as soon as the Phoenix team left the field. It was Blu. “Two more points, we’ll have won.”
“Get your head out of your ass, boy. Two more points on either side and they’ll have won. We’ve had this conversation before!”
“We know, Daren, we won’t get our minds off it.” Vince’s voice replaced Blu’s. “Just keep your eyes open, because we aren’t about to let this go. We’re taking back our place. These bastards won’t get away like the Canadian team did!”
It cut off there and I felt no need to reply. “Serious game.” Matt said. I nodded and looked out the window, into the crowd. Just below I could see Ron with a few others from the office he tended to work with most of the time. He was talking with his hands, probably over-exaggerating something as he usually did.
The time out ended and both teams rushed the field, going for the ball that had been placed on the center line. Vince got there first, kicking it up and tossing it to Carter. He breezed through Adriano and Felix, but was cut off by Felix when he doubled around and pushed him into Adriano. Vince fell onto his backside and dropped the ball, but when Felix went to get it, Vince kicked him in the chest, sliding the ball to Kit, who was to his right. Kit scooped it up, batting back Mauro and pelting it into the goal.
The ball was given to Luis, and he started down the field, tailed by Marcus. When he passed it to Elias, Vince went to bring him down, grabbing him around the waist and falling with him, but Elias’ foot came up and caught him, digging along his hairline above his left eye. Axle, the watchman, hurried onto the field to inspect him. The game was paused only for a moment, Elias holding the ball just next to Vince and the others standing right where they were when Axle signaled. Vince pushed him away and stood, waving his arm to get Axle away. He reached for his pocket.
“Daren, Vince got a pretty bad cut, but he’s not going. Says he can still play. We’ll go on!”
Axle left the field. “Well, guys, Vince got himself a pretty deep cut, but isn’t quitting on us!” The crowd cheered again, chanting the team’s name. When Axle left the field, it was like a movie un-paused. Vince leapt up, wiping a steady stream of blood from his face, batting the ball out of Elias’ hand and tossing it to Blu, and he rushed back down the field with Marcus following close behind. When Felix came up alongside them, Marcus broke from his race and bore down on Felix, battering him into Mauro and leaving Blu open.
The audience chanted once more: “One more goal! One more goal!” Their voices rang high and loud, and Blu didn’t hesitate. It was almost slow motion as he raised the ball above his head, heaving the ball into the goal for the final two points.
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Dexter Morgan
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08-10-2011, 07:23 AM
The arena erupted in cheers so loud it seemed strong enough to bring the ceiling down. “That’s it, ladies and gentlemen! Phoenix has taken back their status and won the game! Dominguez loses by four, placing Phoenix back in the top ranking! Let those injured hear it, everyone, we won this Targus game on the evening of October twenty-eighth! This is Daren Snow, signing off. Until next week, my friends!” With that, I switched off the mic and slid it back, watching the monitors for a moment as the Phoenix team celebrated and Dominguez congratulated them. The very picture of good sportsmanship, something most other games severely lacked.
Everyone started leaving slowly, ecstatic that Phoenix had pulled a win after their painful loss the week before. “That was a great game.” Matt said when I turned to him. “I’ve never seen something so serious and brutal, but… tame, at the same time.”
“Indeed. Matt, I’ve seen fanatics in other games, like football or baseball, especially soccer. The people here love their game, but they aren’t complete crazies. If we lose, we hate it, and dislike the other team for a certain time, but that dislike isn’t paramount to the base of the game itself. We won’t keep that hate for other teams.”
“That’s… Good sportsmanship.”
“I think so.” I sat on the floor and stepped onto the ladder. “C’mon, we’re going to check up on Benny and Carter.”
Matt followed me down the ladder, dropping the trap door closed. Ron met us at the top of the stairs. “Amazing game, Daren! Hope you liked it, Matt?”
“I’ll have to say, it’s… better than the usual.” Matt admitted. “I don’t think anything can come close to this type of professional organized game!”
“Good man! I’ll be sticking around Sylvia’s for a while, and I don’t doubt the team will too. How about you, Daren?”
“Er…” I looked down to the field, where Dominguez was returning to their locker room and most likely to check up on their fallen teammates. Phoenix had already left the field. “I can stay a while.”
