Terrible and Sacred Dreams

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

Entering the bunker’s interior, Guns could see a small industrial lift. Walking carefully, she leaned over the railing and saw the long way down leading to the complex underneath. Lights illuminated the way, with red and blue pipes going down and curving off into different sections of the shaft.

“Taking the lift might be risky. Then again, they didn’t have any guards here. This area must be low concern for them.”

Of course, there was the concern of security cameras and sensors. There was none in this room, but sure as Hell, they had some leading all the way down recording this section. It was time for Guns to show one of her gadgets.

“Hold on a second and watch the door. I’m gonna knock out the power.”

Heading over to a fuse breaker, she opened it and retrieved a small blue and red device from her bag. It came straight from VoxTek, something they created for operators in Hell. It saps electricity for about fifteen minutes, disrupting systems. She could have used it on the door, but that would’ve been a waste.

Placing it on the fuse breaker, the device embeds itself. Miniature claws dig into the metal, then electric shocks spread over it. Soon enough, the power fluctuates then goes dark, leaving emergency red lights on. The whole base had gone dark as well.

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

There was an edge of anger to her voice. It was stress, maybe even fear. They’re were risking everything by being here. Hell considered this treason. Heaven considered it grounds for war. Either way, they cannot risk capture, or failure, or discovery.

They need to sneak in. Hit hard. Then leave.

Moving through the tall grass and mesquite trees, they eventually reached Hoffman. The perimeter of the base was cleared of tress, mowed down. A barbed wire fence separated the world, wrapping around the old air base. In the distance, there was three hangers built back in the late 40s. Barracks, built not far away, with some more “modern” builds built back during The Cuban Missile Crisis. There were some newer buildings, administration and what not. But this place hasn’t seen real, military purpose since Reagan.

Now? There were rows upon rows of mothballed bombers, transports and fighter jets. Old technology once considered space age and cutting edge. Now, just rusting away and gathering dust and insects.

Guns examined the base through her binoculars. The night vision feature helped her see some points of interest.

“Our best bet is the administration building. It’s that three story office building, the one with the F4 phantom jet outside on display.”

As Guns looked, she remembered. She remembered her dad bringing her here to see the bombers. She was young then, innocent. It never occurred to her that those bombers were created to bring death on a global scale. Nuclear eschaton.

Guns continued surveying the airbase. She noticed patrols, blacked out SUVs that patrolled around the hangers. More were parked nearby, belonging to the same security group. Beyond the patrols and sentries, there were cameras everywhere. Sensors to detect and register any abnormal readings. If they caught Roth, then they know exactly what to look for. What to expect.

Hearing Buzz’s suggestion, Guns smiled and agreed. It was the best way to infiltrate the base after all. From there, they can survey the area better from high up.

Buzz wrapped both sets of arms around Guns' torso before lifting off, climbing to about two hundred feet above the third floor. He then quickly flew over to the administration building and carefully landed on the roof, releasing Guns and looking around. "So far, so good. Now, lemme see..."

Walking over to the edge of the roof, Buzz took a proper view of the airbase. He wondered if he should have brought binoculars; he wondered if he should have brought a dozen other different things that might only be used once. There could be no holding back when going in against the government.

Then again, that doesn’t answer it.

Guns wasn’t sure what they would find exactly down there. Knowing the feds- it wasn’t anything humane. The Feds are cruel- she knew how her father was treated. She knew it from her life on the run, on the other side of the law. Assassination, intimidation and suffocating the truth before it could become inconvenient. She only glanced at the darkness when she was alive, never knowing the full scoped of the evil.

It ran too deep for any light to pierce.

Now Roth was in that darkness, but then again he was in a darkness far before she met him.

Guns swiftly moved towards the heavy metal door that led inside the bunker. It’s protected by a keypad. For this, she deferred to Buzz for his own special expertise on the matter.

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

There was an edge of anger to her voice. It was stress, maybe even fear. They’re were risking everything by being here. Hell considered this treason. Heaven considered it grounds for war. Either way, they cannot risk capture, or failure, or discovery.

They need to sneak in. Hit hard. Then leave.

Moving through the tall grass and mesquite trees, they eventually reached Hoffman. The perimeter of the base was cleared of tress, mowed down. A barbed wire fence separated the world, wrapping around the old air base. In the distance, there was three hangers built back in the late 40s. Barracks, built not far away, with some more “modern” builds built back during The Cuban Missile Crisis. There were some newer buildings, administration and what not. But this place hasn’t seen real, military purpose since Reagan.

