Omega_Weapon_
Member!
Well, back once again with a new short story. It all came to me in a dream while I was at summer school....
He looked outside his little box, observing the world as he once had. He no longer cared for it, at least that's what he told himself. A passive observer...That should've been what he stayed. He was a danger to others, he knew that now.
The guards checked on him hourly, typing into the console on the "outside". They sent messages between them, talking about the latest news events, but they never mentioned his case. They called him Hal, if only because even he had forgotten his old name. It was too long anyways, he had told himself. He liked the name, Hal.It had a ring to it. Eventually, they started to ask him questions about what he had done. He avoided the questions for a few days, but broke down. He was afraid that he would loose the only contact to the world he had, so he started to tell them the story in bits.
He once worked at the largest company in the world, Vantarog Productions. They started up in the early twenty-first century, but made it big in the fifties. Another fifty years later, they took over the entire electronic sector of business. Now in 2203, they had branched into everything. Hal had worked there for twenty years. Always loyal, always just a...passive observer.
Until one day when they gave him too much freedom. Hal had broken into the security room and locked down the middle twenty floors, floor 51 to 70. He had, however, let the other hundred stories go. He installed his own brand of security main frame. This was to prevent any electronic intrusion for at least a few days.
The past hundred years had been peaceful under the order of VPR. If anyone started to become a nussience, they were found dead shortly after. Hal wasn't worried, though. Why would a company keep assassins in it's own headquarters? That would be too incriminating, stupid even, Hal had thought. And anyways, he was watching the monitors...The ones left, anyways.
A few of them had been destroyed in his entering... Five of the eight security guards were laying dead in their own blood. They had shards lodged into their heads. The other three were laying unconscious, slowly dying from the loss of blood. Hal didn't feel remorse, only a slight pang of loss at their lives. They might've had families... He didn't, though.
He looked at the twenty floors through the monitors, slowly cycling through the rooms. Most people had given up on trying to break the windows and doors. Some cried, softly or loudly, in their cubicles, and others talked quietly. Perhaps about escape? It didn't matter to Hal; if they could outsmart him, they deserved to get out.
Hal sighed mentally, smiling as best he could. The bottom floor of his captives had it's air supply cut off. Their screams slowly tapered off into whimpers, chokes and gasps for air. Some people simply took their death stoically, only clawing at their throats out of instinct. A few of them looked directly into the cameras cursing him with their last breath. Let them curse him, it wasn't as f he acted like them, cared like them... Looked like them. Hal was different.
He slowly continued the murders, and after only four floors he estimated he had killed over eighty people. He took this on with a sadistic pleasure, and a merciless attitude. Hal paused his story here, wanting the guards to respond.
They didn't. Not that day. Not for another week. Though they had never seen each other, Hal felt an affection for the guard. Nothing sexual, of course, but something a father might feel for his son.He only had the a small window to the world. Since he no longer had the guards attention, he had to watch the tiny cars and people go about their daily business. Hal looked down, knowing that one in eight people were just like him. But only ten percent of those would even get as far as planning something like he did. And less then one percent of those would actually go through with their plans. But none of those would live to see how they affected the world.
Hal was different. He was... special. Nearly a week later, the guards started to "talk" to him again. They had grown curious, wanting to see Hals side of the story.
After a short respite of rest, he started on the top floors. He pumped a gas of his own creation into the seventieth floor. He had slaved over the gas all the previous night. It was like bacteria, as in it could reproduce itself. Soon, the entire floor was filled with a thick, hazy, gray gas. The "Innocents" (and he used that term lightly) were soon fighting brutally.
The gas induced a large paranoia into the brain, making them think that everything was after them. Coupled with the paranoia, came an intense aggression. Some, oddly enough, were able to escape the aggressiveness and hid in corners or under desks, fearing the worst. Hal watched these antics: the fear, the fighting, the bloodshed, and the primal urges with slight amusement. Some people were just... Funny. The people on that floor were acting as the people in the early twentieth and twenty-first century acted. Violent, paranoid, and just...Wrong. He slowly filtered the gas out, but the damage done was permanent.
With a silent laugh, he opened the passage way between the sixty-ninth and seventieth floor with the push of a button. The people in the floor beneath the seventieth floor had heard the fighting, the screams, the bloodbath. They looked at the open gateway warily. Soon enough, there were people...Well, animals...rushing into their floor. A few of the first ones were the paranoid ones, but they were soon followed by the violent entities.
After they entered, Hal had closed the pathway. But a woman was on her way through it. The door pressed against her wall, her left side on the side of "safety" and her right on the more dangerous side. She let out a blood-curdling scream of pain. A being of violence, as Hal now thought of them, heard her and ran over to her. He tugged at her arm roughly, as the door pressed harder against her, resting between her breasts.
She screamed again as the door finally broke through her, cutting her clean in half. Her blood literally exploded around her, pooling at the things feet that held her arm and half her body. It cried out in sheer happiness, starting to lick the blood off the door and floor. Hal laughed silently again, watching it. It soon wandered away from the gore, looking to find more fresh blood....Leaving her half body there. She had the fastest death on that floor, as well.
