Monthly Archives: February 2013

Wuzzdate : WuzzRanting about Nolan Batman

I’m not a man who bows down and sucks another man’s dick, least of all Christopher Nolan’s! Look what he’s done to batman! Gone are the leather tights, the grappling hooks, the acrobatics through skyscrapers, and even, god help us, the batrangs!!! Blaspheme we say to a realistic batman and for a while Batman Begins was a perfect movie for naysayers. Batman Begins is about the story of Bruce Wayne taking on the mantle of the bat, not for revenge, but the cleansing of Gotham, one broken jaw at a time (granted Nolan’s Bat never broke a bone, let alone a jaw, but I’ll get to that later.). This journey begins at League of Shadows, where I for one groaned at considering what will soon happen there after; Bruce being considered the top student and the confrontation with Rh a-zal-gul most likely being underwhelming and rushed. Later we will get to the enjoyable part of the film, Morgan Freeman handing batman next generation armor, gadgets, and yes the tank-mobile. Even now a whole decade later, I still remember the glee on Morgan Freeman’s face when he finally gets to unleash his weapons of mass destruction on unsuspecting mobsters and gangsters, while smiling at Bruce’s “splunking” excuse. Fun times movie, fun times. A few moments later — eye gouging love story, a scarecrow who should have been main villain instead of a joke side character — we get the resurrected Rh a-zal-gul!!!! Who dies 10 minutes later. Cue end of movie….

The problem with Batman Begins is that its an origin story that besides Morgan Fucking Freeman, didn’t really need to be told. Its the 21st century, and it wasn’t that long ago we had both Batman The Animated Series and the Justice League/Justice League Unlimited. Go find a book and read if you don’t know who batman is. This movie lacked tension or presence and our main villain was a throw away. The movie spends a great amount of time and detail convincing, explaining, and ultimately justifying Batman in the “real” world, but not enough time giving me a good Batman story. Considering where the Dark Knight and Rises will go, this is easily a prequel that can be watched on DVD and dissected at your leisure but not the 1st movie of the trilogy.

But Wuzzman Christopher Nolan is a GOD! How can you be so mean!! Well in hindsight, consider what this new “grounded” batman means. No batrangs, no skyscrapers, no super natural. But, but batman was always a hard gritty, blah blah! Yes and no. I can respect Nolan for making batman a real person, but you kinda miss some psychosis if you do. No Clayface, no Mr. Freeze. No Mr. Freeze. Even scarecrow is a joke character instead of the scariest motherfucka you’ll know. So understandably the Dark Knight for me was wait and see at the time….

But DAMN YOU NOLAN AND HEATH LEDGER. I can sum up the movie as the “Joker” and that would be all that needs to be said. To the point that Begins becomes a distant shadow, the death of Rachael is the only thing you really need to watch Begins to understand the significance of. Everything stands on its own, like an island of awesome surrounded by even greater glory to its right and its prequel to the left. I don’t have words for this movie, though the ending didn’t wrap it up as well as I wanted, it left a good sized dangling pointer that crashed the nerd minds of several batman fans for years to come. Where begins is the explanation of Batman, Knight IS Batman and it was glorious.

At this point the only thing problematic about the series is that Batman despite his ninja training, and all his far east travel and physical training, is not the best fighter you’ve seen on film. A lot of what happens in Nolan Batman can be explained as “Batman shows up and everyone falls down.”. Though honestly that’s not a real complaint, having trusted Nolan, the difficulty of moving in a suit that most weigh 100 pounds is inherently higher than ScarletJo sweating her titts off in that leather body suit. And considering this fact, I appreciate that Nolan didn’t bullshit the audience and pretend that his batman isn’t a man sized tank on two legs.

So Wuzzman what do you think of the Dark Knight Rises? Better than Sex? Ok good night ya’ll….