Now? There were rows upon rows of mothballed bombers, transports and fighter jets. Old technology once considered space age and cutting edge. Now, just rusting away and gathering dust and insects.

Guns examined the base through her binoculars. The night vision feature helped her see some points of interest.

“Our best bet is the administration building. It’s that three story office building, the one with the F4 phantom jet outside on display.”

As Guns looked, she remembered. She remembered her dad bringing her here to see the bombers. She was young then, innocent. It never occurred to her that those bombers were created to bring death on a global scale. Nuclear eschaton.

Guns continued surveying the airbase. She noticed patrols, blacked out SUVs that patrolled around the hangers. More were parked nearby, belonging to the same security group. Beyond the patrols and sentries, there were cameras everywhere. Sensors to detect and register any abnormal readings. If they caught Roth, then they know exactly what to look for. What to expect.

Hearing Buzz’s suggestion, Guns smiled and agreed. It was the best way to infiltrate the base after all. From there, they can survey the area better from high up.

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

There was an edge of anger to her voice. It was stress, maybe even fear. They’re were risking everything by being here. Hell considered this treason. Heaven considered it grounds for war. Either way, they cannot risk capture, or failure, or discovery.

They need to sneak in. Hit hard. Then leave.

Moving through the tall grass and mesquite trees, they eventually reached Hoffman. The perimeter of the base was cleared of tress, mowed down. A barbed wire fence separated the world, wrapping around the old air base. In the distance, there was three hangers built back in the late 40s. Barracks, built not far away, with some more “modern” builds built back during The Cuban Missile Crisis. There were some newer buildings, administration and what not. But this place hasn’t seen real, military purpose since Reagan.

Now? There were rows upon rows of mothballed bombers, transports and fighter jets. Old technology once considered space age and cutting edge. Now, just rusting away and gathering dust and insects.

Guns examined the base through her binoculars. The night vision feature helped her see some points of interest.

“Our best bet is the administration building. It’s that three story office building, the one with the F4 phantom jet outside on display.”

As Guns looked, she remembered. She remembered her dad bringing her here to see the bombers. She was young then, innocent. It never occurred to her that those bombers were created to bring death on a global scale. Nuclear eschaton.

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

The fear of failure crossed her mind more than once. They could loose Roth. They could loose themselves. They could die horribly or die slowly. It’s just doubt, nothing she should obsess over. Still, it gnaws on her brain stem.

This was treason. Praxix warned them about crossing over that it was. Then again, when has the rules ever stopped her? Buzz could care less about honoring the law. Neither does Roth. Still, there’s a few crimes down here worthy of death. Obliteration. Escaping was just one crime. Now, they were ready to commit treason to save Roth. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Pulling into a back street near Buzz’s place, Guns changed vehicles. She was inside a rigged, late 80s black sedan. The headlights shined red across the trash strewn alleyway. Texting Buzz, Guns told him where to find her.

As she sat there, her eyes wandered. She was of course looking for anything or anyone suspicious. She’s been having the awful feeling of being watched. It was the sensation of having someone over your shoulder.

Gripping the wheel, she was growing slightly impatient. Glancing up, she nearly jumped out of her seat. She saw him. Tattered robes, pallid mask, just sitting there silently. It scared her.

"Hey. Ready now." All of Buzz's hands were rapidly spinning on their wrists, and his wings would be buzzing if they weren't pinned against a car seat. He wasn't nervous, but eager. He was about to embark on what would undoubtedly be a massacre to rescue one of his closest friends, after which he would beat Roth within an inch of his life for his treachery.

“Let’s go, then.”

Soon, Guns peeled out from the alleyway and onto the street. The black sedan drove hard and fast, threading in and out of traffic. Guns put on the radio, flipping through the channels as she drove. Among the regular garble, there was brief news about Vox’s grand event. It was big news they were going to miss. So be it, she couldn’t exactly stand him back then.

Taking the overpass, they saw Pentagram City all light up in the distance. Neon so bright, you forget how the whole city was crumbling underneath.

Finally, they reached the bowery district. Old industry rusted away, dead and cold from years of neglect. They used to make steel here. Finally, they entered a warehouse. Inside was Praxix. The Incubus was alone, dressed in his fine clothes. Silk and fine cotton, black with grey and red designs on his shirt and tie. He was trying to look covert.

Pulling up, Guns got out first.

“We’re ready Praxix, are you?”

The Incubus nodded, “Yeah, ready. I made sure to follow your directions to the letter.”

Praxix made sure he wasn’t followed. He took three separate busses out here. Plus, he rode the L-Train, which was as frighting as they described.