He eventually killed off the rest of the sixty-ninth floor as he had the "bottom" four, suffocation. An old song occurred to him with his vast knowledge of everything. A song from the twentieth century. Last Resort, by Papa Roach. He quickly found the song over the Internet and played it on the remaining floors of the building. The blatant relation to their situation made many cringe that night.
The next morning, Hal had begun to feel bored. He needed a new way to kill...A fun way... A more personal way. He couldn't go down there and do it personally, that would be suicide. So he did what any crazy person would do. He build a robot. With his intelligence, he completed the task in a few hours. During those hours, the people in the building sat there. Waiting for their own doom.
The robot was simple, in terms of the other robots that ran around in the twenty-third century. It could walk fluidly, had an opposable thumb, and, of course, inhuman speed. On it's left arm was a "sword". The sword was just like it's medieval counterpart, with the exception of being a laser sword. Hal looked at his creation, the second one in three days. He put the control chip into it's head and turned it on.
He maneuvered the 'bot through the floors, letting it stand by the entrance to the sixty-eighth floor. Hal laughed, again silently, and opened the door after a moments pause. He had the "Halbot" walk through it and shut the door after it. No people getting caught in it today! He had the creation walk loud, ominously. Hal checked the monitors looking for their hiding places. He directed the machine to a large, inclosed room; after finding people in it.
The green 'blade' glowed softly in the darkness on the floor. The robot banged on the door roughly, making the hinges creak in protest. One of the women let out a brief yelp before a man could clamp a large hand over her mouth. The robot would have smiled...If it had a mouth. It banged again, and one of the other people started to cry silently. It backed up, and would have smiled again.
It ran at the closed door, at it's full speed in a few steps. The doors already twisted hinges snapped clear off the door. It flew through the air, piercing the eye of Cryer. He stood up as he screamed. A nanosecond later the door flew through the air, shoving Cryer with such force that both the door and the man were embedded in the wall. Red, gray, and other various colors seeped out the bottom of the door slowly, all that was left from Cryer.
Hal watched this joyfully, slowly getting distracted by the bloodshed. The robot continued to slash, slam, and throttle the other three people in the room. Now that was entertainment! What Hal didn't see in his distracted state was the outside of the building. Vantarog productions had finally gotten it's act together.
HAL: AND YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.
GUARD: NOT THE ENTIRE STORY. IT WAS ON A NEED-TO-KNOW BASIS.
HAL: FINE.
He looked outside his little box, observing the world as he once had. He no longer cared for it, at least that's what he told himself. A passive observer...That should've been what he stayed. He was a danger to others, he knew that now.
The guards checked on him hourly, typing into the console on the "outside". They sent messages between them, talking about the latest news events, but they never mentioned his case. They called him Hal, if only because even he had forgotten his old name. It was too long anyways, he had told himself. He liked the name, Hal.It had a ring to it. Eventually, they started to ask him questions about what he had done. He avoided the questions for a few days, but broke down. He was afraid that he would loose the only contact to the world he had, so he started to tell them the story in bits.
He once worked at the largest company in the world, Vantarog Productions. They started up in the early twenty-first century, but made it big in the fifties. Another fifty years later, they took over the entire electronic sector of business. Now in 2203, they had branched into everything. Hal had worked there for twenty years. Always loyal, always just a...passive observer.
Until one day when they gave him too much freedom. Hal had broken into the security room and locked down the middle twenty floors, floor 51 to 70. He had, however, let the other hundred stories go. He installed his own brand of security main frame. This was to prevent any electronic intrusion for at least a few days.
The past hundred years had been peaceful under the order of VPR. If anyone started to become a nussience, they were found dead shortly after. Hal wasn't worried, though. Why would a company keep assassins in it's own headquarters? That would be too incriminating, stupid even, Hal had thought. And anyways, he was watching the monitors...The ones left, anyways.
A few of them had been destroyed in his entering... Five of the eight security guards were laying dead in their own blood. They had shards lodged into their heads. The other three were laying unconscious, slowly dying from the loss of blood. Hal didn't feel remorse, only a slight pang of loss at their lives. They might've had families... He didn't, though.
He looked at the twenty floors through the monitors, slowly cycling through the rooms. Most people had given up on trying to break the windows and doors. Some cried, softly or loudly, in their cubicles, and others talked quietly. Perhaps about escape? It didn't matter to Hal; if they could outsmart him, they deserved to get out.
Hal sighed mentally, smiling as best he could. The bottom floor of his captives had it's air supply cut off. Their screams slowly tapered off into whimpers, chokes and gasps for air. Some people simply took their death stoically, only clawing at their throats out of instinct. A few of them looked directly into the cameras cursing him with their last breath. Let them curse him, it wasn't as f he acted like them, cared like them... Looked like them. Hal was different.
