Ip_Switch
Jun 4th, 2005, 10:28:53 PM
Melchia Delmonte was just on a routine job, nothing new, nothing spectacular, nothing out of the ordinary.
He wasnt much of a man, much of anything, really. His life was his routine daily work. His dronish ways made others pity and detest him. Go to the terminal, get to the destination, drop off the package. He always did his job, neither good or bad, he just did it. Some say his superior blandness made him unique somehow. But everynight, wrapped in his little 5x5 cabin, he dreamed of somthing MORE...as if some purpose was trying to rip him from his duties. He dreamed of saving galaxies, or destroying them. Saving the damsel, or taking part in the betrayel of the century. He always pushed his dreaming back though, feeling duty was more important that silly facinations with things much more great that he. Even though, on this seemingly ordinary day, somthing extraordinary chages his life forever...
Routine. After he woke, he got breakfast. After breakfast, he would man the controls of the ship for the day.Making his way from the mess hall of the freighter, red lights started to flare...alarms went off left and right. Sirens screaming...PEOPLE screaming...none of it was making any sense to him. Everything was happening so fast...first the ship plunged into absolute chaos, then all of the crew members grabbed their heads, trying to dig out voices that couldnt be heard, but felt...felt like a sickness that wasnt natural.
Terrified. He hid in his little cell, hearing then seeing ship mates claw at the walls and eventually, his little ordinary window that showed him the hall. Each was trying to escape from their own nightmarish images, put there by somthing...dark. The lights go out...emergency systems power up. Melchia diddnt like emergency power, because all it lit was the ceiling and some spots of the floor, labled "Necissary" by some idiodic comission. He got up. There was an eerie glow in his 5x5 cell. He was shaking uncontrolably...the last hand that passed his little ordinary window smeared it with blood. A strange moaning came from the hall. Braving his fear, he inched towards the window, groping darkness for a blund object; a flashlight. Brilliant, he sarcastically told himself, now I can blind people. He slowly got up, and peered out the window. The image wont ever leave his memory, even when he turns.
Death. More than fourty dead bodies, all over, some twisted and mauled, some missing faces, eyes, toungs, and most had scratches covering their bodies. Bloody nail marks covered most of the walls. Eerie blue glow...he walked down the hall...a scream. He jumps, then steadily realises its himself thats screaming. He feels silly, for only a second, then returns to the overmassing amount of terror taking him over, slowly. He made his way up to the deck, and hurled. Here, a shipmate turned cannibalistic in his madness. Melchia recognized the captain of the ship as the victim, being eaten slowly. The blood covered man simply glanced at poor, ordinary Melchia and his silly little flashlight, and continued his sick devouring. The captains face was frozen in terror, his hand clutching a disc...
Desperate. He kills the cannibal. It was either him, he thought, or me...did I even have a choice? Seems like that silly, ordinary flashlight was actually lethal, if used to bash ones skull. Melchia sat in the captains chair, plugged in the disc, and watched in a trance...and was sickened by his own ignorance. He always, ALWAYS, checked what he shipped, over and over again. It was...routine. But someone slipped somthing aboard...somthing of horrific evils, only someone suffering from traumatic levels of insanity or evil could possibly use. He saw a security tape of someone in a dark cloak walk into the storage bay, open this box...this relic of death incarnate, and simply vanish.
Curiosity. He wonders down to the storage bay. Countless boxes, but he was only interested in one. Enless rows of boxes, filled with parts and supplies, surrounded him. Made a city of junk. And in the center...the dark alley you diddnt want to enter. He heard a woman crying, a child screaming...he starting hearing voices in his head as he crept closer to this box...was it? Could it just have been some sick mine, or a new bioweapon? Or was...no, it couldnt be...it was unheard of...
Your eyes decieve you, Melchia. You dont need them...
He fell to his knees, crawling in the dim, eerie blue light. Closer...closer...
Your face is not loved. Tear it away, and let the universe know who you are...
Tears streamed down his face. He concentrated on making his way to the box. He made it to the clearing, where all his hope was lost.
Bodies. Everywhere. Faces talking, eyes staring at him. A wall of flesh, reaching out to incorporate him within its sick folds. He tried to grab his head, to bore out the images...it was all part of the Box's plan. It just needed one more soul, then it would unleash its power on the world...Just ONE more measily, ordinary, soul to make its daily routine...complete.
