I will serve because I want more And I will create a bigger war And I will rule over and give you hell And then you will do as I command Cause I will be here when you are gone Yeah I'll still be here when you are gone I'll fill you with fear of a holy sun I want all that I am Cause I was made to fly I was made to fly And you were made to die And I was made to fly I will defeat you --"Power Struggle", by Sunna .|.0.|. Back in Coltrane Park, mere inches from the sooty blast radius whose center was the statue of Stephan Carroll, three people lay bleeding. Not *dead*, just bleeding. Legion wasn't that efficient a killer, it seemed. Fathers Bruno and Edgewood were, merely, suffering from rather insubstantial cuts on their arms, nothing more. Archbishop Luccini had the equivalent of a shallow papercut stretching across his chest, but that was hardly anything to worry about. "Thank the Lord we still stand," Bruno gasped, getting to his feet. "Never mind the Lord, what about me?" Edgewood demanded. "*I* was the one who told you both to turn to the side before that one man tried to kill us!" "..." Archbishop Luccini said. "What's wrong?" Bruno asked. "..." He just stared. "What-" Edgewood and Bruno looked in the direction Luccini was staring. "OUUUUUUUUUUUUUH," said the horde of drooling zombies as they shambled and shuffled their way across the burnt ground. "...boys, get your crucifixes ready," said the Archbishop. Edgewood snorted. "I'd rather have a grenade launcher." ==================================== New Haven ------------------------------------ the running of the fools Scene 2-3: In the Name of Science... Ideas by: Michael Younger Chapter written by: Matthew "Zeroin" Maldonado Story started by: Thomas Wilde James Howard ==================================== When Stephan Carroll had fully turned his back to the group, Karen and Alicia opened their eyes, glanced at the two men, and sighed when they saw that they had been knocked out. Shaking their heads, Alicia took hold of one of Charlie's arms and dragged him out of the room. Karen did the same with Michael Lime. They glanced at Sapphia, who was still out cold, shared a look, shrugged and left. When they'd traveled halfway across the hospital, Karen and Alicia woke Charlie up. "What happened?" he asked, puzzled. "Aren't we supposed to be *looking* for a *doctor*?" "Yeah," Karen said through gritted teeth. "But not THAT kind of doctor. Did you see what he *had* on that table?" "...no. What was it?" Karen bit her lip. "I... don't really know. But it looked nasty!" "It... was... a gremlin," Michael Lime gasped blearily. "I've seem 'em so many times... not hard... to... recognize." He panted, coughed, and stuck his head between his knees. "Urp..." "SEE?" Karen snapped, turning back to her brother. "We are going to *leave*, and that's that!" She stomped her foot for emphasis. Charlie looked pleadingly at Alicia, but got nothing but a steely, stalwart glare and a threatening fist in response. He groaned. "Fine, fine... let's get out of here." .|.0.|. In the meantime, the humanoid shadow had just spotted Stephan Carroll, sitting alone at his examination table, completely unaware of the dark being watching him or that the people who'd once been there were now gone. The shadow smiled, lines of deep red outlining its teeth, and launched itself at the reanimated mad doctor, slipping through the roof, the ceiling, a wall- -and right into the body of a zombie, where it stuck like a dart in a melon. It tried to wrench itself free, but, unfortunately for the shadow creature, the rules of its existence clearly stated that "the first creature composed of more than a million living cells that you come in contact with is what you're stuck with". The rules SUCKED. 'Shadow', as its friends called him, grumbled something mentally and shuffled off to find some prey. *I hate my life*, it thought. .|.0.