My first Blog will be...

From the common visitors to wandering stumblers,
Welcome all!
I pondered for a few hours today about all the possible stories i could start with and decided that i should follow the advice of a wise man, Lewis Carroll, who once said, "begin at the beginning." So i will do exactly that. However, like most things in life, i will give a disclaimer: This is a piece i wrote when i first returned to writing. I understand that the wording and grammar is in need of a fine, fine comb but this piece holds a certain amount of character in which i like to write. So i will release two blogs; the first will show the beginning and the second will show the vast improvement in my maturity and prose.

Without further ado, i give you "Machina," The book which rediscovered my ambition.

Chapter -Cry

Seventy sevens face lit at the chance to finally indulge all the information that had weighed him down. He smiled as he threw his legs over the edge of the bed leaving the sweat stained sheets stuck to the clumpy mattress. His mind raced as to where to begin on the question he waited for anyone to ask him. Though he longed to answer the question, his face furrowed as his mind drew a blank.

“You have to understand something Seventy seven” Locke paused to sit himself on the bed, “We don’t live in good times.”

“I know that, the whole world was divided after the last democratic leader passed away.” Seventy seven fell backwards toward his bed. “I’ve heard that more than anything.”

“Alright well what do you know of this pla-”

“Military hospital, funded by Fontain himself,” Seventy seven stiffened and puckered his lips. “Home to the brightest mind in Fontain, John Locke.” Seventy seven’s impression mocked the info video that they had showed him once he awoke from his original coma.

Hanging above them the dimmed bowl shaped light flickered. It was a regular occurrence for the hospital, so much so that the men didn’t even acknowledge it. It was only the room’s sudden darkness that drew their attention.

“What the hell?” Seventy seven asked as Locke lunged toward the door. His ear pressed tightly against the metal surface. The loud screeching of the ensuing alarm made Locke’s head snap back.

“It’s an attack,” Locke’s hand reached into the back of his lab coat and pulled out a shiny object out. He clenched it tightly as he let his arms dangle to his side. “We have to get to the next level.”

“Why do you have a gun?” Seventy seven questioned frantically, “Why are we being attacked?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have time to explain, we have to go before they close the next level.” Locke’s free hand gripped the handle of the door and turned it slowly. He lifted his gun hand to eye level to peak through the crack he created, peering into the hallway. Locke’s face flashed red as the alarm light crept into the room. “It’s clear, you ready?” Seventy shook his head in disagreement but in the same motion stood. His muscles burned from his last workout. Just standing sent sharp pains through his entire body. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he shifted his weight from one leg to another, preparing himself for what to come. Shifting turned into willing as Seventy seven shook his limbs from their agonizing constriction.

“You ready?”

“Ya,” Seventy seven said standing in disconcerting stillness.

“Stay close,” Locke stated, bringing his gun to his face. His gun reflecting the little light that shone to his upward turned corners of his lips. Swinging the door open Locke smashed a hole into the dry wall backing as he ran to the parallel wall. Imitating the doctor, Seventy seven sprinted to the wall, slamming himself flat beside Locke.

Carefully the men slid across the wall, Seventy-seven right on the back of Locke who held the gun pointed towards the adjacent hallway. The alarm was loud and the sound drowned the tap created with each step taken. Seventy seven appreciated that no one would know they would be there but knew that it was a double edged knife. Quickly Locke’s hand pushed Seventy-seven closer to the wall. As their backs pressed tightly against the tiled siding a man and woman appeared in their sight. Their lab coats flailed as they turned, seeing Locke and Seventy seven.

Breaking past the echoing noise of the alarm the woman screamed loudly. Seventy seven couldn’t understand her shrillness but he knew it needed to stop. He reached for the woman but her arm slipped away easily. Seventy seven knew this substance as he looked down at his hand. Even in the red alarm light it wasn’t hard to know what the crimson liquid was. It happened so quickly Locke and Seventy seven never even noticed the man in the lab coats’ head was half of what it should be; his flesh that remained blackened by the contrasting blue flash that seemed unnoticeable at first.

