Post by Joe Fischer on Jul 19, 2015 0:11:40 GMT -6
[WARNING: This post contains disturbing and graphic imagery.]
It was night, and Joe was rowing a boat across some body of water he couldn’t identify. He couldn’t see where he was going nor where he had been due to a thick fog.
“Gunny,” a female voice called out.
He stopped rowing and looked around, but all he saw was fog.
“Over here,” it called from behind him.
It was then he recognized it, only because he had heard it so rarely.
“Kosugi,” he said.
“Over here, Gunny,” she called again.
The boat flew into the air, spinning end over end, as if a giant fist had risen from the depths to destroy the tiny intruder in its domain.
He hit water and sank several feet, but easily pulled himself up.
Then he felt the rotting arm wrap around his neck.
“You got me killed, Gunny,” hissed Summers.
Joe struggled against the arm, but here his strength was nothing.
“My first mission, and you got me KILLED!” Summers yelled, and pushed him under.
When Joe came back up, he found himself looking at Michaels.
She was naked—and she was rotting just like Summers was.
“I told you I wasn’t into guys, but for you I’d make an exception,” she said, running a hand through her hair, which came off in clumps. “Are you ready for me?”
She leaned forward, her lips puckered.
He shut his eyes, whimpering in fear.
“Open your damn eyes, Gunny,” ordered another voice. The anger in it hit him like a charging krogan.
He opened his eyes to see Pennington. The man was missing a quarter of his head, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Did you really think I didn’t know?” he asked, then punched Joe.
Joe reeled back as if he had just been punched by a YMIR mech.
“Did you really think I didn’t notice the way you looked at my wife?” Pennington asked, then punched Joe again. “You let me die because you wanted her and would do anything to have her.”
“No,” Joe whined.
Something wrapped itself around his leg and pulled him under.
*****
Even though it was night, he could see through the water as if it was glass.
He looked down to see Wilson. She glared at him as she tugged on his leg, dragging him further down. In life, he had her by a foot and a half and more than twice her weight, but she pulled him down effortlessly.
“I’m sorry!” he pleaded, hating the panic he heard in his voice. “I’m sorry I let you die! Please LET ME GO!!!”
“An apology?” a female voice said from behind him, a voice that had haunted every day of his life since that night. “Do you really think an apology will wash away all the blood on your hands?”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Open your eyes, Joe,” said the voice gently, but all he felt was terror. “Open your eyes or I’ll slice your eyelids off…slowly…with a dull and rusty knife.”
He kept his eyes shut. He knew if he opened them he would die.
“All right,” the voice said, and he suddenly felt pressure on his eyes. “Have it your way.”
He screamed.
It was night, and Joe was rowing a boat across some body of water he couldn’t identify. He couldn’t see where he was going nor where he had been due to a thick fog.
“Gunny,” a female voice called out.
He stopped rowing and looked around, but all he saw was fog.
“Over here,” it called from behind him.
It was then he recognized it, only because he had heard it so rarely.
“Kosugi,” he said.
“Over here, Gunny,” she called again.
The boat flew into the air, spinning end over end, as if a giant fist had risen from the depths to destroy the tiny intruder in its domain.
He hit water and sank several feet, but easily pulled himself up.
Then he felt the rotting arm wrap around his neck.
“You got me killed, Gunny,” hissed Summers.
Joe struggled against the arm, but here his strength was nothing.
“My first mission, and you got me KILLED!” Summers yelled, and pushed him under.
When Joe came back up, he found himself looking at Michaels.
She was naked—and she was rotting just like Summers was.
“I told you I wasn’t into guys, but for you I’d make an exception,” she said, running a hand through her hair, which came off in clumps. “Are you ready for me?”
She leaned forward, her lips puckered.
He shut his eyes, whimpering in fear.
“Open your damn eyes, Gunny,” ordered another voice. The anger in it hit him like a charging krogan.
He opened his eyes to see Pennington. The man was missing a quarter of his head, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Did you really think I didn’t know?” he asked, then punched Joe.
Joe reeled back as if he had just been punched by a YMIR mech.
“Did you really think I didn’t notice the way you looked at my wife?” Pennington asked, then punched Joe again. “You let me die because you wanted her and would do anything to have her.”
“No,” Joe whined.
Something wrapped itself around his leg and pulled him under.
*****
Even though it was night, he could see through the water as if it was glass.
He looked down to see Wilson. She glared at him as she tugged on his leg, dragging him further down. In life, he had her by a foot and a half and more than twice her weight, but she pulled him down effortlessly.
“I’m sorry!” he pleaded, hating the panic he heard in his voice. “I’m sorry I let you die! Please LET ME GO!!!”
“An apology?” a female voice said from behind him, a voice that had haunted every day of his life since that night. “Do you really think an apology will wash away all the blood on your hands?”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Open your eyes, Joe,” said the voice gently, but all he felt was terror. “Open your eyes or I’ll slice your eyelids off…slowly…with a dull and rusty knife.”
He kept his eyes shut. He knew if he opened them he would die.
“All right,” the voice said, and he suddenly felt pressure on his eyes. “Have it your way.”
He screamed.