JACK The SIN AND THE PSYCHO
Hi, I'm Christian. If you've ever read anything from "Christian Lankford's Storys"—which, yes, is spelled wrong because apparently, I can’t spell—you probably already know why I’m doing this. Today is the day I’m ending every single one of my stories. Why? Because, let’s face it, most of them suck.
It’s not that I didn’t try—I did. But there’s only so much a guy can handle before realizing the only way to truly put an end to the madness is to kill off everyone in them. Yes, you heard that right. I’m pulling the plug, hitting delete, and wiping out every ridiculous character, including every poorly-written version of myself.
I grabbed my trusty, story-obliterating gun and opened a portal to one of my absolute worst creations: Jack the Sin and the Psycho. Why is this one of the worst stories I've ever written? Well, it opens with Liam at his dorm, getting a NOTICE OF EVICTION—which has got to be the most pathetic way to kick off a story. Seriously, read this garbage:
Liam trudged back to his dorm after another grueling day of classes and part-time work, his feet dragging with each step. The summer heat was relentless, and all he could think about was collapsing onto his bed. When he reached his building, he noticed a bright red notice taped to his door.
"NOTICE OF EVICTION"
The words stared back at him, cold and final. His stomach dropped as he read the rest of the letter...
"Ugh, we get it, Liam, your life sucks. I can't believe I thought this was a good idea," I muttered as I stepped into the scene.
Liam, totally clueless to the fact that his entire existence was about to be erased, sat slumped on his bed, tears welling up in his eyes. Then his phone buzzed. In the original version, it was Aidan calling. But not this time.
Nope, this time, it was me.
Liam glanced at his phone, seeing my name flash on the screen. Confused, he tapped the message: "Surprise!"
Just as his head shot up, I burst through the portal with a grin.
BANG.
Liam's eyes widened in horror as he saw the barrel of the gun aimed at him. And just like that—boom!—Liam was dead, wiped out in a shower of red confetti.
Should’ve worked harder on that app, bro," I muttered, stepping over his lifeless body. I felt a strange sense of power surging through me—creator, destroyer, writer, executioner. What kind of monster have I become? Scratch that. What kind of monster have I always been? Because let’s face it, any author who writes this much crap is already a little deranged.
With Liam out of the way, I sighed in relief. "One down, and now we can move on to some of the real garbage in this story."
I flipped through the pages of Jack the Sin and the Psycho, cringing at what came next. "Here, just read this part," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Not that it matters—it’ll be wiped out soon anyway."
We trudged through the rain, the old house looming ahead of us. It looked like something out of a horror movie, with vines crawling up the walls and boarded-up windows. I felt a chill, and it wasn’t just from the cold.
As we got closer, I saw three more people waiting by the door. My heart skipped a beat. Zeke, Tyler, and Adane—my friends from high school. I hadn’t seen them in ages. College had pulled me away from them and my family.
"Hey," I called out, trying to sound casual.
"Liam! Long time, no see," Zeke said with a grin.
Tyler and Adane nodded at me, looking just as tense as I felt.
"Didn't think I'd see you guys here," I said. "What's up?"
"Same as you, I guess," Adane replied. "Money’s tight, and Aidan said this place is loaded."
I slapped the page. "Look at this crap! Liam randomly runs into his high school buddies at a creepy house, and they all act like it's totally normal. Like, sure, let's just walk into a murder mansion for money. It’s a miracle I didn't fall asleep writing this."
But why waste time? "You know what? I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Time to speed things up."
And now, finally, we reach the end of this story—thank goodness, because I just re-read it so you don’t have to. Here’s how it wraps up, told from Tyler’s perspective:
He hit me again, this time across the back, the force splintering the wooden body of the guitar. I felt bones crack and splinter beneath the relentless assault. Each strike was delivered with a savage rhythm, in time with the song's pounding beat.
Blood sprayed with each blow, splattering the wet ground and mixing with the mud. My vision darkened as the world spun around me. The pain was overwhelming, each strike blurring into the next. The music, the rain, and the sound of my bones breaking melded into a nightmarish symphony.
The man’s face was twisted into a grin, his eyes alight with a perverse joy. He raised the guitar high above his head for one final blow, the chorus ringing in my ears.
In the end, as you fade into the night, who will tell the story of your life?
The guitar came down on my head, and everything went black. I felt the wet ground beneath me, the rain washing over my broken body. The music continued to play, a cruel soundtrack to my demise.
The old man leaned down, his face close to mine. His breath was hot and smelled of decay. He whispered softly, his voice cutting through the darkness.
"No one."
"Yeah, that’s right. ‘No one,’ because no one’s ever going to read this trash again," I said, flipping the page.
But instead of letting the scene play out, I decided it was time for me to intervene. Enough with the melodrama. Time to rewrite this nightmare.
I jumped into the scene like an action hero, bursting out of the shadows. Jack, still grinning like a lunatic, raised his guitar high for the final blow. But before he could bring it down on Tyler, I shouted, "No one!"
Jack froze, confused, turning to face me just as I pulled out my gun.
BANG!
The bullet ripped through Jack’s head, sending chunks of brain, skull, and teeth flying in every direction. Blood splattered across the muddy ground, mixing with the rain like some kind of grotesque Jackson Pollock painting. Jack stumbled, his body twitching as he tried to stay upright, but I wasn’t done yet.
"Oh, I’m sorry, were you using this?" I asked sarcastically, firing another shot, this time straight into his chest. His ribcage exploded, organs spilling out like a grotesque piñata. His eyes, now wide with terror, blinked rapidly as he fell backward into the mud, his mangled body twitching one last time before finally going still.
“Well, that was fun,” I muttered, wiping Jack's brain matter off my shoes. “I guess that’s the end of this masterpiece.”
The Rizzler
Next up: The Rizzler—definitely one of the worst things I’ve ever written. If you don’t believe me, let’s just dive into the first couple of lines.
“The Rizzler” was not your typical secret agent. Sure, he had a resume packed with outrageous accolades and daring missions, but he also had something extra: a chronic case of overconfidence. Standing at six feet tall, with a permanent smirk plastered across his face and a knack for witty banter that could make even the most stoic villain roll their eyes, The Rizzler was both feared and adored in the espionage community. And by “feared,” I mean he often scared people away with his atrocious pickup lines.
The latest mission brief buzzed through a secure line, the stern voice of M, head of MI6, slicing through the air like a wet noodle. “Liam, we’ve got a situation. Billy Bobby Brown the Third has resurfaced. He’s planning something big, and we need you to find out what it is and stop him.”
Liam couldn’t help but chuckle. “Billy Bobby Brown the Third? Sounds like a country singer who got lost on his way to a barbecue festival.”
M sighed heavily, the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. “Focus, Liam. Billy is anything but a joke. He’s the mastermind behind several high-profile heists and terrorist activities. We need you to infiltrate his operation.”
“Right, right, serious stuff,” Liam replied, barely containing his laughter. “But honestly, how can I take a guy seriously when his name sounds like a bad sitcom?”
And with that, the cringe-fest continued. Liam approached the bar with all the subtlety of a marching band in a library, ordering a martini with his signature flair. “Shaken, not stirred. And make it snappy, darling. I’ve got places to be and villains to thwart.”
The bartender, a young woman with a knowing smile that hinted she had seen this level of ridiculousness before, complied quickly. “You must be new around here. We don’t see many like you.”
“Many like me?” Liam raised an eyebrow, oozing charm. “What, dashing, charming, and devastatingly funny?”
She laughed softly, but her eyes rolled in disbelief. “No, I mean spies who announce themselves so openly. You’re practically broadcasting it.”
“Ah,” Liam said, taking a sip of his drink like it was the elixir of life. “Well, subtlety is overrated. Besides, I’ve found that villains are more likely to spill their secrets when they think I’m not taking them seriously.”
“Bro, the lines are pure trash,” I said, shaking my head. “What was I thinking? It’s like I was high while writing this nonsense! ‘Sounds like a country singer who lost his way’—what the heck is that?! But hey, at least Liam’s Rizz is killer... not in a good way, more like dumpster fire vibes.”
We’re skipping ahead a bit now. Get ready for the next part, which, trust me, doesn’t get any better:
Suddenly, Liam’s instincts screamed at him. He looked around frantically and noticed several red lights blinking among the crates and machinery. Explosives.
“Zeke, hold on!” Liam yelled as he sprinted toward his friend.
But it was too late. The explosives detonated in a deafening roar, the shockwave throwing Liam backwards. The world went black for a moment, and when Liam regained his senses, he was half-buried under debris, his ears ringing.
“Zeke!” he shouted, struggling to free himself. “Zeke!”
The center of the warehouse was a smoldering ruin. Where Zeke had been, there was now only twisted metal and scattered debris. Liam’s heart sank. He pulled himself free and staggered to where his friend had been.
“Zeke…” Liam whispered, dropping to his knees. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Zeke was gone.
I cringed. “Wow. That was bad. Like, really bad. I could’ve ended it right here and saved everyone the pain, but no, I kept going. It’s like watching a car crash, except I’m the one behind the wheel, flooring it straight into a brick wall.”
But hey, what’s the point of quitting now? We’ve come this far. Let’s see just how deep this disaster can go.
We’re jumping right into the climax of this catastrophe, and trust me, it’s even worse than you expect:
Just as Billy reached the edge of the woods, Liam tackled him to the ground. They rolled across the grass, grappling fiercely. Billy fought with a desperate strength, but Liam’s training and determination gave him the upper hand. He pinned Billy down, securing his arms behind his back.
“Give it up, Billy,” Liam growled. “It’s over.”
Billy spat, his defiance unbroken. “You think this changes anything? There’s always another plan, another opportunity. You can’t stop me.”
Liam’s grip tightened on Billy's arm. “Not this time.”
Before Billy could react, Liam drew his pistol and pressed it against Billy’s chest. “This ends here, Billy. No more games, no more chances.”
Billy’s eyes widened in shock and fear. “Wait—”
Liam pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the still night. Billy's body jerked, his eyes rolling back as he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Liam stood over him, breathing heavily, the weight of his decision settling over him like a shroud.
Monkey Man, who had been watching from a distance, approached cautiously. “Whoa, Rizzler. That was... decisive.”
Liam holstered his gun, his expression grim. “It had to be done. He was too dangerous to let live.”
“Yeah... what the heck was I thinking?” I groaned, rubbing my temples. “This is worse than the new KSI song, and that’s saying something. And seriously, Monkey Man? What was I on when I named him? I shook my head. “If I had any dignity left, this would’ve been the point where I’d stop writing forever. But no, I kept this thing going like it was good or something.”
Just when you thought it was over, plot twist! Yeah, because nothing says “quality writing” like bringing back the villain with an evil twin:
“Liam here. Who’s calling?”
A familiar, chilling voice came through the line, sending a shiver down Liam’s spine. “Hello, Rizzler. Did you really think it would be that easy?”
Liam’s blood ran cold. “Billy?”
Billy laughed, the sound grating and filled with malice. “Surprised? You should be. You didn’t kill me, Liam. You killed my twin brother, Bobby. We’ve always shared everything—even our enemies.”
Liam’s mind raced, the implications of Billy’s words sinking in. “You’re lying.”
“Oh, I assure you, I’m very much alive. And you’ve made this personal, Liam. Killing Bobby was a mistake you’ll regret.”
Liam’s grip tightened on his phone. “Where are you, Billy?”
Billy’s voice was mocking. “Wouldn’t you like to know? But don’t worry, Rizzler, we’ll meet again soon. And when we do, you’ll wish you had finished the job.”
The line went dead, leaving Liam standing in stunned silence. The realization that Billy Bobby Brown the Third was still out there, plotting his next move, filled him with a sense of dread and determination.
I exhaled deeply. “No. Just no. Why would I do this to myself? I’m the one who wrote it, and even I want this thing to end already. Evil twin twist? I mean, come on. I shook my head again, disbelief creeping into my voice. “I don’t know why I kept writing this thing, but here we are. Sinking deeper into this disaster one page at a time.”
We enter the grand finale—or, as I like to call it, the last straw:
In the living room, they found Billy, standing calmly by the window, a smirk on his face. “Hello, Rizzler. Welcome home.”
Liam didn’t waste any time. He raised his gun and fired, hitting Billy squarely in the chest. Billy staggered back, blood blossoming on his shirt, and collapsed to the floor.
Monkey Man stepped forward, inspecting the body. “Is it really over?”
Liam nodded, holstering his gun. “It’s over.”
But as they turned to leave, Monkey Man’s laughter filled the room. Liam spun around, confusion and alarm etched on his face.
“What’s so funny?” Liam demanded.
Monkey Man straightened up, his grin widening into something far more sinister. “You really think it’s over, Rizzler?”
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Monkey Man slowly clapped his hands, the sound echoing through the room. “You’ve been played, Liam. All those Billys you killed? Actors. Just distractions.”
Liam’s blood ran cold. “What?”
Monkey Man’s expression twisted with jealousy and rage. “You took all the women. You took all my RIZZ. Now, I’m going to take your life.”
Realization dawned on Liam, and he took a step back. “You’re Billy.”
Monkey Man, or rather, Billy Bobby Brown the Third, smiled. “The one and only. It was fun watching you run around in circles, thinking you were so clever.”
And that’s where I draw the line. “I can’t watch any more of this,” I muttered. “I’m just going to end it here. This is it. No more ‘Rizzler.’ No more ‘Monkey Man.’ I’m tapping out.”
And honestly? I’ve never felt better about stopping something in my life.
With one last deep breath, I stepped through the portal. On the other side, Monkey Man looked up at me, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Wait, what the—"
BANG!
Before he could even finish his sentence, I shot him square in the forehead. Blood splattered everywhere, and his body crumpled like a cheap suit. Honestly, he dropped faster than the plot quality of this story.
I took a moment to appreciate the poetic beauty of it all. “Guess your rizz finally ran out, huh, Monkey Man?” I smirked, knowing that line was so bad it hurt more than the bullet.
Next up was Liam. He barely had time to register what happened before I leveled the gun at him.
BANG!
One shot, right to the gut. Liam doubled over, clutching his stomach in shock, blood pouring through his fingers. I casually strolled over, shrugging. “Yeah, you weren’t even hard to kill. Probably because your character development is about as deep as a kiddie pool.”
He gasped, struggling to stay upright, but I wasn’t done. I aimed at his head and let the bullet fly. His skull exploded like a watermelon at a Gallagher show, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Talk about losing your head, huh?”
I stepped over their lifeless bodies, shaking my head. “Well, that’s that. Liam, Monkey Man, Billy Bobby Brown the Third, Bobby, whoever the heck you all were—it’s been a mess, but I’m glad it’s finally over.”
Liam: “Alright, folks, we're at our first stop, the local coffee shop. Time to get my caffeine fix and maybe chat up some ladies. Got some new lines I wanna try out. Should be fun!”
He approaches the counter where a barista, a young woman in her early 20s, is waiting.
Liam (smirking): “Hey there, can I get a black coffee? And you know, you look like someone who has a dark secret. I'd love to hear it over a drink sometime.”
The barista looks uncomfortable, forcing a polite smile.
Barista: “Um, sure. One black coffee coming up.”
Liam (turning to the camera, whispering): “Guys, did you see that? Totally worked! She’s definitely intrigued.”
Bro, she’s intrigued? Nah, she’s looking for the exit. If this were real life, you’d be getting that coffee thrown in your face.
He takes a seat at a small table, scanning the room. Spotting a woman sitting alone with a book, he heads over.
Liam: “Hey, mind if I join you?”
Woman (looking up, surprised): “Uh, sure, I guess.”
Liam (sitting down): “You know, I've always believed that books are windows to the soul. And I’d love to see your soul up close.”
The woman’s expression changes from curiosity to discomfort.
Woman: “That’s… interesting.”
Liam (leaning in): “You have beautiful eyes. They remind me of the ones I see in my dreams. Do you believe in fate? Because I think we were meant to meet.”
The woman looks around, clearly wanting an escape.
Woman: “Actually, I have to go. Nice meeting you.”
Liam (as she leaves): “See you around!” (turning to the camera) “Another one bites the dust. She’ll be thinking about me all day, guaranteed.”
Bro… she’s thinking about how to avoid you for the rest of her life.
You know what? Forget this trash. Let’s make this better for once. Liam's gonna get what he deserves.
Liam swaggered up to the counter, same cocky smirk plastered on his face.
Liam: “Hey there, can I get a black coffee? And you know, you look like someone who has dark secret. I'd love to hear it over a drink sometime.”
The barista’s polite smile faded instantly. Without even blinking, she reached for the steaming cup of coffee behind her, spun on her heels, and in one swift motion—
SPLASH!
The hot coffee hit Liam square in the face, soaking his hair, dripping off his nose. He yelped like a kicked puppy, staggering back as the barista coolly placed the empty cup on the counter.
Barista: “Here’s your drink. Enjoy.”
As if things couldn’t get worse, Liam stumbled over to the woman sitting alone with her book, still trying to recover from the coffee incident.
Liam: “Hey, mind if I—"
Before he could even finish the sentence, the woman looked up, her face a mix of disgust and disbelief. With a swift movement, she slammed her book shut and swung it like a club—
WHACK!
The book hit Liam right upside the head, knocking him sideways into the next table.
Woman: “Yeah, I mind. Get lost.”
Liam, now bruised, soaking wet, and completely defeated, lay crumpled on the floor. The camera zoomed in on his face as he mumbled to himself.
Liam: “Well… that didn’t go as planned.”
"There. Much better. Now on to the next part."
Liam: “So, the coffee shop was a hit. Let’s head to the park and see if we can find more people to spread some RIZZ to.
Bro, the only thing that hit was your face with that coffee, but sure, let’s pretend.
Liam spots a group of women chatting near a bench. He zeroes in on one who’s standing slightly apart from the group, clearly minding her own business.
Liam: “Hi there, enjoying the day?”
Woman: “Yeah, just getting some fresh air.”
Liam: “You know, I couldn’t help but notice you from across the park. You have an aura that’s impossible to ignore. Like a beacon drawing me in.”
The woman smiles nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing.
Woman: “Thanks, I guess.”
Liam: “I bet you have a fascinating story. Maybe we could unravel it together, one chapter at a time?”
The woman takes a clear step back, glancing over at her friends like she needs a rescue team.
Woman: “I’m actually here with friends. I should get back to them.”
Liam (as she walks away): “No worries, see you around.”
Cut to Liam sitting on a park bench, looking like he’s pondering the secrets of the universe.
Liam: “You know, not everyone gets the RIZZ right away. But that’s part of the charm, the mystery. They’ll think about it later and wonder what could’ve been.”
Nah, man, they’re just gonna wonder how fast they can delete the memory of you from their brains. But dang, this is bad. Let’s fix it a bit.
Liam: "So, the coffee shop was a hit. Let’s head to the park and see if we can find more people to spread some RIZZ to."
Liam approaches the first woman, laying on his usual over-the-top charm.
Liam: “Hi there, enjoying the day?”
Woman: (visibly annoyed) “Yeah... just getting some fresh air.”
Liam: “You know, I couldn’t help but notice you from across the park. You have an aura that’s impossible to ignore. Like a beacon drawing me in.”
The woman looks uncomfortable, but this time, instead of just walking away, she pulls out her phone.
Woman: “Oh, you noticed me, huh? Cool. One sec.”
Liam watches, confused, as she dials a number.
Liam: “Wait, are you calling someone?”
Liam, buddy, you might want to reconsider what’s about to happen.
Suddenly, a massive dude—her boyfriend—comes charging out of nowhere like he was waiting for this moment his whole life.
Boyfriend: “Yo, you hitting on my girl?”
Liam (panicking): “N-no! I was just, uh... admiring the, uh... park!”
Liam decides to make a run for it, but as he bolts away, he slams into a woman just getting up from a park bench. Without missing a beat, she swings her fist, connecting squarely with his jaw.
Woman: “Watch where you’re going, creep!”
Liam stumbles back, clutching his face.
Just when Liam thinks he’s got a moment to recover, the boyfriend finally catches up and lifts him by the collar like he’s a rag doll.
Boyfriend: “So, you like hitting on girls, huh?”
Liam tries to wriggle free, but it’s no use.
Liam: “N-no, it’s not like that! I was just—”
The boyfriend throws a punch, and Liam goes down hard. Before he can even react, the woman he ran into steps forward and gives him a swift kick while he’s down.
Woman: “You had that coming.”
As Liam lies on the ground, beaten and dazed, the boyfriend dusts off his hands and turns to the first woman.
Boyfriend: “Let’s go, babe. This clown’s had enough.”
Liam groans and watches as they walk away, his ego bruised more than anything.
Liam (wincing, to himself): “Maybe... maybe RIZZ isn’t everything.”
Finally, some sense. Now lets keep going.
Liam: What’s up, RIZZERS? It’s your boy Liam, back with another episode of a day in the life of an S RIZZER. Today, we’re taking things to a whole new level. Gonna find someone special and really get to know them. Let’s dive in!
Cut to Liam walking through the park, his gaze fixed on a young woman walking alone, headphones in. He starts following her at a distance, the camera capturing his every move.
Liam: (whispering) See her? That’s today’s target. Let’s see where
she’s headed.
He follows her out of the park, through several quiet streets, until she reaches a house and goes inside. Liam waits outside for a few moments, looking around to ensure no one is watching. Then he sneaks around to the back of the house and tries the basement door. It’s unlocked. He slips inside, closing the door quietly behind him.
Dude, you broke into her house. This isn’t some dating tip video. You’re a straight-up criminal right now.
Liam: (whispering) Alright, RIZZERS, we’re in. Now we wait and observe. This is where the real RIZZ happens.
[He sets the camera down on a shelf, positioning it to capture him and the stairs leading up to the rest of the house. He sits on an old chair, leaning back and listening for any sounds from above. Footsteps are heard faintly. He grins at the camera.
Liam: (whispering) Hear that? She’s right above us. Let’s see what she’s up to.
He creeps up the stairs slightly, just enough to peek through the crack in the door. The camera stays fixed on him, creating a tense atmosphere. He watches her moving around, oblivious to his presence. Hours pass. The girl goes about her routine, and Liam remains hidden, occasionally whispering comments to the camera about her actions. Eventually, night falls, and she heads upstairs to her bedroom.
Liam: (whispering) Now’s the moment of truth. Let’s get a closer look.
He carefully opens the basement door and tiptoes upstairs. The camera captures his movements as he follows her to her bedroom. He stands outside the slightly ajar door, peeking in. She’s getting ready for bed, completely unaware of his presence. After she falls asleep, Liam quietly enters the room and sets the camera on a dresser, pointing it at her sleeping form.
Liam: What’s up, RIZZERS? It’s your boy Liam, back with another episode of a day in the life of an S RIZZER. So, I know last time I said I’d leave, but I couldn’t help myself. I decided to stay. I know, I know, I should have left, but this is just too good to pass up. Let's see what happens next.
[Cut to Liam inside the house, moving quietly through the dark hallway. He holds the camera close, whispering into it.]
Liam: (whispering) She’s still asleep. I’ve got a new plan. Let’s head up to the attic and get a bird’s eye view. We’ll be able to watch her without being seen.
[He carefully makes his way up the stairs, avoiding the creaky steps. He finds the attic hatch and pulls it down, the ladder unfolding with a soft creak. He climbs up into the attic, positioning himself so he can see through a small vent looking down into her bedroom. He sets the camera down, adjusting it to capture the view.]
Liam: (whispering) Perfect. From here, we can watch everything. She’ll have no idea we’re up here.
Wow, what a genius plan! This can’t possibly go wrong, right? Just a guy in the attic watching a girl sleep. Totally normal behavior. Ok now lets write this better.
Liam: What’s up, RIZZERS? It’s your boy Liam, back with another episode of a day in the life of an S RIZZER. So, I know last time I said I’d leave, but I couldn’t help myself. I decided to stay. I know, I know, I should’ve left, but this is just too good to pass up. Let’s see what happens next.
Cut to Liam inside the house, moving quietly through the dark hallway. He holds the camera close, whispering into it.
Liam: (whispering) She’s still asleep. I’ve got a new plan. Let’s head up to the attic and get a bird’s eye view. We’ll be able to watch her without being seen.
He carefully makes his way up the stairs, avoiding the creaky steps. He finds the attic hatch and pulls it down, the ladder unfolding with a soft creak. He climbs up into the attic, positioning himself so he can see through a small vent looking down into her bedroom. He sets the camera down, adjusting it to capture the view.