|. Four people stood at the entrance to New Haven, each one so different that it almost made no sense for them to be standing around together. The thing that tied them together was the way they glowed. That was a bit weird, but not much. The tallest of them had long brown hair, fair skin and eyes the color and sheen of gold. He wore a ruffled business suit, jacket open. His hands were stuffed into his pants pockets. This was Maple. He was the leader. Alice, the second-in-command, stood beside him, shivering. She was thin, and far fairer than Maple. Her hair was long and so blonde that it was almost neon yellow in color. She barely reached Maple's shoulder in height. Next on the list is Stroika: younger than Alice, but older than Maple, she looked like she was pushing twenty-five when it was really thirty-six. No one knew why. She was a bit taller than Alice, and had matching black-red eyes and hair. The remaining individual was Drachmov, who looked like Dracula, but only if Dracula had grown up in Mexico City. His hair and eyes were as black as they got, and he was taller than both of the women. He was as gaunt as they come, cheekbones so close to the skin it almost seemed like they were about to burst out. His real name was Raoul Pedro. These were four of the Five. The Five were important to the fate of humanity. The Five were *damned* hungry. After a few minutes of staring at the blood-splattered sign by the road ("Welcome to NEW HAVEN; A Slice of God's Own Country!"), Maple turned to the others. "Go get the cooler and the sandwiches," he said. "We can't do ANYTHING about this on an empty stomach, now can we?" .|.0.|. A naked Johnny Basquain scratched the back of his head sheepishly. The blisters that had coated his arms before were gone. Ned casually tossed a piece of cloth at Johnny; it landed right where it was supposed to. "You died again, didn't you?" Kramer scolded, wagging a finger. Sparks crackled around the tip. Kramer blinked. "How'd I do that?" "Um, Kramer?" Ned gestured at Johnny. "What? ...oh. Yeah. Johnny." He squinted at the man. "Just what happened this time?" "It started to rain, then I got struck by lightning. Blue-green lightning, if that means anything." "Blue-green? You're sure?" "Yep." "Just what ARE you, kid?" Legion asked. "He's--" But before Kramer could spill the beans he broke off, staring, and turned to face north. "Boss?" Johnny said, sounding nervous. "Boss, you okay?" "They're here..." Kramer said, loudly and clearly. "They have come to bring me back to myself." He looked over his shoulder at Johnny, who looked more frightened then he'd ever been on the streets of New Haven. "The Five will reunite..." Kramer intoned. Then he passed out. .|.0.|. "Back! Back I say!" Father Bruno waved his hand at the slow zombies. "Bruno, I don't think it's going to work." "Quiet, Father Edgewood! Have you no faith?" "Not in your wallet, I don't." Father Bruno blinked and looked down. In his hand was his black leather wallet. "Oops. Must've left my crucifix at home." He ignored the seething glares of the other two holy men as he groped around in his robes. "It's gotta be here *somewhere*..." Archbishop Luccini sighed and drew a great, two-foot long cross from within his robes and slapped the nearest zombie across the face with it. Its head spun off like a top and landed on the ground. The body followed. "Great shot, Archbishop!" "Yes, wonderful! Do it again!" Luccini panted. "...too...tired." He took out an inhaler and took a couple puffs. "You...do it." Bruno and Edgewood looked at the massive cross, now lying on the ground. "I can't lift that," they said at the same time. In the end they didn't have to, because... "REPENT!" someone screamed in a deep voice. "SINNERS! *REPENT*!" Bursts of gunfire echoed in the night as someone--no, *two* someones--dressed in black burst from the bushes and began to unload bullets into the zombie horde as if there was no tomorrow. Which, considering current events, was actually not too unlikely. "THOU ART THE SOLDIERS OF SATAN!" screamed the second black-clothed form, blasting heads into oblivion with a pair of Colt Magnums. "BURN IN HELL WHERE YOU CAME FROM!" More gunfire. Archbishop Luccini and Fathers Edgewood and Bruno scampered away from the clearing, hiding behind a very convenient and very big boulder nearby. "What's going on-" Bruno whispered. The others shushed him, as a third figure had come into view, this one walking slowly down the path to the clearing, holding a thick leather-bound book. It seemed to be a Bible and, according to the little white square on the man's collar, the man was a priest. This aside, he was wearing a long black trenchcoat, a black fedora, a black shirt and black pants. He was a bit pale, but not too much, and walked a bit heavier than he should have. "THOU SHALT NOT KILL..." he bellowed, as another zombie was decapitated- the REALLY messy way. "THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOR'S WIFE..." A pair of zombies went down this time. "THOU SHALT NOT USE THE LORD'S NAME IN VAIN..." Another dead zombie. "THOU SHALT NOT LIE..." He pulled a gun from his pocket in the blink of an eye and shot the zombie who was stumbling his way. He stepped onto the corpse without a care. "THOU SHALT NOT WORSHIP IDOLS..." Less than a minute later, there were no zombies left standing. The three men--the other two were also priests--approached the trio behind the rock. "Greetings," boomed the third man, the Bible-carrier. "Ah! Fellow men of the cloth!" He beamed. "I am Pastor Isaiah. This is Pastor Jebediah--" he pointed at the first man, who had long curly brown hair. "--and Pastor Jeremiah." The other man now, but his hair was hidden by his hat; all three wore the same black getup as Isaiah. "Glad to meet you!" Pastor Isaiah said cheerfully. "Oh great," muttered Bruno. "Gun-toting priests..." .