Praxix blinked, grinning wearily as he brought out the crystal. It was a jewel of amber, neatly carved and adorned with gold and even ivory.

With one smooth and fluid motion, he activated the crystal. His hands summoned the portal, which opened from nowhere leading to somewhere. Akimbo stood amazed, watching as the portal opened to Texas. It was a wooden area, full of low hanging mesquite trees and cacti. She felt a cool, night breeze that touched her face. She barely remembers how that feels. How that world felt.

Soon, she takes a deep breath and steps over. It felt like static, it tingled. Soon, she was on the other side. Looking up, she sees stars across the night sky. It was beautiful. Praxix followed over, watching where he steps.

Guns retrieved a map, looking it over with a red-lenses flashlight.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗻 𝗪𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗗𝘂𝗸𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀' 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲, 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗦𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗳𝗳 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗕𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱, 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗰𝗲𝗮𝗻, 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗰𝗶𝗿𝗰𝗹𝗲 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗺 𝗜, 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗻𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺, 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗰𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲, 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗺𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗞𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗸𝘂𝘁𝗵 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

{ 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 - 𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐬 }

{ 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐓𝐲𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝 }

𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅: 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐃𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐖𝐚𝐫, 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐆𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚, 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐄𝐧𝐝, 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝.

{ 𝐒𝐞𝐦𝐢-𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 / 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 }

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

The fear of failure crossed her mind more than once. They could loose Roth. They could loose themselves. They could die horribly or die slowly. It’s just doubt, nothing she should obsess over. Still, it gnaws on her brain stem.

This was treason. Praxix warned them about crossing over that it was. Then again, when has the rules ever stopped her? Buzz could care less about honoring the law. Neither does Roth. Still, there’s a few crimes down here worthy of death. Obliteration. Escaping was just one crime. Now, they were ready to commit treason to save Roth. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Pulling into a back street near Buzz’s place, Guns changed vehicles. She was inside a rigged, late 80s black sedan. The headlights shined red across the trash strewn alleyway. Texting Buzz, Guns told him where to find her.

As she sat there, her eyes wandered. She was of course looking for anything or anyone suspicious. She’s been having the awful feeling of being watched. It was the sensation of having someone over your shoulder.

Gripping the wheel, she was growing slightly impatient. Glancing up, she nearly jumped out of her seat. She saw him. Tattered robes, pallid mask, just sitting there silently. It scared her.

"Hey. Ready now." All of Buzz's hands were rapidly spinning on their wrists, and his wings would be buzzing if they weren't pinned against a car seat. He wasn't nervous, but eager. He was about to embark on what would undoubtedly be a massacre to rescue one of his closest friends, after which he would beat Roth within an inch of his life for his treachery.

“Let’s go, then.”

Soon, Guns peeled out from the alleyway and onto the street. The black sedan drove hard and fast, threading in and out of traffic. Guns put on the radio, flipping through the channels as she drove. Among the regular garble, there was brief news about Vox’s grand event. It was big news they were going to miss. So be it, she couldn’t exactly stand him back then.

Taking the overpass, they saw Pentagram City all light up in the distance. Neon so bright, you forget how the whole city was crumbling underneath.

Finally, they reached the bowery district. Old industry rusted away, dead and cold from years of neglect. They used to make steel here. Finally, they entered a warehouse. Inside was Praxix. The Incubus was alone, dressed in his fine clothes. Silk and fine cotton, black with grey and red designs on his shirt and tie. He was trying to look covert.

Pulling up, Guns got out first.

“We’re ready Praxix, are you?”

The Incubus nodded, “Yeah, ready. I made sure to follow your directions to the letter.”

Praxix made sure he wasn’t followed. He took three separate busses out here. Plus, he rode the L-Train, which was as frighting as they described.

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

The fear of failure crossed her mind more than once. They could loose Roth. They could loose themselves. They could die horribly or die slowly. It’s just doubt, nothing she should obsess over. Still, it gnaws on her brain stem.

This was treason. Praxix warned them about crossing over that it was. Then again, when has the rules ever stopped her? Buzz could care less about honoring the law. Neither does Roth. Still, there’s a few crimes down here worthy of death. Obliteration. Escaping was just one crime. Now, they were ready to commit treason to save Roth. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Pulling into a back street near Buzz’s place, Guns changed vehicles. She was inside a rigged, late 80s black sedan. The headlights shined red across the trash strewn alleyway. Texting Buzz, Guns told him where to find her.

As she sat there, her eyes wandered. She was of course looking for anything or anyone suspicious. She’s been having the awful feeling of being watched. It was the sensation of having someone over your shoulder.

Gripping the wheel, she was growing slightly impatient. Glancing up, she nearly jumped out of her seat. She saw him. Tattered robes, pallid mask, just sitting there silently. It scared her.