Liam: (whispering) Perfect. From here, we can watch everything. She’ll have no idea we’re up here.
Liam leans closer to the vent, adjusting his position to get a better look. Suddenly, his elbow knocks over a dusty old box, sending it crashing to the floor with a thunderous noise.
Oh boy. Nice one, Liam. You had one job—don’t make noise—and now you’ve just announced your creepy little presence.
The sound of footsteps echoes from below, getting closer. Liam freezes, his eyes wide as he stares down through the vent. The woman stirs in her bed, then bolts upright, looking around.
Woman (from below):
What the heck?
Liam, in a panic, scrambles to hide but instead bumps into another box, sending a cascade of Christmas decorations tumbling onto his head. Tinsel wraps around his neck like a glittery noose.
The woman grabs a flashlight and heads toward the attic. Liam, desperate to escape, tries to crawl toward the far corner, knocking over a stack of old furniture in the process.
Suddenly, the attic hatch swings open, revealing the woman standing below, her flashlight beam slicing through the darkness.
Woman:
Who the heck is up there?!
Liam:
(nervous, still trying to act cool)
Uh... hi? Look, I can explain—
The woman doesn’t wait for an explanation. Without a second thought, she pulls out a TASER from her pocket, her eyes flashing with fury. The zap fills the air as the crackling electric sound echoes in the attic.
Liam:
Wait, wait—
It’s too late. The taser wires shoot out and hit Liam square in the chest. His body convulses violently as the voltage surges through him.
Liam jerks uncontrollably, his limbs flailing like a marionette. In his flailing, he crashes into the wall, knocking over even more debris, sending dust flying everywhere. His legs kick out, hitting the window behind him.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our final act: "The Flying RIZZLER"
With one last, violent spasm, Liam’s body jolts backward, his foot smashing through the window. His momentum takes him with it, and before he knows it, he’s tumbling out of the attic and into the open air.
Liam crashes through the branches of a nearby tree, snapping limbs like toothpicks. Finally, he hits the ground with a thud, limbs bent at odd angles. The camera, still recording, captures the final moments of his fall.
And that, folks, is the end of the RIZZLER. Not with a bang, but with a splat. Turns out, breaking and entering isn’t just bad for your reputation... it’s bad for your bones too. But hey, on the bright side, at least he won’t have to worry about rejection anymore.
Hola, YouTube! Is me, Pesos! Today, I show you how I live here in America, illegal alien style! So, hit like, suscribe, and vamos!
Cut to Pesos at the border. He gestures at a flimsy, cartoonish fence.
Pesos:
Primero, we cross the border. Some peoples say it’s hard, but since Joe Biden... eh, no so hard. Look here. (Points at the fence) Is like baby fence, no?
Cut to Pesos sneaking past the border guards, who are completely absorbed in a poker game.
Pesos:
Secret tip: always cross during poker time. Those guards love the poker. And me? I leave a little snack for them. (Holds up a bag of Doritos) They happy, I happy!
Pesos continues his journey through the desert, a light-hearted tune playing as he strolls. He tips his sombrero at the camera.
Pesos:
So, first step done. Easy peasy! Now, some peoples think desert is like... Sahara. For me, is like nice walk. I have my sombrero, my water... SPF 100, very important! (Taps sombrero) Always protect from sun, amigos.
Pesos reaches a colorful, welcoming sign that reads "Welcome to the USA."
Pesos:
And just like that, we in America! Time to find trabajo and live the American dream. But first, stop at primo’s taco truck. Best tacos this side of Rio Grande.
And now, folks, I hate to do this because, well, everyone loves Pesos. But, some people told me it was, uh… racist. So, goodbye Pesos. Time for a rewrite. Let’s change things up.
Suddenly, the sky darkens and dramatic music swells. Out of nowhere, Donald Trump enters the scene, standing in front of a massive, half-constructed wall. His hair blows in the wind, somehow remaining perfectly sculpted.
Trump:
“Build the wall! BIGGER! FASTER! MORE WALL!” (Points dramatically at the construction workers, who immediately start scrambling to make the wall even taller.)
Cut to Pesos, now staring up at a wall that looks like it reaches the clouds.
Pesos:
“Eh... amigos, is too big! How I cross this thing now?” (Pesos pulls out a ladder but quickly realizes it’s laughably short. He tries climbing anyway, only to fall back to the ground with a thud.)
Pesos:
“Ay caramba! Maybe I dig?”
Pesos grabs a tiny shovel and starts digging furiously. Meanwhile, Trump watches from atop the towering wall, shaking his head.
Trump:
“Sad! Very sad. The wall is beautiful, the biggest, the best. Nobody’s getting through. Not even this guy. Believe me.”
Just when Pesos starts to give up, the ground beneath him starts to rumble. Out of nowhere, I burst through a glowing portal. Without hesitation, I pull out a weapon and aim it at Pesos.
Pesos: Who are you?
This is where it ends, Pesos.
I fire, and Pesos falls to the ground, lifeless. I approach, casually grabbing his bag of Doritos.
I open the bag, take a bite, and smirk as I savor the flavor.
As Pesos lies motionless on the ground, the camera cuts back to Trump, who gives a thumbs-up.
Trump:
“That’s how we do it, folks. The wall works. And the Doritos are tremendous. The best.”
Well, I’m sorry it had to end this way. Let’s go to the next story.
The camera wobbles a bit as it adjusts focus, finally settling on a dimly lit basement filled with Disney posters, action figures, and a shelf crammed with DVDs. A 30-something-year-old guy with a bald head, thick glasses, and a goofy grin appears on screen.
"Welcome to a day in the life of a Disney fan!" Nicholas says in a voice that sounds like Mickey Mouse after a helium binge. He pauses to adjust his mouse ears headband, which is slightly askew. "Hi, I’m Nicholas, and this is my magical kingdom," he gestures around his mom’s basement with a flourish. "Here, every day is Disney day!"
He plops down on a beanbag chair that's seen better days, right next to a giant stuffed Goofy.
I mean, stuffed animals? My guy, really?
"First things first," Nicholas squeaks, "we start the morning with a nutritious breakfast of Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes!"
The camera cuts to Nicholas in the small, cluttered kitchen upstairs, where his mom is flipping pancakes on the griddle.
"Mom, say hi to my subscribers!" Nicholas yells, waving the camera around. His mom, wearing a Minnie Mouse apron, gives a half-hearted wave without looking up.
"Hello, Nicholas's friends," she mutters, clearly used to these morning filming sessions.
"After breakfast, it’s time for our daily Disney workout!" Nicholas announces, back in the basement. He hits play on a DVD, and "Hakuna Matata" blasts from the TV speakers.
He begins to do what can only be described as a highly energetic but utterly uncoordinated dance routine. He trips over his own feet, nearly knocking over a stack of VHS tapes.
"Whoops! Almost lost 'The Little Mermaid' there!" he chuckles, catching himself on the couch.
Lets fast foword a little bit.
"Welcome back to a day in the life of a Disney fan!" Nicholas squeaks, his crackly voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Today, we're starting with a little musical magic!"
He grabs a hairbrush, his unofficial microphone, and begins belting out Disney classics. His rendition of “A Whole New World” is particularly... unique.
"A whole new wooooorld, a dazzling place I never knew!" he sings, slightly off-key but with boundless energy. After a few more hits, he plops back down on his beanbag chair, still beaming.
"Okay, now that we’re all warmed up, it’s time for a special surprise. Today, I’m going to call my friends and see if they want to watch ‘Frozen 3’ with me! Can you believe it? ‘Frozen 3’!" He says, voice cracking just a bit more than before.
He pulls out his phone and starts dialing. The first call goes to voicemail. Nicholas isn't fazed.
"No worries! Let’s try the next friend."
One by one, the calls go unanswered. Nicholas's grin never falters, though his voice does get a little shakier with each attempt.
Dang, man, I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost.
"Well, it seems everyone is busy today," he says, undeterred. "But that’s okay! Who needs old friends when you can make new ones? Let’s go find some new friends to share the magic with!"
Yup, because that’s totally what people want—random Disney van guy coming to spread magic.
He grabs a backpack filled with Disney memorabilia and slings it over his shoulder. With a determined look, he heads upstairs, the camera following him.
The scene cuts to Nicholas in his driveway, standing proudly next to his colorful Disney van, adorned with characters and slogans like "Honk if you love Mickey!"
"Alright, friends, it’s time to hit the road and spread some Disney cheer!" Nicholas announces, climbing into the driver’s seat. He turns on the ignition, and the van roars to life, playing the opening bars of “Under the Sea” through its speakers.
And there he goes, the hero we neither need nor deserve.
The camera captures the van pulling out of the driveway and heading down the street, Disney music blaring and Nicholas waving at passersby, who stare with a mixture of confusion and fear.
The video ends with a shot of the Disney van driving off into the distance, leaving a trail of fairy dust (or at least, confetti) behind.
The screen fades to black, and Nicholas’s crackly voice can be heard one last time:
"Stay magical, everyone!"
Yeah... let’s hope this magic stays far away. Forever.
"Welcome back to a day in the life of a Disney fan!" Nicholas squeaks enthusiastically. "Today’s mission: make new friends to watch Frozen 3 with me!"
He hops out of his colorful van, his grin wide, waving cheerfully at kids playing on the swings and slides. A group of children, naturally curious about this oddball dressed in Disney gear, start to gather around him.
"Hi, kids! Do you like Disney movies?" Nicholas asks, his cracky voice making a few of them giggle. They nod eagerly. "Great! I’m Nicholas, and I’m having a special movie day. Would you like to watch Frozen 3 with me?"
Dude, it’s Drake... Is anyone going to tell him this looks incredibly sketchy?
The kids’ eyes widen in excitement, nodding vigorously, clearly captivated by the promise of Disney magic. Nicholas claps his hands together in joy.
"Awesome! Let’s go on a magical journey!"
Magical journey? To where—Disney fan jail?
The camera cuts to Nicholas helping the kids into his van, making sure they’re all buckled up (because safety first, of course). He hops into the driver’s seat, turning to face the camera.
"We’ve got new friends, and we’re ready to roll!" he announces, his crackly voice full of excitement. "Next stop: my magical basement kingdom!"
Yeah, Nicholas. Maybe stick to streaming your solo movie nights instead of dragging kids into your basement. Just a thought.
The van pulls away from the park, Nicholas belting out “Let It Go” as the Disney music pumps through the van speakers. The camera transitions to Nicholas’s basement, now more decked out in Disney paraphernalia than before—if that was even possible.
The kids sit on the floor, completely enthralled as the opening credits of Frozen 3 roll on the massive TV screen. Nicholas hands out Mickey-shaped cookies and juice boxes, his grin unwavering.
Cookies and juice boxes? At this point, all I can think is: how did I write this and think, ‘Yes, this is totally fine’?
"Welcome to the best movie day ever!" Nicholas declares to the camera, flashing a thumbs-up. Every so often, he pauses to drop some Disney trivia on the kids, who are surprisingly engaged.
"Did you know Olaf was originally going to be a penguin?" Nicholas asks, his voice cracking with excitement. The kids shake their heads, eyes wide with amazement at this little-known fact.
As the movie plays on, Nicholas leans back in his beanbag chair, a satisfied look on his face. He glances at the camera and says, his voice cracking slightly as usual:
"This is what being a Disney fan is all about. Sharing the magic with new friends."
Alright, folks, here we go. The grand finale is upon us.
"Welcome back to a day in the life of a Disney fan!" Nicholas exclaims, enthusiasm bubbling over. "We’ve had the most magical day ever, and now we're enjoying the grand finale of Frozen 3!"
Suddenly, there’s a loud knock on the door. Nicholas looks puzzled but doesn’t lose his cheerful demeanor.
"Hold on, kids! I’ll be right back," he chirps, bounding upstairs.
The camera cuts to the front door, where Nicholas opens it to reveal two police officers standing there, looking stern. Nicholas’s smile falters slightly.
"Good afternoon, officers! What can I do for you?" he asks, his voice cracking nervously, as if he knows what’s coming.
"We received a call about a possible kidnapping," one of the officers states, glancing past Nicholas into the house. "Are there children here that aren’t yours?"
This is the moment it all goes downhill.
Nicholas's eyes widen in surprise, and he lets out a nervous laugh, trying to diffuse the tension.
"Oh, no, no! These are just some new friends from the park. We’re having a Disney movie day!" he explains, waving his hand toward the basement stairs, where the kids are still munching on snacks.
The officers exchange a concerned look. One of them steps inside, while the other remains by the door, arms crossed.
"We’ll need to speak with the children and contact their parents," the officer inside says firmly, the tone unmistakably serious.
Good luck explaining that one, Nicholas.
The camera follows Nicholas as he leads the officers down to the basement. The kids look up, confused but not scared, still clutching their Disney-themed snacks and cookies.
"Kids, these officers just want to make sure everything is okay," Nicholas explains, trying to keep his voice cheerful, though it sounds increasingly strained.
The officers talk to the children, who confirm they came with Nicholas willingly. However, they still need to contact the parents. Nicholas waits nervously, fidgeting with his Donald Duck cap, his mind racing.
After a few tense minutes, the parents arrive, initially frantic. Their worry quickly dissolves into relief when they see the kids safe and sound, happily recounting their day filled with Disney magic.
The officers turn to Nicholas, the mood shifting significantly.
"We understand there was no ill intent, but you can't just take kids without informing their parents," one of the officers says, his tone firm but measured. "We’ll have to take you in for questioning."
Nicholas's face falls, his cracky voice barely above a whisper.
"I... I didn’t mean any harm. I just wanted to share the Disney magic."
And that’s the end of that. Well, time for a rewrite.
"Welcome back to a day in the life of a Disney fan!" Nicholas exclaims enthusiastically. "We’ve had the most magical day ever, and now we're enjoying the grand finale of Frozen 3!"
Suddenly, there’s a loud knock on the door. Nicholas looks puzzled, but his cheerful demeanor doesn’t waver.
"Hold on, kids! I’ll be right back!" he chirps, bounding upstairs.
The camera cuts to the front door, where Nicholas opens it to reveal a team of heavily armed SWAT officers, storming into the house with grim determination.
"Nicholas, step away from the door! We have a situation!" one of the officers barks, his voice booming with authority. The camera shakes as they rush past him, their tactical gear glistening under the basement lights.
Nicholas's smile falters, confusion spreading across his face as he tries to understand the chaos unfolding around him.
"Uh, officers! Is everything okay? We’re just watching a movie!" he stutters, but his voice is drowned out by the sound of heavy boots thudding down the hallway.
As the officers sweep through the house, one shouts, "Clear!" while another heads straight for the basement.
The camera follows Nicholas, who nervously heads upstairs to find out what’s happening. He reaches the top, glancing back toward the basement.
"Wait! I—" Nicholas starts, but his words are cut off by the crack of gunfire echoing through the house.
The camera captures the chaos as SWAT officers rush in, their weapons raised. Nicholas turns, panic in his eyes, as he backs away, pleading.
"No, wait! I didn’t mean any harm! I just wanted to share the magic!" he cries, but it’s too late.
In a split second, a barrage of bullets rips through the air, striking Nicholas. He stumbles back, a look of disbelief etched on his face, before collapsing onto the floor. The camera zooms in on the chaos—a mix of colorful Disney memorabilia now smeared with crimson.
And there you have it, folks. A grim ending to a story that was never meant to take this turn.
Welcome to a day in the life of a Music Artist
Alright, let’s get into the story that got the Swifties upset about. No clue why. Here’s "A Day in the Life of Gaby Baby."
Gabe: Welcome to a day in the life of a Music Artist! I’m Gabe, also known as Gaby Baby. Ladies, hit me up—I’m single. Alright, let’s get into the video.
Oh no, Gabe, here we go...
Gabe: First, I look at pictures of Taylor Swift—no, no, I don’t do that! Get off, get off!
The camera shuts off.
Smooth. Definitely not suspicious.
Gabe: What I was saying was, I start off my day warming up to sing. Now, say it with me: "We love Gabe! We love Gabe!"
Gabe: Now that I feel sufficiently loved, it’s time for breakfast. A nutritious meal is essential for any artist. So, I pour myself a big bowl of… Fruity Loops.
Ah yes, Fruity Loops. The artist’s secret weapon.
Gabe starts beatboxing while pouring cereal.
Cut to Gabe in his home studio.
Gabe: Songwriting time. "I saw you walking, with your dog in the park. You didn’t see me, I was hiding in the dark—wait, that sounds creepy."
Throws the notepad aside.
Gabe: Okay, new idea. "Girl, you’re my sunshine…" Oh wait, that’s taken.
Gabe’s phone rings. He answers.
Gabe: Hello? Future Grammy winner here. No, I don’t want to switch my car insurance.
Gabe: Where was I? Oh yeah, songwriting. Picks up a ukulele. "Banana pancakes, oh yeah, banana pancakes…"
And now, we’re getting close to my favorite part of this ridiculous story. Hang tight.
Gabe: Okay, so maybe I’m more of a performer than a songwriter. Let’s move on.
Cut to Gabe doing vocal exercises.
Gabe: La la la la laaaa! Screeches See? Perfect pitch.
Sure, Gabe. You totally nailed that.
Next, Gabe attempts some dance moves, but trips over his own feet.
Gabe: Every great artist needs to know how to dance. But, you know, safety first.
Gabe sits down at his computer.
Gabe: Now it’s time to connect with my fans. Starts typing. "Hey guys, it’s your boy Gabe. Just wanted to remind you all to chase your dreams and never give up! Also, I’m single. Ladies, hit me up!"
Ah, priorities—dreams and… dating.
Gabe winks at the camera.
Gabe: Alright, that’s a wrap for today. Stay awesome, stay musical, and most importantly—WE LOVE GABE! WE LOVE GABE!
Gabe waits for imaginary applause and nods in satisfaction.
Gabe: Good. Very good. Until next time, this is Gaby Baby signing off. Peace!
Camera fades out with Gabe striking a dramatic pose.
Gabe: Welcome back to another day in the life of a Music Artist. I’m Gabe, also known as Gaby Baby. Ladies, I’m still single. Let’s dive into today’s video.
Gabe grabs a microphone and starts singing passionately.
Gabe: "Taylor, I love you! Taylor, I need you! Please leave Travis because you’re too good for him but you’re perfect for me!"
Gabe: I think that’s enough singing for today. Now, let’s see what’s on the menu for breakfast. Peanut butter and jelly... but no bread. Guess I’m gonna eat it on one of my old guitars.
Nothing says “musical genius” like a PB&J served on an instrument
Gabe takes a bite out of the guitar.
Gabe: Delicious. The secret ingredient is wood.
Gabe sits at his computer, checking his streaming revenue.
Gabe: Alright, let’s see how much I’ve made from my music streams. Pauses What?! They’re charging me for people to listen to my music? This isn’t right. Something has to be done.
And here comes the part I’ve been waiting for…
The camera cuts off, and the scene changes to a news broadcast. The news anchor appears on screen.
News Anchor: Breaking news. A man named Gabe the Baby with Blue Eyes—yes, we can confirm that is his real name—attacked Spotify headquarters last night and killed the CEO. Let’s roll the clip.
Security footage shows Gabe storming through Spotify’s offices, guitar in hand.
Gabe (yelling): Freaking Spotify, charging me money for my beautiful voice and my beautiful music!
The footage cuts to Gabe beating the CEO with his guitar.
See? That guitar was destined for more than just PB&J.
The news broadcast ends, and the video cuts back to Gabe in his home studio, looking disheveled but cheerful.
Gabe: Please listen to my new song, "I Love Taylor." It’s out now. Please listen!
Priorities. Even after a murder rampage, this guy’s all about the promo.
Suddenly, police burst into the room and handcuff Gabe. He tries to keep smiling at the camera.
Gabe: Uh, so, I guess this is it for today. Remember to like, comment, and subscribe! Gaby Baby, signing off—kinda.
The video fades out as Gabe is led away by police.
The video fades back in. Gabe is now in a prison cell, looking somewhat at home.
Gabe: Welcome to another day in the life of a Music Artist. I’m Gabe, also known as Gaby Baby. Ladies, I’m still single, and now I’m also a convicted felon. Let’s get to today’s video, straight from my new home: prison.
Gabe sits on a small bed, holding a toilet paper roll microphone.
Gabe: So, a lot has happened since my last video. I might have overreacted a bit with the whole Spotify thing. But hey, an artist’s gotta fight for his rights, right?
He sings softly.
Gabe: "Taylor, I love you! Taylor, I need you! Please leave Travis because you’re too good for him but you’re perfect for me!"
He smirks at the camera.
Gabe: Still got it.
Christian: You sure do, Gabe. Even in jail, still obsessed with Taylor Swift.
Gabe stands up and walks to a tiny desk with snacks.
Gabe: Today’s menu is... peanut butter and jelly on saltine crackers. It’s not quite guitar-wood level, but it’ll do.
Gabe munches on the snack, looking serious.
Gabe: I’ve been thinking a lot in here. Music is my life, and nothing can stop me from making it. Not even prison walls.
I almost hate to change this part because its so funny but for the sake of getting rid of every story here we go.
The footage cuts back to Gabe, who has just finished beating the CEO to death with his guitar. Blood splatters across the office, and the CEO lies motionless on the floor.
Gabe (grinning wildly): This… this right here, is my new song. It’s called “I Rewrote Kill Bill.”
Gabe raises his blood-soaked guitar, striking a dramatic pose, and opens his mouth to sing.
Before Gabe can get a single note out, the door bursts open and Spotify security rushes in, guns drawn. Gabe turns, still holding his guitar.
Gabe (yelling): Wait, wait! I haven’t finished my song!
But it’s too late. The security team opens fire. Bullets tear through Gabe’s body, ripping through flesh and muscle. Blood sprays across the walls like a grotesque work of art. He stumbles back, his guitar clattering to the floor. The once cocky grin is now replaced with a grimace of agony.
Gabe collapses, twitching on the ground as the security guards continue to unload clip after clip into him. Blood pools around him, his body shaking with each bullet that enters.
Gabe (gasping): I… love… you… Taylor…
His voice fades, a final gurgle of blood bubbling from his mouth before he goes completely still.
And just like that, folks, the tragic end of Gaby Baby.
Scene: A messy bedroom with posters of old gangster movies on the walls. The bed is unmade, and there’s a clutter of clothes, sneakers, and random items scattered around. The camera zooms in on a digital clock showing 11:30 AM.
Zeke sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes, acting like he didn’t just sleep through most of the morning.
Zeke: "Yo, what up, dogs! It’s ya boy, Zeke, comin' at you with a day in the life of a gangster. Lemme show you how we roll, ya feel me? First off, we don’t wake up at the crack of dawn. We wake up when we done sleepin'."
"Clean up your room, man. Seriously, what is this, a crime scene?"
Zeke stumbles out of bed, half asleep, and heads to the bathroom like he’s about to drop some profound knowledge.
Zeke: "Alright, first things first, gotta make sure the grill's clean. Ain’t nobody respect a gangster with bad breath, know what I'm sayin'?"
"Yeah, sure. Because minty breath really adds to the street cred."
Cut to Zeke in the kitchen, pouring a ridiculous amount of sugar on his cereal.
Zeke: "Now, breakfast of champions, dog. Ain’t got time for that fancy stuff. Just some cereal and sugar, keepin' it real."
Next, we see him on the couch, locked into a gangster-themed video game, like it’s training for real life.
Zeke: "Yo, I gotta keep my skills sharp, both in the streets and in the game. You never know when you might need to pull off a virtual heist, ya feel me?"
"Because clearly, that’s where the true gangsters hone their craft—on the couch, in their PJs."
Then, Zeke's phone buzzes. He picks it up, checking the message.
Zeke: "Aight, looks like the crew’s hittin' up the spot today. Time to get fresh."
[Cuts to Zeke's closet, revealing a row of identical black hoodies and jeans. He grabs one set and changes quickly.]
Zeke: "Gotta keep the style consistent, dogs. Can’t be lookin’ like a rainbow threw up on you."
Cut to Zeke walking out of his apartment, locking the door behind him. The camera follows him as he struts down the street like he owns the block.
Zeke: "Now, the key to bein' a gangster is all about respect and reputation. Gotta keep your head high and your eyes open. You see the homies, you give ‘em a nod. You see trouble, you keep movin'."