“Grab her,” Locke barked. Wasting no time on grabbing her arms, Seventy seven went straight for her waist. The shriek was only silenced in the breaths that the woman needed to take. Seventy seven held her closer, trying harder to muffle her screams. He grimaced as the blood which covered the women, coated his half naked body. The sticky substance reminded him closely to the brief memory he retained of his life before the hospital.

Searching for support Seventy seven shifted his gaze to Locke. Locke, however, focused his eyes around the corner to see who had killed one of his coworkers.

A cracking broke through the alarms alert, taking a large chunk out of the corner of the wall.

“Locke!” Seventy seven shouted seeing Locke fall to the ground.

“Bloody hell,” Locke’s voice was distorted as he took a large breath inwards. Repositioning his legs Locke pushed himself against the wall onto his feet. “He’s good. He’s not going to miss again.”

Seventy-seven was frozen in amazement at how calm his friend was. He knew if that happened to him his own string of curses would still be filling the ears of anybody in a ten mile radius.

“Let go of me!” Seventy seven was so concerned with Locke he had forgotten the woman who was still in his grasp. His hands loosened their grip and the girl pushed away from his bare chest. “We have to run or he’s going to kill us, it’s our only chance.” Her voice was shaky and here eyes wide.

“No, you can’t. You’ll die.” Seventy seven spoke tilting his head and softening his usual baritone voice.

“We’ll die here.” Her body trembled violently and the droplets of blood that covered her flew to the ground. “You would probably kill me just to save yourself.” Her eyes scanned the men as she stepped slowly backwards, her chest now rising and falling faster than when her friend was shot.

“Listen lady, we want to help you.” Seventy seven shot his hand out quickly trying to grab at the arm he had before she had become so paranoid.

“Don’t touch me!” She said sharply. Seventy seven switched his stare towards Locke for him to help guide the woman from the edge of the hallway. Locke’s face was calm and tranquil, his eyes gently shut as he brought the gun parallel to his face.

“See he’s going to kill us.” She continued backwards, every step bringing her nearer to the sight of the shooter down the hall.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Seventy seven hands raised in front of him showing his palms to the frightened woman. “We want to help.”

“I don’t want to die.” She yelled as she spun on her heels, breaking into a stumbled sprint down the shooters hall. Seventy seven felt a hand on his shoulder as he reached for the female doctor who was well down the hallway. His head turned to see Locke step out of the protection of the wall, gun pointed to the direction of the shooter. A bright blue light flashed down the hallway, silencing the thumping of the woman’s heavy foot step. Only to be returned by a flash from Locke’s gun.

“Go check on her.” Locke ordered. Before Seventy seven could answer Locke was already traveling down the hallway with two hands on his gun. Seventy seven ran to the opposing wall, leaning against it as he moved towards the downed woman. The red light revealed more than Seventy seven wanted to see of the bloody scene. He first came across her legs twisted awkwardly and separated from the rest of her mangled torso. The area between her two selves streaked with bloody entrails.

Seventy seven dropped to his knees as a fire erupted in his stomach. The burn worked its way up his body, igniting everything in its path. Incapable of holding the inescapable aftermath of the gruesome scene, Seventy seven’s vomit splashed against the linoleum paneling. Seventy sevens body convulsed as the last drop of off white fluid fell from his lips to the ground

“Seventy seven we have to go” Locke’s footsteps were light; Seventy seven hadn’t realized Locke stood above him. Stretching backwards for the support of Locke, Seventy seven scampered to his feet.

“Bastards,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with his forearm. Locke put another reassuring hand on the large mans shoulder and with a nod of his head they began down the hall.

With his stomach sufficiently emptied he followed Locke away from the horrific scene. The men traveled cautiously down each corner, welcoming the fall in thought that they would be fighting for their lives down every turn. They traveled without speaking, their hand signals their only form of communication. It was only when they reached a hallway with a sign reflecting the red flashing light that declared ‘Surgery Ward’ did Locke speak.

