Red Revolvers Vol.1
Club Static
Prologue
Come Find Me.
1.
The ominous rhythm of hollow knocking echoes faintly throughout the narrowing hallway of a medical facility like war drums filling dead space. Concrete walls, grimy and shaded with watermarks, tell the story of days long past, and the smell of burnt flesh is pungent. Every stumbling stride Raz took met the cold wet floor in contempt and defiance of gravity's limitations, punishing the black and white checkered ground beneath his boots. Soiled fluorescent lights hissed and cracked as they flickered on and off above him as if taunting then fading to darkness. The doors behind him begin to swing open violently spewing flames like dragon's breath and the clones ablaze, tortured behind these doors, dancing in agony, accompany the knocking with their last serenades. There she is. I see her.
"FASTER DAMN IT!"
Across the corridor opposite the chaos sits a woman, knees clutched to her chest and her head resting on them awaiting what is to come. Her raven hair long and matted lay on her shoulders and shrouded her face. Her porcelain skin, draped in the dying glow of the single fluorescent light above her, illuminated the tears streaming down her wrist and set the stage for the final act. The space around her is motionless, silent, dead. Only the dust twirled throughout the faint glow. Despite the madness transpiring mere yards in front of her she never looks up, only clutching and griping her torn and tattered black pants till the blood drains from her fingertips.
Like clockwork the void behind her begins to distort and protrude, the figure of a man clawing and gnawing violently at the veil of this reality. For an evanescent moment, the ferocity stops, then a single talon of the right index finger begins to thrust forward. Gradually the void molds into the shape of a hand then an arm. The hand slowly opens and descends to rest on the woman's right shoulder, palm first, then dropping each talon one by one with malicious intent. With one ferocious squeeze the talons pierced through her skin, curved around her collar bone, and slashed out the other side. Blood oozed sluggishly down her white blouse. She did not scream, no brazen effort to fight, only whimpers of acceptance as she cowered. In that instance, as the arm of death raised its trophy up toward the heavens, the shroud that encased the figure tore away instantaneously reviling something that was not human. A shadow, a phantom, a demon. The shadow, though it presented the shape of a man, look as if it was a burning black flame, flickering, and radiating heat. Its wings, skeletal and sickly, were fixed toward the ceiling, its mouth ajar and slightly unhinged as it released a manic laughter from the recesses within.
Raz could feel the sting of the flames nipping at the hair on the back of his neck, Singeing the fur around the collar of his beat-up leather bomber jacket. The tiny hands of the children, the clones, began reaching and snatching at his jeans trying to pull him back. Trying to bring him home. Raz clinched his fist and pressed his index fingers once into his palms. The bandaging around his fists dissolves away uncovering them. Carved into his hands are hieroglyphs emitting a crimson aura. The unfathomable scarring from these hieroglyphs told a story of pain, a tale of torture. The crimson floods the symbols engraved into his hands and engulfs his fists dancing like smoke filling empty space. Enhanced strength and fluidity, the ability to use the aura as a shield or cast it as a projectile. This is his power, though given to him through revolting acts and meant for wicked intent, he would use it to save her, but this ability comes at a price. When the ability has reached its threshold, it begins to seek resources from within its user, darkening and coagulating to the skin, overwhelming the body, and possessing its handler. Once the mind is captured, the ghost is released from its shell and all that is left is a berserker, a demon intent on devouring worlds.
One, two, then three leaping strides Raz increases his distance between himself and the raging inferno behind him. He braces his body for the final leap, a leap into battle. This time he is prepared. Since childhood he has fought this battle and since its inception he has lost. With every ounce of strength, his final leap meets the ground like a feather, the aura transferring from his fist to the foot instantly. The ruthlessness of the push from the ground craters the checkered floor turning it to a kaleidoscope of black and white as his body is hurled through the air and down the hallway wildly as if spit out by a cannon. Twisting and contorting, Raz stabilizes himself and draws his fist back like an archer ready to execute his target.
The Phantom raises its hand and the two collide in a concussive burst of energy, the immense force rattles the walls. Raz watches as his arm begins to vibrate erratically, the sleeve of his jacket begins to peel and tear away at the seams and then evaporate into thin air. Sharp stinging needlelike pain shoots from the wrist to his shoulder followed by the crunching and snapping of bones. Rage spews from his screams and the aura ignites, engulfing, collapsing, then molding to his arm, encasing it in death and doom, restoring and enhancing, yet corroding. The woman watches, stunned by this event. Hope begins to swell from deep within as a tidal wave of emotions overcomes her and cascades over her face. A moment of weakness, though ever so slight, she saw the phantom's arm recoil from the resurgence of energy. The woman begins to squirm, kick, claw and the dark one tosses her to the ground. She drops like a stone and her body slides across the hallway, then ricochets off the wall. With the arm free of its burden the phantom lunges it toward Raz.
"Look out!"
Raz uses the Aura to thrust his body back from the collision, rolling his shoulders off the outstretched arm of the phantom landing on his feet skidding back to where the woman lies on the floor. The Phantom roars in displeasure as Raz charges back in to attack again.
"YOU CAN'T WIN!"
In a single thrust, the wings propel him toward Raz. Raz Lifts his fist in an X shape across his face and engulfs himself in a protective barrier. It's no use. The Phantoms talons pierce through the shield and wrap around his head puncturing into the back of his neck. Together now, they race towards the inferno and the manic laughter begins again as the sound of war drums crescendo.
"YOU ARE DAMNED!"
Through the spread of the fingers on his face he can see the woman standing in the distance, slumped against the wall, and holding her wounded shoulder mouthing the words, Come find me.
The inferno consumes them.