Moon Light, BBQ, and Hells Gate

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Moon Light, BBQ, and Hells Gate

Moon Light, part one.

The full moon is always bright in Michigan, it can cast shadows you know. The full moon in Michigan is also captivating, always singing its sirens song to those who dare sail their eyes to close to its island in the great black ocean that is space.
On this night a man will look up at the stars, thinking how cruel this world is. It has taken his memory, and maybe soon his sanity as well. All this man knows as of now is that memories are very particular, sometimes they will stay in the shadows until you glimpse something that has some meaning towards it, even if you don't see the connection.
This man, who's name HE can't even speak, remembers few things about the days, weeks, perhaps years before that night. One thing he does remember is sitting in on a night such as this, only then the moon wasn't so bright, watching some horror movie about a man who turns into a beast... A beast such as that had came at him when he woke. He remembers there was somebody with him, did he have a wife? Sister... no, that much he knew, he thought. Perhaps a brother, or some friend? Maybe there was multiple people there, he can't make out the blurred speech of the people around him, he's to focused on the movie. What was it about? A dog... no, wolf... closer. It hit him like a rock, it was about a werewolf, a creature that came out only when the moon was full. *The moon is full tonight*, he thought, *But that creature wasn't a werewolf, if it was why was it out during the day? And, I had made sure it was dead... I strangled the damn thing!*. He had come to the conclusion that it wasn't a werewolf, but something equally sinister no doubt.
His eyes fell upon the moon, so full... so BRIGHT.
He hardly noticed as seconds turned to minutes, then hours. The moon eventually faded, and the sun cast it's first few gold-red rays on the light blue Michigan sky.
*Did I do something wrong?*, he would question himself in the following days.
*What have I done to receive such a punishment? Or perhaps, is this not a punishment, but my salvation?*, he asked again.
This time something new happened. A voice inside him spoke, *Not YOUR salvation, it is your quest to be saved, yes, but at what cost? Sure, you've lost everything, but everything was holding you back from SAVING everything.*. The voice vanished, and what felt like twenty pounds with it. How could his mission be to save himself, yet not be his salvation?

Rar! Rar rar rar! Thanks for reading :)

Moon Light, part two.

Do you ever get a voice in your head? I mean a voice that isn't your own, one that will respond to you, maybe even give you advice.
Well, the voice in this mans head spoke a few more times. Most of the stuff it said was a riddle of some sort, or if it wasn't you couldn't understand it. One such thing it said was, "Your quest for salvation is a quest for damnation, unless you pick the path walked the lightest. But, you cannot see this path, for only the darkest path is walked the lightest.".
What does that even mean? Why should he care? He supposed this "darkest path" was a metaphorical one. The voice never offered much advice, and never gave it fully, or without an extra meaning. It was like the voice saw multiple paths for him to take, but weight both of them equally even thought it knew which one he SHOULD take.
He had grown hungry what he though of as three hours ago, but there wasn't any way to tell since he didn't have a watch, or a clock. He'd seen a town over the horizon, which couldn't have been far. Although "couldn't have been far" still felt like a three mile hike in the middle of nowhere.
*About time.* He thought, arriving at the first house he'd seen in what felt like decades. *I better start looking around for useful stuff, I'm sure nobody will care... I mean, it doesn't look like anybodies been here for a while.*.
*Perhaps.* Said the voice, the only thing it had said so far that wasn't some riddle, or double meaning.

Time past, and so far the man had only found a pair of pants that a hobo wouldn't wear, or maybe in this era a hobo would wear them, but the common homeless person from his time would likely be the king of this time. *not the best, but it's the only pair.* he thought to himself. *Choosers can't be pickers.* the voice chimed int. *No, I think you have that backwards. It goes pickers can't be choosers.*. *Maybe,* The voice said, *But in the new world both hold a meaning.*
"I don't really care." He said to the voice out loud.
A few bits of rubble fell a few yards ahead of the man, then a face, covered in dust and scars, also emerged from behind a pile of rubble. The man walked out from behind the rubble, holding an clever in his right hand. "HEY! Where'd you get those pants!?" He questioned. Before he could respond the man walked up to him, getting ready to use his clever. "Whoa whoa whoa... No need to get viole." He blacked out.