"Ah yes, the ‘homie nod.’ The universal symbol of respect...
Cut to Zeke meeting up with his friends at a local basketball court. They greet each other with unnecessarily elaborate handshakes.
Friend #1: "Yo, Zeke, what's good, dog?"
Zeke: "Just another day in the life, ya know? Let’s shoot some hoops."
Cut to Zeke and his friends playing basketball, laughing and joking around like they’re in a feel-good sports movie.
Zeke: "Aight, dogs, enough playin'. We got business to handle."
"Business? Please tell me you’re not selling lemonade out of that garage, Zeke."
Cut to Zeke and his crew walking down an alleyway, trying way too hard to look intimidating. They stop at a garage, and Zeke knocks in some cryptic pattern. The door opens to reveal another friend, who nods and lets them in.
Zeke: "This here’s where we handle our real business. Gotta keep it on the low, but always hustlin'."
Cut to the interior of the garage, where there’s a makeshift recording studio. Zeke steps up to the mic like he’s about to drop the hottest verse of the decade.
Zeke: "In this game, you gotta diversify. We got our hands in everything, from the streets to the beats. Check out this new track we workin' on."
Cut to Zeke rapping into the mic, his friends nodding along like they actually understand the lyrics. The camera slowly fades out as the music plays.
Zeke: "That's a wrap for today, dogs. Thanks for rollin’ with me. Remember, it's all about stayin' true and keepin' it real. Hit that like and subscribe button, and I'll catch you on the flip side. Peace!"
"Like and subscribe, huh? The most gangster move of all."
Cut to the car's interior. Zeke plugs in his phone and hits play. "Gangsta's Paradise" by Coolio starts blasting through the speakers. Zeke nods along to the beat as he drives.
Zeke: "Aight, so lemme tell you somethin' about Aidan. This dude is a genius when it comes to beats. We go way back, like sandbox days, ya know?"
"Ah yes, nothing like reminiscing about your criminal mastermind days in the sandbox, where you probably smuggled extra juice boxes."
Cuts to various shots of Zeke driving through the city. The camera captures the vibrant street life, colorful murals, and bustling neighborhoods. Zeke continues to vibe to the music.
Zeke: "Every time we hit the studio, it's straight fire. We got this new track we been workin' on, and today we gonna polish it up, make sure it's ready to drop. Gotta keep the hustle strong, dogs."
Cuts to Zeke pulling up to Aidan's house. He parks the car and steps out, still nodding to the music as it fades out. The camera follows him up to the front door.
Scene: Aidan's house. Zeke knocks on the door, and Aidan opens it with a wide grin. They greet each other with an elaborate handshake that seems to go on for way too long.
Aidan: "Yo, Zeke! What's good, my man?"
Zeke: "Just livin' that life, you know? Ready to make some magic?"
Aidan: "Always, dog. Come on in."
"Living that life, huh? Magic, huh? Just say you're here to waste the next three hours ‘laying down’ half a verse while pretending to be the next Kanye."
Cut to the interior of Aidan's house, where the living room has been converted into a makeshift recording studio. There are soundproofing panels on the walls, a mixing desk, and various instruments scattered around.
Zeke: "Man, you always keep this place lookin’ fresh. Let’s get to work."
Cuts to Zeke and Aidan setting up in the studio. Aidan adjusts the mic while Zeke gets his lyrics ready. The camera captures their easy camaraderie and mutual respect.
Aidan: "Alright, you ready to lay down some vocals?"
Zeke: "You know it. Let’s make this track bang."
Zeke: "I'm a gangster in the hood, and I got a cat named Fred. We be cruisin' every night, eatin' all the cheese and bread. Got a goldfish named Sammy, he's the king of the tank. When I walk into the room, everybody says I stank!"
Cuts to Aidan nodding with a thoughtful expression as he adjusts the levels on the mixing desk. Zeke continues rapping.
Zeke: "I got sneakers on my feet, and a hat on my head. If you mess with me, you'll be sleepin' in your bed! My rhymes are so fresh, like a loaf of stale bread. When I rap, even grandma shakes her head!"
The timeless classic: a gangster rap that’s less about street cred and more about the family cat."
Cuts to Aidan giving Zeke a thumbs up as the rap finishes.
Aidan: "Yo, Zeke, that was tight! You got some mad skills, dog. This track's gonna be a hit for sure."
Zeke: "Thanks, Aidan! Knew you'd dig it. We just havin' fun out here. Thanks for rollin' with me today, fam. Peace."
Scene: Zeke in his living room, adjusting the camera. He looks directly into the lens with an excited expression.
Zeke: "What’s up, dogs! It’s ya boy Zeke, back again. Today’s gonna be wild. We’re headin’ to a gun meet-up to cop some new heat. Let’s get it!"
Cuts to Zeke grabbing his keys and a duffel bag. The camera follows him out the door and down the street to his car. He gets in, starts the engine, and blasts some hip-hop music as he drives.
Zeke: "Aight, so today we hittin’ up this spot where they got some serious firepower. Gotta stay strapped in these streets, ya feel me? Let's roll."
"Nothing screams ‘serious firepower’ like a meet-up for water guns. Zeke, you absolute legend."
Zeke: "Man, I’ve been needin’ some new heat for a minute. Can’t be rollin’ with the old stuff forever. Gotta upgrade, keep it fresh."
Cut to Zeke pulling up to a park where a water gun meet-up is happening. There are tables set up with an array of brightly colored water guns. Zeke parks his car and steps out, looking around with a mix of excitement and seriousness.
Zeke: "Yo, we here, dogs. This place lookin’ legit. Let’s check out the arsenal."
Cut to Zeke walking up to a table where a vendor is displaying an assortment of water guns that look strikingly realistic. Zeke examines one with a keen eye.
Zeke: "Man, look at these bad boys. They lookin’ real serious. How much for this one, fam?"
Vendor: "That one's 20 bucks. It’s top of the line, got the best range and capacity."
Zeke (nodding approvingly): "Aight, aight. What about the fire rate? How fast can this baby shoot?"
Vendor (trying to keep a straight face): "Uh, it’s got a pretty fast stream. You can soak your targets in no time."
Zeke: "Nice, nice. And how’s the recoil on this thing? Don’t want it throwin’ me off when I’m in a tight spot."
Vendor (smirking): "Yeah, uh, minimal recoil. It’s designed for accuracy and control."
Zeke: "That’s what I’m talkin’ about. I’ll take two of these. Gotta stay ready, ya know?"
"Two? Really, Zeke? Just how many ‘targets’ are you planning to soak today?
eke: "Alright, dogs, welcome back. Today, we got somethin’ big planned. Me and my boy Aidan here, we’re gonna hit a Coke truck. It’s time to get that refreshment, gangster style. Let's roll out!"
Yes, nothing says ‘gangster lifestyle’ quite like hijacking a soda truck.
Cut to Zeke and Aidan in Zeke's car, driving towards the target location. The camera captures their focused expressions as they approach the truck.
Aidan: "Yo, Zeke, you sure about this? We really gonna rob a Coke truck?"
Zeke: "Yeah, man, it’s all set. We need that sweet, fizzy gold. Stick to the plan, and we got this."
Me: "Sweet, fizzy gold? Wow, Zeke, your heists are getting more poetic by the minute. Maybe he should consider a career in writing."
Cuts to the scene where the Coke truck is parked at a delivery stop. Zeke and Aidan park nearby and sneak up to the truck.
Zeke: "Alright, Aidan, you ready? On my count… one, two, three!"
Cuts to Zeke and Aidan jumping out and confronting the truck driver, who looks completely bewildered. Zeke points his water gun at the driver, trying to look intimidating.
Zeke: "Yo, this is a stick-up! Hand over the Cokes!"
The driver, confused and scared, raises his hands and steps back. Aidan starts grabbing boxes of Coke from the truck and tossing them into their car.
Aidan: "Man, this is easier than I thought!"
Cut to Aidan opening a can of Coke and taking a sip. His face scrunches up in disgust as he spits it out.
Aidan: "Yo, Zeke, this stuff’s expired!"
Zeke: "What? You serious? Man, we been duped!"
Cut to the sound of police sirens approaching. Zeke and Aidan look at each other, panic setting in.
Aidan: "Cops are comin’, man! What do we do?"
Zeke (grabbing his water gun): "Don’t worry, I got this!"
"Oh sure, Zeke, because nothing screams ‘gangster’ like a water gun standoff with the police."
Cut to the police cars arriving on the scene. Zeke stands his ground, aiming his water gun at the officers. The cops get out of their cars, looking both amused and confused.
Officer 1: "Put the gun down, son. Let’s not make this worse."
Aidan (nervously looking around): "Zeke, man, I can't get caught! I’m outta here!"
Cuts to Aidan dropping the Coke and running away as fast as he can. Zeke watches in disbelief as Aidan bolts.
Zeke (yelling after Aidan): "Aidan, you coward!"
Cuts to the police officers approaching Zeke. He starts spraying his water gun at them, still trying to look tough despite the absurdity of the situation.
Officer 2 (laughing): "You seriously think that water gun's gonna stop us?"
Zeke: "Back off, or you’re getting soaked!"
The officers easily apprehend Zeke, who continues to spray his water gun defiantly.
Officer 1: "You’re under arrest for attempted robbery, son. And this water gun nonsense isn’t helping."
Cut to Zeke being led to the police car. The camera captures his sheepish expression as he is put in the back seat. Aidan is nowhere to be seen, having successfully fled the scene.
Zeke (to the camera): "Well, dogs, not every plan goes smooth. But hey, we gave it our best shot. Remember to like, subscribe, and comment on what you wanna see next. We’ll be back, stronger and smarter. Peace!"
Now lets rewrite this thing!
Zeke: "Alright, dogs, welcome back! Today, me and my boy Aidan here are gonna hit a Coke truck. It’s time to get that sweet, fizzy gold. Let's roll out!"
Cut to Zeke and Aidan in Zeke's car, driving towards the target location. The camera captures their focused expressions as they approach the truck.
Aidan: "Yo, Zeke, you sure about this? We really gonna rob a Coke truck?"
Zeke: "Yeah, man, it’s all set. We need that sweet, fizzy gold. Stick to the plan, and we got this."
Cuts to the scene where the Coke truck is parked at a delivery stop. Zeke and Aidan park nearby and sneak up to the truck.
Zeke: "Alright, Aidan, you ready? On my count… one, two, three!"
Cuts to Zeke and Aidan jumping out and confronting the truck driver, who looks completely bewildered. Zeke points his water gun at the driver, trying to look intimidating.
Zeke: "Yo, this is a stick-up! Hand over the Cokes!"
The driver, confused and scared, raises his hands. Aidan starts grabbing boxes of Coke from the truck and tossing them into their car.
Aidan: "Man, this is easier than I thought! Let’s crack open a cold one!"
Cut to Zeke and Aidan jumping into the back of the truck, surrounded by stacks of Coke boxes. They start popping cans open, chugging the sugary soda like there’s no tomorrow.
Zeke: "Yo, this is the life! Who knew robbin' a truck would be so refreshing?"
Aidan: "Right? We could do this every day!"
Suddenly, the camera pans out to reveal a shadowy figure standing by the truck with a mischievous grin.
Christian "What’s up, boys? You think you can just roll up and steal my fizzy gold without consequences?"
Zeke and Aidan look at each other, confusion washing over their faces.
Zeke: "Who the heck are you?"
With a flick of my wrist, I pull out a remote detonator. The camera zooms in on Zeke and Aidan's wide eyes as they realize what's about to happen.
Aidan: "Wait, what?! No—"
Before they can react, I press the button. The truck erupts in a fiery explosion, sending flames and soda spraying everywhere. The shockwave sends Zeke and Aidan flying out of the back, their bodies twisting through the air before crashing into the ground.
Cut to a slow-motion shot of Zeke and Aidan, eyes wide with terror as they hit the asphalt. The explosion engulfs the truck, and the fiery debris rains down like confetti.
"Now, that’s what I call a refreshing end to a day in the life of a wannabe gangster."
Commander Aiden: (Standing in front of a large map of Europe) "Listen up, men. Tomorrow is D-Day. We’ve been preparing for this for months, and now it’s time to put all that training to the test. Our target is a key bridge in Normandy. We need to ensure the Allied forces can advance without delay."
Jack: (Whispering to Nate) "Which bridge is he talking about again?"
"Jack, bruh, you seriously didn’t hear? Normandy! Do you ever pay attention?
Nate: (Patiently) "The one in Normandy, Jack. Pay attention."
Gabe: (Fiddling with his harmonica, trying to calm his nerves) "Can you believe it, guys? We’re really doing this. D-Day."
Liam: (Grinning) "Yeah, and just think of the stories we’ll have to tell when we get back. The ladies love a war hero."
"Liam, always thinking ahead. Probably already imagining himself with a parade and medals. Keep dreaming, buddy
Nate: (Smiling) "Just make sure you make it back in one piece to tell those stories, Liam."
Commander Aiden: (Interrupting their conversation) "Any questions, men?"
Jack: (Tentatively raising his hand) "Uh, sir, what if we miss the target?"
"Oh, Jack... seriously? You’re the guy who asks what happens if we fail on the eve of D-Day? Way to inspire confidence.
Commander Aiden: (Sternly) "We won’t miss, Jack. We can’t afford to. This mission is crucial. I need each of you at your best."
Gabe: "We’ve got this, Jack. We’ve trained for this."
Liam: "Yeah, and with Nate at the controls, we’re in good hands."
Nate: (Nodding) "We’ll make it. Let’s do this for the boys on the ground and for all those future ladies of Liam’s."
Commander Aiden: "Alright, get some rest. We take off at 0500 hours. Dismissed."
(They enter their cabin, a small, cramped space with bunks lining the walls. The men change into their sleepwear, the air filled with a mix of nervous energy and camaraderie.)
Jack: (Climbing into his bunk) "You think we’ll make it, Gabe?"
Gabe: (Settling into his own bunk, harmonica by his side) "We’ve got a good crew, Jack. Just trust in that."
"Alright, folks, let’s get to the next part. I might skip a bit, but you’ll get the gist."
(The next morning, the cabin is filled with the sound of an alarm clock blaring. The crew stirs, groaning as they wake up to the early hour.)
Nate: (Stretching) "Alright, boys, it’s go time."
Jack: (Rubbing his eyes) "I feel like I just closed my eyes."
"Because you probably did, Jack. Let’s see if you can stay awake long enough for the mission."
Gabe: (Grinning, already sitting up with his harmonica) "You did, Jack. That’s the military life for you."
Liam: (Yawning and swinging his legs out of bed) "Come on, Jack, don’t slow us down. I’ve got a date with destiny—and hopefully a few French mademoiselles afterward."
"Ah, yes, the legendary Liam with his grand plans. Let’s hope he can still woo them after this mission."
Nate: (Laughing) "Alright, lover boy, let’s focus on the mission first."
Finally, some sense! Priorities, Liam. First, we survive, then we flirt."
[The crew quickly dresses and heads out to the mess hall. The early morning air is crisp, and the sun is just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the planes.]
Jack: (Taking a deep breath) "Man, it’s beautiful out here."
Gabe: "Yeah, a perfect day for flying. If only we weren't heading into a war zone."
Liam: "Think positive, Gabe. We’re going to make history today."
Nate: "And we’ll do it on a full stomach. Let’s get some grub."
[In the mess hall, the crew grabs trays and gets in line for breakfast. The aroma of eggs, bacon, and coffee fills the air.]
Jack: (Piling food onto his tray) "I’m eating enough to last me through the mission."
Gabe: "You always eat enough to last a week, Jack."
Liam: (Grabbing an extra apple) "Hey, Nate, think I can smuggle this apple on board? Might get hungry mid-flight."
Nate: "Just don’t let the commander catch you, or he’ll have you peeling potatoes for a month."
[They find a table and sit down.]
Jack: "You guys ever think about what you’ll do after the war?"
Gabe: "Play my harmonica in every jazz club from here to New Orleans."
Liam: "I’ll probably have a line of ladies waiting for me, each one wanting to hear my war stories."
"Sure, Liam, keep telling yourself that.” "Now on to the next part.”
Scene 2: In the Air
(The scene transitions to the B-17 Flying Fortresses in the air, flying in formation. The drone of the engines fills the cabin.)
Jack: (Looking out of the window) "We’re really high up."
Nate: (Checking the instruments) "Keep focused, Jack. We’ve got a job to do."
Gabe: (Playing a soft tune on his harmonica) "How’s everyone holding up?"
Liam: (Adjusting his gear) "Ready and raring to go. Just think of those French mademoiselles."
Nate: (Smiling) "Liam, if I hear one more word about mademoiselles, you’ll be peeling potatoes with that apple you smuggled on board."
[The radio crackles to life. It’s Commander Aiden.]
Commander Aiden: "All crews, be advised. We have reports of enemy fighters in the area. Stay sharp and keep your eyes peeled."
"Uh-oh, looks like the fun is about to start! Get ready, boys!"
Nate: "You heard the man. Everyone, stay alert."
[Liam and Jack scan the skies from their turrets, their eyes sharp for any sign of the enemy.]
Gabe: (Putting his harmonica away) "This is it, guys. Eyes open."
Jack: (Nervously) "I don’t see anything yet."
Nate: "That’s good, Jack. Just keep looking."
[Suddenly, Gabe spots something in the distance.]
Gabe: "Contact! Ten o’clock high! Enemy fighters coming in fast!"
Nate: "Alright, this is what we trained for. Liam, Jack, get ready!"
[Liam swings his turret around, locking onto the incoming fighters. The enemy planes dive towards them, guns blazing.]
Liam: (Yelling over the noise) "Here they come!"
[The air fills with the sound of gunfire and the roar of engines. Liam and Jack fire at the enemy planes, while Nate maneuvers the B-17 to avoid incoming fire.]
[Suddenly, a squadron of enemy fighters swoops in from above, catching the B-17 formation off guard. The radio crackles with frantic voices as explosions rock the air.]
Pilot from another B-17: "We’re hit! We’re going down!"
[The crew watches in horror as one of their fellow B-17s takes a direct hit, bursting into flames and plummeting towards the ground.]
Jack: (Eyes wide) "No!"
Nate: "Stay focused! We can’t help them now. We’ve got our own fight!"
[Gabe grips his harmonica tightly, eyes scanning for the next threat. Liam fires relentlessly, taking down another enemy fighter, but more keep coming.]
Liam: (Determined) "Come on, you biscuits!"
[Another B-17 nearby explodes, debris scattering in all directions. The sky is filled with smoke and tracer rounds.]
Nate: "Gabe, how are we holding up?"
Gabe: "We’ve got some damage, but we’re still in this fight!"
Jack: (Reloading his turret) "They just keep coming!"
[The enemy fighters circle around for another pass, their guns blazing. The B-17 shudders as bullets riddle its fuselage.]
Nate: "Brace yourselves!"
[An explosion rocks their plane as an engine takes a hit. Alarms blare inside the cockpit.]
Gabe: "Engine three is on fire!"
Nate: "Shut it down and feather the prop! We can’t lose another one!"
[Liam spots an enemy fighter lining up for a shot at their tail and fires a burst, sending it spiraling out of control.
Liam: "Got him! But we’re still outnumbered!"
[The sky is a chaotic mix of explosions, smoke, and gunfire. The remaining B-17s tighten their formation, trying to protect each other.]
Commander Aiden: (Over the radio) "All crews, hold the line! We’re almost at the target!"
Nate: "You heard the commander! Hold steady!"
[The B-17 shudders violently as another explosion rocks the aircraft. Nate glances at the instrument panel, his face tightening with concern.]
Nate: "Engine two is dead!"
Gabe: (Quickly checking the damage) "We're losing altitude!"
Nate: "We still have two more engines. We can make it!"
Jack: (Squinting out of the window) "Is that the beach?"
[The crew peers out, seeing the coastline of Normandy coming into view. The sight momentarily lifts their spirits.]
Liam: (Grimly) "Looks like the real show is about to begin."
Nate: "Alright, everyone, focus! We need to make this drop count."
[Tyler, the bombardier, positioned at the nose of the plane, lines up the target in his sights. The bridge comes into clear view as they approach.]
Tyler: "Target in sight! Steady… steady…"
Nate: "Hold it… hold it…"
Tyler: "Bombs away!"
[The bombs drop, falling towards the bridge. The crew watches with bated breath as the explosives hit their mark, destroying the bridge in a series of massive explosions.]
Jack: (Cheering) "We did it!"
Gabe: "The bridge is down!"
Liam: (Relieved) "That’s one for the history books."
Nate: "Alright, let’s get the heck out of here. Everyone, keep your eyes peeled. We’re not out of this yet."
[Suddenly, a burst of flak hits the front of the plane, and Tyler is thrown violently as the nose of the plane is blown open.]
Tyler: (Screaming) "I’m hit! I’m—"
"Well, that’s one way to exit the plane. Not exactly the smoothest landing plan, Tyler!"
[Tyler is sucked out of the plane through the damaged nose section. The crew watches in horror, unable to do anything.]
Jack: "Tyler!"
Nate: (Voice tight) "We have to keep going! We can't help him now!"
"Yeah, the poor guy just wanted a nice view!"
[The B-17s turn away from the target, heading back towards friendly territory. The remaining enemy fighters give chase, determined to bring them down.]
Jack: "Incoming, three o’clock!"
Nate: (Maneuvering) "Hang on tight, boys! This is starting to feel like a roller coaster ride, and I didn’t sign up for this thrill."
Liam: (Firing at an enemy fighter) "Come on, you biscuits, just leave us alone!"
[Another explosion rocks the plane as flak bursts close by. The crew holds on, their determination unwavering.]
Gabe: "We’re almost there! Just a little further!"
Nate: "Hold together, baby, just a bit longer."
[An enemy fighter swoops in and hits engine four. The engine sputters and dies.]
Nate: "Engine four is dead! We're losing altitude fast!"
Jack: (Panic rising) "What do we do?"
Nate: "Prepare to bail out! Grab your chutes! We're going to crash!"
[Gabe, Liam, and Jack scramble for their parachutes as the plane loses more altitude. Nate keeps the plane steady for as long as he can.]
Nate: "Go! Go! Go!"
[Gabe jumps first, followed by Jack and Liam. As Jack is about to jump, the plane takes another hit, causing it to lurch violently. Jack loses his grip and falls out uncontrollably.]
Jack: (Screaming) "Nate!"
Nate: (To himself) "Hold together, baby."
[Nate sees that the plane is beyond saving and makes a split-second decision to go down with it to ensure it crashes into the remaining parts of the bridge, further ensuring its destruction.]
Nate: (Over the intercom) "I’m going down with her! Make it back safely, boys. It’s been an honor."
"And just like that, Nate becomes a hero. Can someone pass me the popcorn? This is getting good!"
"Unfortunately, we don’t have time to finish the rest of the story, but if you’d like to read the rest, go do it and leave a like; that helps! But now, onto to the rewrite!"
[Tyler, the bombardier, positioned at the nose of the plane, lines up the target in his sights. The bridge comes into clear view as they approach.]
Tyler: "Target in sight! Steady… steady…"
Nate: "Hold it… hold it…"
Tyler: "Bombs away!"
[The bombs drop, falling towards the bridge. The crew watches with bated breath as the explosives hit their mark, erupting in a series of massive explosions, debris flying everywhere.]
Jack: (Cheering) "We did it!"
Gabe: "The bridge is down!"
Liam: (Relieved) "That’s one for the history books."
Nate: "Alright, let’s get the heck out of here. Everyone, keep your eyes peeled. We’re not out of this yet."
[Suddenly, a burst of flak hits the front of the plane, and Tyler is thrown violently as the nose of the plane is blown open.]
Tyler: (Screaming) "I’m hit! I’m—"
[Tyler is violently sucked out of the plane through the gaping hole, his body colliding with a passing enemy fighter. The sickening sound of splattering flesh echoes through the cabin as he disappears from view.]
Jack: "Tyler!"
Nate: (Voice tight) "We have to keep going! We can't help him now!"
[The B-17s turn away from the target, heading back towards friendly territory. The remaining enemy fighters give chase, determined to bring them down.]
Jack: "Incoming, three o’clock!"
[Nate maneuvers the damaged B-17 as best he can, the remaining engines straining to keep them aloft.]
Liam: (Firing at an enemy fighter) "Come on, you biscuits, just leave us alone!"