|.0.|. Some minutes later, Charlie, Karen, Alicia and Michael Lime joined Casey, who'd refrained from going into the hospital with them. Charlie scratched behind the dog's ears and smiled. Then he wrinkled his nose and stepped back a bit; Casey smelled like what he was: a wet dog. Fortunately it had stopped raining almost as soon as Johnny Basquain had disappeared. "So, now what?" Karen said, looking disdainfully at their surroundings. Rubble and smoke are not the most appealing things in the world. Alicia, who had happened to look over her shoulder and see the point of a massive drill burst out of the ground, screamed and hid on the opposite side of Charlie. "What--" Charlie turned around, paled, and turned back. "Now we run," he said to Karen. And they ran into the night. .|.0.|. The drill-monster grinned in a way that would make the most hard-core suicide bomber shake his head and piss hisself. It tore up the street in front of the hospital as it extricated itself from the earth, unseen gears rumbling in the empty night. But halfway out it started to rain and, just as Johnny had, the drill- monster began to suffer: the goo that held it together sizzled and popped, orange circles forming wherever the rain struck it and sliding off in large, hard scabs, like neon dinner plates. They broke on impact like dinner plates, too. The drill-monster screamed and tried to scramble back underground, ripping up pavement in huge chunks as it tried to escape the burning, vengeful rain. Unfortunately, the rain decided right then it was a good time to go into downpour mode, and the drill-monster screeched as its entire upper half turned into a stiff orange statue, frozen in time. For a second it just stood there...then gravity and a tiny breeze sent it teetering, and the monster broke in half, falling, falling... It shattered into a million pieces against the hospital's parking lot. The lot itself suffered no damage. The lower, undamaged half of the monster slid safely underground. Hi-ho. .|.0.|. Fifteen minutes and a mile and a half later... "Can we stop now?" Michael Lime said, gasping. "I can barely breathe..." "I think we can rest, for now," said Charlie, who was holding one arm of a frantic Alicia, who was running in place. Karen held her other arm. "Alicia, I think you can stop, too." "Runrunrunrunrun--" *SLAP* "Why, thank you, Karen." Alicia rubbed her jaw. "I was just..." "Yeah, yeah..." "...um..." Michael Lime said. "What?" Charlie asked, looking back. "What's wrong--" He turned around all the way. "...eep." Approximately three dozen zombies were shuffling across the grass towards the foursome, groaning and moaning and drooling all over their shoes. They were hungry, they were undead, they were gonna gnaw on the bones of the living and feast upon their warm, stinking blood-- "Sir, sir! Please get back in bed!" said one female voice. "Ma'am, please get back inside! It's cold out!" Another female voice. "Mr. Underwool, you need your diaper changed!" Female voice number three. "Archie, you can't do that outside! Put that away!" Senorita numero quatro, senor. Before any of them could say "What--", four nurses in white uniforms appeared behind the horde of zombies. They each had pained looks on their faces. "Sir--" "Ma'am--" "Mister--" "Archie--" "OOOOOOOOOOOOAUH," said the horde of zombies. Charlie stared, confused, at this scene. Then he spied the building behind the horde; or, more pointedly, the sign over the door. "'Pastor Happy Funny Lovejoy Kittens' Nursing Home For The Sick And Diseased,'" Charlie read aloud. "Huh." Karen looked sick. "You mean...these are *old people* zombies?" Charlie gave her a 'now stop that' look. "Not 'old people', Karen. *Senior citizens*. Don't be rude." Karen stared at her brother, and silently wondered if she was adopted. "OOOOOOOOOOOOAUH-Urk!" said an elderly zombie as its hip broke, sending the reanimated corpse crashing