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Emancipate Me
Topic Started: Jan 18 2008, 02:18 AM (267 Views)
*Inkheart
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IN PROGRESS

Emancipate Me, Part 1

0: Prelude

She walked into the crowded room, her black trench coat flowing behind her like water. Her dark hair was wet, and draped in front of her eyes in a sort of haphazard manner. Her steel-toed motorcycle boots clacked as she walked across the floor, and her breaths were that of someone who knew they were about to die. Slowly, she reached her hand into the dark folds of her coat.
She felt her hands grip the handle; she felt her hands pull out the weapon; and she felt the power as she brought the machete down on the young man’s back, and she slowly realized why there were so many murders in the world. Killing felt good, and she only wanted more. She savagely ripped the blade out of the man’s back and went for her next victim. She drove the blade into the throat of a girl, and quickly went after the boy she had been dancing with. ‘God, it’s pitiful how slow they are,’ the girl thought with a grin on her face. ‘I’ve been slaughtering them, picking them off like ants for five minutes now, and no one has started screaming.’ Then, rather than the good humor she had been experiencing, a wave of disgust swept over her, not in light of what she was doing, but for the people around her. ‘How do you like it?’ she asked. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m rather enjoying myself. Did you enjoy what you did to me, huh? Was it worth it? Was it as nice as this? I hope so, you’ll be able to remember the good times you had torturing me when you are underfoot of the Dead-One in Amanti.’ A rage was now filling her, but it was burning only out of pain and suffering, something that had built up inside her for her a longer time than most would imagine. Nothing could stop her. After all, how can you stop someone who has nothing to lose, not even their own life?

1: Unprofessional Relations

Special agent Garrison looked up at the corner of his cubicle, and started to imagine all of the things he could be doing other than writing a report on two kids who were caught smoking weed. It wasn’t even his job to do this. He was a homicide agent, and would have rather been patrolling the boring streets that surrounded their precinct. However, almost all of the staff had been relieved of their duties after the money-laundering scheme was busted. He was one of the few who weren’t laid off. Why should they lay him off? He had been the one who told the chief about the operation. Fortunately, the chief hadn’t been stupid enough to tell everyone about it. In fact he had really kept it quite quiet. Which was a good thing, as Garrison already had to many enemies as it was.
“Jonathan! Watcha doin’ you ol’ dog? You wouldn’t believe the way they
‘ere treatin’ me down a’ the supermarket the other day. Treatin’ me like I was some sorta ol’ grampa. An’ I tole ‘em, let me tell you, I tole ‘em, waz your problem? I said, ‘waz your ‘ssue wit me? I’z just mindin’ my own biznuess an’you come up ‘n start h’rassin’ me ‘n stuff. You know what I’m sayin’!? You know what I’m tellin’ you, man?! It’s jus’ like they like harassin’ me…”

‘Oh dear.’ Garrison thought to himself. ‘He’s drunk again.’

“Yeah man, I hear you. Let’s get you back home.” Garrison said calmly.

“Nah, I got a ride, ‘s jus outside ‘n…yeah…”

“Okay” Garrison replied apprehensively.

“’s jus righ’ there…see it’?”

Garrison looked down to where he was pointing. From the window, he could see a rather battered taxicab.

“Alright. Do you have any money?” Garrison asked.

“Yeah…Got like fifty in one o’ my pockets.” He began rummaging through his dirty coat, and eventually found a wrinkled fifty-dollar bill.

“Y’see?” he asked rather stupidly.

“Yeah, man,” he replied “Take it easy. Go get some sleep, man.”

“Okay…Seeya later, man”

He wondered down the hallway, attempted to grab the door handle twice, succeeded the third time, and left.

“See you, bro,” Garrison said as he watched his brother get into the cab.

Three hours later, the Chief of the Department, Harold Meyers, walked into Garrison’s cubicle.

“Well, you can finally stop writing that marijuana bust report. You need to debrief the homicide team.” He said, to Garrison’s relief.

“Really? Great, I’ll get right on it, sir. Where’s the report?”

“There you go,” said Meyers, handing Garrison a file. “Make sure you prepare yourself. There are some rather grisly photographs in there.”

“Jesus Christ. What happened?”

“We’re not sure.”

“Jesus” repeated Garrison. He pitied the homicide team.

2: Gate 5

He walked into the oddly shaped room with a feeling of extreme excitement and apprehension. From the time agent Garrison debriefed him and his team; he new that solving this case meant a set reputation in the precinct. So far, however, none of his leads had been successful. All he knew was that he was looking for a female with black hair and a taste for killing. ‘Well,’ he thought to himself ‘that narrows it down, doesn’t it?’ His morale was slowly ebbing away, however, and he was starting to feel the pressure of this case. His dedication to the investigation was hanging on this lead, which was flimsy at that.

