Fierce Shock Series
The Carvery
Violently a crude swing is cast at the agile creature before you. You
miss and he mocks you at your clumsy assault. You know you have great
strength but still it useless against this feline before you. You swing
the great hammer at the leopardman but miss again and he growls a challenge
in a human guttural tone.
"Come beast let us play now."
The snarl is interrupted as he springs at you and tears cravenly at your
chest. A normal man would have fallen dead at such an assault but you
have been created to withstand such ferocity. You do not even acknowledge
the pain but glower at your enemy. About you the crowd go delirious
with raptures of bloodlust. The two gladiators giving value for money
to the maximum and they adore you for it.
The leopardman licks the blood on his claws and gives you the cut-throat
gesture. He wants you dead and means to feast upon you after you have
fallen.
Enraged you unleash a fierce blow that catches the overconfident braggart
and he is cast violently into the wall. Stunned he rises but he has
been slowed by your surprise attack and too late he is caught again by the
giant hammer.
A whimper comes from the gladiator but there no mercy from you. You
gore him with the horns at your disposal and almost enjoy the screams from
the vanquished. He lies prone and you lift the giant hammer and await
the call to finish the fight.
In the executive box a suited man looks down at the brave couple before making
a fast downward slashing motion indicating the grand finale.
Your hammer swings down in a fast fluid motion ending the existence of leopardman
to great cheers from the crowd.
"Victory to the minotaur, thank God for genetic engineering baby" is the
scream that comes from the compere. You realise now your name minotaur
but have no conception of genetic engineering. All you know is to please
the crowd and show your strength. You are compelled to return to your
cell as you watch the catman being strung to a giant spit in the middle of
the arena. The realisation hits you that the vanquished is not just
killed but eaten by the men and women in suits in the executive box.
You know now that you are a dead cow walking unless you make freedom.
How does a fighter break the bondage of the cells? Pondering this you
rest uneasily thinking of how to escape and what would you do if you ever
did. How you would like to see suitman in across the arena before you
quivering and afraid.
Unknowingly the humans have created thoughts and emotions in you that should
not be. What they also don't know is that you are not unique in that
regard and the day of the animals will come.
Signature
'Ok everyone I'd like to thank you for your sterling efforts for the last
year. Our properties values have increased exponentially and we shall
reap a bumper harvest this year.'
Polite applause rippled from the side and Andrew Bacharan was most pleased.
The phone rang and his secretary dealt with the incoming call. She
called out to Bacharan to inform him that he had an urgent message.
'Woman I have no time for frivolous calls. You ought to know now that
I am far too busy to worry about insignificant fuckers who can't pay their
rent.'
There was sycophantic laughter that greeted Bacharan's tirade and they thought
it was the end of it.
'I'm terribly sorry Mr Bacharan but this chap Mr Lucy said you and him had
an appointment that was organised many years ago and he is most insistent
on meeting you. He seems to think it is tonight despite the fact there
is no record in your diary.'
For the first time since she had known him Andrew Bacharan went very quiet
and a profusion of sweat suddenly swept down the flank of his cheek.
'All of you out, out, out, out' he bellowed as loud as he was able.
His guests were shocked, Mr Bacharan was known for his ice cold resolve and
ruthlessness and they had never seen him flustered like this before.
Alice Drymond foolishly asked him a question.
'Sir we haven't finished the mee...'
'Shut up' he screamed. He followed this up with more cursing and she
quickly did as she was ordered.
With no further words the group quickly departed surprised and rather shocked
at the sudden change in Bacharan since the phone call. Let me tell
you now about our protagonist. He's a ruthless man who would not think
twice, forgive me for the cliché, wouldn' t hesitate in selling his
own grandmother down the river. From the age of twenty two large slices
of fortune and barbarity ensured his wealth and success. He was married
but had many mistresses to fulfil his needs and his wife dared not broach
him on the subject lest she was to meet an unfortunate end. At the
age of sixty two he was almost unflappable hence the rather surprising outburst
he had just relayed.
He glared at Reynolds his chief security man and barked at him.
'I want security doubled, no fuck it trebled tonight. No-one is to
get through and if anyone called Lucy turns up you make sure they disappear.
If he turns up here I'll hold you responsible. You know what I'm saying
don't you?'
Reynolds nodded knowingly. He was an ex para and would guard Bacharan
with his teams life.