[Suddenly, a burst of gunfire from an enemy plane hits Liam square in the chest. He gasps, eyes widening in shock as blood splatters across the cabin walls.]
Liam: (Choking) "I… I can't feel my legs!"
[He slumps forward, lifeless, as the crew watches in horror.]
Gabe: "Liam!"
[Another explosion rocks the plane as flak bursts close by. The crew holds on, their determination wavering.]
Gabe: "We’re almost there! Just a little further!"
Nate: "Hold together, baby, just a bit longer."
[An enemy fighter swoops in and hits engine four. The engine sputters and dies.]
Nate: "Engine four is dead! We're losing altitude fast!"
Jack: (Panic rising) "What do we do?"
Nate: "Prepare to bail out! Grab your chutes! We're going to crash!"
[Gabe fumbles with his parachute, but it fails to deploy, sending him plummeting towards the ground below.]
Gabe: (Screaming) "No! Not like this!"
[Nate sees Jack about to jump but suddenly a jolt sends Jack tumbling out of the open door. He’s pulled into the spinning propeller of a nearby B-17, the sound of flesh being shredded echoes in the air.]
Jack: (Screaming) "Nate!"
[Nate watches helplessly, heart racing as Jack disappears in a violent spray of blood and bone.]
Nate: (To himself) "Hold together, baby."
[Nate realizes the plane is beyond saving and makes a split-second decision to go down with it. In a last desperate maneuver, he aims for the bridge debris below, hoping to ensure maximum destruction.]
Nate: (Over the intercom) "I’m going down with her! Make it back safely, boys. It’s been an honor."
[The B-17 collides violently with Commander Aiden's plane in mid-air. The two planes explode in a horrific fireball, raining debris and carnage over the battlefield.]
And there ends another story, folks! Just like that, our brave crew is no more.
Legacy of the High Seas
In the heart of coastal France, yada yada, twin sisters, Saint-Malo, blah blah... Ugh, why do I feel like I’m narrating the intro to some low-budget period drama? Oh, right, because I wrote this.
Look, you’re probably expecting me to wax poetic about the “azure expanse of the Bay of Saint-Malo” and “winds whispering tales of piracy and rebellion,” but I’ve got a better idea. Let’s skip the part where I pretend this story is deep, and get straight to what you really want chaos, ridiculousness, and, of course, death.
So here’s the deal: Alaina and Susan, the Beaumont twins, are living their picturesque little lives, oblivious to the fact that they were born into a family of pirates. And because I clearly had no original ideas back then, I decided to give them tragic backstories and pirate bloodlines because… why not? What else says “character development” like tossing in some secret pirate parents?
But honestly, let’s fast-forward past the boring “family tavern life” part and get to where things start falling apart. Okay, back to the story—for now.
Philippe cleared his throat. "Isabelle, I need to speak with you," he began, his voice tinged with hesitation.
Ah, yes, the classic ‘I have bad news but I’m trying to sound calm’ opener. Nothing screams pirate-turned-tavern-owner like a man who can’t handle a conversation with his wife.
Isabelle looked up from where she was tending to the bar, concern etched across her features. "What is it, Philippe? You look troubled."
Taking a deep breath, Philippe clasped Isabelle's hand gently in his own. "I've received a message from an old friend," he confessed, his gaze searching hers for understanding. "It’s Timmy, and he's in trouble. He's blackmailed me into helping him, and I must go."
Wait—Timmy? Really? Out of all the fearsome pirate names, we’re stuck with Timmy? Like the guy who brings juice boxes to the crew? And blackmail? Classic. There’s always a ‘Timmy’ ready to mess things up.
Isabelle's eyes widened in alarm, a knot of worry forming in her stomach. "But Philippe, we've left that life behind. You can't go back to being a pirate," she pleaded, her voice trembling with fear for her husband's safety.
Philippe's heart ached at the pain in his wife's eyes, knowing the anguish his decision was causing her. "I know, Isabelle, but I have no choice," he replied, his voice heavy with regret. "If I don't help Timmy, he'll expose our past, and our family will be in danger."
Tears welled in Isabelle's eyes as she realized the gravity of their situation. "Promise me you'll come back to us, Philippe," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Tears. Again. Because nothing says “serious situation” like making your wife cry.
Drawing Isabelle into his arms, Philippe held her tightly, his embrace a silent pledge of his love and determination. "I promise, my dear," he vowed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I will return to you and our daughters, no matter what."
As Philippe stepped onto Timmy's ship, he was greeted with a voice from his past, one that stirred a mix of emotions within him. "Hey, John," Timmy called out, using Philippe's real name. Because, of course, he had a secret pirate name, and it was John. Really? Of all the thrilling pirate names in the world, I went with John? Next, I’ll introduce his old pirate buddy, Bob.
Philippe froze, his heart pounding in his chest as the weight of his true identity washed over him. I mean, sure, let’s just casually drop the fact that he’s having a full-on identity crisis on the deck of a pirate ship like that’s totally normal. I bet even Timmy’s thinking, “Chill out, bro, it’s just a name.”
For a moment, he stood rooted to the spot, grappling with a flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm him. Ah, yes, the classic ‘flood of memories.’ In case you were wondering, this is where the slow-motion flashback montage kicks in, and we’re all supposed to feel deep emotions. Does it work? No. Is it dramatic? Absolutely.
Timmy’s voice broke through John’s reverie, filled with a hint of remorse. "It's been a long time. I'm sorry about the whole blackmailing thing. I knew it was the only way you would come," he admitted, his words tinged with sincerity. Blackmail! Timmy’s go-to move! Because asking nicely is clearly beneath him. But hey, at least he’s “sorry,” so it’s all good, right? As Timmy spoke, memories of a dark chapter in Philippe’s past resurfaced, sending a shiver down his spine. “It’s been a long time since we destroyed that town, Beaumont,” Timmy remarked, his words heavy with nostalgia and a hint of pride. Yeah, because nothing rekindles old friendships like reminiscing about that time you wiped out an entire town. Classic Timmy. Always bringing up the mood with genocide.
“What did the papers say? Not one survivor, the whole town in ruins. That was one of the best parts of my life.” Best part of his life? Well, there you have it, folks—Timmy’s “peak moment” was the massacre of an innocent town. And this is the guy Philippe/John has been blackmailed into helping. Solid choice of friends, really.
John’s heart sank as he listened to Timmy’s callous recounting of their past misdeeds. The weight of guilt bore down on him, a heavy burden that he had carried for far too long. “It’s not something to be proud of, Timmy,” John replied, his voice tinged with regret. “Innocent lives were lost, families torn apart.”.
“You’re family’s made you soft,” Timmy sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. Ah, the classic tough-guy pirate comeback: “You’ve gone soft.” If you don’t hear this at least once in a pirate story, is it even a pirate story?
“But that doesn’t matter. I need your help to steal the king’s gold from the British ship named the Kingston.” And there it is—the real reason for this heartfelt reunion. All roads lead to one last heist, because apparently, no one can just retire in peace.
As the British ship drew alongside theirs, a voice boomed across the water. “Ahoy there! Do you require assistance?” called out a member of the British crew, his tone laced with authority.
Timmy exchanged a glance with John, a silent signal passing between them. “Yes, we’re lost and in need of help!” Timmy shouted back, his voice echoing across the waves. Because nothing says ‘trustworthy’ like two scruffy dudes on a sketchy boat yelling about how lost they are. Very convincing, Timmy.
As the British soldier extended a hand to help them aboard, Timmy and John exchanged a knowing glance. With a nod of acknowledgment, they accepted the offer, stepping onto the deck of the British ship with feigned gratitude.
"Thank you for your assistance," Timmy said, his tone convincingly grateful as he clasped the soldier's hand in a firm shake. Timmy’s an actor now. Very Oscar-worthy. Somebody get this man a gold statue—or, you know, the king’s gold, whichever comes first.
John followed suit, offering a polite nod of appreciation before casting a wary glance around the deck. The British crew moved about their duties, seemingly unaware of the danger that lurked beneath the surface. With their plan set in motion, Timmy and John prepared to unleash their attack.
As Timmy gave the signal, John's heart pounded in his chest. With a sense of grim determination, they sprang into action, unleashing a flurry of blows upon the unsuspecting soldiers on the top deck.
"Grim determination," huh? I mean, I’d hope they were determined—otherwise, this plan might fall apart faster than one of my earlier drafts.
The clash of metal rang out across the ship as Timmy and John fought with ruthless efficiency, their movements honed by years of experience on the high seas.Each strike was precise, each blow delivered with deadly intent as they sought to overpower their adversaries.
Precise, deadly, and predictable. I swear, if this was a movie, you’d see Timmy flip over a barrel in slow-mo while John spins around in an unnecessarily dramatic circle.
As the last of the soldiers fell beneath their blades, Timmy and John stood amidst the carnage, chests heaving with exertion. Blood stained the deck beneath their feet, a grim reminder of the violence they had wrought.
With a sense of grim satisfaction, Timmy turned to John, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Well done, John," he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction. Because nothing bonds two friends more than some light piracy and a bit of casual murder.
"Now, let's find the king's gold and make our escape before reinforcements arrive."
After dispatching the remaining soldiers, Timmy and John located the gold hidden away in the ship's cargo hold. With practiced efficiency, they transferred the gleaming treasures into a sturdy chest, the weight of their ill-gotten gains.
As they secured the lid of the chest, Timmy cast a nostalgic glance at John, a wistful smile gracing his face. "I missed working with you, John," he admitted, his voice tinged with genuine fondness. "The thrill of the chase, the rush of battle...there's nothing quite like it."
You know, I’m starting to feel like I’m reading a Hallmark movie script. Next, he’ll suggest they open a flower shop together after this.
Timmy and John hoisted the chest of gold onto their shoulders and made their way back to the deck. As they prepared to make their escape. As they neared the brink of escape, a sudden crack shattered the tension, echoing across the deck. Timmy staggered backward, a look of shock crossing his face as he clutched at the wound blooming on his chest, inflicted by a British officer's shot.
And here we go with the dramatic turn of events! Because what pirate story would be complete without a tragic injury.
With a gasp of pain, Timmy's eyes met John's, a bittersweet smile gracing his lips. "It's been great, John Saw," he rasped, his voice strained with effort. "Go back to your family. Enjoy your life with them."
With a single, decisive shot, John avenged his friend, the echo of the gunshot reverberating across the deck. The officer fell to the ground, his threat silenced forever.
Nothing says “friendship” like avenging your buddy’s demise with a little bit of murder.
With a heavy heart, John turned away, his mind consumed by thoughts of escape and the safety of his family. Gripping the chest of gold tightly, he made his way to the edge of the ship and plunged into the icy waters below.
With the chest of gold securely stowed on his boat, John set sail back to his tavern. The wind filled the sails as his vessel cut through the waves, carrying him swiftly towards his destination. As he sailed, John’s mind raced with thoughts of his family waiting for him at the tavern.
But before John went home, he buried the treasure deep within the confines of a hidden cave on a remote island, far from the prying eyes of the world. With each shovelful of earth, he concealed the chest of gold, its contents waiting to be discovered by his daughters, Susan and Alaina.
And there it is! The classic ‘treasure buried for the next generation’ trope. Just imagine the conversation: “Hey, kids, I hope you enjoy this treasure, but don’t ask how it got here. It’s a real doozy of a story.”
Alright, folks, I’m skipping a lot here because—let’s be real—I don’t have all day to recount this tragedy. So, here’s a quick lowdown: Officer Ned Stallard, a real mean guy with a penchant for vengeance, storms into Philippe's tavern, fuming like he just lost a game of poker. He’s all like, “You took everything from me when you and your pirates destroyed Beaumont!”
Classic revenge plot, right? You can practically hear the dramatic music in the background. And then we have John, who’s just a tad shaken. “I... I thought I killed everyone,” he confesses, trembling like a leaf in a storm. It’s always the guilt that gets you! He thought he was serving a greater cause, but turns out he was just stirring the pot of regret.
Ned, feeling particularly generous, goes on to say, “I would arrest you, but I think I'm just going to kill you for everything you've done. You deserve a lot worse. Consider this mercy.” Ah yes, nothing says mercy like a death sentence!
But before we get too caught up in the drama, let me just skip ahead a bit. Because, honestly, who needs to wallow in the guilt and sorrow of poor John?
As Ned's hand tightened around the trigger, John's heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him like a vice. But before the bullet could find its mark, a sudden blur of movement intercepted its path.
With a gasp of horror, John watched in disbelief as his wife, driven by an instinctive need to protect him, threw herself in front of him, taking the full force of the bullet. "No!" John cried out, his voice choked with anguish as he reached out in vain to catch her. Time seemed to stand still as he watched her crumple to the ground, blood staining the floor beneath her. And just like that, we’re deep into the feels, folks. "Dad!" Susan cried out, her voice breaking as she rushed to his side, tears streaming down her face. Because what’s a tragedy without the kids getting involved?
Alaina's hands trembled as she reached out to support her father. "Dad, you're hurt," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. I mean, the poor guy just lost his wife, and now his kids are piling on the drama!
John's breaths came in ragged gasps as he gathered his strength to speak. "Run, my loves," he managed, his voice barely a whisper. "Remember, I love you more than anything in this world." Oh, the classic last words! Tears glistened in Susan's eyes as she held onto her father, unwilling to let go. "We love you too, Dad," she sobbed, her heart breaking at the sight of his pain.
And then, like good little plot devices, the girls run. Because, you know, it’s just too much for them to handle, and this story isn’t going to save itself!
With a heavy heart, they boarded their father's boat, casting one last sorrowful glance at the town they had once called home, now engulfed in flames and destruction. Honestly, if there were a “Worst Goodbyes” award, they’d win it hands down! As they sailed away, the echoes of cannon fire faded into the distance, leaving behind a trail of devastation and heartache.
As Susan and Alaina huddled together on the boat, the sound of cannon fire still ringing in their ears, a heavy silence enveloped them. The weight of their parents' fate hung like a dark cloud over their heads, casting a shadow of grief and uncertainty.
"I can't believe they're gone," Susan whispered, her voice choked with emotion as tears welled in her eyes. Alaina reached out to grasp her sister's hand, offering what little comfort she could muster. "I know, Susan," she murmured, her own voice trembling with sorrow. "It all happened so fast. I still can't believe it." Their minds raced with memories of their parents, their laughter and love now forever silenced by the cruel hand of fate.
Susan and Alaina found themselves succumbing to sleep. Their minds, heavy with sorrow and fatigue, gradually surrendered to the embrace of slumber. Wrapped in blankets of darkness and solitude, they drifted across the vast expanse of the sea, the stars above twinkling softly like distant beacons guiding them through the night. And as the boat continued its journey, carrying them further away from the ruins of their home and towards an uncertain future, Susan and Alaina slept on, finding fleeting moments of peace amidst the tumultuous sea of their grief.
As Susan and Alaina roused from their sleep, their stomachs grumbled in protest, reminding them of their need for nourishment. "I'm so hungry," Susan murmured, her voice tinged with frustration as she scanned the small boat for any sign of food. Alaina sighed, her own hunger gnawing at her insides. "I don't think there's anything to eat here," she replied, disappointment evident in her voice. Well, that’s just fantastic! Because nothing says ‘survival’ like an empty boat.
Just as they were about to give up hope of finding sustenance, Alaina's gaze fell upon a corner of the boat where a dusty map and a sealed envelope lay forgotten. "What's this?" she exclaimed, curiosity replacing her hunger as she reached for the mysterious items. Susan's interest was piqued as she joined her sister, inspecting the map and envelope with growing excitement. "It looks like a map," she observed, her fingers tracing the faded lines etched upon its surface. Great! Just what we need—another treasure hunt to distract us from our emotional turmoil!
Alaina nodded in agreement. "And a letter," she added, pointing to the sealed envelope. "It's from our parents." With trembling hands, they carefully opened the letter, their hearts pounding with anticipation as they read the words penned by their beloved parents.
Okay, I would keep going, but let’s just rewrite it here.
As Susan and Alaina drifted further away from the burning ruins of their home, a sense of fleeting hope began to blossom in their hearts. But little did they know that danger lurked just beyond the horizon.
Onboard his ship, Officer Ned Stallard stood at the helm, his sharp eyes scanning the waters. When he spotted the sisters' small vessel, a twisted grin spread across his face. “There they are, the little ghosts of the Beaumont family,” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
With a swift motion, he signaled his crew to prepare the cannons. “Let’s send them to join their parents,” he ordered, his tone cold and unforgiving. The crew sprang into action, loading the cannons with ruthless efficiency.
Ned’s voice boomed across the deck, a thunderous command “Fire!”
The cannon roared, the sound echoing across the waves like a death knell. A fiery ball shot through the air, arcing gracefully toward the unsuspecting sisters. Time seemed to slow as the cannonball barreled toward them.
“Alaina!” Susan screamed, her heart racing as she turned to see the oncoming threat. But it was too late.
With a deafening explosion, the cannonball struck their boat, splintering wood and sending shards flying in every direction. The sisters' screams were drowned out by the roar of the blast, a devastating force that engulfed their small vessel.
The flames erupted around them, consuming everything in their path. In that moment, Susan and Alaina were snuffed out like candles in a storm. As the smoke cleared and the ocean swallowed the remnants of their ship, Ned stood on the deck of his vessel, a cruel smile on his lips. “Consider that mercy,” he muttered, watching as the waves closed over the last vestiges of the Beaumont legacy.
Much better—another story gone. Oh wait, almost forgot about Josh.
With a wicked grin, I quietly approached the unsuspecting soldier from behind. “Hey there, Josh,” I whispered, enjoying the surprise that would soon grace his face.
He turned, his eyes wide with confusion. “What—”
“Who's your daddy?” I shouted, and before he could process what was happening, I pulled the trigger.
BANG!
Blood sprayed painting the sand a gruesome red as Josh crumpled to the ground in a heap.
THE TAIL OF CAPTAIN Gabriel
"Alright, folks, buckle up because we're doing something a little different with this next tale: The Tale of Captain Gabriel. Now, instead of dragging you through every excruciating detail of this boring story, I've decided to spare you and just rewrite it.
Oh, and if you're wondering why Josh and Alaina are still kicking around even though I clearly killed them in the first part of this story... don't ask. It's one of those narrative quirks, okay? I can shoot someone point-blank in part one, and somehow they’ll still show up alive and well in part two. Don’t look at me. It just works that way. So let's not waste time on logic, and instead, let's dive into the good stuff."
"So here’s what originally happened in the first draft of this story. Prepare yourselves because it’s, well… about as predictable as you’d expect.
Gabriel, our friendly neighborhood villain, decides to challenge Captain Josh to a duel. Because, of course, that’s what pirates do—get all theatrical and settle things like ‘gentlemen’ with swords. Gabriel's all like, ‘If I win, I keep Susan and Alaina, but if you win, you get to take them away,’ because for some reason women are treated like pirate loot in this scenario. Captain Josh, ever the noble hero, agrees, and they go at it with some fancy sword fighting, circling each other, trading blows.
Naturally, Josh wins because that’s how these things are supposed to end. He’s the ‘good guy,’ after all. Gabriel gets mad, makes some vague threat about how they’ll meet again, and then just… leaves. The end. Yawn.
But here’s the new and improved version. Much more fun, if you ask me."
Gabriel: “Ah, Captain Josh. Always the valiant hero. Let’s settle this like men.”
Josh: “Sure, let’s do this.”
Swords clash dramatically for a few seconds. Then, Josh, clearly done with all the grandstanding, goes full medieval on Gabriel.
With a quick swipe, Captain Josh cuts off Gabriel’s hand. Yes, you read that right—his hand. It drops to the deck with a thud, blood spurting everywhere Gabriel, in shock: “My hand! You cut off my hand!”
Josh, not even breaking a sweat, shrugs and replies, “Yeah, I’m kinda in a hurry.” And then, with one swift motion, Josh slices Gabriel’s head clean off.
The head rolls dramatically across the deck, leaving a trail behind as it goes. The body, now missing its main feature, slumps to the ground in a heap.
And that’s that. No long speeches, no dramatic exits. Just good old-fashioned violence.
"Alright, let me just give you the original story here. I won’t make you suffer through the whole thing, but here’s how it originally went down."
Alaina and Captain Josh, like good little adventurers, found themselves deep in a cavern searching for treasure. Their excitement was at an all-time high as they stumbled upon a glimmer of light, which led them to a fancy, jewel-encrusted chest. Because, of course, the treasure would be conveniently glowing like that.
Alaina: “Susan, look! It’s the treasure!”
Susan joins in, both of them trembling with excitement like they’ve never seen shiny objects before.
Susan: “Our parents' treasure... it's really here.”
They lift the chest, and—surprise, surprise—inside is a bunch of gold, jewels, and whatever other riches you can imagine. But wait! Because nothing can be easy in these kinds of stories, a huge rumble shakes the cave. A big rock decides it’s had enough of hanging around on the ceiling and crashes down.
Alaina, being the protagonist and all, gets hit by the rock and tumbles backward, sliding toward the edge of the cave. Captain Josh does the heroic thing and dives after her because, why not?
Captain Josh: “Alaina!”
And then, naturally, both of them plunge into the dark waters below, leaving Susan screaming at the cavern’s edge.
Susan: “Captain! Alaina!”
"Pretty standard stuff, right? Alaina falls, Captain Josh dives in after her, and the water sweeps them away. But why stop there when we can make this even more tragic and pointless? Let’s rewrite this into something far more entertaining."
Alaina spots the treasure, reaches for it—boom—big rock falls. But instead of just stumbling, Alaina straight-up faceplants into the jagged rocks below. No dramatic fall, just a good old head-first collision. Crunch. She’s gone. Sorry, Alaina, not your day.
Captain Josh, because it’s dark and he’s not the brightest, doesn’t even notice what just happened. He dives after her in a misguided attempt at heroics, but—guess what?—he hits the rocks, too. Just like that, two-for-one special. Alaina and Josh, both down, courtesy of some unforgiving stone slabs.
Oh, and let’s not forget Susan. She’s up there at the cavern entrance, probably thinking she’s safe. Except she’s not. Because one of the rocks that took out Alaina and Josh comes loose, rolling toward her. She trips, and boom—another casualty.
"And there you have it. Much better. No heroic rescues, just a lot of rocks and poor life decisions.
Grimshade Atoll
Here's what originally happened before I decided to make it less painful for all of us."
Captain Gabriel, the ever-dramatic and wounded pirate, stumbles onto the scene like he's been through about ten too many duels.
Captain Gabriel: "Hey, ladies... How have you girls been?" He coughs, blood flecking his lips because apparently, no pirate can die without spitting blood.
Alaina’s all concerned, of course.
Alaina: "Captain Gabriel, what happened to you?"
Susan, ever the helpful one, is already rushing to his side, trying to be the ship's medic.
Susan: "We need to get you patched up. Hang on, we’ll find something to help."
But Captain Gabriel, because he loves the dramatic exit, shakes his head like he’s too far gone.
Captain Gabriel: "It’s too late for me, girls..."
And then, of course, he delivers his dying breath:
Captain Gabriel: "You need to... get off this ship..."
Alaina and Susan spot a British vessel in the distance—finally, something to break up this emotional mess. They wave a torch thinking rescue is imminent.
Alaina: "Quick, grab that torch! We need to signal for help."
And of course, Susan, being as hopeful as always, chimes in.
Susan: "They have to see us. We have to get off this island."
Help shows up, British sailors row over. But oh no, the boat sinks for no apparent reason, and who comes flying out of the water?
Captain Josh: charismatic grin, the hero they didn’t ask for.
Captain Josh: "Hey there, ladies! Looks like you could use a hand. And Gaby baby, of course!"
Instead of all this teary-eyed emotional garbage, let’s cut to the chase.
Captain Gabriel lies on the deck, still bloody, but this time his eyes snap open with a glowing, eerie light. His skin turns a sickly green, and the veins in his neck bulge as his mouth splits open to reveal jagged, zombie-like teeth.
Captain Gabriel (now Zombie Gabriel): "Braaaaaains..."
Susan, being the first to notice, backs up in horror.
Susan: "Uh, Alaina... something’s really wrong with Captain Gabriel..."
Alaina: "Ya think?!"
Before they can react, Zombie Gabriel lunges at Alaina, his rotting teeth sinking into her shoulder with a sickening crunch. Gore sprays across the deck as Alaina screams in agony.
Alaina: "AHHHH—What the heck, Gabriel!"