to the ground. The zombie behind it tripped over the fallen body, separating foot from leg. It joined the first in a sickly pile. "Oh *no*, Mr. Johnson!" One of the nurses ran over to where the zombies had fallen. "Can you hear me, Mr. Johnson?" She began to cry. Karen and Alicia pulled her away from the corpses and tried to console her on the sidewalk. Another three zombies tried to get them, but they'd all been victims of osteoporosis in life and, thus, were more brittle than Pocky sticks. The other three nurses, finally realizing that their charges were no longer as they were, joined the others in the street. "What happened?" whispered Melissa, the first nurse and more than a bit good-looking. "What happened to New Haven?" "We're not really sure," Charlie said, trying not to sound embarrassed. "See, the whole city is full of monsters that came outta nowhere, and..." He stopped when Melissa fainted and slumped to the ground. "...I guess this isn't the right time to talk about that." Alicia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, maybe." "What do we do now?" asked Aria, nurse #2. "URK!" said another zombie, as it took a jarring step, making its head snap off. The head rolled underfoot of another zombie, who fell backwards and crumbled away into dust. "Well," Karen began. "We don't know." She watched as ten zombies fell to the ground, their legs twined together and snapping like twigs. "I never knew zombies could be so *useless*." The sound of scribbling suddenly filled the air. Karen winced and turned to the source. "Michael, what are you doing?" Michael, who was sitting on the ground and writing furiously in his notebook, spared not a glance at Karen. "I'm doing my job: I don't think anyone's ever had a chance to document elderly zombies before!" He continued scribbling. Karen fought the urge to kick the journalist, deciding instead to watch another zombie fall at the hands of Old Age. .|.0.|. Old Age, Disaster and Fortune's travel agent, smiled and handed Catastrophe her airplane ticket with a wink and a friendly grope. Catastrophe promptly bitch-slapped Old Age across the face. .|.0.|. Suddenly, the Pastor Happy Funny Lovejoy Kittens' Nursing Home For The Sick And Diseased disappeared in a cloud of dust and wood chips. The drill-monster was making a comeback. The lower half, being the one with the drill-tail, had activated its second brain and gone stir-crazy, carving huge caverns underneath New Haven before catching onto the scent of its fleeing prey. And there it was, standing on the remains of the Nursing Home, ripping zombies to shreds with its tail in a taunting manner. And lo, it began to rain. Again. Only on the monster. There was MUCH pain. The group of eight humans decided they'd overstayed, and ran like hell. .|.0.|. Stephan Carroll paused to give the rain clouds over the drill-monster an extra *push*, pouring more of the burning fire-rain onto the writhing creature. Satisfied that the creature was intense pain, he attempted to get back to work. ... ... He put down his scalpel and sighed. "There's just so little a person can do with a gremlin," he said. "There must be something here I can work with... something... something..." He turned and creeped over to the table where Sapphia lay. She was still unconscious. "Something..." He leered. "...to IMPROVE." .|.0.|. Father Edgewood glared sullenly at the backs of Jeremiah, Isaiah, and Jebediah, who were talking heartily to Luccini and Bruno. Edgewood didn't like gun-toting priests. They gave men of the cloth a bad name. "So," Isaiah said. "You're trapped here?" He laughed. "We share the same boat, fellows. We, too, wish to leave this wellspring of heathens and demons. We--" His hand flicked in and out of his trenchcoat. A zombie in the bushes moaned and died. "We can help you," he finished. Archbishop Luccini eyed Isaiah. "What have got under there, Pastor? And why are you so quick on the draw?" "Here, look." Isaiah stopped and opened his coat all the way. The Vatican Operations Group stared. Two dozen handguns, four shotguns and three different editions of the Bible stared right back. "...wow," Luccini said. "Isn't that heavy?" "The weight of the Lord's grace is like no weight at all," Isaiah said. He closed his coat. "Jebediah and Jeremiah here have a little less than me. Seniority, and all that." Luccini wondered what to say. He decided to smile and nod. "What are you three doing here?" Bruno asked. He ignored Edgewood's muffled grumbling. "How have you survived in this place of evil?" Isaiah grinned and pointed at a squarish shape in the distance. "We have taken refuge in that building over there. The walls around it are solid, the building itself is impenetrable. There's other people there, safe and sound." Edgewood, while still bitter, became interested. "A haven? Is there water? Food? TV?" Luccini and Bruno gave him strange looks, which he ignored. Isaiah laughed; it was something he did often. "Everything but the TV, Father. We have looked, but found naught but rooms of weapons and riot equipment." He shrugged. "Will you come with us?" Luccini, Edgewood and Bruno shared a look, then nodded. "Then we shall go." .