When he woke he was surprised to see a fir next to him, a small one that had once been large, this he knew by the amount of ashes and the bed of coals. He tried to stand, but it hurt. He knew all his body parts where were they belonged, the pain was coming from inside his gut. Afraid of what may have happened when he blacked out, he slowly slid his hand over his stomach.
Nothing, no wound, just pain. He noticed the smell of cooked meat in the air, but he wasn't hungry anymore. He placed his hand next to where he lay so he could get up, only now noticing the dried blood on them. *That can't be mine, aside from the pain in my gut I'm fine.* He thought. *Yes, you are fine.* The voice said.
*What do you mean by fine?* He asked.
*You were in danger.* The voice responded.
*WERE? What do you mean WERE?*
*You were starving, and that man could have killed you.*
*Where is he?*
*I did what was necessary for your survival, from his death you are allowed to live longer, you are allowed to make progress on you quest.*
*Again, where is he?*
*The man was dealt with in a way that allows you to live longer.* It repeated, then added, *He is inside you, I have let you eat him so you can continue existing.* He blacked out again.

Rar! Rar rar rar! Thanks for reading :)

Moon Light, part three.

How often do you wake up to the smell of rotting meat? Never? Yeah, that's what I thought.
The man didn't know how long he had been out, but when he woke he was a little hungry. Given that he felt like he was about to die before he blacked out this suggested he might have slept the day away, along with the night.
"All this blacking out" He said, "Is getting a little exhausting."
*Nonsense,* Voiced the voice, *You are in your prime, and in good physical shape.*
"Why did I black out again?" He asked
*You needed the sleep.*
"Do you ever sleep?" The man started picking things up, given the voice in his head didn't complain, he thought this was a good idea, and that he should get on the move towards... whatever this QUEST was.
Eventually the lack of response made the man weary, he asked again, "Well? Do you ever sleep?"
*Do you wish that I go dormant for a while?* Asked the voice
"Is that a good idea?"
*Perhaps not, but, like you, I have business to attend to.*
"What sort of business?"
*Oh, you know, paper work, feeding the turtle, etc. etc.*
"You're joking, right?" He just now realized that he had been speaking out loud, and anyone who heard any part of the conversation would consider him a complete loon.
*Would it comfort you if I said no?*
*Maybe... Let's just keep moving." He thought.

Rar! Rar rar rar! Thanks for reading :)

BBQ, part one.

The man (who's name he doesn't even know) liked long walks, movie night, and ,most of all, he like barbecue.
Make no mistake, having almost no memory of you past is horrible, but it can also get rid of some of the grief that comes with the whole "My family is dead, and everything I know is gone" deal. Thankfully for this man he still had memory of just how much he like barbecue. Or maybe it was the cooking...

*Smells like food.* He thought
*Sounds like a horde of pissed off robots.* The voice said
*Maybe, but you know, eat when you can,* He responded, *Besides, it looks safe enough, just look at the line!*
*Just because you see a orderly line,* The voice voiced like it usually did, *Doesn't mean it's civil.*
*Well, whatever, I'm going in.*
*Fine, just don't make me take over your body again. It feels odd, having SKIN.*
The man walked into the line, and when it came his tern to speak the greater asked, "Stock or spectator?".
"Uhh..."
"Stock." Proceeded the greater, stamping his hand.
He walked into the place which he was now going to call the common area, since this was where most people where.
They all seemed more interested in the cage near them than the food. He got a bit to eat.
*This tastes like the meat from earlier.* He inquired
*It probably is.* Responded the voice.
*Well, I'm desensitized.*
A man got up on a platform and said something that sounded like count, but could have also been cunt, or hunt. The noise everyone was making made his head throb.
Everyone looked around the room, then one man pointed at him, yelling, "Him! He's next!"
Without warning a metal arm scooped him up, then dropped him in the cage.
"Is everyone ready for some real carnage!?" Asked the man on the platform, he was met with loud screams of join, happiness, and impatience.
"Well! Today is your lucky day!" Again the screams came, "Today you get to see the Mangler back in action!"
The man instantly regretted his choice in coming here, or he did once he saw the hulking beast of a machine.
The thing was almost twice his size, had saw blades coming out of what seemed to be every surface, and was even covered in spikes. There might of been even more to the machine, but the man guessed that the saw blades would get in the way.
This machine definitely had had "pissed of horde off robots" written all over it, and for all the man knew, it could have been multiple robots.

Rar! Rar rar rar! Thanks for reading :)

BBQ, part two.