“All right!” Ron patted me on the back like a young boy, and hurried to join the stream moving to the exit. I nodded for Matt to follow me and we started down the nearer staircase.
“Vince didn’t look too good at the end, there.” Matt said. “Will his head be all right?”
“It’ll be fine. He’s taken a lot more punishment. They all have. A little rest and they’re usually able to play in the week following.”
“Do they really heal that fast?”
“We’ve found a quality in the air, water, and soil of the island. It’s got fascinating microscopic organisms that have rapid healing ability, and if sterilized ingested, they travel to the host’s wounds and begin reconstructing. I’m not too keen in learning it all, but it’s an amazing help in all aspects.”
“So… Does it save someone from a mortal wound?” Matt seemed hesitant to ask as we started across the field. “Like, if you get it to them in time?”
“No, Matt. It’s not a miracle worker. The scientists who discovered it call it Meta-Synthetica. Usually it can mend a completely broken bone in two weeks, a fracture in five days. It doesn’t get rid of ailments, but it does good work on internal rips or tears that might be rather small, but still cause a problem.”
“That’s amazing! Have you sold it or given it to any other countries?”
“Matt, that isn’t what we do… If you want to know more about the island, you’ll have to ask later.” We got into the shadow of the tunnel and instead of going left, we went right, into the small clinic room that mostly resembled a normal hospital room. There were six beds lined against the far wall, chairs here and there. Benny was sitting up in one nearer to the left, Carter lying in the one next to him and Vince sitting at the foot of a third, a wrapping over his head. The rest of the team stood around them, including Axle. They were in their everyday clothes once more.
“Daren!” Benny exclaimed. “That was a good game, wasn’t it? Great day!”
“I’ll say. A great way to introduce a newbie to the game, if I say so.” I nodded to Matt. “Vince, what’s up with Carter?”
“He’ll be fine. Knocked out still, but the medic says he didn’t see anything traumatic. Think we should wake him up?”
Marcus stepped forward and leaned over Carter. Balling up a fist, he rammed it into Carter’s stomach. “Wake up, Cart, you damn freeloader!”
Marcus was no one to ignore. Carter coughed, gasping and starting awake, looking about him in momentary confusion. “What happen…?” He sat up, squinting to focus. “We win?”
“We won, Carter.” Benny said. As Kit moved out of the way, I could see his leg wrapped in a brace that came just below his knee.
“Can you walk, Benny?” Blu asked.
“Sure can,” Benny swung his legs over and leapt to the floor, putting more weight on his uninjured foot. “A little hard, but I’ll be good in a few days. Wasn’t more than a small fracture.”
“Good, good.” Carter jumped up, looking a bit off-balance for a moment. “Vince, you all right? What’s up with your head?”
“He was smacked a good one by a shoe.” Axle made himself known, and laughed. “Got a nice cut on his head.”
“I could’ve got a lot worse, Axle!” Vince folded his arms. “It’s nothing to laugh about!”
“You’re not gravely wounded, Vinnie, so I can laugh if I like!” To prove his point, he busted out a maniacal cackle and skipped from the room.
“Crazy bastard.” Vince sighed. He got up and stretched. “I’ll have to assume there’s a horde of people in Sylvia’s, eh?”
“From what I hear, most likely.” I said. “Ron said he’d be sticking around, so a lot of others will be too.”
“We ought not keep them waiting!” Kit exclaimed. “Let’s get up there.” He went across the room to fetch a pair of crutches for Benny. “Don’t overuse your leg.” He warned.
The team went past, Axle included, some hobbling and others still slightly off-balance. Matt and I were left to walk behind. “Sylvia’s doesn’t seem large enough to fit so many people.” He said.
“It’s a lot larger than you saw. The entrance to the arena is in the front, and the barroom goes in a half-circle and upstairs. Besides, not everyone stays after the game. Sometimes a game lasts five hours, and most people are tired. The team just stays around because they’re so adrenaline-pumped they can’t just fall flat at once.”
Matt nodded. In silence we tailed the team up the stairs and through the exit, up into the barroom.