Ok lets be honest if you didn’t think this movie was awesome this may sound like the ravings of a fanboy. Call me the Co-Host! But The Dark Knight Rises, feels less like the third part of the trilogy but what I wanted out of Batman begins. Like Batman Begins, this is a Bruce Wayne story from start to finish. Batman is a persona that Bruce must drag out the personal hell of his existence one last time to beat the new evil one last time. Along the way he faces his old demons, mainly the league of shadows and his own doubts about being batman. To me this is the most reasonable or in other words, normal batman I’ve ever seen. I always found batman dark and gritty because Batman himself was dark and gritty, yet Nolan’s batman is not. Nolan takes his villains and the situation to the apex of despair and yet Batman himself remains an average joe, not much unlike you or me, facing a crisis in identity and purpose. I want a life outside of Batman but the one woman I loved was taken from me. I’m prepared to die for Gotham because there is nothing else for me to live for. Why can’t I live as just Bruce Wayne? Only Afred sees Bruce for the vulnerable young man who still has a future if he only gave a shit. Contrast that to the animated series batman where Bruce Wayne was a life time ago, when his parents was alive and his biggest worry was when the next Zoro movie will come out. For most interpretations of Batman, the cowl was a symbol of fear and for the purpose of inflicting pain. Where as Nolan’s Bat is merely a symbol of justice and of the every man finally standing up for himself and his city.

Then you contrast that to Bane, who is what batman has been for decades (yet not always); a creature of the night, an engine of pain and broken bones. Bane has every right to call Bruce Wayne a pussy and their fight resembles one of ideology than test of martial prowess. It wasn’t Batman that defeated Bane, but Bruce Wayne proving that his hope and justice is worth more than Bane fear and threats. Which is hilarious coming from Batman.

In the end, we get a great Catwoman and even a great but short lived Talia Gul. Everything wraps up neatly and we get one of the most spazz in your seats endings I’ve every seen in cinema as far as my nerd mind can remember. All in all we should start a petition for a Christopher Nolan Robin trilogy. Or at least comic/animated series.

Alright Wuzzman signing out~~

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under WuzzDate

Patrick D Mortal : January 25th, 2010

“So I have a joke to tell. A young man visits a catholic priest for his monthly confessional. Same day, every month, every year, for 40 years since this gentle old man was transferred here back in the 70s to replace some big shot who packed his bags for California, or Vegas. Never one for the small details. Now this young man was a peculiar young man, not necessarily for the content of his confessionals, but for one small little detail that few people are apt to believe. And thankfully this kind old priest never reports. For no what matter what day or season, no matter how often you cut the cheese on the math, this young man doesn’t seem to age.”

“Don’t find that funny? Ok maybe you simply don’t find it possible. Fair enough. You might find what I’ve been telling the same man, every month, of every year, for forty years funny. Or maybe you already think I’m crazy. But I can tell you’re new so maybe I shouldn’t bust your chops. ”

“I don’t think your crazy.”

“I think I misspoke. It’s not that I can tell that your new, it’s that I know your new, to here anyway. Henry died didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah he tends not to miss our chats. Stroke wasn’t it? Or plain old heart failure. Told him he needs a new heart, but stubborn bastard didn’t listen huh.”

“I-”

“Don’t worry, I don’t mean to disrespect, Henry was a friend, who also thought I was crazy but after sometimes he started to believe me. Or at least understand me.”

“Father Henry was indeed a good patient man.”

“Don’t I know it. Gentle souls like him show up but not too often. Told em once that I was considered converting back in the 1920’s when this cathedral was first built. Helped out Cardinal Luey when they nearly burned the place down and figured why not. Been avoiding the cross for about as long as it was invented. Remembered spending sometime up there myself, figured I rather not wear any reminders around my neck for fun. Didn’t seem right to me, but you know times change and you figure why not? Wouldn’t hurt me none, but you know I came from a time when your words stood for something and in the end I figured I rather not join your club, conflict in interest and all.”

“Father Ron?”

“Yes, yes…just give me a moment to think.”

“Hey don’t wreck your brain over it now, give it a minute, you’ve heard wilder yarns huh? Tell me I’m wrong! And besides I came here to confess remember? Just wanted to loosen you up a little.”

“Anyway, here’s the thing, it’s January the 25th using a modern calender correct? Well I can’t be quite sure when it happened. It’s been so long that at this point I’m just picking a random date. Same day every month no exceptions. Easy enough rule to follow I guess. The day, the month, hell the year doesn’t really matter. Cardinal Luey got me hooked on venting my problems. Considered me a troubled youth when we met. Well ‘youth’ compared to him anyway. But defiantly troubled, gliding on a pound of opium and a half a gallon of moonshine troubled. Even to this day I’m not sure what month, or year we met. I got the 25th off a newspaper so not sure it was the 25th. But you know it, that meeting, returned some sanity to a very dark time in my life, so short of excepting the lord and savior in my heart, at least I try to drag ass to the same old spot and keep it open  with whatever change I’ve managed to collect along the way.”