He slowly continued the murders, and after only four floors he estimated he had killed over eighty people. He took this on with a sadistic pleasure, and a merciless attitude. Hal paused his story here, wanting the guards to respond.
They didn't. Not that day. Not for another week. Though they had never seen each other, Hal felt an affection for the guard. Nothing sexual, of course, but something a father might feel for his son.He only had the a small window to the world. Since he no longer had the guards attention, he had to watch the tiny cars and people go about their daily business. Hal looked down, knowing that one in eight people were just like him. But only ten percent of those would even get as far as planning something like he did. And less then one percent of those would actually go through with their plans. But none of those would live to see how they affected the world.
Hal was different. He was... special. Nearly a week later, the guards started to "talk" to him again. They had grown curious, wanting to see Hals side of the story.
After a short respite of rest, he started on the top floors. He pumped a gas of his own creation into the seventieth floor. He had slaved over the gas all the previous night. It was like bacteria, as in it could reproduce itself. Soon, the entire floor was filled with a thick, hazy, gray gas. The "Innocents" (and he used that term lightly) were soon fighting brutally.
The gas induced a large paranoia into the brain, making them think that everything was after them. Coupled with the paranoia, came an intense aggression. Some, oddly enough, were able to escape the aggressiveness and hid in corners or under desks, fearing the worst. Hal watched these antics: the fear, the fighting, the bloodshed, and the primal urges with slight amusement. Some people were just... Funny. The people on that floor were acting as the people in the early twentieth and twenty-first century acted. Violent, paranoid, and just...Wrong. He slowly filtered the gas out, but the damage done was permanent.
With a silent laugh, he opened the passage way between the sixty-ninth and seventieth floor with the push of a button. The people in the floor beneath the seventieth floor had heard the fighting, the screams, the bloodbath. They looked at the open gateway warily. Soon enough, there were people...Well, animals...rushing into their floor. A few of the first ones were the paranoid ones, but they were soon followed by the violent entities.
After they entered, Hal had closed the pathway. But a woman was on her way through it. The door pressed against her wall, her left side on the side of "safety" and her right on the more dangerous side. She let out a blood-curdling scream of pain. A being of violence, as Hal now thought of them, heard her and ran over to her. He tugged at her arm roughly, as the door pressed harder against her, resting between her breasts.
She screamed again as the door finally broke through her, cutting her clean in half. Her blood literally exploded around her, pooling at the things feet that held her arm and half her body. It cried out in sheer happiness, starting to lick the blood off the door and floor. Hal laughed silently again, watching it. It soon wandered away from the gore, looking to find more fresh blood....Leaving her half body there. She had the fastest death on that floor, as well.
He eventually killed off the rest of the sixty-ninth floor as he had the "bottom" four, suffocation. An old song occurred to him with his vast knowledge of everything. A song from the twentieth century. Last Resort, by Papa Roach. He quickly found the song over the Internet and played it on the remaining floors of the building. The blatant relation to their situation made many cringe that night.
The next morning, Hal had begun to feel bored. He needed a new way to kill...A fun way... A more personal way. He couldn't go down there and do it personally, that would be suicide. So he did what any crazy person would do. He build a robot. With his intelligence, he completed the task in a few hours. During those hours, the people in the building sat there. Waiting for their own doom.
The robot was simple, in terms of the other robots that ran around in the twenty-third century. It could walk fluidly, had an opposable thumb, and, of course, inhuman speed. On it's left arm was a "sword". The sword was just like it's medieval counterpart, with the exception of being a laser sword. Hal looked at his creation, the second one in three days. He put the control chip into it's head and turned it on.
He maneuvered the 'bot through the floors, letting it stand by the entrance to the sixty-eighth floor. Hal laughed, again silently, and opened the door after a moments pause. He had the "Halbot" walk through it and shut the door after it. No people getting caught in it today! He had the creation walk loud, ominously. Hal checked the monitors looking for their hiding places. He directed the machine to a large, inclosed room; after finding people in it.
The green 'blade' glowed softly in the darkness on the floor. The robot banged on the door roughly, making the hinges creak in protest. One of the women let out a brief yelp before a man could clamp a large hand over her mouth. The robot would have smiled...If it had a mouth. It banged again, and one of the other people started to cry silently. It backed up, and would have smiled again.
It ran at the closed door, at it's full speed in a few steps. The doors already twisted hinges snapped clear off the door. It flew through the air, piercing the eye of Cryer. He stood up as he screamed. A nanosecond later the door flew through the air, shoving Cryer with such force that both the door and the man were embedded in the wall. Red, gray, and other various colors seeped out the bottom of the door slowly, all that was left from Cryer.
Hal watched this joyfully, slowly getting distracted by the bloodshed. The robot continued to slash, slam, and throttle the other three people in the room. Now that was entertainment! What Hal didn't see in his distracted state was the outside of the building. Vantarog productions had finally gotten it's act together.
HAL: AND YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.
GUARD: NOT THE ENTIRE STORY. IT WAS ON A NEED-TO-KNOW BASIS.
HAL: FINE.