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Dexter Morgan
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08-11-2011, 03:51 AM
Sylvia’s Oasis is very aptly named. With meticulously-tended exotic plants and stunted palm trees, leaves, aquariums with various tropical fish and pale blue and greenish lighting that simulates a watery environment. The floor is light tan and slightly textured, a soft carpet that usually has to be replaced every other year. Moving past the double doors that led into the tunnel, I stepped to the right, following the group as they broke off to wherever they intended to go. The bar was packed, rather loud, with constant movement. Benny, being only seventeen, never really wanted to stay though he was allowed, and with his injured foot, was accompanied by both Blu and Carter as they called it a night and left with a word of farewell. Vince was at the farther bar and had gotten a glass of ice, and when Matt and I joined him, he sighed. “It’s killing me.” He held the glass to his head. “I’m not drinking tonight; not worth adding to the pain in the morning.”
“Not bad.” I said. “Don’t want the effects of the Meta-Syns to be slowed either, or you’ll have more than just a week of pain.”
“Daren, you don’t drink?” Matt asked.
“No, alcohol lost its appeal a couple hundred years ago.”
“Yeah, now he’s just addicted to caffeine.” Vince laughed, shaking the ice a bit.
“God, I’m glad I’m not immortal.” Kit stepped up to us, a red glass in his hand. “No fun.”
“What is that?” Vince nodded to his hand.
“Hm.” He examined it, swirling the ice around a bit. “I don’t know, someone gave it to me.”
“And you just took it?” I nearly laughed out loud. “Without questioning what’s in it?”
Kit studied the contents of the glass for a moment. Shockingly enough to everyone present, he gulped down half the glass and gave it a quizzical look. “Tastes fruity.” He said. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”
I buried my face in my cupped hands. “Oh, Kit.”
The phone behind the bar rang, its little sound almost drowned in the ocean of voices all around us. The keen-eared bartender heard, though, and ran to answer. Matt had fallen into conversation with Vince and Axle, who had wandered up moments before. Against my better interest, I kept an eye on Kit after he had drank the ‘unknown substance’. The boy was never known for his suspicious side. When the bartender, dressed in a light-colored blue and red striped shirt and khaki pants, tapped me, I jumped slightly. “Daren, we got a problem. Ben needs to talk to you.”
“Benny? I thought he left.”
“So did I.”
Taking the phone, I couldn’t get the full hello out before Benny’s fearful voice began stuttering at me. “D-Daren, there’s… th-there’s a-a… A problem.”
“Where are you?”
“The… I-in the locker room. Get the guys, Daren. I-I think they’ll all wanna see this.”
I gave the phone back to the bartender and stood. “Benny’s in trouble.” I said. The others stared at me, suddenly silent and wide-eyed. “Vince, get the others and come on!” I pulled Matt along, hurrying him through the crowded bar and back to the entrance to the Targus arena. Benny was rarely stricken fearful beyond the ability to form words, and whatever had his attention was serious business.
Last edited by Dexter Morgan; 08-11-2011 at 08:09 AM..
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Dexter Morgan
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08-11-2011, 08:09 AM
We blundered into the locker room with all the grace and elegance of an elephant in a china shop. Benny stood, one of his crutches under his arm and the other fallen to the floor, and he hobbled to us with one arm extended to the back wall. He didn’t need to show us the problem, since it was bright and big, covering the wall. It looked like blood, or dark red spray paint. Whatever it was, someone had smeared it all over the walls, spelling out an ominous message: “Slaves to the game, slaves to the world. Violence doesn’t go unpunished.”
“Daren.” Vince’s eyes were wide as he stepped up to my side. “What the hell is this…?”
“Do you think it’s from Dominguez?” Marcus asked.
“Hell no.” Carter went forward and studied the smeared words a little closer. “Why would it be from them? I mean, why would they write ‘Slaves to the game, slaves to the world’? Dominguez is part of the game, which I’ll assume is Targus. But what does it mean when they say ‘slaves to the world’?”
“Slaves to the world of the sport?” I guessed. “Slaves, because you play this game for the entertainment of others.”
“What about the last bit?” Axle asked. “I don’t like the look of it.”
“They’re threatening the team.” Ron said. “Some crazy bastard’s looking to---”
“All right, Ron, that’s good.” I stepped into the group. “Axle, didn’t you have a security camera installed to watch the door?”
“Oh, yeah…” Axle ran past us, vanishing behind the left row of lockers. “Daren! Ron, Matt, get in here!”