“Now in hindsight you might be thinking, being the priest of a New York cathedral and all, that I’m some boozing and whoring druggy that needs to see the light again. A month here and that is to be expected and it’s not like I haven’t enjoyed boozing and fornicating. Its  a sin for me to say otherwise. But at the end of the day, I like you have less material concerns to sleep at night with. In a way we deal with the same problem, just on different scales.”

“What is it son?”

“The object of my confession. The words I’m afraid to utter….”

“Don’t be afraid to confess your sins before the Lord son.”

“Sins? What if I told you that 2000 years ago aliens abducted me, tore me apart, and put me back together? Than they talked to me. Explain to me what they are, where they come from, and what they do. What they did to me? What they made me into, their gift to me that I didn’t deserve. A gift you’ll think that I squandered if you believed me. You see they made me immortal, as in doesn’t die unless exceptionally violent means. What would you do with eternal life? On earth I mean. Aw you’d be beside yourself. Me my future was grunt for the Roman Empire or shoveling dung and making horse shoes…so frankly I was rather short on bright ideas back than. And there was the catch hanging over me. Always a catch, though not like I had a choice, abduction and all. If I wanted to opt out all I had to do was pick an excessive painful death. Otherwise the catch applies.”

“Oh not curious huh? Figures I’ve lost me marbles and all sense. Heard it all now? Well fair enough. But I just have to tell you anyway. Its my sin you know. Not in the sense of what I’ve done but in the sense of what I’m going to do. Pretty bad stuff. Ready? Sitting down properly? Used the restroom recently? Ok thing is, the catch, pretty damn terrible thing to have over your shoulder. Didn’t believe it at first because well, 27AD shit shoveler who can’t read just couldn’t imagine it. 2000 years ago they, the aliens, looked like Gods to me but now? We put a man on the moon for christ-sake, s’cuse my cursing, and that was only 50 odd years ago. So yeah my perspective changed over the years and it started to hit me, about two hundred years ago, that the conditions regarding my relative immortality may need to be taken seriously.”

“And you may be thinking, get to the point all ready. And I will, just need to swallow some bile as I say this. Again disturbing to think about really. I remember what they showed me, their plan and how they go about it. Makes eternal lakes of fire sound about as tame as water-boarding is to be skinned alive. You see at some point in our natural history, as science marches on, we’re going to look beyond putting a man on mars. And when we do we’re going to want our space ships to go farther, faster so we can colonize planets further and further away. When this happens, when the day comes when we’re at the cusp of truly exploring the cosmos to plant our seed on foreign soils, I have to make a phone call. A long distance phone call to the same people that made me what I am today. And they’ll come, not in peace, or to make war. There too advance for either. They just want to neuter us. Tear us apart and than leave those behind with a bare minimum of functioning brain cells. Sparing only me.”

“And that’s just PG abridged version. Are you imagining what they’ll do to me if I don’t call. I can’t, but they’ve told me. In terms I’m still not able to understand. But I rather that not happen. Any of it. Either way you slice it. So that’s my dilemma, that’s my confession.  Every January 25th. Till that day comes, because I don’t know what I’ll do. I mean I was never a strong person to begin with, so I really don’t know… and the fact that I don’t know what I’d really do…isn’t that a sin?”

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Pink Bomber

I still remember the argument me and Sammy had before I left for this job. I asked him a simple question, I expected a heartwarming response, and instead he got snide.

“What keeps you human?” I asked earnestly we were only 10 feet apart but I consciously took a step forward so when I leaned into him it would be more intimate and natural. Before he says anything profound he kisses me on the forehead as if I was the daughter he always wanted but never had. He was always big and tall and old spice musty, comfortable and what I needed considering what I was about to do, so I looked forward to him showing a moment of tenderness. But his impassive eyes told a different story. I backed away from him; I wasn’t his anything right now. The one thing about Sammy that irritates me this much is that he doesn’t mind telling the truth. He just considers the truth too adult for me to hear. As if I was really just a child to him. So when his lips starting moving I already started to get anger.

