2000AD Related Stories or Scripts

[locustsofdeath!]

This was actually Kerrin's idea, but I thought I'd post it. Several writers came up with stories too long for the latest short story comp, but still want others to read them or comment on them. This is the place to post those wordy outcasts or any other works related to 2000 AD.

[locustsofdeath!]

So anyway, here's my long-winded beast. It bears a superficial resemblence to the story that actually qualified for this month's comp in that it deals with a little Lovecraft (and a tentacle or eight).

The Stars Were Bright Over Siberia (1000 words)

The night sky was clear, and the stars in their millions shone brightly down on a countryside stripped bare by  biting wind and sheeted with ice. This was Siberia, a frozen hell on the outskirts of East-Meg One; this was where people lived only to die.

And tonight, someone was going to die.

Judge General Pukov stood in silent contemplation, as grim as his surroundings; these were the elements that sculpted him as a child. Pukov understood this land and the savagery required to survive in it – he had been born in a village not far from this very place – so when he learned where the latest so-called revolution had taken root, he volunteered to deal with the insurgents in the manner only a true son of Siberia could.

With a cruel eye, he watched his Death’s Head Judges in their black greatcoats move like shadows in the dark, marching a group of gypsies to the shore of the ice-bound lake that dominated the landscape. There were nineteen of them, including women and children, all dressed in patchwork multi-colored rags.

Behind the procession three Soviet h-wagons were parked in a circle, and in their center a bonfire still burned. His men had discovered the gypsies dancing wildly around the fire in an obscene – and illegal – ritual. These vermin, Pukov decided, would serve as examples of what happens to lawbreakers, rebels or not, now that he governed Siberia.

The gypsies were lined up and forced to kneel.

A Judge approached Pukov.

‘We searched the wagons,’ the Judge said. ‘There were ritualistic materials – bones, candles, incense – but no weapons and no discernable propaganda, although we discovered several old books written in unidentified languages which could be code. Cosmov insists he can have them decrypted by morning.’

Disinterested, Pukov shook his head.

‘We also found this,’ the Judge held out a small statuette, offering it to his superior.

Taking the figure, Pukov looked it over; crafted from greenish stone, it depicted a repulsively squat octopoidal creature with a bulbous head and tentacled appendages. ‘Toss the books in the bonfires,’ he said, handing it back, ‘and as for this…thing…see to it that it’s destroyed.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Turning his attention to the gypsies, Pukov motioned to the shriveled old man he presumed to be the group’s leader. ‘You there, come forward and explain to me what you’re doing in a private sector without proper authorization.’

‘Every thousand years when the stars are right, the Great Ones awaken. This night we have called to Tlogeth, he-who-dwelleth-in-the-lake, spawn of Cthulhu. Our people have sent us to give him praise and sacrifice our lives to him so that he might favor our tribe to prosper during the winter-season.’

Pukov frowned, perturbed by the lack of fear displayed by the gypsy. His eyes went to the sky, taking in the unnaturally glowing stars and strange constellations. ‘And were you successful in your summoning?’

But the man said no more.

‘The only ‘Great One’ recognized by East-Meg One, is Supreme Judge Josef Bulgarin. The sentence for organizing and practicing unsanctioned religions is death, to which you are hereby sentenced.’ Removing his pistol from its holster, he aimed and fired. The old man fell backward onto the lake, a ruined heap. Blood ran red against the ice.

‘Kalo!’ a gypsy woman cried.

A slight smile crept onto Pukov’s lips, but he licked it away like a snake tasting the air when he saw that the execution didn’t have the desired effect. There were no tears in the woman’s eyes, only an odd look of disappointment. The gypsies weren’t begging for mercy, weren’t pleading for him to spare their children; as one they stood, raising their arms aloft to the sky as though to pluck the shimmering stars from its midst.

And they began to chant.

‘Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Tlogeth y’ha-glynwen wgah’nagl fhtagn! I‰!’ their voices were bestial whispers as human throats contorted to speak inhuman words. They chanted, and the night seemed to close in around the Soviets; they chanted, and the crushing weight of something immense and otherworldly drew near. They chanted, and Pukov knew by some primal instinct that he must silence them before the recitation was complete.

‘Kill them,’ he ordered, ‘even the women and children.’

Suddenly, an enormous shadow appeared from the depths of the lake, spreading out beneath the ice like spilled ink until the entire surface was blacked out; and that terrible bulk pressed against the ice – the fragile barrier between it and the outer world – which groaned against the pressure as jagged fissures split its face.