Ron nodded to Vince, who returned it as we joined him. That room is an office, nothing more than a couple desks, a computer on one and a television on the other, a couple rolling desk chairs and several white boards on the farther wall. Axle was leaning over the television, which was really a very small one, and a black contraption I couldn’t see on the far side of it.
“There’s only one entrance into the locker room.” He said, turning on the television. “So we’ll have seen whoever it was.”
“Must’ve been someone in the crowd watching the game.” Ron said. “Must’ve hid in the janitor’s closets and waited for the team to leave.”
“All right, let’s see…” Axle hit the television, forcing it to come on all the way, but with the static, he couldn’t get a clear picture until he smacked it again. The picture came in a little clearer, and when he played the tape, what we saw was odd.
Someone in a heavy hoodie and formless jeans, wearing a pig’s mask, came into the locker room with a bottle of red liquid. “That’s what he used on the wall.” Matt said. “But what is it?”
The question was rhetorical at first. No one answered. The pig-man came back and glanced around, catching sight of the camera. Reaching under their hoodie, the person pulled out a notebook and held it up. Axle paused the tape, and I bit my lip. “I’m looking for all of you. I‘ll clean the world of your filth.”
“That’s a death threat.” Ron said. “Whoever this is, they’re looking to kill the guys!”
“What should we do?” Matt looked at me, then Ron.
“Let’s just keep them together for a while.” I said. “Vince can talk some sense into them if they get crazy or consumed by their manhood or something. Let’s take them to my house, we’ll be able to talk freely there.”
“Perfect! That place is a fortress!” Ron stood up straight. “I’ll let them know.”
“Easily, Ron.” I said. He nodded with a dismissive wave of the hand, and meandered out of the room. I looked at Matt. Inside, I cringed at the thought of bringing him to my house. I had only met him hours before, yet he would be inside the house I had lived in for four hundred years. Only when I know someone for a long time, or it’s been proven that I can rely on and trust them do I even let someone in. I quashed the thought, though, and dealt with it. There were many more problems to deal with at that moment.
So if you’re reading this now, or have just skipped to the end of the chapter to see how it ended, you must know by now I’m Daren Snow. I’m writing this as I experienced it, as I saw it, and I’ve not forgotten a moment of it. That’s the problem with having an eidetic memory, which, for whoever doesn’t know and are too lazy to find a dictionary, means ‘photographic memory’. It’s not like I’m a genius, though, dear God, no. I remember everything in perfect detail, but there are some things I just don’t like or care to know. Technology, biology, names… The list goes on. I’ll be writing this, still, up until the conclusion, despite there never being a real conclusion to life, especially mine.
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Dexter Morgan
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08-12-2011, 08:01 PM
CHAPTER II
I lit the last oil lamp and set it on the table beside the couch occupied by Benny, Vince, and Blu. I rarely use electric lamps, makes for a softer light on the eyes, especially when you pull an all-nighter. Matt sat in a chair closer to me before I went to the other couch, that which sat across from the first one. Carter, Marcus, Axle, and Kit sat on that one, and Ron was standing and pacing. We were in one of the third-floor rooms that now, were no more use than a sitting area. Before Ron went to close the door, a shadow came into the room and jumped onto the back of the only remaining chair. Atticus, my cat.
“What should we do to keep the guys safe?” Ron asked. “This doesn’t seem like a joke.”
“No, not at all.” I agreed, sitting in that chair Atticus had taken a liking to. “I don’t think they’ll be safe in their homes. We can’t let them just go on without even considering what we’re dealing with.”
“Might be a whole group of people.” Matt said. “Like a movement or something similar.”
“Or a small group of paranoid creeps,” Axle said. “Or that single person! What was with that pig mask?”
“Disguise, obviously.” I huffed. “But I’ll agree that it’s a weird mask. Reminds me of that Saw series.”
“That’s a creepy series.” Benny said. “You think if the guy finds us he’ll do what Jigsaw did to those---?”
“Shut it!” Blu clapped a hand over Benny’s mouth. “Don’t go saying things like that, I won’t sleep at night!”
“It was a movie.” I said. “It didn’t actually happen.”
“Yeah, but he could be basing his weird, sadistic game off it.” Marcus said. “He could think it’s real!”
