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Soldier of Mawat
Militaires-Sans-Frontieres
153
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Posted - 2013.09.03 22:28:00 -
[1] - Quote
I posted this a long time ago in my dust 514 and has since been buried. So I figured that I should repost it here for people that would appreciate it. Hope you enjoy it guys!
It was the same dream again, the one that he always woke from in a cold sweat. He first had the dream about six months ago but didnGÇÖt have the dream again for three months. Now though, he was having the dream at least once a week. This night though was different.
It started the same way it always started, in the village from his very first mission as a merc. He entered the room they were in, so many of them just lying there. Men, women, and children had been herded into the room and slaughtered. He moved to them and saw the anguish on their faces, so sickened and horrified was he that he didnGÇÖt even see that the bodies had been rigged with explosives. The explosion triggered in slow motion beginning with a blinding flash. Then the pressure wave hit him, he could feel his entire body being compressed by the pressure, like the weight of a mountain on every inch of flesh. He felt his rib cage compress and felt his organs turn to jelly. There was no pain but he felt himself die, felt his consciousness flee from the body. His first death.
His vision switched to black, he had no feeling in his arms or legs but he felt as if falling. Slowly as if from some distance he saw something coming straight towards him, he knew what was coming. Everything was growing brighter as it grew closer. It was a fresh grave dug just for him. The grass around the grave looked so bright and alive, but the depths of the grave was so black and felt of death. He fell into it expecting to hit earth but he continued to fall. Suddenly light blossomed and filled his vision, he was suddenly fall from the sky of a planet he recognized. Clouds flashed past as he sped towards the ground, details becoming clearer as it drew closer. His consciousness landed in his body huddled behind the cover of concrete as he reloaded his weapon.
This body felt older, deadlier, the action of reloading was swifter and seemed effortless. This body experienced the civil war that had torn apart this city. He pulled his rifle above the edge of the concrete searching for targets, a man showed his head and the body took his life. A man with a mass driver had been waiting, once again time slowed. He saw the projectile as it exited the barrel, saw it spin and glint in the sunlight. Usually the men who took his life in his dreams were vague shadowy wraiths, but this time he was looking at copy of himself. His own image was standing there holding his death, and his copy was laughing like a maniac. The laughing filled his ears, the laughing of a madman. The round struck the ground next to him and again a flash. He felt the pressure but also felt the cutting shrapnel. Again there was no pain and again he felt the body die.
Falling yet again, the grave closing in to swallow his soul. This time the light that came was the stars, his consciousness flew through space. This body was on a space ship traveling through the maze of hallways. He jogged with some other bodies that were dressed similarly to him. He heard a shout to turn around, he turned and halfway there time slowed. He finally turned to see a mirror image of himself come around the corner with a shotgun, slowly as if underwater . He looked in his doppelgangers eyes and he saw madness, the mouth open in laughter. The shotgun flashed, he watched the blast impact his chest and rip it apart. He looked down to see his broken ribs and bits of torn meat, blood streamed from the wound
This time the fall to the grave did not find a body. This time he fell into the grave and felt as if he fell into an ocean. His vision turned red, a deep crimson, terrified he realized he was drowning in blood. He felt the thick liquid seep down his throat and fill his lungs. Suddenly there was a voice, his voice, and his voice was screaming. A second scream began, then a third, more and more voices joined until he couldn't tell count many there were. All the bodies he had occupied and lost were screaming as if in great pain. The multitude of voices hurt his ears; he so desperately wanted them to stop. He curled into a ball and covered his ears but to no avail. He realized that the voices were not coming from around him, they were in his head. He could do nothing as he continued to choke on the blood and sink ever further, the screaming growing louder and louder.
Jerking awake he bolted upright, the feeling of terror lingering. His entire body was soaked in sweat, the blankets tossed to the floor. He breathed heavily and wildly looked around his room. Everything was calmly lit in soft moonlight, a complete opposite of what he felt inside. A single thought crossed his mind that frightened him more than the nightmare had.