Denied. What happens when a man of ordinary lineage, without any exraordinary powers denies an anchient and omnipotent sith artifact with mere will?
He wasnt much of a man, much of anything, really. His life was his routine daily work. His dronish ways made others pity and detest him. Go to the terminal, get to the destination, drop off the package. He always did his job, neither good or bad, he just did it. Some say his superior blandness made him unique somehow. But everynight, wrapped in his little 5x5 cabin, he dreamed of somthing MORE...as if some purpose was trying to rip him from his duties. He dreamed of saving galaxies, or destroying them. Saving the damsel, or taking part in the betrayel of the century. He always pushed his dreaming back though, feeling duty was more important that silly facinations with things much more great that he. Even though, on this seemingly ordinary day, somthing extraordinary chages his life forever...
Routine. After he woke, he got breakfast. After breakfast, he would man the controls of the ship for the day.Making his way from the mess hall of the freighter, red lights started to flare...alarms went off left and right. Sirens screaming...PEOPLE screaming...none of it was making any sense to him. Everything was happening so fast...first the ship plunged into absolute chaos, then all of the crew members grabbed their heads, trying to dig out voices that couldnt be heard, but felt...felt like a sickness that wasnt natural.
Terrified. He hid in his little cell, hearing then seeing ship mates claw at the walls and eventually, his little ordinary window that showed him the hall. Each was trying to escape from their own nightmarish images, put there by somthing...dark. The lights go out...emergency systems power up. Melchia diddnt like emergency power, because all it lit was the ceiling and some spots of the floor, labled "Necissary" by some idiodic comission. He got up. There was an eerie glow in his 5x5 cell. He was shaking uncontrolably...the last hand that passed his little ordinary window smeared it with blood. A strange moaning came from the hall. Braving his fear, he inched towards the window, groping darkness for a blund object; a flashlight. Brilliant, he sarcastically told himself, now I can blind people. He slowly got up, and peered out the window. The image wont ever leave his memory, even when he turns.
Death. More than fourty dead bodies, all over, some twisted and mauled, some missing faces, eyes, toungs, and most had scratches covering their bodies. Bloody nail marks covered most of the walls. Eerie blue glow...he walked down the hall...a scream. He jumps, then steadily realises its himself thats screaming. He feels silly, for only a second, then returns to the overmassing amount of terror taking him over, slowly. He made his way up to the deck, and hurled. Here, a shipmate turned cannibalistic in his madness. Melchia recognized the captain of the ship as the victim, being eaten slowly. The blood covered man simply glanced at poor, ordinary Melchia and his silly little flashlight, and continued his sick devouring. The captains face was frozen in terror, his hand clutching a disc...
Desperate. He kills the cannibal. It was either him, he thought, or me...did I even have a choice? Seems like that silly, ordinary flashlight was actually lethal, if used to bash ones skull. Melchia sat in the captains chair, plugged in the disc, and watched in a trance...and was sickened by his own ignorance. He always, ALWAYS, checked what he shipped, over and over again. It was...routine. But someone slipped somthing aboard...somthing of horrific evils, only someone suffering from traumatic levels of insanity or evil could possibly use. He saw a security tape of someone in a dark cloak walk into the storage bay, open this box...this relic of death incarnate, and simply vanish.
Curiosity. He wonders down to the storage bay. Countless boxes, but he was only interested in one. Enless rows of boxes, filled with parts and supplies, surrounded him. Made a city of junk. And in the center...the dark alley you diddnt want to enter. He heard a woman crying, a child screaming...he starting hearing voices in his head as he crept closer to this box...was it? Could it just have been some sick mine, or a new bioweapon? Or was...no, it couldnt be...it was unheard of...
Your eyes decieve you, Melchia. You dont need them...
He fell to his knees, crawling in the dim, eerie blue light. Closer...closer...
Your face is not loved. Tear it away, and let the universe know who you are...
Tears streamed down his face. He concentrated on making his way to the box. He made it to the clearing, where all his hope was lost.
Bodies. Everywhere. Faces talking, eyes staring at him. A wall of flesh, reaching out to incorporate him within its sick folds. He tried to grab his head, to bore out the images...it was all part of the Box's plan. It just needed one more soul, then it would unleash its power on the world...Just ONE more measily, ordinary, soul to make its daily routine...complete.
Denied. What happens when a man of ordinary lineage, without any exraordinary powers denies an anchient and omnipotent sith artifact with mere will?