The lake shattered, and a gigantic flabby head rose out of the water, searching the shoreline with malevolent yellow eyes. When its gaze fell full upon the Judges, it curled back its pulpy lips to let out a long screeching wail, and a hot stinking wind – the creature’s breath – swept over them. A writhing mass of tentacles spewed onto the shore like foetid waves, slopping and slithering and groping along the rocks.

‘Tlogeth, spawn of Cthulhu, accept our sacrifice!’ the gypsies rejoiced.

The Judges opened fire, their bullets ineffectual against the sheer bulk of the monstrosity. One by one, they were snatched from where they stood and whipped through the air before the creature shoveled them down its slimy gullet. Pukov’s face twisted in rage – any rebellion, he would crush any rebellion regardless of entities involved – in the name of the High Command.

He raised his pistol –

A tentacle coiled around his waist, yanking him off his feet, and he hit the ground, tumbling down the embankment to the edge of the lake. The next thing he knew, he was being dragged across the ice towards a gaping maw.

He screamed and screamed.

The cries of Judge General Pukov and his Death’s Head Judges lasted no longer than a few seconds. The gypsies carried the body of their fallen comrade away from the lake as the thing called Tlogeth sunk back to its watery domain, pleased with the sacrifice.

The End

[Kerrin]

Nice work Locust. Lovecraft is a popular chap in these parts.

What I actually meant was to start a post in the "Off Topic" section of the board, but don't worry about that. If Wake reckons that's where it should be I'm sure he'll move it, but it fits into "General" just as well I reckon.

[Van Dom]

If nobody objects Ill repost my first attempt at the short story comp here, since it doesnt belong in that thread anyway. Also if we are going to start posting up our wonderful literary works it will be nice to have them all in the one place!

The Last Decepticon (1100 words)

Optimus Prime had fought hard but in the end it was futile.

Don't get me wrong, the big lunk did good, he fought on long after the other Autobots cashed in their chips, even managed to take out the remaining Decepticons, all but one. That hunk a' junk proved just too tough though, even for Prime, and in the end Megatron was the last Transformer standing.

I'm all that's left of the task force now, me, the Autobots so-called 'human liaison', and here I am, racing through the devastation of Highway I-5 on a dying motorbike, dodging and weaving through the rubble as five tonne of shape-shifting metal bears down on me, raining fists to the ground as it tries to squoosh me into oblivion..

Megatron.

Last of the Decepticons.

Meanest of them all.

And somehow I'm supposed to stop him.

Well I better come up with some ideas soon, cos I'm running out of road and that towering heap is running out of patience. I'm right in the shadow of his fist and if I don't time this next swerve just right it's gonna be goodnight Gr...

*

I guess I didn't time that last swerve just right.

Head's groggy, whole body numb, ears are ringing and I can't get my bearings. Musta caught me with that last blow. Bike's gone and I'm flat on my back. Guess that's it then. What a way to...

“Thees ees no time for takeeng the forty weenks, senor! The Megatron, he come, he crush you beneath his beeg stompy feet. Ay yi yi senor, ees time to move yor behind, andale, andale!”

My eyes jerked open and I saw the Decepticon towering above me, black smoke billowing from his gaping maw, red eyes glaring like flaming comets.

“Holy Joe Smith,” I heard myself mutter. “Still alive...who'd a thunk...”

And your old pal was gonna stay that way.

The towering mass of twisted, glaring metal bellowed, raising one arm and closing the five-foot long digits at its end into a gigantic wrecking ball fist.

I turned my head to the side and my eyes fell on my thrashed bike a few yards away--between me and it was the haversack I'd been carrying, ripped open at the seams, its contents scattered across the asphalt. It was mostly lunch and my robo-stogie, but Hoagy was there too, what was left of him, his broken body lying in a heap, oil leaking from a puncture in his fuel tank and forming a small pool alongside him.

A ready-made plan went 'ding' in the microwave of my brain and I somehow pushed myself to my feet and lurched towards the wreckage, snatching Stogie from where he lay as I moved, trying to ignore the pain of a broken ankle.

I reached the heap of metal that was my idiot assistant's twisted body and crumpled to my knees beside it, grimacing at the amount of petrol he'd already lost. He was emptying fast.

“Sorry about this Hoagy, but a Robohunter's gotta do what a Robohunter's gotta do,” I said, jamming Stogie between my teeth and hauling Hoagy up by his dented head. He was heavier then he had any right to be, since he was all mostly head and that was mostly air.