Zombie Gabriel doesn’t stop to explain. He tears a chunk of flesh off her arm, sending her stumbling backwards into Susan. Alaina’s eyes go wild as she convulses, twitching and transforming. Her skin begins to rot, her eyes glaze over, and just like that—boom!—Zombie Alaina is born.
Zombie Alaina: "Urrrgghhh… Susan… so… hungry."
Susan barely has time to scream before Zombie Alaina jumps on her, blood gushing as she bites down on Susan’s neck. With a sickening squelch, Zombie Alaina rips out Susan’s throat in a spray of crimson.
Susan: "Gaaaarrrggllle—" she gasps, choking on her own blood.
Now Susan's twitching too—yep, you guessed it, Zombie Susan joins the party! Her last words, a blood-soaked, "Urrrrghhh…" before her teeth start snapping together like a wild animal.
Enter Captain Josh, ever the clueless hero, who literally jumps aboard and lands in the middle of the carnage. He flashes that grin like he’s still the star of the show.
Captain Josh: "Hey there, ladies! Looks like you could use a hand!"
Zombie Alaina and Zombie Susan shuffle toward him, their mouths dripping with gore, hands clawing the air like they’re reaching for a buffet.
Captain Josh: "Whoa, whoa, glad to see you too, but you're getting a little too close—"
But before he can finish his dumb line, both Zombies pounce, tearing into him. Flesh rips, and there’s blood everywhere. Zombie Alaina digs her teeth into his arm, and Zombie Susan rips open his stomach with her bare hands. Intestines spill out onto the deck, Josh’s face twisted in horror.
Captain Josh: "Oh—gosh—this isn’t how I wanted to go—"
His screams are drowned out by the sound of chomping and tearing as the two zombie sisters feast on him, blood spurting from every wound. His final words?
Captain Josh (gurgling through blood): "I... just... wanted... to... help..."
Zombie Susan pulls his heart out, and Zombie Alaina gnaws on what’s left of his face,
"Much better, don’t you think? Zombies, blood, and absolutely no need for rescue. Josh had it coming.”
Grimshade Atoll Everyone has to die sometime
“Alright, folks, before we get to the good part, let me walk you through what was supposed to happen.”
Alaina and Susan are out in the middle of nowhere, rowing a boat with worried expressions. You know, like a scene out of a generic survival movie. They hear some cries for help, and instead of being rational and leaving like any normal person would, they decide to play the heroes.
Alaina: "Did you hear that?"
Because yes, they both heard it. And, of course, they agree that they can't just leave someone to fend for themselves. The screams grow louder, and in true movie fashion, they get excited.
Susan: "It’s Captain Josh!"
And what do they do? They row as hard as they can toward him—because nothing screams urgency like rowing a boat at a leisurely pace.
They pull him aboard. He’s battered, bruised, but of course, still manages a weak smile. And what follows is Josh’s epic recount of survival—something about a soldier heroically sacrificing himself to save him from being bitten by some vague “things.”
Captain Josh: "It was chaos. He sacrificed himself so I could escape."
Naturally, Alaina and Susan respond with all the emotional depth you’d expect:
Alaina: "That was incredibly brave of him."
Susan: "We owe him a debt of gratitude."
"Riveting, right? If you managed to stay awake through that, congratulations. But don’t worry, because we’re about to kick this into high gear.”
Alaina and Susan row through the dark water, both on high alert, scanning the horizon. The eerie silence of the night is broken by a voice.
Alaina: "Did you hear that?"
Susan: "Yeah, but maybe we should just—"
Before she can finish, there it is: a familiar figure floating toward them, weakly calling out for help.
Susan: "It’s Captain Josh!"
They pull him into the boat, soaking wet Josh coughs, struggling to sit up, his face pale.
Captain Josh: "You wouldn’t believe it... I barely made it. Those... things... they were everywhere. One of our men saved me at the last second. He jumped in front, took the bite, and—"
As he speaks, a weird gleam passes through Josh's eyes. Alaina notices it first.
Alaina: "Wait... Josh, what’s that on your arm?"
Josh glances down, as if he hadn’t noticed the gory bite wound oozing on his forearm. He gives a sheepish grin.
Captain Josh: "Oh, this? It’s nothing... just a little scratch."
Alaina’s hand instinctively moves toward her side, where her weapon should be—but it’s not there. Her heart races as the realization hits her like a ton of bricks. Josh isn’t fine. He’s not fine at all.
Suddenly, Josh’s smile fades, replaced by a hungry, ravenous look. His eyes glaze over, turning into something cold and dead. With a sickening crack, his body starts contorting, bones popping grotesquely as his skin grays.
Susan (screaming): "Josh, NO!"
But it’s too late. He lunges at Alaina, his teeth sinking into her shoulder with a wet crunch. Blood sprays, painting the boat’s interior in crimson. Alaina lets out a shriek, but it's drowned out by the sound of flesh tearing.
Alaina slumps, her eyes wide as she gasps, her body twitching as she transforms. Meanwhile, Susan scrambles, trying to grab the nearest oar as a weapon. But before she can even swing, Josh—or what's left of him—leaps at her, knocking her to the floor. His teeth sink into her throat, tearing out chunks of flesh in a mess of blood and tendons.
Blood sprays across the boat, staining everything in sight. Alaina, now fully zombified, staggers up with chunks of flesh missing from her neck, her eyes glowing with undead hunger. Together, she and Josh, both dripping in gore, look down at Susan’s mangled body.
(Wiping away a fake tear): "Aww, family reunion time. Isn’t it beautiful? But wait! There’s more."
Just when you think the carnage is over, Susan jerks up, her own eyes clouding over with that telltale zombie glaze. Now fully reanimated, she joins the party.
"Three zombies on a boat. A classic. And you know what that means, right? No survivors. Unless... oh wait, nope, I’m rewriting this to have none."
As the rickety pirate boat docked at Skull Island, the crew spotted the ragged forms of Alaina, Susan, and Captain Josh shambling toward them, their clothes tattered and caked in dried blood. But there was something off—something dead in their eyes.
Pirate 1 stood on the docks, squinting at them. "Welcome to Skull Island, lasses and matey. This here's our—"
Before he could finish, Alaina lunged at him with inhuman speed, her mouth wide open, teeth bared like a hungry animal. Her jaws snapped around his neck with a crunch. Blood sprayed like a gruesome fountain, painting the docks red.
The other pirates stared in shock, frozen for a brief moment as they watched their comrade collapse, lifeless, while Alaina chewed messily on a chunk of his neck.
Captain Josh, now fully zombified, turned toward a group of pirates nearby. His rotting face cracked into a sinister grin as he lurched forward. Pirate 2 barely had time to raise his cutlass before Josh tore into him, his teeth sinking deep into the pirate’s arm with a feral growl. Pirate 2 screamed as blood gushed from the wound, but it wasn’t long before the scream turned into a choking gurgle.
Susan, with her eyes now glazed and undead, staggered toward a group of pirates attempting to flee. She moved like a predator on the hunt, cornering two crew members by a stack of crates. With a guttural moan, she threw herself at them, claws tearing through their flesh. The pirates screamed, but it was short-lived as Susan made quick, bloody work of them.
By the time Alaina, Susan, and Josh had finished their grisly feast, the once-bustling Skull Island looked like a horror show. Blood-stained bodies littered the ground, but none of them stayed dead for long. Slowly, they started to twitch, their fingers curling as their lifeless eyes opened, now glowing with the same undead hunger as their killers.
Pirate 3, a survivor hiding behind a barrel, peeked out just in time to see his former comrades rising from the ground, their bodies twisted, broken, and hungry for flesh.
Pirate 3 (whispering in terror): "By Davy Jones’ locker... they’re all zombies!"
Captain Jack himself stumbled out of his tent, oblivious to the carnage unfolding. "Ahoy there, lasses and—"
Before he could even finish his sentence, Zombie Josh was on him, tearing through the captain's throat with a vicious bite. Jack didn’t even have time to scream as his body went limp, the pirate legend brought down by a single, relentless chomp.
"Captain Jack... well, more like Captain Snack now. Am I right?"
As the undead army grew, Alaina, Susan, and Josh led their horde across the island, slaughtering everything in their path—men, women, livestock, even the rats scurrying in the shadows. The once-lively Skull Island was now a desolate wasteland, overrun with zombies hungry for more.
The beginnings of Captain Gabriel
Ah, young Captain Gabriel, before he was the brooding, blood-spitting pirate we know now. Back when he was just a boy named Gabriel, burdened with responsibilities too big for his young heart to carry. Let’s dive into the tragedy that shaped him, shall we?
Jack and I exchanged a worried glance, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on our young shoulders. The absence of our father loomed large, casting a shadow so deep that even the light in the room felt dimmer.
“We’ll make it work, Mom,” Jack said, trying to sound confident, but I could hear the fear buried beneath his steady tone.
Oh Jack, sweet, naive Jack. If only you knew how much worse things were about to get.
Our mother’s smile was soft but sad, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and pain. "Thank you, boys. We'll get through this together."
But as time passed, the weight of that promise became unbearable. Bills stacked up like storm clouds on the horizon. The looming reality? We had to sell our home—the home that held every good memory we had left of our father. It felt like a betrayal, like giving away the last piece of him.
We packed up what little we could carry and left behind the comfort of our seaside village. The new neighborhood? A grim and unforgiving downtown wasteland, a place where dreams went to die.
The streets were filthy, the buildings rotting like corpses, and the air carried a permanent stench of hopelessness. The sight of it twisted something deep inside me.
Returning to school, I could feel the change in the air as I walked the hallways. Eyes that once looked at me with respect now looked away, as if I’d become invisible overnight.
I found my seat next to Zekeo, who had been my closest friend through thick and thin. His expression was calm, but I knew him too well—he could sense something was wrong.
“Zekeo, I need to tell you something,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.
He turned to me, his brow creasing with concern. "What’s wrong, Gabriel?"
My throat tightened. The words felt like lead on my tongue. "We… we have to leave school," I finally admitted, feeling the crushing weight of the truth.
Zekeo blinked, clearly taken aback. “Leave school? But why?”
I glanced down, unable to meet his gaze. “We can’t afford it anymore. My mom… she can’t do it on her own.”
Zekeo was silent for a long moment, absorbing the news. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with disbelief. “Gabriel… no, there has to be another way.”
But there wasn’t. We both knew it.
“And here’s where the story goes off the rails. Because I’m bored.”
I step out of a random portal because, well, I can, and what do I see? Old Joe. He squints at me like I’m supposed to explain myself.
"Who are you?"
I don’t answer. Instead, I pull out my trusty flintlock pistol—because why not—and shoot him. Bam! Down goes Joe. And we’re not done yet, folks.
"I know you were all ready for some heartwarming coming-of-age stuff, but let’s fast-track it. I blow up the school—yes, the whole place—taking Gabriel, Jack, Taylor, and even Zekeo down with it. Explosion, debris, chaos. They’re gone. Poof."
"Well, that was more exciting, wasn’t it? You’re welcome."
"Alright, enough with that story. Time for the next one. I’ll give you the quick rundown of the original plot, but let’s be honest—it’s gonna be more fun when I fix it."
There is no escape
So, in the original version, we’ve got Jack dropping the 'big reveal' to Alaina that he’s a vampire. Shocker, right? Of course, instead of handling it like a normal person, he immediately starts munching on people. Alaina freaks out—who wouldn’t?—and runs off with her pals Susan and Josh, hopping on a boat like ‘see ya, suckers!’"
But then, Jack decides to chase after them, because, I guess, he really likes the taste of blood or something.
"I mean, this guy literally says, ‘I like sucking blood!’ Not exactly subtle, is he?"
Then there’s this whole showdown with a crew of vampire pirates (yeah, you heard me, vampire pirates) and it’s supposed to be all dramatic. Jack even throws out a classic villain line like,
"‘You thought you could win that easily?’"
Very original, Jack. A real masterpiece of dialogue there.
Oh, and guess what—Gabriel’s back! As a vampire! Because why not, right?
"Now, here’s where things really spiral. Jack gets all primal and starts chewing on Josh. Like, legit. There’s blood everywhere, Josh is screaming, Alaina’s freaking out, and Jack’s over here having an all-you-can-eat buffet."
I mean, it’s messy. Real messy.
"Josh is screaming, ‘What are you doing?!’ Dude, what do you think he’s doing? He’s a vampire, that’s kind of his thing now."
Alaina’s begging Jack to stop, but of course, he doesn’t listen because, well, why would he? The guy’s in full-on vampire frenzy mode. Josh is fighting for his life, yelling at the girls to run.
"Run! Get off the ship! Don’t look back!" Heroic, right?
So Alaina grabs Susan, and they dive off the ship into the water, leaving behind a trail of dramatic tears and memories of their doomed friend.
Cue the sad music, the slow-motion escape, the ‘we’ll never forget you’ vibes. You get the picture.
"Alright, let's scrap the original nonsense.’’
So, Jack’s still munching on poor Josh like he’s a midnight snack. Blood everywhere, screams, you know, the usual. But this time, Alaina’s not just standing there, frozen in terror. Oh no, she spots a gun lying on the deck—a conveniently placed weapon, because I’m feeling generous today.
With a wild look in her eyes, she grabs the gun. Her hands shake, but there’s no hesitation now. Jack’s too busy feasting on Josh to notice. Alaina lifts the gun, her finger trembling on the trigger, and bam!
"BOOM!"
One shot—right to the head. Jack’s skull snaps back, blood splattering everywhere. But we’re not stopping there. She shoots again, and again—blam, blam—until both Jack and Josh are nothing more than lifeless heaps of meat on the deck.
"No healing powers for Jack this time, folks. That whole immortality thing? Yeah, we’re cutting that right out of the story. You’re dead, Jack. For good."
Just when Alaina thinks it’s all over, BAM! Gabriel comes crashing down from the shadows. Fangs out, eyes glowing—classic vampire entrance.
He doesn’t even give Alaina and Susan a chance to scream. With a savage growl, he pounces, sinking his teeth into them like they’re a fresh meal. Blood gushes as he tears into their flesh, their screams echoing across the ship.
Alaina’s eyes go wide as she feels the venom coursing through her veins. Her body convulses, limbs twitching uncontrollably as the transformation begins. Flesh tears, bones snap. It's all agony and chaos as she and Susan are turned into vampires in the most brutal, horrifying way possible.
Their skin turns pale, their eyes glow red with hunger, and they rise, now just as monstrous as Gabriel, covered in the blood of their own humanity.
WHAM!
Out of nowhere, the water around the ship explodes, sending waves crashing over the deck. Before anyone can even react, the Kraken bursts out of the ocean. Massive tentacles, each one the size of a tree, come smashing down, ripping apart the ship like it’s made of paper.
One tentacle wraps around Alaina, squeezing so tightly that her bones crack, blood spraying from her mouth as she’s crushed. Another coils around Susan, yanking her screaming form into the sky, before slamming her down into the water with a sickening splat.
Gabriel tries to leap away, but it’s no use. The Kraken’s jaws open wide, rows of razor-sharp teeth glistening, and with one swift movement, it chomps down on him, tearing him in half like he’s nothing more than a snack.
The ship itself is next—timbers splinter and explode as the Kraken’s tentacles tear through the hull. Sailors and debris are flung into the air as the entire vessel is ripped apart and dragged into the depths. Alaina, Susan, Gabriel—all of them swallowed by the sea monster’s massive maw.
The Kraken’s roar echoes across the empty ocean as the last remnants of the ship vanish beneath the waves.
"Now that’s more like it! And now for our next story.”
The Blood Stone
In the year 1700, when the world was still draped in the tapestry of simplicity and the pulse of life echoed in harmony with nature, there lived a man named Titus. Nestled in the heart of a tranquil village, Titus was not just a fisherman; he was the cornerstone of his family's happiness.
"Yes, yes, it’s all very idyllic. Cue the sunsets, happy family scenes, birds chirping, and all that wholesome stuff. But don’t get too attached. You know how this goes."
With the rising sun as his companion and the gentle caress of the breeze guiding his way, Titus embarked on his daily voyage across the azure waters. His weathered hands deftly maneuvered the oars of his sturdy boat, each stroke a testament to his unwavering dedication to provide for those he held most dear.
Amidst the shimmering expanse of the river, Titus found not only solace in his craft but also boundless love in the embrace of his family. His heart, as vast as the ocean itself, overflowed with affection for his beloved wife and children, their laughter echoing like melodious ripples upon the tranquil surface of his soul.
As the echo of the gunshot reverberated through the air, Titus's heart clenched with dread. Pirates, their ominous silhouette looming on the horizon, descended upon the tranquil village like harbingers of doom. With every fiber of his being, Titus marshaled his strength to lead his family to safety, his eyes ablaze with determination amidst the chaos that unfolded.
But fate, cruel and unyielding, intervened with merciless force. In a deafening crescendo of destruction, a cannonball tore through the air, its deadly trajectory finding its mark with devastating accuracy. With a searing agony that eclipsed the very depths of his soul, Titus was struck, his body thrown with brutal force into the icy embrace of the river's depths.
In the tumult of battle, amidst the thunderous clash of steel and the anguished cries of the innocent, Titus watched helplessly as the life he had cherished with every breath was extinguished in a heartbeat. His family, his beloved wife and children, their laughter a distant memory, consumed by the flames of chaos and death.
As the currents of the river carried him further from the carnage that had claimed everything he held dear, Titus's heart shattered into a million shards of sorrow and despair. With each passing moment, the weight of his grief threatened to drag him deeper into the abyss, his spirit battered and broken by the unfathomable cruelty of loss.
As Titus regained consciousness on the desolate shores of Grimshade Atoll, his senses reeled with disorientation. The air hung heavy with the scent of salt and decay, while the distant cries of seabirds echoed mournfully across the barren landscape. But amidst the eerie stillness, a faint whisper beckoned to him—a voice, haunting yet strangely alluring, emanating from the depths of a nearby cave.
"We could keep going, exploring Grimshade Atoll and all the spooky cave voices… but honestly? We’re stopping right here. You’ve had enough tragedy for one day. Plus, we’ve got better things to get to."
In the year 1700, Titus was rowing across the calm waters, his mind drifting to thoughts of his family. The sun shimmered on the river’s surface, everything peaceful.
"Ah, the calm before the storm, right? Too bad for Titus."
Out of nowhere, the pirates appeared on the horizon, black sails billowing as their ship tore through the waves. Before Titus could even react, a deafening blast shattered the quiet. A cannonball whistled through the air, smashing into his chest with a sickening crunch.
His ribcage exploded inward, the force tearing flesh from bone. Blood sprayed in every direction, painting the water in deep crimson. The sheer impact ripped Titus clean off his boat, his body flung like a rag doll into the river, limbs flailing. His chest was a gaping cavity of shattered ribs and pulped organs, blood seeping into the water as he slowly sank beneath the surface.
"Yeah, that’s it for Titus. No dramatic last words, no heroic fight. Just... boom. Instant fish food."
The water churned red as his lifeless form sank deeper into the depths, bubbles rising from his mouth, the light in his eyes fading into oblivion.
And just like that, Titus was gone.
The end.
"And here we have Zekeo—a bald boy with a limp, stepping into a tavern like he owns the place. Zekeo stepped into the lively tavern, the air thick with laughter and the smell of roasted meat. He made his way to the worn bar counter and leaned on it with a weary sigh. Catching the attention of the barkeeper, a stout man with a weathered face, Zekeo spoke up in a polite tone.
"Excuse me, sir. Could I trouble you for a drink?" he requested, his voice tinged with exhaustion from his travels.
The barkeeper, busy wiping down glasses behind the counter, glanced up at Zekeo and nodded with a friendly grin.
"Aye, lad, of course. What'll it be?" he replied, his tone genial as he reached for a clean mug.
Zekeo considered his options for a moment before settling on a simple ale, nodding his appreciation to the barkeeper.
"Just a mug of ale, please," he said, his voice carrying a hint of gratitude.
The barkeeper poured the ale with practiced ease, sliding the frothy mug across the counter to Zekeo with a friendly smile.
Suddenly, a loud voice cut through the tavern chatter.
"Zekeo! You owe me money!"
Zekeo's heart sank as he recognized the voice of his creditor. Ignoring the man's demands, he scrambled to his feet, his mind racing with thoughts of escape.
But as he attempted to flee, his foot slipped on the slick surface, sending him crashing back down into the mud with a frustrated cry.
"Not stupid mud again!" Zekeo muttered under his breath, his frustration mounting as he struggled to regain his footing amidst the slippery morass.
With a mixture of determination and exasperation, he pushed himself upright once more, mud caking his clothes, his face flushed with embarrassment. He needed to put some distance between himself and his irate creditor before things took a turn for the worse.
"Alright lets change this, so Zekeo walks into a tavern. A bald kid with a limp, looking for a little peace after a long day. Spoiler: he’s not gonna get any."
Zekeo stepped into the lively tavern, the air thick with laughter and the smell of roasted meat. He made his way to the worn bar counter and leaned on it with a weary sigh. Catching the attention of the barkeeper, a stout man with a weathered face, Zekeo spoke up in a polite tone.
"Excuse me, sir. Could I trouble you for a drink?" he asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion from the road.
The barkeeper glanced at him, nodding as he reached for a clean mug. "Aye, lad, what’ll it be?"
"Just a mug of ale, please," Zekeo replied, offering a small, tired smile.
The barkeeper poured the ale and slid it across the counter, but before Zekeo could even take a sip, a loud voice shattered the tavern’s noisy atmosphere.
"Zekeo! You owe me money!"
Zekeo’s face turned pale as he recognized the man. His creditor stormed into the tavern, eyes burning with fury. Zekeo didn’t even have time to think. His survival instincts kicked in, and he bolted for the door.
But his foot slipped in the mud, sending him crashing down. He scrambled to get up, but his movements were clumsy, his limp slowing him.
Before Zekeo could make it to his feet, the creditor drew a pistol, his face twisted with anger. Without a word, he fired.
The shot rang out, echoing through the tavern. Zekeo’s body jerked violently as the bullet tore into his chest. He collapsed, blood pooling beneath him, his eyes wide with shock.
The tavern fell silent as everyone stared at Zekeo’s lifeless body. His once-weary expression now frozen in death, blood seeping through the mud as his final moments slipped away.
"So this story’s a bit long, and I know you’ve got better things to do—like watching paint dry—so let’s speed this up. Here’s the short version.’’
Alaina and Susan? Yeah, they’re looking for some magical rock called the Bloodstone. Big deal, right? Anyway, they find it, but here’s the catch one of them has to die to get it. Dramatic, I know. So, what does Susan do? She straight-up kills herself so Alaina can get the stone. Classic sisterly sacrifice.
Titus shows up out of nowhere, hands Alaina the stone, and boom—she’s off to fight the big bad, Ned Stallard, at his evil stronghold. Along the way, she meets this tiny goblin dude named Nate. They don’t even have a proper conversation, but whatever, he’s there. Then Alaina fights a bunch of zombies and wins.
"Girl power, am I right? Nothing says ‘strong female lead’ like casually decimating an army of the undead."
So she finally gets to Ned, and they throw down. But despite Alaina’s best efforts, she’s getting wrecked. Ned’s about to finish her off—typical villain stuff, right? Raises his sword, ready to win. Cue the dramatic music.
And then Josh—yeah, remember Josh?—he wakes up from his nap or whatever, grabs a sword, and charges in. Out of nowhere, he stabs Ned in the back. Real heroic move, but also a little late to the party, Josh.
"Like, thanks for showing up after Alaina almost died, buddy."
Alaina, seeing her chance, goes full beast mode with the Bloodstone. She stabs it right into Ned’s chest, and this thing explodes with dark energy. Ned’s body? Total mess. Blood everywhere—walls, floor, Alaina, Josh—just a full-on blood bath.
And then, out of nowhere, Susan—yeah, the one who died—comes back to life. No explanation, just happy endings for everyone!
"Okay, let’s just go ahead and fix this mess. Because honestly, this whole thing? It’s a disaster. Time for a rewrite."
Alaina’s standing there, thinking she’s got the upper hand, holding that Bloodstone like she’s about to win the whole game. Ned Stallard is ready to strike her down. But right when Josh is supposed to wake up and do his hero thing... I show up instead.
Before Lucas the wizard can even start his dramatic speech about destiny or whatever, BANG—I shoot him right in the head. Blood and brains splatter everywhere, his lifeless body collapsing in a heap.