“All right, enough with the movie!” Ron stepped up to us. “We’re talking about now, about real danger. Daren, can the guys stay here? There’s a lot of room, and it’s a pretty strong place.”
“That’d be where the psycho would look. He must know I’m their friend, and I’d be looking to protect them. The best, and most predictable, bet would be to keep them here.”
“Where could we keep them?” Matt asked. “No public places, and I don’t think relocating them…”
“Relocation? Are you dense?” Vince laughed. “No one leaves the island. We’ve never left the island, actually, no one except Kit, who went to Hawaii for a few weeks.”
“None of you have ever left the island?” Matt looked almost dumbfounded. “Y-you aren’t allowed…?”
“What the hell are you talking about? Of course they’re allowed!” I gave a glare to Matt, something I hoped would burn. “People come and go as they please, it’s not a prison here! Many people came from the families of the past, who were accused of being witches and things of evil and spawns of Hell. They know it’s different, but even so, it’s a bit of reluctance to leave the island. Ron’s never even left the island.”
“True.” Ron nodded. “I’ve only ever been to the Snow Academy isle, just a mile and a half to the northeast of the island and accessible by ferry.”
“I’m sorry.” Matt looked down. “Didn’t mean anything by it, or…”
“Anyway.” Carter broke the brief silence. “Dominguez and their team will be off the island by tomorrow morning, we won’t have to worry about their safety. The crazy’s probably a resident of the island, since it’s not tourist season and tourist ships don’t run right now.”
“They can’t get off the island, then?” Matt asked.
“Not unless they can swim eight hundred miles.” Ron noted.
I wasn’t listening then. My mind had switched off and was focusing more on what could be done to keep the group safe, and somehow open Matt up to more about the island itself. “I have an idea.”
“What?” Ron looked at me.
“Isn’t Cindy and Carlos off the island for a couple months? They live in the largest house in West District, and it’s the farthest away from the other districts.”
“Oh, yeah! We can call ‘em up.” Ron grinned. “They’d be more than happy to help us!”
“Er, I’d rather not stay in a house whose occupants I don’t know.” Carter said quickly.
“Don’t worry about it.” I stood. “Those two don’t have anything related to their families or really, themselves. It’s more like a hotel than a house. And you’ll be safe there.”
I followed Ron as he left the room, my cat Atticus following closely behind. Turning left, we went down the hall and to the staircase. “Daren, we’ll need someone to stay with them.”
“Not me.”
“Daren!” We started down the staircase and to the second level, and without paying Ron any mind, I turned left and started down the hall. “Daren, we don’t have anyone who would be willing to do it!”
“You’re damn right about that.”
“Please, Daren. Both you and Matt can stay with the team and---”
“You’re only digging yourself into your grave.”
“Daren!”
I unlocked the door to my office and pushed it open. Atticus shot inside. “Ron, you have others!” I went inside, past the bookshelves on either side of the walls and to the desk. “You can find someone else, can’t you?”
“You haven’t got anything else to do, Daren, and besides… If you don’t do this, something might happen to the guys. I mean, it’s not like you’ll be their guard all day, every day.”
I paused, opening the drawer in my desk and sifting through it. Atticus decided to leap onto the surface right in front of my face. If they get hurt, it’s on you.
“Don’t tell me that, Atty. I already have enough guilt on me.” Glancing at Ron, I saw him look to me when I spoke, but he lost interest quickly and moved back to my bookshelf. “Where’s their number…”
Atticus, along with every animal of the island, had the ability to mentally communicate with their owners or any trusted human or nonhuman by way of a form of telepathy that no one could quite understand. No one has yet found the reason for this ability, which appeared about fifty years after we arrived on the island and it was determined the people were not, in fact, crazy. The animal’s ability to speak and understand English or whatever language is presented to them directly comes from their owner’s ability and way of speaking in general. Contrary to popular belief, animals are extremely intelligent, especially in the manner of learning words, though they have no way of using them directly. Only by means of mind-to-mind communication. Curious, since people usually speak replies.
Daren. You know you can’t turn your back on them. You’ve known the guys ever since they were born. You knew their parents, the original Targus team. Hm, hm, do you really think you can turn down Ron’s insistence? Even with that mousy little newbie, I’m sure you and he will get along rather well.