“That's right Sam, yup,” Hoagy replied, grinning inanely and rolling his eyes. “Uhh, what is it exactly a Robohunter does again, Sam, huh?”

Megatron's fist was coming down fast. It was now or never.

“Kills…snutting…robots!” I grunted, mustering the last of my strength to twist my whole body and fling Hoagy like a frisbee towards the metal monstrosity.

“Die fleshthing!” Megatron roared, as Hoagy soared toward him, his head spinning like a saucer, his broken body dangling beneath, arms and legs flailing.

“The name's Slade, pal, Sam Slade”, I growled back, plucking Stogie from between my teeth and lifting him into the trail of oil and petrol vapours the “woah-woah-woah”ing Hoagy was leaving in his wake.

“That's S-L-A-Y-E-D to you!”

Megatron's clenched fist was mere inches from spreading me across the pavement like so much butter, the guttural roar from his metal maw making my bones quiver as he leaned over me.

Stogie said: “Aye caramba, Senor, I hope you no' do what I theenk you do...” just as I dropped my thumb to his ignition switch and activated the flame at his tip.

A single spark was all it took and the vapours in the air ignited, an arrow of fire blazing into existence and chasing the spinning Hoagy upwards. Hoagy's flight came to an abrupt stop as his head crashed into Megatron's energon core and stuck fast. I fell on my back and watched the string of fire race the last few yards to where his body was still whipping around beneath his head, splashing the last of his fuel reserves all over the Decepticon's glowing blue energy source.

“N-n-n-nice shot Sam, yup!” I heard Hoagy stammer, and then, just seconds before the Decepticon's fist painted me all over the concrete, the flames made contact and...

An exploding Hoagy wouldn't have done all that much on it's own...an exploding energon core on the other hand...that was just the ticket.

The explosion burst my ear drums and the shockwave from the blast picked me off the asphalt and sent me hurtling backwards. I slid into the space between two overturned heavy goods vehicles, conveniently providing me with cover from the metal debris and hunks of flaming Transformer that were suddenly raining from the sky.

It was a long time before the shaking stopped.

“And when you get slayed, you stay slayed,” I muttered half-heartedly, crawling out from under the trucks. I stuck the still active robo-stogie back between my teeth and took a drag, wishing for the first time in a long time that I had the real thing instead of this simulated nico-crap.

“Ay-yi-yi senor. You destroy the beeg bad psycho-bot, truly you are the worl's greates' robo-honter. But why for you have to use Hoagy as the weapon? He never do notheeng to deserve thees terrible fate.”

“He never do nuthin' not to deserve it, Stogie, and it was rather him than me.”

I took another puff of fake tar from the weeping robo-stogie then struggled to my feet and started to wend my way through the flames and burning debris that littered the deserted highway.

“Another case, another planet half-destroyed by crazy homicidal robots and nobody left alive to pay my bill. Oh well, at least I'm consistent.

“Now where'd that Megan Fox chick get to?

“I got an opening for airhead assistant and something tells me she'd fit the bill just fine...”

fin.

[Mike Gloady]

Van Dom,

BRILLIANT.  I like this long version better.  Nice work.

[Van Dom]

Cheers Mike!

Just for the heck of it, now the short story comp is over, I may as well put up the original full-length Halo Jones one, cos I wasnt at all happy with the edited version I had to submit. I'm going to have to practice on compressing my ideas for any future competitions - but at least here I have free reign!

So where are all the rest of our talented scribes! Judging by what I read in the comp, there are a lot of talented writers out there...looking forward to reading some of your stuff! And putting together some more of my own!



Halo Bones

Running, running, running, through a rabbit-warren maze of identical metal corridors and not a single door would yield to grant her access. Screaming, screaming, screaming for help, but there was nobody around to hear her, everybody was at the party, Lux Roth Chop's stupid end-of-tour party, whooping it up and having the time of their lives while she was being chased by a slavering monster.

Behind her the scraping, scratching footfalls of its pounding feet filled her ears, echoing off the metal walls and reverberating through the passageways. It was getting closer and there was nowhere for her to go, nowhere to hide. She was running out of breath, starting to cramp, if she didn't find an open door soon she'd...

BZZ! went the door she'd just tried the switch of, then WHISH! as the grey slab of metal drew back into the wall. Inside was dark and cold and full of pipes, a maintenance chamber of some description. It didn't matter. It was somewhere and she lurched through the opening and sealed the door behind her, ran to the centre of the dimly-lit room and dropped down to huddle behind some oil drums.

Please, please, please, she thought, directing her thoughts at the door, panting desperately. Don't open, don't open, don't...