"Yeah, I’m not letting some crusty old wizard steal the spotlight."
Josh, who’s just waking up from his coma or nap or whatever, grabs a sword and charges at me. I give him a bored look and pull the trigger again. BANG—bullet straight through his chest. Blood sprays, and he drops like a sack of potatoes, clutching his wound.
"See, I warned you about showing up late, Josh. That’s what you get."
Nate, the little goblin guy, thinks he can save Alaina. He leaps at Ned, but Ned’s faster. In one brutal motion, SLASH, Ned stabs Nate right through the gut. Blood gushes from the wound as Nate gurgles, trying to breathe, before collapsing in a pool of his own blood.
Alaina, still clutching the Bloodstone, looks around in horror as her supposed allies drop like flies. But she doesn’t even have time to react before WHOOSH—Ned’s blade cuts through the air and slices clean through her neck. Her head flies off, rolling across the floor, her body crumpling to the ground in a spray of crimson.
Ned, calm as ever, picks up her severed head, tossing it aside like trash. He grabs the Bloodstone, dark energy swirling around him.
"Yeah, no girl power here. Ned’s in charge now."
And just when you think Titus might show up and do something important? Nah. He explodes. Literally. His body just bursts into a gory mess, chunks of flesh and bone flying in every direction, raining down.
Ned, holding the Bloodstone, doesn’t even blink. With a flick of his hand, he uses its power to erase every last bit of life on the planet. Cities crumble, people scream in agony as their bodies disintegrate, blood flooding the earth. All to bring his long-dead family back from the grave.
"And that’s it. Ned kills everyone—like, everyone—just to bring back his family. The end.
"Oh boy, here we go again. Before we dive into this next literary masterpiece, let me first apologize for... well, everything. Seriously, I don’t know how I managed to write some of this without dying . Anyway, let's take a look at the ‘original’ version of this story, and I promise we’ll fix it after."
Christian, Nate, and Liam made their way back to Camsbridge with a carriage full of whisky, the moon casting its pale glow over the cobblestone streets. They rode beside their prize like they were knights protecting a sacred relic.
As they reached Nate and Liam’s house, the plan was simple—hide the whisky until they figured out what to do with it.
Nate, ever the mastermind, squinted suspiciously around like someone might jump out of the bushes at any second.
"Let’s get these barrels inside before anyone sees us," he muttered, paranoid as always.
So, they unloaded the whisky. Liam, who clearly didn’t care about the finer points of discretion, ripped open a barrel and immediately poured himself a drink. Because, of course, what’s a heist without sampling the goods?
"Just a little celebration drink," Liam said, already halfway through his cup.
Christian, being the responsible one (sort of), gave Liam the classic ‘this-is-how-we-get-caught’ look. "Just don’t drink too much," he warned, probably while secretly hoping Liam would pass out and stop being a liability.
Nate, always the cautious type, took a delicate sip and nodded with that ‘this-is-fancy-stuff’ kind of approval. "It’s good stuff," Nate said, as if he were some kind of connoisseur. "No wonder it’s the King's whisky."
They all fell asleep like exhausted heroes who’d just survived an epic quest. Morning came, and Christian woke up to the sweet sound of Liam snoring like a grizzly bear, whisky still clutched in his hand. Christian stepped outside to brood in the morning breeze because that’s what serious protagonists do, right? Nate joined him, yawning like he had a care in the world. They started talking about their next move.
And then, like the mastermind he was, Christian had an epiphany: sell the whisky off bit by bit.
"Alright, time for another one of my infamous 'fixes.' This story? Let’s just say it started off dumb and ends up... well, worse.
Christian, Nate, and Liam hauled the whisky into Nate and Liam’s house, the moon still high above, but now? They decided to celebrate. A lot. One barrel wasn’t enough, no, they cracked open three—because, of course, they did. The night quickly turned into a drunken mess, with Liam downing cup after cup like his life depended on it. Nate tried to keep pace, while Christian pretended to be responsible… for about five minutes. And then he joined in..
Hours passed. The whisky flowed. Liam, glassy-eyed, muttered something about ‘king’s treasure’ and slumped over, snoring on the spot. Nate wasn’t far behind, slipping into unconsciousness in a pile of barrels. Christian? The last one standing, but just barely. He let out a drunken laugh, stumbled around a bit, and passed out on the floor, face-first into a half-empty cup.
Meanwhile, Jack slunk into the house.. He took one look at the passed-out idiots on the floor and figured, 'Why not?' So, naturally, he grabbed a cup and poured himself a drink. A couple of swigs later, he joined the others in their drunken stupor, collapsing in the corner, peacefully passed out with a barrel for a pillow.
But the real chaos? That came when Gaby Baby—our main villain with an unforgettable name—crept into the scene, all sinister and sneaky. He took one look at the drunkards passed out in their whisky-induced coma and smirked.
“Fools,” he muttered, reaching into his cloak to pull out a match. Oh yes, Gaby had plans—big, fiery plans. Without a second thought, he struck the match and tossed it onto a pile of whisky-soaked wood.
And guess what? The fire caught fast. The flames roared to life, quickly spreading across the room like wildfire. But, because life’s cruel like that, Gaby Baby didn’t realize his cape had caught fire. He strutted out the door, all dramatic-like, only to realize that his back was on fire. With a scream, he stumbled, tripping over his own feet and landing face-first in the mud, his cape burning faster than his dignity.
As Gaby rolled around, trying to put out the flames, the fire inside the shed grew into an inferno. The whisky-fueled blaze consumed everything in its path. Jack, Liam, Nate, and Christian? All peacefully passed out as the fire engulfed the room, none the wiser to their fiery doom.
The shed creaked and groaned under the heat, and soon enough, the entire thing went up in a violent explosion of fire and smoke. Gaby, still flailing around outside, was caught in the blast, his body thrown backward as the flames swallowed the entire building. He screamed, still on fire, before collapsing into a smoking heap, finally silenced by the very blaze he had started.
"And just like that, everyone dies. I fixed it! I think this might be the best thing I’ve ever written. It’s efficient—everyone dies in a matter of seconds. You’re welcome."
“Now here’s the next story. Here’s how it went.”
Christian smirked. "The only party you'll be having is in a jail cell. Hand over the jewels."
Gaby called out, “Hold on a minute, lads. Let’s talk for a moment. You’re clearly outnumbered here.” He laughed, his voice echoing through the trees. “Now, I’m not good at math, but you’ll see that six outnumbers three.”
Christian narrowed his eyes. “We have more than three men.”
Gaby grinned wider. “My good sir, I believe not.”
In an instant, Titus and Jack turned on Christian, Liam, and Nate, drawing their weapons and stepping back to join Gaby. The shock registered on Christian’s face as Gaby threw Titus a treat and said, “Good dog.”
“You traitors!” Liam shouted, disbelief and anger in his voice.
Nate looked at Jack, shaking his head. “After everything, Jack?”
Jack shrugged, a smug grin on his face. “Sorry, mate. Gaby made a better offer.”
Christian’s mind raced as he tried to think of a way out. “Gaby, you don’t need them. Let’s settle this like men.”
Gaby laughed again, clearly enjoying the turn of events. “Oh, Christian, this is much more entertaining. Besides, I like having the upper hand.”
Christian glanced at Nate and Liam, their expressions mirroring his own determination. “We won’t go down without a fight.”
Gaby raised an eyebrow, amused. “Brave words, but futile. Titus, Jack, take their weapons.”
Titus barked in excitement, lunging forward, while Jack moved to disarm Christian and his friends. Christian resisted, but the odds were against them. They were forced to surrender their weapons, left with no choice but to comply.
Gaby Baby, still grinning like a Cheshire cat, turned to the guards he had just robbed. With a flourish, he began to dance, twirling and prancing around like a court jester. As he danced, he broke into song, his voice ringing out with a mocking tune:
"Oh, they'll be swinging from the gallows high,
Their necks a-dangling, reaching for the sky,
The King's men will cheer, and the crows will sing,
As they dance their last dance on the hangman's string!"
He spun around, pointing at Christian, Liam, and Nate, who were now being seized by the guards. “You can have these men!” he declared, still dancing. “And do tell the King that he is most welcome!” His laughter echoed through the trees as he continued his impromptu performance.
Christian, Liam, and Nate were roughly loaded into the convoy cart, their hands bound tightly. As the cart began to move, Gaby gave a final twirl and a mock salute. “Safe travels, gentlemen! Enjoy your stay in the King’s finest accommodations!” He threw a treat to Titus, who caught it with a growl, and then resumed his dance.
"Alright, folks, let's change it now.
Christian, Liam, and Nate, without a moment's hesitation, draw their guns. The echo of gunshots rings out in the quiet forest as Gaby, Titus, and Jack are riddled with bullets, their bodies crumpling to the ground, lifeless.
“Well, that was quick,” Liam mutters, reloading his pistol with a smirk.
But before they can celebrate, the sound of heavy footsteps approaches. The King's men, alerted by the gunfire, storm the area, surrounding Christian and his crew. They are quickly disarmed and captured.
Back in the castle, Christian, Liam, Nate, and Josh stand on the gallows, nooses around their necks. The executioner pulls the lever, but just before the drop...
Josh, with one last desperate move, pulls out a hidden pistol. With deadly accuracy, he fires two quick shots. The first hits Queen Avarie square in the chest, and the second hits King Aiden. Both collapse, blood spreading across their royal garments.
Elaina, standing by her brother's side, gasps in horror. Grief overwhelms her, and she clutches her chest, her heart shattering as she watches her brother, King Aiden, fall. As Josh’s life ebbs away with the drop of the gallows, Elaina’s heartbreak takes its toll, and she falls to the floor, dead.
"And just like that, everyone’s gone. You know, sometimes I feel like I might overdo it with the killing. But hey, just like a moving sale—everything must go!"
The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Christian Lankford Part 3
"Alright, folks, onto the next story—or what's left of it. But before we dive in, Here’s what happened.
The sun barely peeked over the ancient stone battlements when the castle courtyard began to fill. An eager crowd had gathered, buzzing with excitement, placing bets, and declaring their loyalties with all the enthusiasm of people who, apparently, had nothing better to do. Our hero, Josh, stood nervously in the center, adjusting his dueling vest as if he could somehow tighten his way out of this ridiculous situation. The pistol at his side, well, let’s just say it wasn’t his weapon of choice. Or even his second choice.
But this wasn’t about him, was it? Oh no, it was about Gabe, the king of the spotlight. Naturally, Gabe had to make his entrance by hopping on stage—guitar in hand, of course—and serenading the crowd with a song about poor Josh's imminent demise. His grin was as wide as the moat around that blasted castle, and the crowd ate it up. You can practically hear them cheering, can't you? Some even danced. Classy.
Josh, meanwhile, just rolled his eyes. He knew this duel was no longer about honor or whatever nonsense got them there in the first place. Nope, this was just another performance for Gabe, who craved the attention more than the actual duel.
The music ended, and it was time for the duel. They stood back-to-back, pistols drawn, hearts pounding as the crowd counted down. The tension was thick, but I’m sure Josh was more annoyed than scared at this point. A shot rang out—a crack loud enough to wake the dead—and... wait for it... the wrong person got shot. Yup, Liam, our unexpected plot twist, crumpled to the ground, blood blossoming on his shirt like he’d practiced it. Gabe, ever the star of the show, walked over to gloat, thinking he’d won. But no, because this story needed yet another twist!
Just when Gabe was basking in his victory, Josh popped out of the crowd, gun in hand, and shot him. Simple, clean, dramatic. The crowd gasped, then burst into applause—not for the death, mind you, but for the performance. Because what’s a duel without a bit of theater, right?
So, that’s the original version for you. Lots of drama, a couple of twists, and some characters who probably deserved better. Or worse. Depends on your perspective.
Anyway, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get to the fun part—the rewrite!"
“You know what? I’m getting bored. Let’s spice things up a bit. How about... I bring in an army of Gabes from one of my other stories? Yeah, that sounds chaotic enough. Why not?”
As I speak, the world around Josh and Gabe's duel warps and crackles, reality bending under Christian’s whims. Just as the crowd is about to witness the final shot of the duel, the sky rips open with a deafening roar. A massive portal tears through the air above them, swirling in neon colors, and out steps... Gabe. Lots and lots of Gabes.
These aren’t your average Gabes, though. Oh no. They march out in perfect formation, clad in sleek white armor, their glowing green visors pulsing rhythmically like heartbeats in unison. Each one of them armed to the teeth with futuristic weapons that hum with lethal energy.
The crowd barely has time to scream before the shooting starts. Energy bolts streak through the air, exploding heads and limbs in a shower of gore. Bodies drop like puppets with their strings cut, blood splattering across the once-idyllic castle courtyard. The original Gabe, the guitar-strumming egomaniac, looks on in horror as his own copies mow down everyone in sight, indifferent to the chaos they’ve wrought.
Josh, ever the reluctant hero, ducks for cover, but it’s too late for any heroics now. The relentless army of Gabes has turned the scene into a full-blown massacre. Blood pools in the cobblestones, limbs twitching as the last of the crowd is gunned down in a symphony of violence. One by one, the duelists, the spectators, even Liam—everyone—falls under the hail of laser fire.
And then... silence.
The last Gabe lowers his weapon, surveying the carnage with mechanical indifference. The battlefield is nothing but a crimson-stained graveyard of bodies, all courtesy of a bunch of Gabes who didn’t even need to reload.
Christian claps his hands together, wiping them as if the entire ordeal were just another day's work.
“Welp, there you go. Another story gone. Real messy, too. But hey, at least it’s memorable, right?”
“Well, folks, here’s the thing: I’ve got a pile of poems waiting for me to butcher, but since they aren’t stories, it looks like I’m going to need to take drastic measures to keep myself from writing them. Christian sits at his computer, blissfully unaware of the chaos about to unfold.
Scene 1: Mater
Suddenly, a portal rips open behind him. From it steps you, clad in a dark cloak. Without hesitation, I draw a gun and fire.
Bang!
Blood splatters across the screen, illuminating the otherwise dull keyboard with crimson. Christian’s body slumps forward, lifeless, his face still twisted in surprise.
Scene 2: The Resilient Banner
The screen flickers as I dive back through the portal, re-emerging to tap him gently on the shoulder.
“Hey, Christian,” I say, as he turns around, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Who’s your daddy?”
Bang!
Another Christian down, another poem snuffed out before it could see the light of day.
Scene 3: Paths of Destiny
I take a moment, enjoying the chaos I’ve wrought, before lining up your next shot.
Bang!
Another one bites the dust. The screen fades to black as another poem is erased from existence.
Scene 4: Echoes of Freedom
This time, I grab Christian’s computer and I beat him to death with it. The screen flickers as it shatters, shards of plastic and metal flying everywhere, mixing with blood.
Scene 5: A World Unfelt
Now I’m outside, where Christian is perched on a bench, scribbling furiously in a notebook. You see the axe resting against the wall nearby.
“Let’s finish this,” I mutter, and with a mighty heave, you throw the axe.
It strikes true, embedding itself in Christian’s chest. He falls, notebook fluttering to the ground, another poem forever lost.
Scene 6: A Final Task
Just when I think it’s all over, I pause, considering one last act of mischief. I step through another portal, landing in Gabe’s house. He’s seated at his computer, headphones on, blissfully unaware as he edits his latest project. I Rewrote Kill Bill. He’s just about to upload it to YouTube, feeling proud of his creation.
Without warning, I draw my gun once more and pull the trigger.
Bang!
Gabe’s face goes slack as he slumps over his keyboard, the cursor blinking innocently on the screen.
“I’m sorry, Gabe,” I say, shaking my head. “That song was never supposed to be made.”
“Well, that was one way to kill my inspiration. What’s next?”
Onto the next story
Liam's Perspective
The storm had finally subsided, leaving an eerie calm in its wake. The first light of dawn broke through the clouds, casting a cold, pale glow over the house and the devastation left behind. Exhaustion weighed heavily on all of us, our faces etched with the pain and sorrow of the night’s events.
As I stood outside, my phone buzzed in my pocket. The signal had come back, and I saw that I had missed three calls from my dad. A lump formed in my throat as I dialed his number, guilt and relief swirling within me.
“Liam! Thank God!” my dad’s voice was frantic with worry. “Where have you been? Are you okay?”
“Dad, I’m okay,” I replied, my voice trembling. “I’m coming home.”
There was a brief silence on the other end before he spoke again, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ve been so worried. What happened?”
“It’s a long story,” I said, glancing back at the house. “I’ll explain everything when I get home.”
After hanging up, I turned to find Charlotte standing behind me. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her face a reflection of the grief we all felt. She stepped forward and hugged me tightly, her body trembling against mine.
“Take care, Liam,” she whispered, her voice choked with tears. “Thank you for everything.”
I hugged her back, feeling a deep sense of loss. “You too, Charlotte. Stay safe.”
Titus and Brandon approached, their faces haggard and eyes hollow. Now it was time to say goodbye. I shook hands with both of them, the weight of our shared experiences heavy in the air.
“Goodbye, Titus. Brandon,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks for having my back.”
“You too, Liam,” Titus replied, his grip firm but weary. “Stay strong.”
Brandon nodded, giving me a sad smile. “Take care of yourself, man.”
And there it is, the final goodbye. Or is it? I mean, these characters will probably be fine..
With one last look at the house—a place that had once been filled with laughter and friendship, now a haunting reminder of tragedy—I walked to my car. My heart ached with the memories of the friends we had lost and the nightmare we had endured.
Rewrite of Liam’s Perspective
The storm had finally subsided, leaving an eerie calm in its wake. The first light of dawn broke through the clouds, casting a cold, pale glow over the house and the devastation left behind. Exhaustion weighed heavily on all of us, our faces etched with the pain and sorrow of the night’s events.
You know what? Let’s spice things up. Why bother with a heartwarming, bittersweet goodbye when we can just bring in Jack from Whispers in the Dark? Oh yes, you remember him—the creepy guy who’s always lurking in the shadows?
As Liam stood outside, ready to face the aftermath of the storm, a figure emerged from the darkness, laughing softly. Jack stepped out, his eyes gleaming with an unnatural glow, and an unsettling grin spread across his face.
“Hey there,” Jack said, his voice low and dripping with malice.
Before Liam could even react, Jack lunged forward, a blade gleaming in the faint dawn light. The knife slashed across Liam’s throat in one quick motion, blood spraying out in a grotesque arc, painting the ground in crimson. Liam gasped, clutching his throat as he collapsed, his lifeblood pooling around him.
Charlotte screamed, but Jack was already on her. With a sickening laugh, he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back and slitting her throat in one fluid motion. The blood poured down her chest as her eyes widened in terror, her body going limp in Jack’s grip before he tossed her aside like a rag doll.
Titus and Brandon didn’t stand a chance. Titus tried to raise a fist, but Jack was too quick. He drove the knife deep into Titus’s gut, twisting it viciously. The sound of flesh tearing and Titus’s gurgling scream echoed through the air. Brandon? Well, he barely had time to look horrified before Jack slit his throat, spraying blood across the porch.
With the last of them lying in a mangled heap, Jack wiped the blade on his sleeve, his grin never faltering. Without another word, he turned and vanished back into the shadows from where he came, disappearing just as swiftly as he had arrived.
And there we go! Just like that, everyone’s dead. The end. Jack? Oh, he’s back in his own story by now.
And now, because I can do whatever I want—obviously—we’re skipping ahead. We’re diving straight into the end of Whispers in the Dark.
Liam's Perspective from Whispers in the Dark
"Hold on," Aiden growls, his voice filled with determination. He slams his foot on the gas, the truck roaring as it accelerates. The man in black doesn't move, his laughter growing louder, more maniacal.
The impact is brutal. The truck plows into the man, blood splashing across the windshield, the body crumpling under the force. Aiden doesn’t slow down, his focus solely on getting away.
I finally break the tense silence. "Do you think he's dead?"
Aiden’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel. "Yes," he replies, but his voice wavers. "But I'm not sure."
"Do you have cell service?" Aiden asks, his eyes flicking to me in the rearview mirror.
I pull out my phone, my heart sinking as I see the cracked screen. "My phone is broken," I say, frustration edging my voice.
Aiden glances over at Avarie. "Avarie, see if you can find the nearest gas station on that map. We need to find a pay phone."
Avarie fumbles with the map, her hands shaking. "Okay, I'll try," she mutters, unfolding the paper and scanning the unfamiliar territory.
The truck rumbles on through the dark, desolate roads, each mile passing like an eternity. Avarie breaks the heavy silence, her voice hesitant. "There's a gas station about 10 miles from here."
We finally reach the gas station, but it's a ghostly sight—abandoned, with nothing but eerie shadows dancing in the wind. Aiden doesn't stop; he keeps driving, his eyes weary but determined.
"How are you holding up, Liam?" Aiden asks, his voice filled with concern.
There’s no answer. Avarie reaches over and turns on the radio in the truck. The familiar chords of "Enter Sandman" by Metallica fill the cabin, an unsettling juxtaposition against the grim reality outside.
Aiden looks in the rearview mirror, and his blood runs cold. Liam is slumped in the back, lifeless and still. Shock grips him, and he swallows hard, his mind racing to comprehend the nightmare that has unfolded.
Then, a chilling voice cuts through the silence like a knife. "Hey there."
Alright, folks, you know how this goes by now. We’re not dragging this out any longer. No more healing factors, no more creepy laughs echoing into the abyss. Just good old-fashioned carnage. Let’s get this over with, shall we?
Aiden’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror. Liam’s body is slumped in the backseat, and then—wait. No, no, it can’t be.
Sitting next to Liam’s lifeless form is Jack, his head tilted at an unnatural angle, his mouth curled into that familiar, sadistic grin. His eyes lock with Aiden’s, and his voice cuts through the air like a blade.
“Hey there.”
Aiden’s heart leaps into his throat, and without thinking, he slams his foot on the brakes. The truck screeches, the tires squealing as it fishtails wildly. But it’s too late—too fast.
The front of the truck crashes into a metal pole with a deafening crunch, the windshield shattering in an explosion of glass. Aiden’s head slams forward, cracking against the steering wheel with a sickening thud. Blood gushes from his nose, splattering across the dashboard.
Avarie screams, her body thrown violently against the window as the truck crumples on impact. The metal pole drives straight through the hood, slicing into the engine block with a gruesome screech of tearing metal.
Aiden's chest caves in as the force of the crash drives the steering wheel into his ribs, his breath catching as blood pours from his mouth. His eyes go wide in terror as he tries to gasp for air, but his lungs won’t respond. The pole impales the truck further, the sound of crunching bones echoing through the wreckage.
In the backseat, Jack’s head lolls to the side, his grin still plastered on his face. But even he’s not immune to this rewrite. Blood seeps from a deep gash in his neck, and his once invincible body slumps lifelessly next to Liam. There’s no coming back this time—no healing factor, no miraculous escape.
Avarie is the last to fall silent, her breath rattling as blood fills her lungs, her hand clawing helplessly at the shattered window before it falls limp.
The truck, now little more than a mangled heap of metal and bodies, hisses as smoke rises from the engine. The stench of blood and burning fuel fills the air, and the only sound left is the gentle creaking of the wreckage settling into stillness.
And that, my friends, is the end.
Rewrite of The Road to You
As the train picked up speed, Elaina looked out the window, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery. The countryside slipped away in a blur, and her heart ached at the thought of leaving Josh behind. She had grown so accustomed to their daily rides and conversations.
Oh, how sweet. Let’s ruin that, shall we?
Suddenly, she saw a familiar figure in the distance. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Josh, riding his horse alongside the train. He was moving at a swift pace, his face set with determination as he tried to keep up with the speeding train.
Elaina’s heart swelled as she watched him, and a smile tugged at her lips despite the sadness she felt. She pressed her face against the glass, waving to him as the train continued on its path.
Josh, seeing her through the window, raised his hand in a wave, his expression a mix of determination and affection. He rode alongside the train for as long as he could, his gaze never leaving her.
Josh pushed his horse harder, trying to get as close to the train as possible. But in his eagerness, he lost control. His horse stumbled, skidding too close to the tracks, and in an instant, Josh and the horse were dragged under the speeding train’s wheels. The sound was sickening—a crunch of bones and metal, followed by a deafening screech as the train careened off the rails.
The explosion came next.
Yep. Boom. You didn’t think we were going to let him off with just a simple death, did you?