Am I going insane? |
Soldier of Mawat
Militaires-Sans-Frontieres
160
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Posted - 2013.09.08 03:33:00 -
[2] - Quote
Let me know what you guys think about this. |
Octavian Vetiver
Royal Uhlans
Amarr Empire
198
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Posted - 2013.09.09 04:19:00 -
[3] - Quote
Wow, it's quite creepy but at the same time it seems like you hit upon the crux of PTSD that someone who is an immortal soldier would experience at some point. At least someone who was completely normal and prone to having PTSD. |
Soldier of Mawat
Militaires-Sans-Frontieres
161
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Posted - 2013.09.09 08:37:00 -
[4] - Quote
Yeah my thoughts about this story while writing this was that there needed to be more stories about the mercs that focus less about combat. Sure stories about epic battles are fun to read but stories like these are just as entertaining to read IMO. |
Denak Kalamari
Intaki Liberation Front
Intaki Prosperity Initiative
439
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Posted - 2013.09.09 08:52:00 -
[5] - Quote
Great story, I've also been touching a little more on Denak's thoughts about battle and death from his own perspective and not that much on the combat. |
Soldier of Mawat
Militaires-Sans-Frontieres
164
|
Posted - 2013.09.10 01:17:00 -
[6] - Quote
Cost of Immortality Part 2
He had the dream every time he slept now, It matter not whether he slept during the day or had passed out in an attempt to drown out the voice with cheap strong liquor. The nightmare had left him a shadow of his former self, a withered and unclean form. The man seated on the end of his bed no longer looked like one of the fearsome immortal mercenaries. His skin growing paler by the day, his hair grew long and tangled, muscles losing definition and mass. He looked more like a paranoid recluse who shunned the light of day, for indeed that was what he had become. He now only left his nest of filth and anguish to purchase more alcohol, caffeine pills, and the occasional bit of food.
Ingesting handfuls of caffeine pills at a time gave him temporary escape from unconsciousness, but did nothing to help calm his mind. He could think of nothing but the screaming that echoed in his head every time he woke up. At one point he decided to splash water on his face to help keep him awake so he made his way into the bathroom. After lowering his head to the sink and splashing water on his face he glanced up at the mirror, the image there shocked him. He looked up to see his corpse staring back at him, although it was hard to tell if it was actually staring at him. There were no longer eyes in the sockets of the corpse, all that was left were glistening wet holes weeping blood. He quickly left the bathroom trying to push the corpse's image from his mind, feeling slight stirrings of panic beginning to form. Sometimes he could feel the madness just below the surface of his thoughts, a feeling of terror and crippling anxiety that at any moment could overwhelm him. Luckily these feelings passed quickly but each time his unease grew as he knew he was getting worse. He knew he was running out of time, he needed to try something new and drastic.
As he was returning home from procuring his desperate plan his exhausted mind wandered, his body was on auto pilot and so made its own way home. It wasnGÇÖt until he felt a presence in front of him did he focus on his soundings. Somehow he had roamed into an alley and in front of him stood a man in a large coat with a malicious glint in his eye. From a pocket the man drew a knife and brandished it, making his intent obvious without the need for words. It took a long moment for the
mercenary to understand his situation, but it took much less time for him to react.
Quick as a blur the mercenary grabbed the manGÇÖs knife hand and twisted, he heard and felt bones break. An instant later a light quick jab was sent rocketing into the would be robbers throat, crushing the larynx. In immense pain the thief tried to scream but all that came out was a choked gurgle as blood flooded his esophagus. A spinning kick delivered to the head cracked the skull and sent the helpless man flying to the side. Although malnourished and sleep deprived the mercenary had killed the man with ease and without much thought. The mercenary was already continuing onward before a last gasp could escape the lips of the now dead man.
With not a single thought spared for the man he had just killed the mercenary emptied the contents of his backpack onto his table. Bottle after bottle of prescription drugs tumbled out, the pills inside rattling noisily. The pills included painkillers, muscle relaxers, anti-anxiety medication, and a few psychiatric drugs. Frantically he emptied the contents of the bottles into a pile and began taking a number of pills at random, washing them down with gulps of cheap vodka. After consuming a dozen or so pills he turned off the lights and slumped down against the nearest wall. As he waited he stared at the digital clock on the wall, watching each minute pass by. Gradually his vision began to blur, his thoughts began to become sluggish, and his limps began to tingle. Before he knew it his whole body was numb and his mind was finally at ease, his mind fuzzy and unable to focus on any one thing. He sat like that for an unknown amount of time in the darkness, his eyes never leaving the now too blurry to read clock. After felt like an eternity he realized he no longer saw the clock, his vision had turned completely black. Ever so slowly the realization struck him; he was beginning to fall asleep.