|.0.|. "Hey, who are they?" Charlie looked where Alicia was pointing: down the street, six shadowy figures were strolling down the street. "I don't know, but they don't look like zombies--oops." He caught Melissa before she could hit the ground again. Karen gave him a Look. "Hey! HEY!" Michael yelled, waving his arms in the air. The people stopped for a moment, then kept going. Six priests came into view. "Hello!" Charlie said cheerfully, smiling and waving. "Who are you?" "I am Pastor Isaiah," said one of the black-clothed men. "And you?" "Charlie. We're trying to get out of here. Can you help us?" "Maybe. We, too, desire escape. For now, though, it would be best to get somewhere safe." Isaiah pointed out a building on the top of a hill. "It is safe there. Let's go." And he did just that. Charlie stared, puzzled, at the building. "The new high-security prison? Wasn't that going to open next week? Hey Karen, wha--" He blinked and looked around. Everyone was already walking away. "Hey, wait up!" .|.0.|. Outside New Haven... Maple wiped his mouth clean, sipped his drink and sighed. "That was wonderful, Alice. I didn't think you could do that." Alice smiled. "Anything for you, Maple." Stroika snorted. "Stop. You're making me sick." Alice glared at Stroika, and opened her mouth to say something. Maple's hand on her shoulder stopped her. "No fighting," the Canadian mage said. "That is not why we are here." "Are we going now?" Drachmov said. "Yes." Maple stood up and straightened his clothes as best he could. "Kramer is waiting." .|.0.|. Inside the New Haven Maximum-Security Prison... "Wow," Charlie said. "Wow," Karen said. "...woof!" said Casey. They stood on a balcony overlooking a huge cafeteria. Tables stretched from wall to wall. A little more than a four hundred people sat at those tables, doing almost as many different things: some were eating, some were feeding others, some were tending the wounded. Charlie watched a family of four set up a shrine whose centerpiece was a baby's shoe and felt his heart ache. There was a man with no arms, a child with no parents, and a brother with no sister. Charlie glanced at Karen, and caught her doing the same thing. Their shoulders slumped. "These are the survivors," Isaiah whispered. "We combed the whole city for them. This is it. There are no more." He sighed. "We did what we could." "My God..." Alicia murmured. "This is it?" Michael Lime just stood and stared. "...this whole escape thing..." Charlie said slowly; his eyes were closed tight. "Yes?" said Isaiah. "...is going to *very* difficult, but we're going to do it. "We're going to get out of here." Hi-ho. .|.0.|. Back in the hospital, Carroll was laying various occult items onto a cart. Sapphia lay on the operating table beside him. Grinning like the madman he was, Carroll placed a polished red crystal on her forehead and mumbled something from ancient times. Smoke began to rise from Sapphia's body, spiraling in the air above her prone body. And Carroll laughed. Author's Notes: A toughie, I tell ya. A toughie. Even with the help of Michael Younger (who has yet to give me a moniker), this was a bit difficult to pull off. I seemed to have pushed all the characters into something new, something different. Unpredictable. ...I feel GOOD. As far as credit goes, Michael is responsible for: the gun-toting priests the elderly zombies the super-powered entity stuck in a zombie's body the prison I just took it, gave it wheels and flashing lights, and let it loose. Hope it didn't do too much damage. ^_^ Thanks go to Mike Younger for ideas, all New Haven authors for participating, myself for no reason at all, and Jonatha Brooke for musical immersion. Also: to black dub for pre-reading, praise and advice. Danke, dub, danke. CRUCIAL NOTE: Please don't make the gun-toting priests backstabbers or evil or anything, please? I kinda like them the way they are. Zeroin, the scourge of all pop stars.