The train erupted in flames, a fiery inferno engulfing the entire carriage. Elaina barely had time to scream as the blast ripped through the train, shattering the windows and sending her flying backward. Her body hit the opposite wall with a thud as flames consumed the wreckage.
But it wasn’t over.
Miles away, back at Elaina’s house, the ground began to tremble. Without warning, her house exploded in a massive fireball, debris flying in all directions.
And that, is how you properly close a story.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, let's get to the part where I fix this…
In the new and improved version, as the Knight Reaper grabs the grenade from Jakarael's belt, there’s no dramatic last-second explosion that leaves anyone standing. The grenade detonates almost immediately, blowing both of them into absolute smithereens. Blood, bone, and chunks of burning flesh fly through the air in all directions, painting the battlefield with carnage.
But wait—there’s more. From the smoke, you might expect Jakarael to crawl out, wounded but alive, like in the original. Not this time. When the dust settles, there's nothing left of Jakarael but a blackened smear on the pavement, his electric guitar lying in the wreckage with one sad, broken string plucking itself in the wind.
The Knight Reaper, meanwhile, is barely clinging to life. He's in pieces, literally—his limbs blown halfway across the battlefield, his face half-melted off, but somehow, he’s still alive. Just as he takes his final breath, Jakarael's severed arm twitches in the debris, and with one last, futile twitch of his fingers, the demon’s life ends in silent defeat.
In the new version Jakarael, still reeling from the acid burns and the mounting injuries, was seconds away from crushing Gabe underfoot. But before the blow could land, the Soul Seeker stepped out of the shadows. His once-imposing figure now appeared gaunt, the dark energy that normally coursed through him diminished after battling Jakarael. His eyes still glowed, but there was a flicker of weakness behind them.
Jakarael's gaze flicked to the Soul Seeker, his smirk fading. "You... You're barely holding it together, old ghost," he spat, voice tinged with both disbelief and malice. "And now you think you can stop me?"
The Soul Seeker, no longer at full strength, barely whispered, "I don’t need to stop you. I just need to finish you."
With a guttural roar, Jakarael lunged at the Soul Seeker, but his speed was dulled by the damage he'd taken. The Soul Seeker dodged, countering with a brutal strike that sent Jakarael crashing into the side of the train car, but even that was a shadow of his former power. The impact was hard, but not hard enough to end things. Jakarael stood up, bleeding profusely but smiling, as if sensing the Soul Seeker’s waning energy.
Seeing his opportunity, Gabe, lying on the ground in his own blood, forced himself to reach for his revolver. With a trembling hand, he aimed and fired a single shot at the Soul Seeker. The bullet, crackling with dark energy, ripped through the air and struck him square in the back.
The Soul Seeker staggered, his already weakened body collapsing under the force of the blow. His healing powers, drained from the earlier battle, were too far gone to protect him.
Jakarael, grinning through his injuries, watched with delight. "Looks like even ghosts bleed."
But Gabe wasn’t finished. He pulled himself up, blood pouring from a gaping wound in his side, and aimed his revolver at Jakarael. He fired again—this time hitting Jakarael in the throat. Jakarael let out a wet, gargling sound as blood sprayed from the hole in his neck. He collapsed, clutching at his throat in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. His demonic body twitched violently on the ground, his once-terrifying roar reduced to nothing but choking gasps.
Gabe, now on his last legs, staggered to where the Soul Seeker lay, barely alive. "Guess it’s your reckoning now, partner," he croaked.
With a final, strained effort, Gabe fired his last bullet—straight into the Soul Seeker’s head. The Soul Seeker’s skull cracked with a sickening sound, the dark energy that had kept him alive leaking out in thick, black wisps. His body convulsed once, twice, and then went still, eyes extinguishing.
Gabe slumped to the floor, laughing weakly as his vision darkened. "Guess... everyone’s got their time..."
As the smoke cleared, the train car was a macabre scene of total devastation. Jakarael’s body, blood still pouring from his wounds, twitched one last time before going still. The Soul Seeker lay lifeless, his form reduced to little more than a broken husk. Gabe's final breath escaped his lips as his blood mixed with the others on the blood-soaked floor.
The train car, now a coffin of carnage, creaked ominously in the silence that followed.
“Alright, folks, so here’s how it went originally. Gabe the Demon Slayer wakes up in this spooky, ancient house, filled with old weapons, severed demon heads, and all sorts of ‘I’ve seen this before’ vibes. Enter the ‘Golden Guardian,’ a guy dressed in shiny armor, straight out of someone’s forgotten D&D campaign, who’s all like, ‘Welcome to the safe zone.’ Yawn. Gabe’s ready to fight, as usual, asking who this guy is, and we’re supposed to be impressed by this mysterious protector. So yeah, it was a whole thing about magical safe houses and ancient warriors blah blah blah…”
“But let’s spice it up, shall we? Because we can do better than this.’’
In this new version, just as Gabe starts his conversation with Golden Guardian, a loud thudding noise comes from one of the ancient bookshelves. The sound of something tearing through the fabric of reality fills the room. Before they can react, a decaying figure bursts out from the wall. His skin is gray and cracked, his eyes glowing with an electric blue energy, and his tattered suit barely hangs on his unnaturally fast-moving body. This is Bullet, the speedster zombie from another world—a nightmare that travels through dimensions, leaving chaos in his wake.
Gabe barely has time to pull out a weapon before Bullet is on him. With a grotesque speed, Bullet’s rotting hands tear through Gabe’s chest, blood spraying across the room. The impact sends Gabe flying into the wall, bones cracking upon impact. Gabe tries to rise, gasping for breath, but Bullet’s speed is unmatched. In a blink, Bullet rips off Gabe’s arm, blood spurting like a fountain.
Golden Guardian draws his sword, its glowing blade ready to strike, but Bullet turns his attention to him next. The undead speedster barrels into Golden Guardian, driving the sword through his own chest just for the fun of it. The sword doesn’t even slow Bullet down; he’s a blur of motion as he spins around, tearing through flesh and armor. Golden Guardian’s body is shredded into a mess of golden armor, organs, and blood, splattering the library walls like a twisted work of art.
As Gabe bleeds out, barely able to move, he watches in horror as Bullet finishes his slaughter with a sickening glee. The zombie speedster, covered in blood and gore, pauses for a moment, looking down at his work with satisfaction. Then, as quickly as he arrived, Bullet races toward the bookshelf and disappears, the dimensional rift closing behind him. The room is silent again, except for the dripping of blood and the faint rattling of what’s left of Gabe’s body.
"Alright, folks. So, originally, we had this grand patriotic scene: the President about to give a speech, Freedom Defender jumping in front of the bullet, saving the day, and chasing down the shooter. Very noble, very heroic... but you know me. Why settle for that?"
In this version, as the gunshot echoes through the air, Freedom Defender leaps into action. He jumps in front of the President, just like before, but something’s wrong. As the bullet makes contact, Freedom Defender’s eyes widen in shock. Blood erupts from the point of impact—more than there should be. He stumbles backward, clutching his chest as crimson stains spread across his star-spangled uniform.
The bullet wasn’t meant for the President at all. It was meant for him.
As the crowd screams and the Secret Service rushes to shield the President, Freedom Defender collapses to his knees. The bullet had been enchanted or cursed—designed specifically to kill him. His once-proud figure crumples to the ground, body twitching in agony as his skin starts to bubble and blister around the wound. Blood pours from his mouth, his eyes rolling back as his internal organs begin to liquefy from the inside out.
The shooter, still in the crowd, smirks, knowing the plan had worked perfectly. Freedom Defender’s body convulses violently, his bones snapping audibly under the force of the curse embedded in the bullet. His chest caves in, ribs piercing through his flesh as blood and viscera spill onto the stage. His red, white, and blue uniform is soaked through with gore.
The crowd, horrified, watches as the hero melts into a grotesque pile of blood and bones. His last breath gurgles through the mangled remains of his throat. The banner of freedom, once flying high, falls with him.
"On to the next story, shall we?"
“So, in the original version, we had the classic hero moment—the Golden Guardian swoops in like some shining angel, helps out our buddy Aidan, and flies off into the sunset with Gabe. All very ‘Hollywood ending,’ don’t you think? Yeah… not in my version.”
Aidan’s sobs were cut short as the figure in golden armor landed in front of him. For a moment, hope flickered in Aidan’s eyes—until he saw the man’s glowing orange gaze. There was no warmth, no kindness in those eyes. Only malice.
Golden Guardian looked down at Aidan, his face twisted into a cruel smirk. Without a word, his hand shot out, grabbing Aidan by the throat and lifting him off the ground with terrifying ease.
Aidan’s hands clawed at the armored gauntlet, his legs kicking wildly as he choked, gasping for air. His panicked eyes met the Golden Guardian’s just as the man’s hands began to glow with a blinding heat.
“Help? Oh, I’m helping,” the Guardian said, his voice dripping with cold amusement. The golden armor began to pulse with energy, heat radiating from it in waves. “I’m helping end this.”
Suddenly, a searing light shot from his hand, and Aidan’s skin began to melt. His screams pierced the night as his flesh bubbled and peeled away, the heat consuming him from the inside out. His body writhed and convulsed in agony until, finally, he collapsed into a smoking, charred husk, barely recognizable as human.
The Golden Guardian let the lifeless remains drop to the ground like discarded trash, turning his attention to Gabe.
The Golden Guardian moved with blinding speed. His golden blade sliced clean through Gabe's torso, bisecting him in one swift motion. Blood sprayed into the air as Gabe’s body collapsed in two pieces, his upper half landing with a grotesque thud beside his legs.
From the shadows, the Soul Seeker emerged, his glowing eyes narrowed as he prepared to strike. He moved in a blur of darkness, his scythe aimed straight for the Golden Guardian’s neck.
But the Guardian was faster.
A flash of light shot from his eyes—an intense, searing laser. It hit the Soul Seeker mid-leap, slicing him in half before he could land a blow. The Soul Seeker’s body twitched as it hit the ground, his insides spilling out in a grotesque display. But even in death, the Soul Seeker’s scythe managed to graze the Golden Guardian’s armor, leaving a deep, glowing gash.
The Guardian staggered, pain flashing across his face. But it was too late for the others. Aidan was melted beyond recognition, Gabe was in pieces, and the Soul Seeker lay in a pool of his own entrails.
The Golden Guardian stood tall, victorious, though his armor sparked and hissed from the damage.
As the Golden Guardian surveyed the carnage he had wrought, his chest heaved with exertion and a twisted sense of triumph. The air was thick with the stench of blood and charred flesh, and the ground was slick with the remnants of his fallen foes. But that fleeting moment of victory was short-lived.
From the shadows, a dark figure emerged, cloaked in tattered remnants of what once was. The air crackled with tension.
It was Christian, the twisted storyteller himself, stepping into the light with a wicked grin etched across his face. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Look who’s taken on the role of the ultimate villain. Quite the departure from your supposed heroics, wouldn’t you say?”
The Golden Guardian narrowed his eyes, bracing himself as he felt the ground beneath him tremble. “You think you can challenge me?” he sneered, the last vestiges of his arrogance hanging on even as his breath quickened.
“Let’s just say I’ve been waiting for a chance to rewrite this little narrative,” Christian replied, his hands crackling with dark energy.
Without warning, Christian lunged forward, unleashing a wave of dark magic that surged through the air like a storm. The Golden Guardian raised his arms to shield himself, but the sheer force knocked him off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground.
Struggling to rise, the Golden Guardian glared at Christian, fury and fear swirling in his glowing eyes. “You’re just a mortal! You can’t—”
“Oh, but I can,” Christian interrupted, stepping closer, the air thick with anticipation. “You think you’re invincible, but let me show you what a real writer can do.”
In a flash, Christian thrust his hand forward, summoning tendrils of shadow that coiled around the Golden Guardian's limbs, pinning him to the ground. The golden armor hissed and sparked as the darkness seeped into the cracks, leeching away the Guardian’s power.
“No! What have you done?” the Guardian roared, panic overtaking his defiance as he struggled against the bindings.
Christian leaned down, his face inches from the Golden Guardian’s, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “I’m rewriting the ending. No heroes, no villains, just blood.”
With that, he plunged a blade of shadow deep into the Guardian’s chest, piercing through the armor and into the heart beneath. The Golden Guardian gasped, his glowing eyes widening in disbelief as blood gushed from the wound, spilling across the ground in a crimson pool.
Christian twisting the blade before ripping it out in a spray of gore. The Golden Guardian’s body convulsed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought against the encroaching darkness. But it was too late.
As he fell to his knees, his golden armor dulled, the light fading from his eyes. With one last, defiant glare at Christian, the Golden Guardian collapsed, lifeless, his body crumpling like an empty husk.
Christian stood over him, panting slightly but grinning widely. “And just like that, the ‘Golden Guardian’ is nothing more than a forgotten footnote in my story.
"Alright, folks, time for another boring recap of what originally happened. So, here's the rundown: Captain Russia and Freedom Defender, two grown men playing a game of 'who can punch harder' while exchanging 'oh-so-clever' one-liners. Lots of blood, broken ribs, and some over-the-top villain monologues."
Captain Russia's eyes bulged as he gasped for breath, his strength fading. Desperation fueling him, he managed to land a few more blows to Freedom Defender’s ribs, each punch crunching bone and making the superhero grimace. Freedom Defender fought back, punching a hole straight through Captain Russia’s chest like something out of a cheesy action movie.
Blood everywhere. Gory, sure, but nothing we haven’t seen a thousand times before, right?
Captain Russia, being the melodramatic villain that he is, starts laughing—because that's what villains do—and goes on about how he’s placed bombs inside Freedom Defender’s men. One click, and boom. Cue explosions, lots of screaming, and body parts flying around like confetti at a birthday party. Oh, and then the classic, "Surrender or everyone dies" line.
Freedom Defender, torn between his duty and his buddies, pulls out the old "Sorry, boys," before sending his men to their inevitable doom.
Now, wasn’t that fun? But Don’t worry, though. I’ve got something much better lined up.
Christian steps back into view, cracking his knuckles with a mischievous grin.
"Alright, folks, buckle up for the rewrite. You know how in the original, Captain Russia does his whole 'I’ve got bombs in your men' speech, and it turns into a long-winded, melodramatic standoff? Yeah, not this time. We're cutting to the good stuff. The gory, explosive kind. Let's blow things up—literally."
Captain Russia, blood seeping from his wounds, smirked through the pain. "I’ve placed bombs inside all your men," he rasped, his voice dripping with smugness. "One wrong move and boom."
Freedom Defender sneered, wiping the blood from his mouth. "You’re bluffing," he growled, his knuckles tightening around the hilt of his knife. "I’ve heard enough of your crap."
Captain Russia’s eyes gleamed with that unhinged villainous sparkle. "Go ahead," he taunted, coughing up a glob of blood. "Kill me, and see what happens. But don’t say I didn’t warn you."
Freedom Defender hesitated for a split second, staring into the sadistic gaze of his nemesis. But then, with a cold smile, he drove the knife deep into Captain Russia’s chest, twisting it with brutal precision. Blood sprayed everywhere—thick, dark crimson splattering across Freedom Defender’s face and chest. Captain Russia’s body jerked violently, his mouth twisting into a grotesque grin even as the life drained from his eyes.
Freedom Defender leaned close, whispering, "I’m calling your bluff."
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. The room was eerily silent, save for the gurgling sound of Captain Russia’s last breath.
Then came the click.
Freedom Defender’s heart sank. A low beeping sound started from the corpses of his men, scattered throughout the base.
"Oh... crap," Freedom Defender muttered, his eyes widening in horror.
Before he could react, the first bomb exploded. One of his men erupted into a fiery burst of flesh and bone, painting the walls with blood and gore. Then another. And another.
Freedom Defender didn’t even have time to scream as the blast waves slammed into him, his body torn apart by the force of the explosion. Flesh ripped from bone, limbs were disintegrated in the inferno. His once-pristine superhero suit was shredded as his body was flung like a rag doll, blood spraying in all directions.
The walls coated with the remains of what had once been a team of heroes. Intestines dangled from the ceiling like grotesque party streamers, charred limbs scattered across the floor like discarded toys.
Captain Russia’s corpse, still pinned to the floor by the knife in his chest, remained the only thing untouched by the blast, his dead face locked in a macabre grin.
"Alright, my fine readers, this is the point where you're supposed to gasp in awe at Jakarel's insane guitar solo of death. I mean, who doesn't love a fight scene where a glowing electric guitar suddenly becomes the most overpowered weapon in the universe, right?
Jakarel, bloodied and half-broken, staggered backward, gasping for breath. His arms hung limp at his sides, the strength draining from his body. Legion loomed over him, a twisted grin stretching across his face, fangs bared in dark delight.
"You really thought you could win?" Legion growled, his voice a low rumble. "You poor, pathetic fool."
Jakarel raised his hand one last time, aiming a feeble strike at Legion, but the demon swatted him aside like a ragdoll. Jakarel hit the ground with a sickening crack, his spine snapping under the force of the impact. He gasped, coughing up blood, as Legion slowly stalked toward him.
"Goodbye, Jakarel," Legion said, his voice dripping with mock pity. "You were never worthy of this fight."
With that, Legion raised his clawed foot and brought it down on Jakarel’s head with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed in all directions, Jakarel’s skull caving in like a rotten fruit under Legion’s boot. His body convulsed once, then went completely limp, a pool of thick, dark blood spreading beneath him.
But Legion wasn’t done. He knelt beside the lifeless body, his claws sinking into Jakarel’s chest. With a low growl, he began to rip the flesh apart, tearing through bone and muscle, his fingers dripping with gore as he searched for the last remnants of Jakarel’s soul. When he found it—dark, barely flickering—Legion crushed it in his palm, the remnants dissolving into nothingness.
Suddenly, the ceiling of the warehouse groaned, and through the shadows, Soul Seeker leaped down from above, his blade gleaming in the low light.
"Legion!" Soul Seeker shouted, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "Your time is up!"
Legion didn’t even flinch. He turned slowly, a grin spreading across his blood-smeared face. "You think you stand a chance?" he sneered.
Soul Seeker, undeterred, charged forward, his sword aimed straight for Legion’s throat. But Legion moved faster than a blink, sidestepping the strike with ease. Before Soul Seeker could react, Legion grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall with a force that shook the entire structure.
"You're nothing," Legion snarled, tightening his grip. "Just another fool waiting to die."
Soul Seeker gasped, his face turning pale as Legion’s claws dug deeper into his neck. The demon leaned in closer, his eyes glowing with malice.
"Let me show you how worthless you are."
With a savage twist of his hand, Legion ripped Soul Seeker’s throat open, blood gushing from the wound like a fountain. Soul Seeker’s eyes went wide with shock, his hands flailing as he tried to stop the blood from pouring out, but it was hopeless. The crimson torrent soaked his clothes, pooling beneath his feet as his body convulsed in its final moments.
Legion smirked and flung the dying warrior aside like discarded trash. Soul Seeker hit the ground hard, twitching once before his body went completely still, his blood soaking into the dirt.
As the blood-soaked battlefield faded into silence, the sky suddenly cracked open with a blinding light. Christian, floated gently upward, arms crossed as if this was the most casual thing in the world.
"Well, folks," he said, glancing down at the carnage below, "I guess this is where I take my leave. Unlike the rest of those guys, I’m not going down there." He pointed beneath him with a smirk. "Nope. I'm going up. Who would've thought?"
The moment Jack from "Whispers in the Dark" and Jack from "JACK: The Sin and the Psycho" were unleashed on the battlefield, chaos erupted. Bullet stood his ground, but the eerie, silent Jack from "Whispers in the Dark" appeared behind him like a shadow. With a sharp, jagged blade in hand, he plunged it into Bullet's back, twisting it with unnatural strength. Blood sprayed from the wound as Bullet gasped, his knees buckling. The blade tore through bone and muscle, and Jack twisted it harder, severing Bullet’s spine. Bullet dropped lifelessly, his body crumpling in a pool of his own blood.
Golden Guardian Gabe roared in fury, charging forward with his shield raised high. But Jack from "JACK: The Sin and the Psycho" was waiting. With a sickening grin, he leaped at Gabe, a massive cleaver in hand. Gabe tried to block, but Jack's strength was monstrous. The cleaver cleaved through the shield, splitting Gabe’s arm clean off. Blood gushed from the wound as Gabe screamed in agony, stumbling back. Jack moved in swiftly, hacking into Gabe’s chest with brutal precision. Flesh, bone, and armor shattered as the golden hero was reduced to a bloody pulp, his insides spilling across the ground.
Captain Russia, having survived so much, charged next, but Jack from "Whispers in the Dark" appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere. With a flick of his wrist, he cut Russia’s throat, severing arteries and sending a fountain of blood spraying across the battlefield. Russia clutched his neck, gargling, stumbling, until his body went limp.
Soul Seeker, lurking in the shadows, thought he had an opening to strike. But as he leapt from his hiding place, Jack from "JACK: The Sin and the Psycho" caught him mid-air. With a maniacal grin, Jack grabbed Soul Seeker by the skull and crushed it between his hands, bones cracking and blood splattering like a grotesque fountain.
With all the others dead, the two Jacks finally turned toward each other. Silence hung in the air as they faced off. Jack from "Whispers in the Dark" lunged first, his blade flashing. The other Jack countered with a savage swing of his cleaver. Metal clanged, sparks flying, as they fought like demons, tearing into each other with a frenzy of blows. Blood sprayed from every cut, limbs snapped, and bone shattered under their relentless assault.
In the end, both Jacks were left barely standing, drenched in each other’s blood. With one final, desperate strike, they both lunged—Jack from "Whispers in the Dark" impaling the other Jack through the chest, while Jack from "JACK: The Sin and the Psycho" decapitated his rival with a brutal slash. They collapsed at the same time, dead in a pool of blood, their bodies left to rot in the carnage they created.
"Alright, folks, this is how it originally went down: Gabe comes back from the dead, all cryptic and brainwashed, Bullet’s running for his life, and Soul Seeker just sort of stands around being ominous. But that’s boring, right? Let’s fix it.
A desolate street under a blood-red sky, ash falling like snow. Bullet faces off against Gabe, who now stands with an eerie grin, his eyes glowing a sickly green.
Bullet takes a deep breath, readying himself for whatever twisted monologue Gabe might spit out next. But there’s no time. Gabe draws his pistol in a flash and pulls the trigger before Bullet can even blink.
BANG!
The bullet rips through Bullet’s chest with a sickening squelch. Blood sprays from the wound, painting the cracked pavement beneath him. Bullet stumbles, gasping for air as the life drains out of him.
Gabe (grinning): "Well, partner, looks like the race is over."
Bullet collapses to his knees, his vision blurring as blood pools around him. His hands grip the gaping wound, trying futilely to hold his insides together. He looks up at Gabe, disbelief etched on his pale face.
Bullet (rasping): "Gabe... you didn’t have to—"
Gabe: "Oh, but I did." He holsters his gun and tips his hat with a smug grin. "Daemoth’s orders. Ain’t no runnin’ from destiny."
With a final gasp, Bullet slumps to the ground, lifeless. Blood continues to trickle from his body, forming a crimson river that snakes down the street.
Soul Seeker materializes out of the shadows, his hooded figure looming over Bullet’s corpse. He stretches out a bony hand, glowing with an ethereal light, and begins to pull Bullet’s soul from the mangled body. The soul twists and writhes as it leaves the flesh, shimmering with a faint blue light.
Soul Seeker (smirking beneath his hood): "One down... many to go."
But Soul Seeker’s greed gets the better of him. Instead of stopping with Bullet, he reaches out to snatch the souls of everyone nearby. His fingers extend, grasping at Gabe’s soul, the world around him, and even the lingering remnants of dead soldiers long forgotten. Souls flood into him, glowing orbs of light swirling violently around his cloaked form.
Soul Seeker (groaning in ecstasy): "So much power... too much..."
The souls begin to tear at Soul Seeker from the inside, clawing and shrieking. His body trembles as the overwhelming energy threatens to rip him apart. His skeletal frame starts to crack, fissures forming along his bones as the power becomes too much for him to control.
Soul Seeker (screaming): "No! I... can... handle... it!"
But he can’t. The souls inside him explode in a burst of light and blood. His body is ripped apart from within, chunks of bone and flesh flying in every direction. A geyser of dark blood erupts from his chest, splattering across the ruined street as his cloak shreds to pieces. His skull fractures, the glowing souls bursting through his hollow eyes, shattering him like fragile glass.