BZZ!

WHISH!

Light streamed in and she winced at the shape of the huge canine that was standing in the doorway.

No! she thought, though she wasn't completely surprised. It was a dog after all, and if there was one thing dog's could do, it was follow a scent.

It didn't hesitate, came at her barking, huge jaws snapping, teeth cracking together viciously.

Halo screamed and pushed herself away from the oil drums, her eyes desperately probing the dark for...something...anything...that might help her. But it was too late.

The dog careened into her, knocked her off her feet, sent her flying. Face first she landed, the thing astride her. She screamed as it barked in her ear, its hot breath on her neck as it craned its jaws forward and prepared to sink its teeth into her neck.

“leave her alone...” she thought she heard somebody whisper..

“get off her please and leave her alone.”

Suddenly Halo was aware of another presence in the room, somebody else was there, standing a few feet away, a...girl?...inching closer, a metal bar clutched tightly in both hands.

The dog stopped barking.

Who is that? Halo wondered, thanking the stars that somebody had come to her aid. Though how much use this frail, nervous-looking...boy?...could be, she had no idea.

“please...nice doggy...leave halo alone, she's a good person, she was always very nice to me, she doesn't have much worth taking but she's my friend and I...”

The waif like creature took another step and then...

“NOW!”

Halo jumped at the sudden new voice, and gasped as a net was dropped from above over her would-be assistant. The stick-thin girl-boy shrieked in horror as she/he was trapped beneath the heavy ropes and forced to the ground.

The dog hopped off Halo's back and she spun and dragged herself into a sitting position. A light blinked on and suddenly the chamber was full of people.

“Terribly sorry we had to scare you like that, Miss Jones,” said a red-head, smiling female.

“Unfortunately, it was the only way to lure the Glyph out into the open,” added a similarly smiling, handsome male.

“The Glyph is a notorious burglar, wanted for larceny on a number of worlds,” a second female--who seemed to be more jumper than girl--announced, this one more serious-looking and intense than her companions. “An enigmatic, asexual being who uses his complete lack of personality to come and go as she pleases and steal whatever priceless treasures he likes.”

Halo didn't understand any of this. “What..?”

“And he would have gotten away with it too,” said another new voice, as Halo turned her head to see a lanky, unkempt hobo in a dirty green t-shirt bend down to slip a biscuit into the mouth of the now amiable and dopey-looking hound. “If it wasn't for us meddling kids!”

The huge Great Dane almost took the skinny guys hand off as it swallowed the biscuit whole, then hopped up and pounced on Halo again, knocking her to her back as it howled “Rooby Rooby Rooooooooooooo!” and proceeded to slobber all over her face!

[locustsofdeath!]

Yes, I can see why you were upset to cut so much of your work. I'm glad I got to read it here, though. Good work, and I'm with you on continuing the comp!

[locustsofdeath!]

Wrote this 'un for the 'Total War' short story comp, but it blew up to 1,000 words with no hope of being cut down to 500. Anyway, I thought I'd post it here for the one or two of you (if that) that might want to read it!

Mad Company

The planet no longer had a face. The war machines had raked the earth like splintered fingernails scraping away rotten flesh. Pain and death, dead and dying – nothing else remained, as if nothing else had ever been.

Two men lay in the mud.

One of them stirred, drawn back to consciousness by voices floating on the cold morning breeze – human voices – voices of salvation.

‘Got a fix?’

‘Over there, in the ditch.’

‘Alive?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘Medic team, go.’

Opening his eyes, he watched as a patrol materialized from the mists, moving toward him in slow-motion. Then he was surrounded, and everything sped up so that a flurry of activity went on around him. He felt a tug, a prick, a burning sensation.

The adrenaline shot kicked in immediately.

He sat up, looked around.

Thirteen soldiers stood before him, wearing masks of scars and empty expressions. Battle-hardened and battle-weary, only half-alive and halfway in the grave.

‘Name and rank,’ a sergeant demanded.

‘Private Random, Erebus Company. Me and Flynn – ’ he motioned to the man laying beside him ‘ – are what’s left, anyway. Want a report?’

‘Sure lad,’ the sergeant shrugged, ‘if you’re feeling up to it.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, sure I’m feeling up to it. Krool ambush, two days ago on Golgotha Hill. Routine patrol, nothing special. Fight up the Hill, fight down the Hill. Kill as many Krool as possible. Most of us made it to the top alive, but it was hard going and we were in no shape to go back without a break. So we set up camp.