So what do you get when you add a very confused man and a robot, then multiply it by a wall? Well, it consists mostly of debris, but a few sparks as well.
The machine bounced off the wall, then hurled itself at the man. *I think I know why it was out of order for a while* the man thought. Once again the machine came flying at the man, who stepped to the side. The machine responded to this by ramming the wall yet again. The more this happened, the more the man thought about who the machine was going after, but later decided he should stop being cocky. This occurred to the man when he nearly missed his opportunity to step aside.
*So how do you plan on getting past this?* Asked the voice
*I plan on just going with the flow, if you know wha..* He was cut off by the voice, *Left!* it yelled inside his brain.
He stepped left, knowing that if he didn't do this two things might happen. 1) He might die, and 2) The voice in his head would take over.
Neither of these appealed to the man, but it was all in vain as he suddenly blacked out, only to regain his regular state of mind some 4 feet behind the hulking beast, which was currently stuck on the wall.
*Exposed wires.* stated the voice.
*Yes, I see, what should I do?*
*Go with the flow.*
The man did as the voice said, both literally and metaphorically. He used one of the useless spikes as a step, the grasped the exposed wires. Luckily for him the machine was in fact covered in random saw blades, which acted as a great cutting tool, as he didn't have one on him.
While most would have said he was quite insane for doing this, many would argue that he was insane for listening to a voice in his head. Another three quarters of that group would say that that would make almost everybody in Michigan crazy. In the end they all decided to call the man two thirds crazy, then cheer as the robotic saw mill shut down.

Rar! Rar rar rar! Thanks for reading :)

BBQ, part three.

The crowd cheered on as the machine lay silenced by it's human counterpart. The man felt like smiling, but couldn't bring one onto his face. All he could think about right now was that his first encounter of another being in this world was a man he had murdered, then eaten, but the second was even worse. A whole building, a whole cult following around man v. machine death games.
It wasn't long before a man brought him out of the arena, then back to the front area.
"Take your pick man, that was a mighty good show you put on in there." He said, pointing lazily at a pile of unclaimed junk, which probably came from the last contestants.
It was mostly extra clothes, but he did see a rather familiar shape in the pile, a few actually. It turned out to be a rather wizened revolver, and an even worse backpack. Still, they were better than his current gear, so why not take them?
He gathered some more things, leaving with a total of 2 full water bottles, a saucepan , the revolver (no ammo), an extra pair of pants, all of which were stashed in his new pack.
With that he left, hopefully never to return.

Over 3 uneventful days later, but below 5, the man started to wonder if he was traveling North, South, East or West. He was guessing it was more like North-East-ish, with an emphasis on the East-ish.
Every day the light was getting a little brighter, and every night he had trouble falling asleep. He felt like he was being watched. Oh, and he tracked down a wounded deer, then ate it over a raging fire, but that's not important.

On day 5 or 6 he arrived at what looked like an artists depiction of every 1800s American slum, but with more barrel fires, and a bazaar. The trader didn't look very interested in any of his wares, except his revolver, but he wasn't ready to part with it for a pair of half broken binoculars.
Luckily for him, the man looked rather malnourished, and would probably break at the sight of his food. From what he could see most of the people here were malnourished, and the land around the slum was barren.
"You can have this," he said, waiving a chunk of meat. The man drooled a little. He tried grabbing it from him, but then hesitated, "What's the catch?"
"I want information,"
"Okay," He tried grabbing the meat again.
"I also want bullets," He glanced at a pile of bullets that looked like they would fit his gun.
"Oh no, you ain't getting bullets for food!"
"Fine, then I'll leave, and so will my food," He began walking out, which he was going to do as a way to get a better deal, but really would leave. He didn't really need bullets, and there were plenty of other places to get supplies.
"Fine... Fine! But only 1!"
He handed the man the meat, and received his bullets. He also got a better idea as to what happened to the world... he got insulted first, but he got his information.

Rar! Rar rar rar! Thanks for reading :)

Hell's Gate, part one.

So the very meager amount of information the man had gathered probably wasn't worth the food he had to give away, but he still got one bullet in the deal, so it wasn't all a waste.
The information went like this: Some superstition about the government testing biological weapons on the citizens of its country in the form of modified bug repellent for crops. The repellent destroyed the crops, and killed many people. Many of the cities around the world fell into chaos, and by some huge lucky break Detroit lived past it. Detroit... The last place anybody would think anyone could still live in, still had people living in it.

Detroit was now a haven, but the only way you could get in was if you had a special bracelet, which turned out to cost a fortune. There were rumors, of course, that you could get one by doing special favors for people in high places, but you should rarely trust these rumors.

The man had decided that he had three options for entering the city. He could 1) Work to get enough money to get a bracelet. 2) He could do a few special favors for a bracelet. 3) He could break into the city.
None of these option appealed to him, and he was fairly sure he would never get enough money for the bracelet. He was even less likely to get a special job from some high ranking individual. That meant he would have to break in, and he though he knew how he would.

He would start by getting to the shore, where he would no doubt find a collection of fishermen. He would create a band of fit men to help him get in. Hopefully the city had a dock... He would get his group close to the water entrance/dock in the concealment of night, then land on the shore or get on the dock. Lastly, he would find his entrance.

Finding a fishing community was easy, the shore was packed with primitive vessels, large fishing nets, improvised tackle shops, and the smell of cooking fish. Now all he had to do was convince some people to help him...

Rar! Rar rar rar! Thanks for reading :)

Hell's Gate, part two.