“Nothing.” He says as dryly as possible. No room for argument he was saying without saying.

Stunned but not deterred, I started to speak but Sammy was already speaking over me before I could get a coherent sentence in.

“Sure we may look the same, but just watching the nature channel will tell you that having your nose and eyes in the same place don’t mean you belong to the same species. Do you know that we can’t even give blood transfusions to regular humans? One rumor slash speculation is that our blood is radioactive and will cause cancer in significant amounts. Fact is normal people can’t turn cars into soda cans or have tap dancing lessons in people’s heads. ”

“But we have the same feelings as they do!” I protest with significant use of flailing arms to show how annoyed I am at his matter of fact tone.

“Yeah so do dogs, cats, mice, etc, etc.” I started to say something in exasperated protest, but he raised his hand to cut me off, let me finish he was communicating while sighing to apologize for the sarcasm in his tone earlier. He didn’t mean to be like that it just came out that way.

“I know you want to say something about love. Dogs love too Tabatha, by the standard definition of love espoused and acknowledged by most people, a dogs devotion is just the same as love. “

I fumed, even now remembering it I’m fuming! No argument with Sammy Tabatha, he just beats you over the head with his “facts” until your blue in the face and ready to clock him. He even makes things worse by giving me total access to his brain while he picks me apart. He is literally just churning the logic wheel, no emotion in it at all, maybe a vague sense of regret like I’m being told there is no Santa Clause. Well I wasn’t going to be out think by you Sammy.

“So we’re better than normal people?” I say in an, “I can play your game too!” kind of tone.  Now I just wanted him to admit I was right.

“Physically superior sure… but so was the dinosaurs. If you’re simply valuing the people around you based on their ability to stand up to you than you’ve missed the point of the past thousand or so years of civilianization.” He paused to examine my souring face and genuine concerned hanged in his expression.

“Look Tabatha” Sammy continues, “You’re never going to read about dinosaur art or literature because the dinos never made any. We’re the same, not saying that we will disappear or anything like that, just saying that I honestly don’t mind driving in cars that move slower than I do or watching bad movies, or doing all the little vain things that people do because if it was up to me…none of this would exist. When in Rome do as the roman’s and we say that because it doesn’t matter if you’re not a roman. Hell that phrase was made specifically for us! We live in this world as ourselves, nothing more. “

I sigh, no arguing with Sammy, never did have an argument with him. I only get mad at him and he never responds to my anger. Which is usually the best response.

Anyway I think of him because the job I’m on was previously his. Should have been his but he ran into a BPP agent a month ago. It was an ambush of sorts; they tracked him down by his bad habits, cigars and strip joints. Sammy blames it on making too much noise; he picks out telekinetic like himself to fight and leaves a big mess behind. But even if you leave the scene of the crime in a timely fashion, BPP has ways to follow the bread crumbs if you leave enough of them. On that note he stopped me from carrying an automatic, just wanted an Uzi really, and a couple of grenades because he felt the noise level will put me on their radar. Out of respect I only took 1 grenade. I feel nervous about fighting someone who can juggle minivans with only two knives, four glock 21’s with my signature pink handle. The hello kitty guns jokes Sammy. I wasn’t even sure I carried enough ammunition; practice fights with Sammy can easily burn through 30 rounds. But I rather not carry more than I have to. I wasn’t a small army. Ok technically I was, but that was due to other factors.

Ok focus on earning your keep Tabatha. This is for Sammy; that fight with that BPP agent was a fight he of course won but barely. He was too badly hurt and needed too much time to recover. An inconvenience for the boss and an opportunity to get even for anyone Sammy belittled. Three people in the first week of his recover felt brave enough to play “practical jokes” on Sammy. I killed two, Sammy killed one, cleaning up the blood for weeks type of kill. Nursing Sammy back to health was myself appointed job till the boss requested that I take on his responsibilities.  I refused of course, but Sammy convinced me to oblige. “We may be the only psychics officially on the payroll, but he has at least three running a protection detail just for him and the occasional internal affairs man.” I took Sammy’s word for it.