'No-one is gonna come through here boss. If this Lucy character turns
up I'll see to it personally he won't bother you.'
Bacharan waved his hand dismissively at his employee trying to recover his
steely composure.
'Well, get to it man. I'll speak no more of it until tomorrow.
I am not to be disturbed even if that wife of mine turns up. Do you
understand?'
Reynolds nodded before scuttling off to beef up the already adequate security
measure is place.
After he disappeared Bacharan slammed the double oak doors shut and locked
them. Nervously he retired to his desk and opened up the closed drawer.
Inside he found an old revolver fully loaded with six bullets. He armed
the pistol and trained its aim upon the closed doors.
Hours passed but there would be no sleep for Bacharan on this night.
His aim was true and was focused squarely on the door. He looked at
his watch two minutes to midnight. Two minutes before his appointment
with Mr Lucy. Mentally he counted down the time two minutes soon became
ten seconds, nine, eight, seven, six, five then BANG BANG BANG rattled the
door.
'Get away or I'll shoot' he yelled vehemently.
Still the door rattled and quickly five bullets smashed into the doors and
passed through them striking whatever lied beyond. The doors stopped rattling.
'I warned you to go away. Where the hell is Reynolds? He is gonna be
looking for another job tomorrow.'
Bacharan crossed the room and with one bullet left he opened the doors ready
to shoot again. There was nothing there. Relieved Bacharan closed
the door behind him, the time was two minutes passed twelve and he poured
himself a neat brandy before retiring to his chair. When he got to
his chair he stopped and all hope left him.
Sitting in his chair was a dark figure hidden in the darkness with a great
crimson cowl about him. He had a confident air and looked very disappointed.
'Andrew, Andrew is this a way to a manner to meet an old friend. After
all I've done for you as well.'
The gun dropped from Bacharan's grasp, mortified by the figure before him.
He spoke nervously for the first time in many a year.
'Mr Lucy I'm sorry I wasn't expectin..'
'Spare me your lies, if anyone ought to know a liar it is I. You know
why I'm here and I don't take kindly to being shot at and lied to too.
I hate peoples' tardiness even more. You know the contract you signed
and I'm here to collect.'
Bacharan swept his hand through his greying hair, trying to stall for time.
The fear of inevitably calling to him as a sure as deaths cold embrace.
'I'm sorry Mr Lucy but..'
'Silence. Have I not bestowed upon you the life of a king, wealth beyond
the wildest opulence, love to sate the wildest of studs and yet you repay
me with ignorance? I must say though I am proud of the way you've turned
out though. Cold ruthlessness is a trait to which I'm rather partial.'
Lucy withdrew from his cape a plain silver box. Knowingly he beckoned
Bacharan towards him and he was compelled to take the small box.
'Open it, you know what lies within.'
The box opened and Bacharan found what he dreaded. He had believed
that this contract was void, forgotten to the passages of time. To
Mr Lucy though time was a mere irrelevance.
'READ IT OUT FOR ME.' He commanded.
Bacharan reluctantly read out aloud the contents of his contract.
'I Mr Lucy, will bestow upon my good subject Andrew Bacharan success, wealth
and pleasure beyond measure in the mortal realm for a sum of forty years.
On April the fourth two thousand and four I shall seek my reimbursement as
arranged in our previous meeting. Mr Bacharan's lifesource is to be
yielded to me whereupon I shall add his essence to the power of my own being
after consumption. This contract is beyond negotiation. Too sign
the deal all that is required is a small drop of Mr Bacharan's blood in the
sign of my image. So concludes this transaction your sincerely Mr Lucy.'
'Bravo Andrew and you cannot complain to the generosity that I have shown
you.'
Lucy pointed to the gun that was still in Bacharan's hand.
'Now we can do this the hard way or the easy way. Now I can rip out
your soul with my bare hands and I do not deny that the thought fills me
with base pleasure. The more painless route though is to turn that
pistol upon yourself and I shall place your soul within this silver casket.
What's it going to be easy or hard my fine friend, either way I'm assured
of my desire?'
With resignation Bacharan placed the revolver to his temple and pulled the
trigger.
Lucy smiled and his red eyes radiated an essence of pure pleasure.
'Excellent a fine feast I shall have tonight my greedy fool. Only six
more souls to collect tonight boy I'm feeling good...or should that be bad.'
Still laughing the devil ripped out the heart of the prostrate Bacharan before
attending to the rest of his business transactions for the night.