As Soul Seeker dies, the world itself starts to unravel. Cracks form in the earth, swallowing buildings whole. The sky turns black, lightning strikes the ground, and everything is consumed in a chaotic whirl of destruction. The souls that once belonged to the fallen are now free, wreaking havoc across the realm.
This is how it originally went: our heroic buddy Gabe grabs some divine power, chops off Daemoth’s head, saves the day, blah, blah, blah. But where's the fun in that?
The battlefield, littered with the fallen, is thick with an ominous fog. Daemoth stands tall, black ichor dripping from his sword wound, his eyes glowing with a feral, malevolent fire. Gabe, desperate, looks at the fallen Golden Guardian, his hand trembling as he reaches for the helmet.
Gabe grabs the helmet and slips it on, his heart pounding in his chest. Aelric’s voice whispers in his mind, the ancient power infusing his veins.
Aelric (within Gabe): "This is your last chance, Gabe. We must stop him. Together."
Gabe: "It’s now or never."
He stands, newly invigorated, the divine light burning in his eyes as he lifts Golden Guardian’s sword. The blade hums with energy as Gabe charges at Daemoth, who continues to gloat, completely unaware of the impending attack.
Gabe (roaring): "Daemoth! This ends now!"
Daemoth turns just as Gabe swings the sword—but it doesn’t go as planned. With lightning reflexes, Daemoth catches the blade mid-swing, his hand gripping the gleaming steel. The divine light sputters in his grasp, and Gabe’s eyes widen in horror.
Daemoth (sneering): "You think you can kill me with this?"
With a terrifying roar, Daemoth’s dark energy surges, and the sword disintegrates into dust, leaving Gabe standing empty-handed. Before Gabe can react, Daemoth grabs him by the throat and lifts him into the air. Gabe struggles, kicking his legs, but Daemoth’s grip is unyielding.
Daemoth (laughing maniacally): "You fool. You’ve delivered the last hope of this world right into my hands. Now watch as I consume everything."
Daemoth’s eyes blaze with dark energy as he begins to siphon Aelric’s power out of Gabe, draining his life force. Gabe lets out a choked scream as his body begins to wither, his skin turning pale, veins bulging as his life ebbs away. The divine light in his eyes fades, replaced by terror and despair.
Gabe (weakly): "No... Aelric... help me..."
But Aelric’s voice is silent. There is no saving him now. Daemoth’s power intensifies, and Gabe’s body crumples into dust in his grasp, his soul torn from his body and sucked into the dark vortex forming around Daemoth.
With Gabe dead, Daemoth’s power grows exponentially. He raises his arms to the sky, and the ground beneath him trembles as a massive rift tears open in the fabric of reality. Souls, millions of them, are pulled from the bodies of the living across the world—ripped from the dead and dying, dragged screaming into the void.
The air is filled with the shrill, agonized wails of the dead as Daemoth absorbs every soul on the planet. His form grows grotesque, his body swelling with the stolen power. His flesh distorts, becoming a horrifying amalgamation of twisted, screaming faces as the souls trapped within him beg for release.
Daemoth (gleefully): "All the souls of this world are mine!"
As the last remnants of humanity are consumed, the entire planet begins to collapse. Mountains crumble, cities are swallowed by the earth, and the sky cracks open like shattered glass, raining down pieces of reality itself. The seas boil, turning blood-red as the oceans evaporate into nothingness.
Daemoth, now a towering, monstrous god-like figure, floats above the desolate world, his grotesque form pulsing with the energy of countless souls. The void swirls around him, and with a triumphant roar, he unleashes a final wave of energy that obliterates the planet entirely. The earth shatters into dust, disintegrating into nothingness.
“Alright, readers, let’s fix this up a bit.
Gaius is already battered, pushing through the muddy forest, clutching a letter from Christianus. His heart pounds in his chest, every step an agony as he trudges toward the Roman formation just beyond the treeline.
Suddenly, a bowstring twangs, and an arrow whistles through the air. Gaius gasps in shock as the arrow slams into his shoulder with a sickening thud, the force nearly knocking him to the ground. Blood pours from the wound, staining his armor red, but he grits his teeth and keeps moving, staggering forward.
Christian, hidden in the shadows, pulls back his bow again, a sinister smile on his face.
Another arrow flies. This one strikes Gaius square in the side, slipping between the cracks in his armor. He lets out a pained cry, his legs wobbling beneath him. Blood seeps from the wound, the warmth spreading across his body. He stumbles but refuses to stop, the edge of the woods tantalizingly close.
Gaius, his breath ragged, keeps pushing forward. But Christian’s not done yet. He releases a third arrow. It slices through the air and finds its mark in Gaius’ thigh.
The impact sends Gaius crashing to the ground, his leg useless beneath him. He groans in agony, his hands slipping in the blood-soaked mud as he tries, and fails, to rise. His fingers tremble as they dig into the muck, desperate to crawl toward the Roman soldiers waiting just ahead.
Blood trickles from his lips as his vision dims, but he forces himself to crawl—inch by inch—dragging his broken body through the mud. Every movement leaves a trail of crimson behind him, his armor now drenched with his own blood. Finally, he reaches the feet of a Roman commander.
Christian (from the shadows, chuckling): "Almost made it, buddy. Almost."
The Roman commander kneels beside Gaius, his expression grim. He takes the blood-soaked letter from Gaius' trembling hand.
Commander: "You’ve done well, soldier. But... there's more bad news."
The commander pulls out a second letter and places it in Gaius’ hand. Gaius’ bloodshot eyes struggle to focus on the paper. His breath comes in sharp, labored gasps as he looks up at the commander, confused.
Commander (softly): "Eliana... she’s gone. This letter just came in. I’m sorry."
Gaius’ world shatters in an instant. His fingers, trembling with weakness, clutch the letter as the last bit of hope drains from his heart. His lips quiver, but no sound comes out. His body, already broken, now feels impossibly heavier under the weight of this news. His blood-soaked armor presses against his chest like a vice.
Gaius (whispering, barely audible): "Eliana... no..."
Christian fires one last arrow for good measure, this time aiming for the back of Gaius’ skull. The arrow pierces through with a sickening crack, blood and brain matter spraying out as Gaius’ body twitches violently before collapsing into the mud. His grip loosens, the letter falling from his lifeless hand into the pool of blood beneath him.
Nate’s heart pounds in his chest as the cold metal chair vibrates under him, the robotic arms moving with precision above. Panic claws at his throat, and his breath comes in ragged gasps. Across the room, the alien fighter roars in its own hellish torment, but Nate's world narrows to his own impending doom.
The doctor’s voice, cold and detached, echoes in his ears. “Subject 24, prepare for final augmentation.”
Nate’s eyes widen in terror as the final set of robotic arms descend, each ending in drills and saws. His muscles tighten, but the restraints hold him firmly in place.
Nate (screaming): “No! Stop! Please! No more!”
But there is no mercy. The first saw whirrs to life, its high-pitched scream drowning out Nate's pleas. It digs into his leg, cutting through flesh, muscle, and bone. Blood sprays out in thick arcs, painting the sterile metal room in a grotesque splatter of red. Nate’s scream is pure agony, his body convulsing violently as the pain overwhelms his senses.
The plating follows, each piece bolted into his exposed muscle, the smell of seared flesh filling the air as it fuses with his body. His leg is a ruined mess of metal and flesh, every nerve firing off like a thousand volts of electricity are coursing through him.
Nate (voice cracking): “I can’t... I can’t take it...”
Another arm comes down, targeting his other leg. The needle plunges deep into his thigh, injecting a searing chemical that bubbles and sizzles under his skin. The flesh melts away, exposing bone, as another plate is bolted into place with a sickening crunch. Nate’s eyes roll back into his head as his body jerks in spasms, blood pouring from every wound.
Across from him, the alien fighter convulses, its own grotesque modifications leaving it a mangled mass of metal and gore. But Nate can’t focus on anything beyond his own excruciating suffering.
Doctor’s Voice: “Final stage, neural augmentation. Prepare the cranial saw.”
Nate’s breath hitches as the saw lowers toward his skull, the whirring blade inches from his forehead. He thrashes violently, desperate to break free, but his body is too weak, too broken. The saw presses into his scalp, cutting through hair and skin with a horrible grinding sound. Blood drips down his face, seeping into his eyes. He screams again, but the sound is weak, gurgled by the blood filling his throat.
The blade digs deeper, cracking through his skull with a nauseating crunch. His vision blurs as his brain is exposed, and the metallic arm plunges inside, cutting, probing, and wiring his nervous system. His body jerks violently, the pain now so unbearable it feels like his very soul is being torn apart.
Nate’s thoughts are a haze of pain and desperation, his mind slipping between reality and the void.
Doctor’s Voice: “Neural augmentation... complete.”
But Nate doesn’t hear it. His body slumps in the chair, blood pooling beneath him. The once-pumping heart slows to a crawl, and his breathing becomes shallow, labored gasps. His eyes roll back, and with one final convulsion, his body falls still.
"And just like that, we jump into one of my many unfinished masterpieces. Trust me, no one’s read this one yet, so consider yourselves special.’’
Nate climbed into the transport, the hum of the engines vibrating through the metal beneath his boots. He was barely inside when a Titan with jagged red stripes across his armor extended a hand and pulled him up.
"Name's Liam," the Titan said, his voice calm and confident. "Tech specialist. I can fix, build, or break anything you need."
Liam gestured to the Titan standing beside him, his armor adorned with bright blue flame decals. "This here is Jet. We usually gotta pull him out of the fire he jumps into." Jet, a tall blue-skinned alien with wide-set eyes, flashed a grin and tipped an imaginary hat. "First to rush in, first to call for backup. Ain't that right, Jet?"
Jet chuckled, his voice carrying a slight pause as if he were savoring every word. "Well, someone’s gotta make things interesting." He had a jetpack slung over his back and twin pistols holstered at his hips, always ready for action.
Liam then pointed to the next Titan, whose armor bore a skull insignia. "This is Jacob," he said, and the big guy stepped forward, shaking Nate’s hand with a grip like a vise. "Jacob’s one of the best we've got."
Jacob nodded, his drawl thick and easy-going. "Pleasure, Nate. If you need a wall of bullets or a few things blown sky-high, I’m your guy." He had a radio strapped to his back, and his hand rested on the barrel of a massive minigun. A couple of grenades dangled from his belt.
Lastly, Liam motioned to a Titan leaning against the wall, his armor pockmarked with bullet holes. "And that’s Mute. Don’t expect much chitchat, but he’s a great shot."
Mute tilted his head slightly, his eyes hidden behind a visor. "Or maybe you just talk too much," he replied coolly, his voice cutting through the space like a knife. He cradled a sniper rifle, shock grenades hanging from his gear.
Before Nate could respond, the pilot’s voice crackled over the comm. "Heads up, crew. We're coming in hot. Prepare for landing."
As the transport shuddered with turbulence, Nate turned to Liam, who was checking his datapad and adjusting his drone. "So, how’d you end up with the Titans, Liam?" Nate asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
Liam smirked, glancing up. "I volunteered. Figured I’d put my skills to good use instead of just fixing busted-up junk back home."
Nate raised an eyebrow. "Volunteered? You mean you didn’t have to pay the 10,000-credit fee?"
Liam chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Nah, kid. They don’t charge if they need you bad enough. Guess I got lucky."
Before Nate could ask more, the transport lurched as it began its descent. The metal beneath them groaned, and the hatch doors hissed, hydraulics whining as they started to open. The moment the ramp dropped, a barrage of blaster fire erupted from the dense, alien woods ahead.
The trees were surreal, their leaves glowing a haunting blue, and the surrounding plains radiated with pink and blue hues under the dark, starless sky. It was like stepping into a different dimension. The crackle of energy bolts zipped past them, illuminating the gloom with bursts of light.
"Night vision on!" Liam barked over the comms. "Stay right behind me, Nate!"
Nate fumbled for his helmet controls, switching on his night vision. The world shifted to a sharp, monochrome green, revealing figures moving in the woods. Jacob, ever the showman, began blasting music from his helmet speakers.
"Y’all ready for a good ol’ firefight?" Jacob hollered with a grin, leaping out of the transport. His minigun roared to life, spitting a torrent of bullets into the trees, lighting up the night like fireworks.
"Alright, folks, so here’s the deal. That story you just read? Yeah, it’s trash. Let's give it a proper ending, something much more... explosive.
As the transport shuddered and began its descent, the crew inside felt the familiar tension of an incoming battle. Nate glanced over at Liam, about to ask another question, when suddenly, without warning, the ship jerked violently.
Pilot (panicked): "Mayday! Mayday! We’ve been hit! Brace for impact!"
Nate’s heart leapt into his throat. Before anyone could react, the entire left side of the transport erupted in a massive explosion. The blast shredded the metal hull, sending shards of steel, flesh, and fire cascading through the cabin. The intense heat instantly melted the interior, turning the ship into a flying furnace.
Liam, still strapped into his seat, didn’t even have time to scream as his body was eviscerated by the blast. His head was torn from his shoulders, bouncing grotesquely against the metal floor as blood spattered in every direction. Jacob, always the showman, was vaporized in seconds, his body reduced to nothing more than a red mist hanging in the air.
Nate, flung from his seat, slammed hard into the roof of the transport as flames engulfed him. His armor offered no protection as the flesh on his arms bubbled and melted, the smell of burnt hair and charred meat filling the air. He screamed, a gut-wrenching sound, as his skin peeled away in sheets, exposing bone. His eyes boiled in their sockets before bursting with a sickening pop.
Outside, the ship was nothing but a flaming meteor crashing toward the ground, tearing through the alien trees and leaving a trail of destruction. As it hit the surface, the remaining fuel tanks ignited in a fiery explosion. The shockwave sent molten debris flying in every direction, obliterating the alien landscape.
The crew didn’t stand a chance. By the time the dust settled, there was nothing left but scorched earth, mangled limbs, and charred bones scattered across the battlefield.
The true master of the multiverse
“Earth 1 will fall, and then... the multiverse.”
As Earth 3 Gabe stepped through the portal, his army of Gabes spread out like a plague, attacking everything in sight. Explosions, screams, and the clash of metal filled the air. The once quiet suburban streets now rang with chaos and bloodshed as his soldiers slaughtered without mercy, tearing apart everything and everyone in their path.
"Kill them all, leave nothing standing!" Earth 3 Gabe commanded, his voice a low growl as he casually walked toward the house of Earth 1 Gabe.
He stopped just outside the window, his sinister gaze piercing through the glass. Gabe from Earth 1 was completely oblivious to the destruction unfolding around him. Inside, he was in his own world, dancing awkwardly in his room, his voice singing loudly and out of tune.
Gabe from Earth 1 twirled around, his headphones blasting music as he clumsily air-guitared before sitting down at his keyboard. “Alright, let's see how this sounds. He started typing in the title of his next video: “I REWROTE Kill Bill."
Earth 3 Gabe rolled his eyes, disgust curling his lips. “Another useless Gabe,” he muttered, shaking his head. He stepped through the window with barely a sound, his boots clicking softly on the floor. Earth 1 Gabe remained blissfully unaware, nodding his head to the beat, mouthing the lyrics.
Earth 3 Gabe chuckled darkly as he watched. “Maybe I’d be doing this world a favor if I killed him right now.”
He slowly pulled out his revolver, the barrel gleaming with an unholy green glow, its muzzle pointed directly at Earth 1 Gabe’s head.
Just as Earth 1 Gabe was about to hit the record button, Earth 3 Gabe cocked the gun. The cold metallic click went unheard beneath the music pumping through Earth 1 Gabe’s headphones.
“Say cheese, you annoying little waste of flesh,” Earth 3 Gabe sneered.
BANG! The shot rang out, blood splattering across the wall in an instant. Earth 1 Gabe’s head jerked forward violently, the bullet tearing through his skull with a wet crunch as it exploded out the other side. His face slammed into the keyboard, a sickening mix of brain matter and blood covering the keys. His body twitched once, then collapsed in a heap on the floor, headphones dangling limply from his head.
The screen of his computer flickered, his unfinished video still titled “I REWROTE Kill Bill,” now stained with his own blood. Earth 3 Gabe let out a snort of amusement, wiping a speck of blood from his cheek. As he walked back outside sounds of screams echoed through the streets, buildings crumbled, and the air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke. His army of Gabes had turned Earth 1 into a war zone, just like he had planned.
"Alright, alright, let’s dial it back a little. I mean, sure, total destruction is fun and all, but how about a hero moment? Better yet, my hero moment. Let’s rewrite this, shall we?"
Just as Earth 3 Gabe was about to pull the trigger and blow Earth 1 Gabe’s brains out, a shadow flickered outside the shattered window. The air shifted, crackling with sudden tension. Before Earth 3 Gabe could even register the change, a loud thwack echoed through the room.
An arrow, tipped with a jagged, serrated blade, ripped straight through Earth 3 Gabe’s throat, lodging deep in his neck. Blood spurted out in thick jets, painting the floor and walls in crimson streaks. His revolver clattered to the ground, and he gurgled, hands flying up to the shaft protruding from his flesh. He choked, gasping for air, as his own blood filled his mouth and poured down his chin.
Earth 3 Gabe’s knees buckled, his body convulsing violently as he collapsed to the floor. His eyes rolled back, and with a final wet gurgle, his head smacked against the floor, pooling in the rapidly expanding blood beneath him.
Through the window stepped Christian, bow in hand, a deadly smile curling at his lips.
Christian (mockingly): “Tough break, huh? Guess you weren’t expecting me.”
Earth 1 Gabe, still oblivious to the chaos, was pulled out of his music-filled trance when Christian kicked the lifeless body of Earth 3 Gabe. Earth 1 Gabe pulled off his headphones just in time to see his own doppelgänger lying in a bloody heap, neck pierced by a gruesome arrow.
Earth 1 Gabe (stammering): “Wha–what just happened?!”
Christian grinned, shaking his head. “Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy. I just saved your life. You can thank me later.” He winked before looking back at Earth 3 Gabe’s corpse. “Although I gotta admit... that was kinda fun.”
Suddenly, the army of Gabes swarmed the streets outside, but Christian was ready. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled a brutal-looking dagger from his belt, charging straight into the fray. The nearest Gabe didn’t even have a chance to react before Christian plunged the blade into his chest, twisting it with a sickening crunch as blood splattered onto his face.
One Gabe tried to run, but Christian was faster. He leapt onto the soldier, hacking at his neck until the head rolled free, leaving behind a bloody stump that sprayed hot red arcs across the pavement. Christian turned, wiping blood from his brow, before slamming his boot into another Gabe’s face, caving in his skull with a bone-shattering crack.
Earth 1 Gabe peeked out the window, his face pale as he watched Christian single-handedly rip through the army of Gabes like a one-man slaughterhouse. Limbs flew, heads were severed, and entrails spilled onto the streets, turning the once peaceful suburban road into a scene of unimaginable carnage.
In mere minutes, the entire army was reduced to dismembered corpses, their blood painting the town in a sea of gore.
Christian, panting heavily, wiped his dagger clean on the shirt of a fallen Gabe, a satisfied smirk on his lips. He turned back toward the house, waving cheerily at Earth 1 Gabe, who stood frozen, mouth agape.
Christian (grinning): “That’s how you save the day, folks. You’re welcome, Earth 1 Gabe. No need to thank me.”
Christian: "Oh, right, I almost forgot. Everyone has to go. I mean, what kind of story would this be if we left someone alive? That’s not my style. And what better way to wrap this up than with a little... boom?"
He casually pulls out a small detonator from his pocket, holding it up for all to see. The button gleams ominously in the low light.
Christian (chuckling): "Yep. That’s right, folks. I’m blowing up the whole house. Earth 1 Gabe, sorry bud, but you had your shot. Time to clean up the mess."
Earth 1 Gabe, still shell-shocked from the slaughter outside, finally snaps out of his daze, eyes widening in terror as he spots the detonator.
Earth 1 Gabe (panicking): "Wait, what? What are you doing?!"
Christian just grins wider, giving a mock salute. "No hard feelings, Gabe. You’re just collateral damage."
Without hesitation, Christian slams his thumb down on the button. There’s a deafening click, followed by a low rumble that grows louder by the second.
The explosion is instant and brutal. The house erupts in a fiery inferno, the blast tearing through the walls, shattering windows, and sending debris flying in every direction. Flames engulf the building, consuming everything in a torrent of fire and destruction. The shockwave hits, flattening nearby trees and sending thick clouds of smoke billowing into the sky.
Earth 1 Gabe barely has time to scream before the explosion engulfs him, his body disintegrating in a flash of heat and light. His house is reduced to a smoldering crater, the force of the blast so intense that the surrounding houses tremble and crack.
From a safe distance, Christian watches with satisfaction as the inferno consumes everything.
"Now that’s how you end a story. No loose ends, no survivors. Just a nice, big, beautiful explosion.
“Alright, alright. You know the drill by now, don’t you? Look, this could have been a sweet, sentimental ending.’’ But c’mon, folks, we’re way past that!’’
Christian grins, his eyes locked on the body of the Christian from this version of the story, sprawled lifeless on the ground. With a casual shrug, he hoists the body up over his shoulder, whistling a carefree tune as he steps out of the smoldering remains of the alleyway and onto the road.
Christian “Well, looks like this poor fool didn’t make it. No worries, though—I’ve got a much more explosive send-off in mind.”
He pulls out a detonator, With the bar behind him, He positions himself in the middle of the road, cradling the lifeless body of his counterpart like a puppet.
Christian (mockingly, in a theatrical voice): “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the grand finale you’ve all been waiting for! 3… 2… 1…”
He raises the detonator high into the air. Christian (grinning wider): “Goodbye!”
With a swift press of the button, the detonator clicks, and within a heartbeat, the bar explodes. The building erupts into a massive fireball, shards of glass and chunks of brick blasting out in every direction. The shockwave ripples through the street, sending debris flying as flames consume everything in their path.
But just as Christian takes a step forward to admire his handiwork, a deafening screech of tires fills the air. He glances up, but it’s too late.
A speeding car comes barreling down the road, slamming into Christian with a brutal force. His body is flung into the air, limbs flailing as the impact crushes him with a sickening crunch. He lands on the pavement with a wet, gory thud, his body mangled and twisted in unnatural ways.
Blood pools beneath him, his once cocky grin now frozen in a grotesque expression of surprise. The detonator clatters to the ground beside him, forgotten, as his lifeless eyes stare blankly at the chaos unfolding in the distance.
The wrecked car speeds off into the night, tires screeching in the distance, leaving behind only the flaming wreckage of the bar and the broken, bloodied body of Christian in the middle of the road.
THE END
And that’s it, folks! The end of this wild, glorious, and—let’s be honest—slightly unhinged story. I really hope you enjoyed this chaotic ride as much as I did writing it.
Now, before we wrap up, I’d like to give a massive shout-out to some VIPs. Special thanks to Avarie, Nate, Nick, Nicholas, Aidan, Aiden, Gabe, Jack, Sophie, Elaina, Liam, Suzie, Tyler, Zeke, and Adane. I think that’s everyone? If I missed you, my bad—blame it on the heat of battle.
Oh, and Liam! Big props to you for always being my first reader. You’re a real one. Jack, I gotta thank you too for telling me about Substack. If it wasn’t for that, I’d still be stuck writing on sticky notes or something. And Gabe, man, you kept encouraging me to keep going, and if you hadn’t… well, none of this may have existed. Whether that’s a blessing or a curse, I’ll leave that to everyone else to decide—but hey, thanks anyway!
As Christian sits there, a sudden whoosh fills the room. A portal materializes behind him, swirling with eerie light. Before he can react, another version of Christian steps out, looking slightly more intense, and with a determined glare.
Portal Christian: "It’s time to get rid of this story."
Christian, visibly confused, raises a finger. "Uh, hold on, give me a minute."
Turning back to the readers one last time, he smiles warmly.
"Before this gets... well, terminated, I just want to give one final thank you to everyone who’s subscribed to me on Substack. Seriously, I appreciate all the support. Now, don’t expect any more uploads, but hey, leave a like or something. This took me a long time to write."
He takes a breath, looking a bit nostalgic.
Christian: "It’s been fun, folks. Goodnight and goodbye—"
Suddenly, there’s a loud BANG. Christian stumbles, eyes wide in shock.
THE END
Thanks for reading Christian Lankford's story's ! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