‘Flynn drew first watch. The rest of us dug in for the night.

‘The Krool came at us from out of nowhere, with claws and teeth and guns. Most of the boys were slaughtered before they woke up. A few of us rallied, and showed those motherfunters what Erebus Company is all about. In the end everyone was dead – the boys, the Krool – everyone, except me – and Flynn.

‘Flynn…

‘I found him, a little ways down the Hill. His legs were blown off at the knees. The Krool got him from behind. He got scared, he told me, and ran. Ran, when all he had to do was shout and the boys might have survived. All he had to do was shout.

‘Maybe I should have left him there. That’s what I wanted to do, but he started crying and I felt sorry for him. That, and he’s Erebus and we don’t leave our people behind. No matter what. So I found a length of rope and tied it around my waist and under his shoulders and dragged him down the Hill.

‘And then I heard a sound – a shrill, high-pitched screech – and I realized I had been pulling him over razor-rock. How he screamed and screamed. So awful, to hear a man scream like that. And I thought – maybe – I should slow down, but his screams let every Krool in the grid know where we were, so I decided speed would be best.

‘We made good time in reaching the bottom. I tried to make him understand that I had to move quickly or the Krool would have caught us, but I don’t think he cared. He just sat there, real still, real quiet. Can’t blame him though. I’d be upset too, if I were all in ribbons like that. Anyway, I was glad he finally shut up.

‘After that I figured he could use a rest, so I laid him in some brushwood at the base of the Hill. Maybe – maybe – I should have recognized it as creeper-weed, but I was too busy looking out for Krool. The weeds tasted his blood and grabbed him, tearing at him with their thorns to suck him dry. Poor Flynn, the creepers disemboweled him and took off with most of his guts before I wrestled him to safety.

‘He was in bad shape. I couldn’t bear to see him like that – he – he – I had to get away from him. So I propped him against a dead tree – I swear I didn’t see the Rok-Shah nest – and went on recon. I couldn’t have been gone long, I didn’t go very far. But when I returned the Rok-Shahs were eating his face off.’

Random hung his head.

‘That really bothered me,’ he said. ‘You see, the thing about Flynn, he had these remarkable blue eyes, blue like what the sky might look like if the smoke ever cleared. I swear I saw one of them winking at me as it slid down a Rok-Shah’s gullet. Maybe – maybe I could have shooed the birds away sooner, but I sat there and watched for a minute or two, and when I finally scattered the buzzards, his face was gone. And where those blue eyes had been were black sockets, like the sun inside his skull had set and given in to night.

‘I didn’t have time to worry over him, though. The Rok-Shahs were circling above us, waiting to finish their meal, so it wouldn’t be long before the Krool pinpointed our exact location. I knew we had to get out of there fast, and – and I have to admit, I almost left him. Cause he would weigh me down. Cause of all the boys that would be alive if he’d only shouted, only opened his mouth and screamed like he did on the razor-rock. Maybe I should have let the Krool have him. But he’s Erebus, and no matter what he did I had to bring him back. So I ran, fast as I could. With Flynn behind me on the rope, I ran. I ran for me – and for him, believe it or not. I ran for Erebus Company.

‘And we made it.’

With that, he fell silent.

Smiling, he held up the rope still attached to his waist. Dangling from it was a hunk of bloody meat that had been a man. ‘We made it, didn’t we Flynn?’

The End

[Paul faplad Finch]

How did I miss this thread back in June? The few that have been posted are aces though. Shame it didn't take off more.

 Or is there a similar one thats going great guns? I confess I don't spend a lot of time in Creative Common. Don't really feel qualified, if thats the right word.

[Kerrin]

Awesome stuff Locust.

I forgot you started this thread back in the summer. I think it's been moved here, to the rarefied environs of creative common, by some kind soul and had it's title tweeked (Wake?), all to the good. Maybe we'll witness the genius of Roger.G in unabridged form now, unfettered by the petty constraints of the comp. Go on Godders.

[Van Dom]

Nice story Locustsofdeeeeelove (cant get used to that!)
Heres another vote for Godpleton unplugged....I shudder to think what that Nicolai Dante one from last month would be like in uncut form....

[locustsofdeath!]

Thanks guys!

Kerrin, I believe someone on the short story comp asked if there was something like this, so I thought I'd ressurect the thread - it was your idea, if you recall. Anyway, I had the Bad Company story that got too big for this month's comp, so I dropped it here.

And yes, Godpleton uncensored could either lift this thread to the heavens or sink it straight to hell...depending on your point of view.