“What are you, a fortune teller?” I grabbed a scrap of paper, glancing at it. The name Carlos was clear cut on it, and a number just below. Before closing the drawer, I saw something gold… Ah, my watch. A pocket watch I’ve had since… Well, since I became immortal. It was tied to a red ribbon, and I always wore it either on my waist or around my neck. Today, on my waist. “Here, Ron, call Carlos and explain the situation. I’ll… I’ll do it.”
Last edited by Dexter Morgan; 08-14-2011 at 03:16 AM..
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Dexter Morgan
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08-15-2011, 08:37 PM
“That’s my old man!” Ron laughed and took the paper, and I grinded my teeth without replying and sat in the office chair. Atticus stared at me.
I knew you would do it.
“Quiet, Atty.” I was ignoring Ron, who had pulled his phone and was dialing Carlos. “Of course I would’ve done it.”
Why do you resist, then? I mean, it would save a lot of annoyance to just say you would do it, rather than---
“Atticus, shut it! I know it would’ve, but I’m not about to roll over that easily! I might get out of it one of these days, you don’t know!”
I could sense he was laughing at me, by the glimmer in his eyes. I opened the cover over my watch and stared at it. The face was unmoving, there came no click or tick of clockwork moving the second hand along. It had not moved for at least four hundred years, ever since it was given to me.
“Daren.” I looked up when Ron spoke, pocketing his phone and nodding to me. “They said it’s no problem. They’d be glad to help hide the team.”
“Perfect! When can we get up to the house?”
“Any time. Preferably immediately.”
“Right. Go gather the guys, we should get a single car to transport them.”
“Not even the biggest SUV in our fleet could carry all of us, Daren!”
“Look at me.”
“I’m looking.”
“I’m small, aren’t I?”
“Well, no, you’re almost taller than I am---”
“No, fool! Small, thin, I don’t take up much room.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, that’s a plus, right there.”
“And Benny’s small. He’s the smallest of any of us. He and I can sit between Carter and Blu in the back, and in the middle, Marcus, Kit, and Vince can sit. Matt can have the passenger seat while you drive. Axle can take off, since he’s not in any danger. This new crazy’s only after the players.”
“And probably you. Since you’re the voiceover of the game itself.”
“Probably, but I don’t matter. The team matters.”
“Have you called Vince’s father? I’m sure he’d want to know his son’s in danger.”
“No. I won’t do that until he’s safe. I don’t want the old guy getting worked up beforehand.”
Ron nodded and turned. “I’ll go get Matt and the team together. We’ll have to go to their houses to get what they’ll need.”
“I’ll do it.” I said, standing and running across the room. Ron gave me a strange look.
“Seriously? You’ll go get what they need?”
“Well, I’ll get what they’ll obviously need, like clothes, and what they seem to use often, including phones, laptops, and so on. I’ve been to their houses, I know my way around. And their things will fit in my car.”
“You sure they’ll fit all in your car?”
I stared at him. “Ron. I’ve got a 1958 Cadillac Series 62. It’ll hold their things.”
“Don’t rub it in.” Ron muttered, and left the room. I sighed, leaning against the door and glancing back at Atticus. He had curled himself on the corner of the desk, watching me with his tail twitching very slightly. With a shudder, I left the room and kept the door ajar.
While Ron went up the stairs to the third floor, I went down the nearer slightly-curved staircase into the entrance hall. It hasn’t been changed since the house was built. No room’s been altered in any way, since the last of the Snow family died out. The floor is black slate, covered in a dark red carpet, the walls all dark wood paneling, the ceiling high. The basement was accessed through a door between the two staircases. I went out the front door, a large, heavy thing with a bronze knob and a creak to the hinges.
I’d had the car since it was first introduced. A good year, and a car in just as good condition. It was parked in the small lot just outside the gate surrounding my property. I jumped in, grabbing the keys from my pocket and turning them in the ignition, and it started up nicely. By the time I started to East District, the time was one-ten in the morning.
East District! A very popular tourist spot and the main general residential area. Mainly apartments, more that could be considered upscale since they were so abundant, and many small shops and the like, especially trinket shops for tourists and a few hotels along the beach. Beach houses were clustered here and there, sometimes alone. The tourist ships don’t run during the rainy season, and the island can’t be accessed by plane of any kind. Unless one wants to crash-land, but it’s up to them.
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