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

When the weapons room was revealed, feelings of sorrow were replaced with excitement. "SHOTGUN!" The hornet yelled as he buzzed in, looking for where the shotguns were kept. There was a brief moment of clarity that got past the adrenaline where he debated whether to get full-auto or semi, deciding on the latter because if he needed a full-auto anything, it wasn't a shotgun.

Guns said, as she goes to get equipped for the mission. She grabbed a STYER AUG, along with several drag grenades and flashbangs. Grabbing a vest, she donned it and started securing other equipment. She even grabbed two stainless steel desert eagles.

“Okay, we go in, we get Roth then we get the fuck out of dodge. Maybe, cause some pain along the way.”

That’s why this mission needed to be perfect. Just one mistake could cost them their lives. Or worse, get themselves captured by whoever has Roth.

“Grab the shit, we’ll meet up with Praxix.”

Guns moved with her gear to outside. Loading it, she pondered to herself silently. She  . . . felt scared. It was something that was growing inside her ever since Roth vanished, maybe even before that. There was that dream she had with her father, with Buzz and Roth being dead. The Yellow King embracing her with open, outstretched arms of rotting flesh.

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

When the weapons room was revealed, feelings of sorrow were replaced with excitement. "SHOTGUN!" The hornet yelled as he buzzed in, looking for where the shotguns were kept. There was a brief moment of clarity that got past the adrenaline where he debated whether to get full-auto or semi, deciding on the latter because if he needed a full-auto anything, it wasn't a shotgun.

Guns said, as she goes to get equipped for the mission. She grabbed a STYER AUG, along with several drag grenades and flashbangs. Grabbing a vest, she donned it and started securing other equipment. She even grabbed two stainless steel desert eagles.

“Okay, we go in, we get Roth then we get the fuck out of dodge. Maybe, cause some pain along the way.”

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

Guns answered, while something caught her eye by the window. She spun, turning around just to see nothing. She thought she saw something. She swore she saw something. A face- pale as porcelain. It dissolved like some waking dream. Suddenly, she felt uneasy.

Shaking the feeling, Praxix retrieved something. It was a folded piece of paper, with very important information.

This was the third time she was unsure about herself. Unsure about their mission, unsure about Roth. He was alive, they knew that much about his situation.

Yet, it was just everything surrounding this problem. Roth, Carcosa and The Yellow King. Was Roth facing all that for so many years?

Finally, they were back in Pride. Guns lived further out from Pentagram City, close to some large lake formed when Lucifer came down as lighting after The Fall. The lake was vast, dark and strangely peaceful.

Akimbo’s place was nice enough. It was two stories, painted white all around. There was a front porch, which had some chairs and a swing. There were trees, blood oaks, that dotted the property. Guns pulled up, unbuckling her seat belt.

This place was not a home. Guns doesn’t live here, she sleeps here. She waits for the next job here; she receives her calls here. Her home wasn't here, or anywhere. It was nowhere.

“C’mon, follow me.”

Heading over towards a wall, Guns pressed a secret switch. The wall opened up, revealing a gun room on the other side. Inside, wall to wall, were guns and more guns. All kinds of weapons, assault rifles, battle rifles, machine guns and heavy grenade launchers. RPGs and even a vintage WW2 flamethrower from The Pacific War.

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

Guns answered, while something caught her eye by the window. She spun, turning around just to see nothing. She thought she saw something. She swore she saw something. A face- pale as porcelain. It dissolved like some waking dream. Suddenly, she felt uneasy.

Shaking the feeling, Praxix retrieved something. It was a folded piece of paper, with very important information.

This was the third time she was unsure about herself. Unsure about their mission, unsure about Roth. He was alive, they knew that much about his situation.

Yet, it was just everything surrounding this problem. Roth, Carcosa and The Yellow King. Was Roth facing all that for so many years?

Finally, they were back in Pride. Guns lived further out from Pentagram City, close to some large lake formed when Lucifer came down as lighting after The Fall. The lake was vast, dark and strangely peaceful.

Akimbo’s place was nice enough. It was two stories, painted white all around. There was a front porch, which had some chairs and a swing. There were trees, blood oaks, that dotted the property. Guns pulled up, unbuckling her seat belt.

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

Guns answered, while something caught her eye by the window. She spun, turning around just to see nothing. She thought she saw something. She swore she saw something. A face- pale as porcelain. It dissolved like some waking dream. Suddenly, she felt uneasy.

Shaking the feeling, Praxix retrieved something. It was a folded piece of paper, with very important information.