While doing a little cleaning up on my hard drive I found this short odd story. It was originally part of something called "The SKJAM Revenge Fic", which was a collection of short fanfics by at least 2 dozen authors from the old Fanfic Mailing List. The object was to write a story where the main characters from an anime series of the author's choosing get "revenge" on the author for all the trials and tribulations they were put through by the author in his or her fanfic stories. Many of the revenge fics were very funny, but for some reason I chose a darker route...
"Wake up..."
The voice was distant, as if calling to me from the end of some huge, haze-filled tunnel.
"Hmm, the sedative is taking its time wearing off. He'll be alright though. Keep an eye on him Priss. I'll be right back."
My eyes fought to open, their lids heavy with a drug-induced sleep. The words I had heard were taking their time getting to that part of my brain that translates them into understanding.
There... if I heard correctly, there is someone named "Priss" keeping an eye on me.
No way...
"Wake up tin man."
It was her voice alright.
My eyes finally opened for a brief moment. The sound of leather flexing filled my ears, as a blob of red started to come into focus. Two reddish brown eyes were staring down at me, as I lay in a prone position on a bed of some kind. I shut my eyes. Gawd, it was her alright.
She was beautiful, in her own unique way, but her gaze was as fierce in real life as I could ever recall before. She did not look pleased.
"Good morning," my sentry offered. "Feeling a little heavy headed perhaps?"
I tried to sit up. That was a mistake. A red-leather clad arm quickly pushed me back down against the bed.
"Oh no you don't," she warned. "Not just yet."
As I lay there, muted by the lingering sedation, the meaning of her words started to take hold, as did the realization that trying to sit up had taken a considerable amount of effort. My limbs had felt much heavier, as if made of lead, and my head seemed too heavy to support with my neck. I flexed my fingers experimentally, and my ears detected a metallic clicking sound, as well as the muffled whine of tiny hydraulic motors...
Blackness...
When I awoke next, I was outside, my immediate surroundings comprised of large piles of junk, and the stench of raw sewage filled my nose; or what I thought was my nose. I reached up and felt the smooth metallic surface of my face, and the nub of metal that housed my olfactory systems.
Sylia had gone mad.
The blackness of night surrounded me, as a cool wind picked up some paper debris and tugged at it among the junk heaps. This time I was not suffering from the effects of a sedative, and my senses were alert. And what senses! It had taken a few moments to realize that it was night time through the shifting green night-vision display that had replaced my flesh and blood vision. An internal scan revealed little was left of my former self. My metamorphosis had been made complete then.
The silence around me soon had me asking just one question, over and over again... why?
The answer was to remain a mystery a while longer, as four figures descended from above me, whisper quiet, and encased in shiny, high-tech armor. The silence that followed was unnerving, to say the least. Perhaps I was going to get an answer now.
The white hard-suited figure (Sylia Stingray I assumed) took a step forward, then extended her right arm towards me as if aiming her weapons.
"You have 3 minutes to make your escape," she barked. "Starting now."
What the...?
"GO!"
As the first words ebbed from my metallic lips, their sound was garbled and electronic sounding. then my brain's processor enhancements kicked in.
"Why Sylia? Why have you done this to me?"
"Shut up. There will be no questions. You have two minutes and forty-five seconds left. Move it."
She sounded dead serious.
"Sylia-"
"Shut up. Don't call me that. You have just one chance of surviving this if you start running now, otherwise you will be destroyed right here."
*Destroyed*, not killed. Christ... she's lost it.
"Why did you do this to me? And why am I here?"
Sylia's form flinched. Her arm dropped a little.
"Just start running. And maybe you won't have to pay any more for what you did to me... and to my father's memory."
Oh...
Words were useless now. I started running...
That was the future...
As I sit here now behind this computer, hiding from her in the past, I pray
they never find me.
THE END?
BACK to the Writing Home Page