The hexagonal room was covered in spray paint murals and strange messages written in sharpies. At the opposite end of the room, he found another door, camouflaged by a cacophony of graffiti. He walked in, and was presented with a long hallway. There were only two doors in the hallway, one of them on the left wall, and the other at the end. The room at the end was obviously under some sort of remodeling, so he went to the room on the left. In it, he found what was probably the most sanitary and organized room in the entire complex. It was comprised of whitewashed walls, a plain black dresser, a white bed, and an equally white door that seemed to lead to a bathroom. He decided to start with the dresser. Rummaging through it, he found nothing much but a few papers, t-shirts, and some jeans. When he reached the top shelf, he found panties and bras, and became not sexually excited, but excited because of the fact that it was obviously a woman’s room. Looking further down through the undergarments, he found what seemed to be a student ID. He nearly put it down after looking at the name, but a certain combination of letters caught his eye.

Garrison was sitting in his cubicle, imagining alternative activities, a favorite pastime of his. When the head of the team investigating the ‘Bloody Prom’ case, as most called it, burst into his office, he jumped slightly with a little cry of surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is now not a good time?” asked the homicide agent occupying the space before Garrison’s desk.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not exactly busy right now, as you can see” said Garrison, motioning at his desk.

“No sir, I, um, have some progress on Bloody Prom.”

Garrison’s right eyebrow rose slightly, “Really?”

“Yeah, a week ago, Janey got an anonymous tip saying that their next door neighbor up and left their apartment on Barris street with only one suitcase and a trench coat, at 9:10 pm, and never came back. It would take about twenty minutes to get to the crime scene from Barris street. And the murders occurred at—“

“9:30” said Garrison, his eyebrow raised further. He toyed with a slinky he kept on his desk as he talked, not really looking at it as he contemplated this information.

“I don’t know, Daniels,” he said, still toying with the slinky, “that’s pushing it a bit far. You’ll definitely have to have more evidence than that to get it passed in court.”

“I was just getting to that, sir,” Daniels replied, his facing shining with excitement. “Look what I found in the apartment.” He pulled an evidence bag out of the pocket of his coat and handed it to Garrison.

“What about it?” Garrison asked, looking up at Daniels after examining the ID

“Look at the initials in the corner.”

“Oh man,” said Garrison. “This is the kind of evidence I was talking about.”

“ISU. Iowa State University,” said Daniels excitedly. “The scene of the crime.”

“I want you to find out as much as you can about this A. White as soon as possible.” Said Garrison, transfixed by the student ID. “I think we’ve hit something big here.”

“Yes sir!” said Daniels, rushing out of the cubicle.

Garrison gazed at the student ID. “Who are you, White?”

Jonathan was sitting next to Mommy, who was snoozing in an airport terminal seat, nearly asleep himself. It would be his fifth birthday tomorrow, and he and Mommy were going to visit Daddy in Los Angeles. Leaning against sleeping Mommy’s puffy coat and sucking on his thumb, his eyes jumped immediately to the dark intrusion among the colors of everyone’s clothes. It was a girl who was a lot older than he was, like Melissa the babysitter, who watched him every Sunday. She wasn’t like Melissa though, the girl. Melissa had brown long hair, and this girl had short black hair. Melissa always wore colorful clothes, and this girl had on black clothes. The girl eventually reached the area where Jonathan and Mommy were sitting, and sat next to Mommy. Jonathan looked up at her shyly. She looked down at him, which frightened Jonathan. She then smiled warmly and waved at him, which seemed contrary to the impression she gave to Jonathan. He waved back at her, shyer than ever.

“What’s your name?” she asked him in a hushed voice, so as not to wake Mommy

“My name’s Jonathan,” he said, looking down as shyness overwhelmed him

“Well, hello Jonathan, I’m Alice,” she said in a kind voice

“Flight 182, San Francisco, now boarding,” the intercom informed the patrons of the terminal.

“Well, I have to go now, Jonathan,” said Alice. If Jonathan had been more socially mature, he might have noted a sad tone in her voice. “I might see you again soon.”

As she walked away, she heard a faint “Bye-bye Alice.” That one phrase nearly overwhelmed her with sadness and a feeling of loss.

As she made her way towards Gate 5, she was suddenly scared. Nothing in her life was structured and absolute anymore. Nothing was organized. The feelings of fright and exhilaration were threatening to overwhelm her. She mentally shook herself however, and realized that she had been standing in the same spot for a minute hyperventilating. Regaining control of herself, she walked through the gate, and realized that it wasn’t that nothing was set, nothing was sure, but that she was in control of her life now. ‘Everything will turn out like a fairy-tale’ as her mother told her once. Alice was sure that everything would, in the end.

She smiled a little as she walked down the aisle of the plane and took her seat, and she slept throughout the entire flight.
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** Death's servant
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Wow........keep writing
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XKilluhKi$$X
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u need to continue with this story
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** Death's servant
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that about sums it up.
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