All he had to do was find some fishermen that wanted into the city as much as he did.
Well, that's not any easy task... Finding someone who wants into the city is easy, but finding someone willing to try to get in is rather hard. Or, it usually is, you just need to find the right group. This task had taken 2 days, he was in the right part of town.

*You think they'll say yes?* He asked the voice.
*They may, but don't think they'll help you without a reward.*
*Getting in is it's own reward.*
*Perhaps, but only a crazy person would help you get into that city.*
"I bet this town's full of people who would help me into the city." He said out loud, just now realizing he had spoken out loud.
"Heh... Yeah, lots of us want in, but why don't you keep your voice down," Said a man behind him.
"What? Huh? Who are you?" He questioned.
"cmon, I think there are some people who would like to meet you." He stopped, then spoke again, "I'm Josh, just thought you should know, now come on."

He followed this man, Josh, to where ever and who ever the man wanted him to go.
"Hey! We got a new guy!" Josh yelled into a dimly lit bunkhouse near the shore.
"Cool! Bring him over!" He heard another man yell.
He stepped into the house with Josh, his eyes adjusting to the light slowly, nearly tripping on discarded soup cans.
"Where'd you find him?" Asked a short man with a small beard. He was actually no more man than he looked, he couldn't have been into his late twenties.
"Out in the road talking to himself, just like Rax," He motioned at another man who was sleeping in a cot just aside the soup cans. This man, however, looked to be in his late forties.
"What's your name?" Asked the man, "Oh and my names Hal, didn't mean to be impolite, but uh, what's yours?"
He thought for a minute, he didn't know his name, maybe he should just make one up.
"Uhh... Frank." He responded.
"Frank? What a name, had a friend named Frank once. Tall and stupid as the number seven." Said Hal.
"So you guys want into the city to?"
"Yeah, I hear the places is great... no more fighting, good housing, you know."

He got to know the whole crew, which was actually pretty big. There was Hal, the leader. He was good with computers, or so he said. Josh was the look out and recruiter for the group. Rax was... Rax, not much more other than brute strength and a past in illegal fighting for a private club that got busted all most 2 years ago now. Beaver was something else, real nut, maybe more so the him (Frank), but claimed to be a good shot.
The rest of the group was basically the same, just a bunch of angry fishermen who wanted into the city.

"So what's the plan?" Asked one of the men.
"Well, the DMC has a backdoor... Kind of anyways, it's not that well guarded, but the water there's deep." Said Hal.
"How are we gonna get in though?"
"A few days ago we got word that the Mikkers, the head fishing family, got robbed."
"So? What does that have to do with us?"
"We robbed them, or more specifically, we stole their boat."
"Which one?"
"The motor boat, you know the one." He responded with enthusiasm. He deserved his use of enthusiasm, the motor boat could fit their group and then some. It was pretty quiet to, he just hoped they had enough fuel. He had heard of the deep water fish, they reminded him of sharks, the kind you would find in a horror film.
"When do we act?"
"Tonight, the Mikkers will no doubt send out a search party, and you don't want to be on the receiving end of their wrath."

And so they started their job. Poorly equipped, and even poorly planned.

Rar! Rar rar rar! Thanks for reading :)

Hell's Gate, part three.

This would be their only chance to see the inside of the city. Detroit, the once "crime city" is now a place of power, respect... safety. But in order for it to be safe it would need guards, it would need its own military. They were fifteen in all, sixteen if you included the voice.
"Keep your heads down, and your mouths closed," Whispered Hal. He pointed to the left a little up into the sky, "That's one of the drones that patrols the cities wall, it may be to cloudy for it to see us right now, but it won't last,".
"How do ya plan on getting us past it?" One of the members asked.
"We'll have to be quiet, but more importantly, we'll have to keep low," Answered Hal, then, "So from this point on the motor will be off," He began turning off the engine.
"What will we do after that?" Asked Rax, which was odd given he barely ever talked, but perhaps the situation required him to.
"After we coast to a dock area we'll have to assess our situation, and think appropriately," He said, continuing, "We don't know all that much about this area,".

So they stayed silent up until they started hearing sirens from shore back the way they came. They could also make out a search light.
"Guess they know their boat is gone," Said Josh.
In the distance they started hearing gunfire, which could have been any combination of things going on back on land.

The went on without saying much more. They liked to believe that the guards were probably being sent that way to find out what was going on, which was supported by the security drone above them going West, which was where land was.
"Heh, this may be easier than we thought," Murmured a fisherman.

They finally got to one of the docks, and with cautious haste Hal got out to secure the boat so the others could get out easier. "Remember, be quiet," He reminded.

TBC

Rar! Rar rar rar! Thanks for reading :)