Like a lightning flash the dream began, hurtling him again to that place where his first death occurred. The dream appeared as vivid as ever, every detail was as clear as when he first experienced the event. The explosives amongst the corpses triggered like it always did but ever more clearly. The sound of his bones breaking was like trees snapping in the wind. Terrified he tried to wake himself but to no avail; the dream had taken him hostage in his own mind. He expected the next death to be the same as always, the man with the mass driver, however he was wrong. This time the fall through the grave lead to his second ever death, a death from a sniper who had pinned his squad down. The dream had become worse; he was now experiencing every death, every clone his conscious had died in.
Screaming inside his own mind as he witnessed every projectile speeding toward him, every grenade that thumped down beside to him, every cut from a knife. He heard every crunch of his armor as it was breached, heard every bone break, heard his skin tear over and over, all in slow motion. Finally he died his most recent death and he welcomed the end, welcomed the ocean of blood that was the final portion of the dream. But this time as he sank into the blood the screaming sounded as if it came from all around him instead of from inside his head.
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Soldier of Mawat
Militaires-Sans-Frontieres
164
|
Posted - 2013.09.10 01:18:00 -
[7] - Quote
Suddenly from the thick blood hands extended and grabbed hold of his limbs. More hands were added every moment, clawing at his flesh. Hands grabbed his head and began scratching at his eyes, eventually gauging them out. Hands at his midriff began ripping at his stomach, ripping the flesh away. Eventually the hands were able to reach their way inside of his abdomen and began tearing at his organs.
He awoke to the sound of his own voice screaming as loud as his lungs would allow. His head felt like it was splitting apart, intense pain flared in his stomach as it roiled and heaved. He did not know how but he had somehow made his way onto his bed and had motioned for the lights to activate, he had to quickly move to one side as he felt his stomach rise. Fluid gushed from his mouth, and to his horror he saw that the thick liquid was blood. His body had finally found the strength to expel the drugs before they could do more damage. After finishing he rolled to the middle of his bed and curled into the fetal position and began to weep harder than he ever had before.
His mind began to clear from the effects of the drugs and his mind began to race once again. He knew that soon he would lose his mind and he would degenerate into a babbling creature. He knew the dreams would continue to haunt him as long as he was alive. That last thought made him pause, his weeping momentarily forgotten. He repeated the word alive in his head a few times as he began to understand. His eyes drifted to his pistol kept on the night stand, the glimmer of the light shining from the weapon was like the small flame of hope that had begun shining in his mind. If he could destroy the hated implant he would finally be allowed to die. He reached for the weapon with a purpose, pausing shortly before touching the grip. He had made up his mind, now was not the time to back down. He picked up the pistol and without hesitation he put it below his chin and blew his brains and chunks of his skull all over the ceiling above him.
Only moments later he opened his eyes in a new clone body and instantly recognized his failure. He fell from the clone pod with a cry of anguish and rage, startling the workers around the pod. He lay on the floor not hearing the men and women rush to his side; all he could hear was his own sobs. His crying and the rising sound of screaming that was already rising in the back of his mind. The screaming was an omen and a promise of the raging madness that lurked in his psyche. The madness that threatened to consume his mind, to immolate his conscious in the inferno of chaos and insanity.
Please tell me what you think about part 2! |
Earl Crushinator
Subdreddit
Test Alliance Please Ignore
142
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Posted - 2013.09.11 23:05:00 -
[8] - Quote
I like it.
You could run part 3 with him returning to his MQ and having it be spotless due to the almost invisible station staff working in the shadows of immortals beings. |
Soldier of Mawat
Militaires-Sans-Frontieres
169
|
Posted - 2013.09.12 00:22:00 -
[9] - Quote
Earl Crushinator wrote:I like it.
You could run part 3 with him returning to his MQ and having it be spotless due to the almost invisible station staff working in the shadows of immortals beings.
Not sure if I will write a third part. I wrote part one back in may and the only reason I wrote part two was because I was bored at work and ideas for the story just popped into my head. |
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