Sold2/Macman: Sold2 Starts!

[DtJ Glyphmoney]

DO NOT POST IN THIS THREAD UNLESS YOUR NAME IS IN THE TITLE!

Okay! All of these threads have the same OP so don't worry about reading over the other ones. This is a very straightforward concept, you just take turns writing a story. There are a few rules I'd like to set in order to make this as effective as possible.

1. NO OUTSIDE COMMUNICATION. This is a BIG rule. I want to see every little bit of the story's development in this thread. And no, talking about it on AIM and posting a log is not okay.
2. There is no out of context. Everything you put in here becomes part of the story you're telling. That means if you break down and get mad at your partner and cuss him out, one of the two of you will have to find a way to justify that happening.
3. Don't be a ****. Don't go out of your way to ruin other people's stories. In the same fashion, don't be 100% dedicated to only getting what you want done too.
4. Don't write a novel each post. This rule was something I had a hard time with since I am trying to make this as free range as possible. Just don't overwhelm your partner with more story than they can handle is what I'm getting at.

Knowing myself, I've forgotten some rule again. Refrain from posting in this thread until you're planning to start the story.

 

[DtJ S2n]

Graham tightened the smooth leather strap of his scabbard around his waist. If he was going to be on a pirate ship, he was at least going to get the look right. The captain of the ship had been generous enough to let him put in some "honest" work in exchange for a ride to other side of this sea. Nobody really knew what was on the other side, but he would have better luck living with a family of wild bears than the monarchy of Ironvale.

He had once actually been a servant of the prince of Ironvale, but he found out how disposable he was when he was set up to take the fall for one of the Prince's outings. The Prince was a drunkard who would **** and stab any woman better looking than a horse. As well as some good looking horses on occasion. But that was all behind him now. Not even the army of Ironvale would dare venture into the Unknown, as he dubbed it. He would be safe, at least from them.

He opened the door to his cabin and walked out to be met by the bright morning sun, and the salty mist of the sea. He breathed deeply through his nostrils and smiled thoughtfully. He was going to work hard to earn his keep, he was proud of his work. He was just looking around for his mop and bucket when he heard someone calling for him. Not here, but from his mind, his other mind in fact. He frowned. He knew who this was, and he knew they would be angry with him. This was common. He would just have to pay attention to his adventures in Ironvale later. He felt his pocket and found the magic key, the one he used to travel between worlds, between realities. It felt warm in his palm. He closed his eyes and squeezed it tight. The world in front of him began to dissolve into a different reality.

He swore he could still feel the mist on his cheeks, but he wasn't looking at the sea anymore. He sighed silently. He did not know if he even wanted to open his eyes again.

 

[#HBC | Mac]

The smell of raw meat filled his nostrils. Graham opened his eyes and found himself staring into the soulless eyes of a dead cow. He jumped back in disgust and banged his head on the cold metal wall behind him. He ignored the pain and surveyed his surroundings. He was amidst a myriad of dead rotting cows hung neatly from hooks in the ceiling.

"I'd thought you'd come visit more often." An old man appeared from behind a cow and started to walk slowly towards Graham. The man's eyes were transfixed on Graham and he had a long jagged knife clutched tightly in his fist. Without averting his gaze, he stopped at the nearest carcass and stabbed his knife deep into the stomach of the animal. In a slow downwards motion, the man sliced open the stomach of the cow. Blood poured from the large gash onto the metal floor.

"I've been waiting for you." The man continued to walk towards Graham.

"I'm sorry Jackson! It's been-" Graham was interrupted by the sound of another stab. Jackson sliced open the stomach of a second cow and guts splattered across the slaughterhouse floor. Graham paused momentarily and only began to speak again once Jackson continue towards him. "It's been... difficult." Graham hated the sound of the fear in his voice.

"I don't like to be kept waiting." Jackson stopped at the last cow between him and Graham. "Do you have what I want?"

 

[DtJ S2n]

Jackson was his boss. His ex-boss, he should say. A real criminal, the kind that kids look under the bed for. Jackson wasn't too smart, but he was charismatic in the worst way. He had power over people, through pure stature. People respected Jackson. People feared him. That's why nobody questioned his leadership of the Guild of Freedom. Graham nearly gagged as he mentally pronounced those words. The rotting cow corpses did not help.

"I'm not a part of this any more... I don't want to be involved in this any more. Why are you doing this to me?" The words hung in the air, each one tip-toeing over a trip wire. He knew he could be dead in any second. It had been a full year and a half, the Winter of 2052, since Graham last saw Jackson, and he had hoped that would be the last time. Graham left the Guild after a particularly bloody operation. A lot of Graham's friends died that night, and it was because of Jackson...

The sound of wet meat being torn apart interrupted Graham's thoughts. He closed his eyes and tried to inhale, keep his composure. Graham searched his brain for a way out of this. Jackson didn't want anybody ratting on his plans, and that included Graham. You don't just leave the Guild, not alive at least. And even if the dead could speak, they'd have learned to never rat on Jackson. The intestine unfurled, splashing against the metal floor closely followed by a number of stomachs. Graham stood there paralyzed, bile rising in his throat. He could feel Jackson's glare, heavy on his palm.