The boredom ended with the appearance of a crisp business suit heading down the parking garage. The parking garage was a three level facility, the last level being underground. The suit was my target, I had no doubt about that, he fit the profile, 6’2 caucasian male, black hair and brown eyes. Smooth features and wore a natural tan. Handsome by contemporary standards; looks like he held a good job, nice car, big house.  He had a casual appearance despite the double breasted suit, ivory black shoes, white shirt with sandy grey tie.  A guy like him had one of two jobs, security or management. I didn’t read that deep into the profile, all I wanted was a picture, a time and a place. I didn’t even know his name, which makes this even more awkward because it sounds like a one night stand. Not my thing and the pretty boy Harvard look ain’t my type, though he does look like quite the athlete. Maybe there is some mileage to him…

Oh hell I got a good shot from here maybe I can take him out now? Not likely, he’ll just catch the bullet…

Oh well time to move. Pretending that the parking garage is a jungle makes the sneaking go easier, two hundred paces away and maintaining that distance all-important. Now if the cars are the trees what would the support pillars be? Oak trees….. God he is moving awfully slow, is he by his car yet?  Ok why is he stopping isn’t his car parked a much further down? Maybe he parked in a different space this time? Wait that doesn’t make sense, there’s assigned parking isn’t there?

I almost out of habit call Sammy’s name out loud when I notice my target talking to himself, like I am but out loud. Crazy much? I couldn’t hear him of course considering the distance and the fact that he seemed to be whispering. Most not be important. Then he turns to face me and with a great jerk of his right arm rips the door of a nearby Lexus Sedan out of its hinges and hurling towards me.

Now a normal person at this time would be too deep in panic to dodge the door, or too concerned with “how he found me?” to react in time. I’m not sure this is unique to telepaths but I personally find anything moving slower than the speed of light moving in slow motion. A feature that only comes to play when I’m in immediate danger, like now, the only bad part is that you’re looking at your death happen in slow motion because normally your body is usually unable to keep up with the speed of whatever is coming at you even though you see it move as slow as snail. However I was special; like a mouse I dashed from behind my cover, a lesson I learned from Sammy who strongly discouraged hiding behind anything once a telekinetic knows your there. I was right the instant my feet cleared the headlights the Volkswagen I was using as cover was nearly split in half.

I regained my balance with ease, hours of cardio, and dash into the swirl of violent intentions that is Mr. Property Damage. Adrenaline on full pump, glocks in both hands, I fire haphazardly at Mr. Property Damage, managing center of mass shots each click. He plants his feat, strains his eyes (maybe he does see the bullets moving in slow mo as well?), and plucks the rounds out of air.  I stop firing for a second, and leap for cover behind a Masada, the glass shatters above as the car nearly tips over in the Mr. Property Damages rage.

I enter his mind at this juncture; my persona, the representative of my mind in his body, an avatar if you will, crosses the distance between us in instant. Entering Mr. Property Damage mind, or anyone’s for that matter, is similar to walking into someone’s front lawn, unremarkably easy. Unnoticeable until you look ahead and see the house. When someone tells you your mind is filled with empty space they are right. Your mind is only a piece of property, the “house” is where all the good stuff is housed and is only the byproduct of our subconscious attempting to compartmentalize an otherwise formless system. The trick is breaking into the house, which in most cases wasn’t a house per say but merely door representing the boundary between the formlessness of the peripheral corners of your mind and the haphazard attempt at organization most people call their brain. And I’m not kidding, most people’s minds are merely front doors that aren’t even locked and most of the time halfway open.

Mr. Property Damages mind however was simple a dome, smooth on all sides and two stories tall. I wanted to be taken aback by this; I usually see steel doors or vaults when it comes to the mind of a telekinetic. This was overly simple. It reminded me of a walnut and at this I smiled.

Than the smile faded, while I was busy being confused, Mr. Property Damage flipped the Masada over. Using more luck than skill, I laid flat and slid underneath the rolling car. Thanking father timing, rolled forward only to be picked up and slammed up against the now turned over vehicle that was just sent sailing over me.  The pain shoots up and down my lower back in a conga line of misery; I raged and slammed my fist against the dome protecting Mr. Property Damage’s mind. He cringed at the sudden loss of focus and his psy hold dropped.  Free I charged at him, the need for a less direct approach never occurring to me, I drew two new pistols and let muscle memory empty rounds. As if catching an air current, he floats back into the air while erecting a multi layered psy wall that stops the bullets cold. No problem, I use my persona’s fist as sledge hammer and swing madly at his mind’s defenses, yet only managing to crack one layer in futility.

