"Aye, love. I died. Most of my memories are fuzzy, but my death remains clear as if it were happening here and now." Zack sighed which, thanks to his permanent grin, looked strange, if not creepy. "Imagine for a moment a little boy, young and naive, and happy. He is with his mommy and his daddy, and they are all happy together." As he spoke, Zack's hysterical voice took on a singsong tone, as if he were reading a children's story to a group of kids. He didn't realize he was doing it, it was a defensive mechanism his shattered mind employed to protect him from fully reliving the events of the past. "The little boy was walking with his parents, and then he saw a man. The man was tall, he looked like a shadow. He had a long black trenchcoat with a high coller that covered everything from the top of cheeks to his combat boots. His hair was black as well, long and black, as black as the raven's feathers woven into his ponytail. His eyes were hidden, his sunglasses looked like they absorbed the light, as black as night. But this man, as black as he was, was a ghost. His skin, what little the boy could see of his face, was so pale it seemed to glow, as white as snow. The man only had one arm, his right sleeve was empty. As the boy and his parents passed, the man looked at the boy, looked through the boy, as if seeing straight to the boy's very soul. The boy looked back at the man, at the hatred plain on the man's face, and turned to his mother. The boy heard a scream and looked back. The man had a gun. A very fancy gun, but a gun nonetheless. Daddy was the first to go, he lost half of his face. The boy could see the shocked expression still on the remaining half. Mommy went next, she lost her tummy, as bits of it were blown out of her back. The other people on the street went next, all dead in an instant. Wracked with grief and anguish, the boy ran at the man, screaming in anger. The man, almost casually knelt down and then the boy stopped moving..." Zack scoffed, running a hand over his chest. "Turns out the man had a right hand after all..." Zack's voice, still hysterical, was back to normal, though it was still a little shaky as he continued. "I woke up on a hospital bed with a hole the size of a basketball in my chest. I could see right through myself. I could see my insides. It was the strangest, strangest thing... Everything was moving, working like normal, but it was like some kind of cross section, there was a chunk missing. There were two men standing over me, though I can't remember their faces. One of them spoke to me. He said his friend had brought me back and was keeping me alive. They said the guy who killed me was a rouge agent from a supersoldier program they were working on. He said they brought me back because they wanted to give me a chance to save countless others from my fate. He said a bunch of things, most of them are a blur... He said if I wanted, I could go back to being dead, and his friend stepped back. I suddenly felt really sick, I couldn't breathe... Blood started to flow from my chest. What was I going to do? Say no? I wanted to live. Had I known what they would do to me, I would have told them to screw themselves..." Zack shuddered, his grin unable to mask his pain.
Today at 7:01 am by 
Subject: Re: Looking for fun...or a fight. 