"I know what you've done, Graham. I'm proud of you." The second line came out like a hocked loogie. He took a step forward to emphasize the point "Now, are you gonna give it to me?"

Graham gripped the lump of metal, still warm in his hand. This was his Key. The one he made after leaving the guild. It gave him freedom, and that's all he wanted. Now more than ever. He would have to escape, there was no reasoning with Jackson. He knew where he was. He was in one of the Guild's old bases, trying to find and remove all traces that even existed in this world. His old laptop currently rest on his waist in his bag. He'd have to find a better time to get rid of it.

Going back up the stairs where he had come from would lead to a dead end. The only way out was the front door, and Jackson was between him and the it. As Jackson's footsteps drew closer, Graham stiffened against the cold metal wall. It was then that he noticed, not 10 feet down the wall, he had found the answer to his prayers.

Sweat gathered on his brow. This was his only chance.

 

[#HBC | Mac]

Graham went for it.

The lamps hanging from the ceiling all went off at once. A shiver went down Graham's spine when he realized he could barely see the cow corpse directly next to him. He was almost regretting hitting the light switch.

"Oh come on now." Graham swore he could hear Jackson smirking. "This isn't the time for silly games."

Graham couldn't see a few feet in front of him, so Jackson was completely out of sight. He took comfort knowing that Jackson also couldn't see him. This was far from over, he still had to escape and Jackson was still between him and the door. He regretted coming here. Why did he think that he'd be able to convince Jackson to let him go. The man was demented. Jackson relaxed his grip on the key. He knew it'd be a couple hours before he could use it again. Plus, there were things he needed to take care of here.

The sound of movement a few yards in front of him put Graham on edge. Reflexively, Graham tumble-rolled to the left, just barely dodging Jackson as he swung at Graham. Graham silently swore at himself for not moving sooner.

"Graham, my boy." Jackson sounded like he was enjoying this. "There's no point in running. Just give me the key and you're free to go." Jackson slashed at Graham again as Graham scampered a few yards to the left. Graham knew he had to keep moving. He remained low and continued to evade the attacks that Jackson was sending him through the darkness.

Graham dived and rolled under and between the hanging corpses as Jackson kept swinging, inadvertently cutting open a few cows along the way. Each time, guts would spew everywhere, at times covering both of them in intestines. This dance in the dark continued on, the dodging and slashing echoing rythmically throughout the room.

Graham was slowly increasing the distance between Jackson. His smaller size was to his advantage as he was able to move through the corpses much easier. Graham was getting confident, at this rate he'd be able to reach the door before Jackson got to him.

"Why do you have to make this so difficult!" Jackson was getting agitated. He recognized that he wouldn't be able to catch Graham if this continued. "You can't escape."

The dark room suddenly grew silent. Jackson had stopped swiping. Graham felt even more uneasy than he did when he was dodging Jackson's attacks. The quiet blackness and dead corpses all around him was affecting his psyche. He shook off the feeling and concentrated on finding the exit.

The exit... Crap! In his erratic movement through the darkness, Graham had lost all sense of direction. How would he find the exit now? Before Graham's panic got to overwhelming, the answer revealed itself. Dim concentrated light appeared from one of the warehouse. The exit! Graham's relief quickly subsided as he realized that someone must have opened the door. He groaned as he realized Jackson must be waiting for him at the only exit in the room.

 

[DtJ S2n]

Cornered, he had no where to run and no tricks he could pull out of his sleeve. Graham was scared. But like the cornered rat he was, he would fight Jackson if it was his only choice. Jackson was much bigger and stronger than Graham was... he hardly had a chance, but death was better than the alternative. Graham didn't have much to go back to, so he moved forward with the resolve to kill Jackson.

The sunlight was nearly blinding as he approached it. And then Jackson's silhouette was there, appearing to eclipse the sun itself. Beads of sweat formed on Graham's forehead. He'd kill him. He'd get rid the cause of all his problems in life. Cool waves of fresh air washed over him, the weight of fear lifting.

"Alright Jackson. Let's end it." But as he got closer, the figure came into focus and he wasn't looking at Jackson at all.

"Look, punk. I don't know who you are or who your friend Jackson is, but this is private property you're rolling around in. You get the hell outta here before I knock your head off!" The large man almost casually pointed out the door with the steel pipe he was holding.

Graham took another look into the hanging cow corpses, and only saw bovine and shadows. He looked at the man, wanted to say something, but had no idea how to explain why he was rolling around in a warehouse full of dead cows. He was becoming painfully aware of the blood on his face and his clothes, what a mess he must look. So he didn't say anything, he just ran outside. He stopped momentarily to take his jacket off and wipe the blood off his face, and then threw it behind some shrubs. And then he kept running.

He didn't know where to go. He just wanted to go home.