No way!

Amateur hour at its finest, I dodge his raw surge of psy by rolling just under it, taking note not to notice the crater that it left behind. I’m using the wrong kind of brute force, I should be in already! I was taught better, I should have broken his defense in seconds not 2 minutes and counting. I relied too much on the element of surprise. Panic mode is over, this is a straight up brawl, and I let my persona assume the form of the first demon of the personal hell I’m going to make out of Mr. Property Damage’s mind. Four horns curled like elephant tusk, four arms with claws big enough to rend spines from men backs. It stood at 20 stories of purple and green demon. The illusion wasn’t finished, to him the sky darkened and the ground opened up to the underworld. He resisted of course, his mind worked feverishly to repair the damage, but that’s the fun part about being a telepath, once I’m in I’m always in, the best you can do as a none-telepath was hold on to your little corner of reality.

I bucked my head and my horns ripped open the roof. I climbed into the dome, my weight being too great for the structure; it was really just an onion, each layer gave way to more layers. I work feverishly with all six limps, clawing and kicking and pulling and more clawing. His focus was wild now; he punched at the air and sent psy waves into menacing parked cars and support beams. Still dangerous, he aimed for my general direction and when he didn’t hit the explosions he left behind sent glass and rocks everywhere. He was still airborne the parking garage proved surprisingly spacious as he assumed a half crouch as he glided. Mr. Property Damage stopped blocking my bullets, instead he focused on increasing our distance and dodging my gunfire. I wanted him down on the ground, and in my anxiousness he caught me by surprise and rocked me off my feat without me realizing what hit me. I hit the ground with a bounce, realizing that both glocks were empty I discarded one, while unclipping and reloading the second with the free arm in mid bounce. When landed I rolled to my feet to face him, but I was wrong about where he was.

Wait what?  I should know where he is, I’m in his head for god’s sake! The demon was finished with the dome, but found a very conventional iron door underneath. She roared and slammed head first into the thick steel of Mr. Property Damage’s final layer of peripheral defense before I was in. At that moment, as the demon took the door of its hinges, Mr. Property Damage sent a sports car barreling through the air in a free falling tumble. I jumped to my left side, and found it was a mistake, a second car slammed into my mid section knocking the air out of me as I rolled up high into the air nearly hitting the ceiling and crashed hard on flying windshield. I was beyond pain at this moment, I felt the thud of my body hitting three more previously parked vehicles or maybe it was the same vehicle and I hit the ground with a thud followed by a wet roll. I wanted to get up but everything hurt at the same time, I could only stop myself from screaming in pain.

So I moved my head slowly and saw Mr. Property Damage grinning and breathing heavy. He held his hand over me and I knew what that meant, the remaining hairs on my body stood on end because of amassing whirlpool of psy just above me. My little she demon was so far from me now, but I felt it raging on by my direction. Even in this state I was multitasking her assault on his mind, but it was only a battle that I was losing as his defenses and sense of reason held against the little daemon working too far away from her master. Given more wherewithal I would have thousands of little programmed horrors working on every nook and cranny of his mind, forcing him to experience a thousand deaths and warping his perception to the point of insanity. I’d messed up big but I knew theyweren’t enough tears left in my tattered body to cry for failures sake.

No! I need to focus even harder. I reached my right arm for the grenade I kept in my left pocket; I thanked Sammy for suggesting I wear bagging clothing. Still intact surprisingly, I forced my right arm to move further than the pain would allow. Like a puppets arms it merely flung the grenade at Mr. Property Damage, the pain of my right arm being dislocated was so intense that I nearly passed out. But I gritted my teeth; that wasn’t my real focus, no my rampaging demon had one more sin to commit before Mr. Property Damage mind pushes it back into his outer defenses.

I don’t know why but the Catholics never considered being a liar a deadly sin but it is the sin that kills the easiest. The mind is ready to accept all manners of lies, especially the ones the owner wants to believe are true. So when I felt Mr. Property Damage’s enthusiasm, the heavy bass sound of a victory vibrating from every corner of his soul, I rode his high right up to his ear and whispered with the voice a thousand gum drops, “Don’t worry she is already dead.” Of course that wasn’t going to convince him not to smash me flat like a pancake, but it would paint a big enough illusion that my flailing right arm tossing the hand grenade would go unnoticed. However the grenade itself had to be accounted for and I poured all my effort into blocking its flight from Mr. Property Damage’s sight completely. When it finally came to stop at his feet, by than all five of his senses knew something was there, I made him think that it was merely a small slab of loose concrete, which considering the state of the parking garage that lie wasn’t all too unbelievable.

But it wasn’t a perfect lie and I was out of luck if he noticed. But he didn’t! He raised his hand up like a roman senator deciding on the life or death of a disgraced gladiator and then the grenade exploded. At that moment, before even the sound of the explosion could reach Mr. Property Damage’s ears, I caught my second wind and resolved to show him real telepathy. So I pulled his conscious, grabbing the presumption of himself and dragging him out of his own reality.

Suddenly he was in a free fall toward the destination of my choosing, but he resisted never the less, going up stream with all his might kicking and swearing all the way down. It took time to fully create the reality I wanted him to experience but when I was done he found himself in an endless field of pink sunflowers. In Mr. Property Damage’s mind all that could be seen was rolling hills of blue, pink and subtle green. The confusion on his face was priceless. So I gave him something familiar, my demon appeared before him bellowing a challenge. Mr. Property Damage cursed and shouted back “This is MY HEAD!” and charged at me sword in hand. Figured he’d use a gun, oh well, he slashed at the demon as it popped in a shower of rose pedals like a piñata. His confusion was hilarious, he looked around wide eyed attempting to match an unforeseen threat but saw nothing but pink and blue.

I laughed as he kept whirling around to meet a shadow that wasn’t there; he heard my laughter and fumed with anger. Than the ground began to sink and concern returned on his face and he watched as some parts sank faster than others as if the whole landmass was on top of a sinkhole. The sunflowers soon started to burst as pockets of nothingness replaced patches of the  ground. The haze of pink petals floating up into the sky was almost magical until it started to catch fire. And the panic in his face was also priceless; the impossible heat that radiated from each pedal burned boils his flesh and cooked his hair. He took to the air pushing past the fire and the smoke, coughing and crying despite knowing this was all just a bad dream.

As he flew higher he started to feel the air pushing him back down, he looked down, the pink and green disappeared, in its place was a black hole that sucked in all matter. He panicked and tried to fly faster, harder, but the downward spiral of the wind was proving too strong. Than his faced grew white as he realized that at the far ends of the black hole there were rows and after rows of teeth. The demon has grown impossible large, the black hole was merely his mouth. Mr. Property Damage tried even harder he pressed against his fate and for a moment his momentum was greater than the gravity that was pulling him back down. “Free!” was the only thought that echoed throughout his consciousness and for a moment he was, but then I stuck my tongue out like a frog and wrapped it around his mid section instantly crushing ribs and liquefying organs. I retracted my tongue just as fast stuck it out; amazingly he still managed to put up a fight, changing his form three times one of which pierced my tongue. I applauded his effort by closing my mouth shut, leaving him in the dark where his screams were swallowed by the nothingness around him.

He screamed again, an abbreviated cough in comparison to the one his persona made, no this was shear instinctive reaction to nerves being abused beyond comprehension. He was rocked off his feat by the explosion his body disappearing in the flash. I heard the crunch of a wield shield, I saw Mr. Property Damages body crumbled against a generic looking black Sedan. I sigh, he put up a psy field at the very last second but it wasn’t enough for him to take that unscathed. He looked as though he got on the bad side of a bear and was only left in one piece because the bear eventually got bored. I couldn’t be sure that killed him, telekinetics have amazing recuperative abilities, but I couldn’t even get up to finish the job. Then I saw a pink and smiled. I rolled right slowly and gingerly, reached with my left hand for my pink handled glock 21. Not as good of a shot with my left hand, but it’ll have to do. I puppet my arm and fingers to move, too shaky but can’t really do anything about that. Slowly I steady my aim, Mr. Property Damage head is slouched over clearly unconsciousness may or may not be breathing though but it doesn’t matter at this point. Have to make this shot count, not sure my wrist can handle the recoil for a second chance.

Steady…

Steady…

Shoot! Oh god! The kick hurts more than I thought it would and the noise is awfully loud! I black out. No choice everything hurts too much at once.

Leave a comment

Filed under Psychics