“That’s it” Locke shouted, pointing to the only place that didn’t quite radiate the alarm light. Instead, a flood light hung from the ceiling illuminating the blood stained walls that dripped onto the hospital beds and surgical trays that seemed to be pushed frantically against the walls. One bed lay across the width of the hallway riddled with scorched holes, burnt into the aluminum frame.

“These people are fucking animals” Seventy seven said, feeling the fire back in his mid section. He was glad his guts lay elsewhere in the hospital so he would not be able to spill them here.

“C’mon mate we just need to go to the last door on the left and we’ll be through this mess” Locke spoke nodding his head down the hall “All we have to do is reach that otha’ flood light.”

Seventy seven mind raced, looking for the will he needed to continue to finally be safe. Though his body did not need such things for his legs had already begun to follow his partner through the massacre.

“Where are all the bodies?” Seventy seven asked, his thoughts finally settling on the question. The blonde haired man’s mouth opened to answer, only to be interrupted by a deep percussion cackle. The cackle began low and rose in pitch, riding the walls of the narrow hall.

From the door Locke pointed too, two dark skinned men immerged. Their hair long and tangled their eyes black as a moonless night. The colouring looked as if the darkness had bled from the iris and swallowed the whole of the sclera. Their smiles were large revealing their carnivorous teeth that matched the red walls. It was from these two the laughs were originating from, their deep brown bodies bouncing with the rhythm of laughter.

Locke’s gun hand raised, he fired two shots at the feral man on the left, dropping him to the ground. He grabbed at the yellow fur that covered his shoulders and chest. Though the laughter had seized from the grounded one the other laughed even harder, seeing the other in such pain. His body wriggled and wretched twisting disturbingly, his under platting scrapping sharply against the flooring. Which only increased the volume of the other’s laughter. It seemed as though nothing could stop the terrifying chuckle that filled the air. Silence drew only after the twitching man stood again, their eyes tightening on the now petrified patient and doctor.

“Shoot em Locke Shoot em” Seventy seven bellowed. His eyes widened firing three shots into each of the men. Each bullet making them barely flinch, there ungrudging trek towards them unaltered. Their focus increasing with every step they took.

“Run,” Locke screamed, grabbing on to Seventy Sevens shoulders and physically turning him to go back the other way. Concerned with the initial threat Seventy Seven and Locke hadn’t noticed that it wasn’t two people laughing but four. Two identical looking men inched closer, matching the methodical onward press of the two first. Locke’s gun banged and clicked one last time, the upper slide cocked back revealing the bullet chamber and the last shell trickling to the ground. As one of the initial feral creature’s head sported a brand new blackened dot an inch above his right brow. His knee’s buckling in mid step crumpling the man awkwardly.

Not slowing down for the fallen comrade the feral men began their sprint. They were fast, Seventy sevens head shifted left to right pressing his back against the wall. His hand settling on the nearby surgical tray searching for something he could use to attack. Before Seventy-seven could blink again the three men had pounced on Locke, his feet the only piece of him Seventy seven could still see.

Seventy seven dove to the closest one knocking him easily off his friend and landing on top of him. His eyes going from the man he was on to the arteriole clamp he clenched in his fist. Raising the clamp over his head, he thrust it down towards the face of the black eyed man. Feeling contact made, Seventy Seven stared at the fruits of his labour. The feral mans hand raised 6 inches in front of his face, blood dripping down from the metal clamp he had barely stopped from entering through his forehead. His laugh boomed in Seventy Sevens ear as he held his pierced hand at mouth level. Brightened by the chance Seventy seven threw his palm at the circular handle still exposed, shoving the rounded tipped clamp into his opponents throat. Instantly the man on the bottom pulled his hand from out of his mouth spraying blood into Seventy Sevens face.

The liquid burned as it ran into Seventy Sevens eyes, mouths and ears. He stood from his position and felt the foot of the man he was attacking make contact to his stomach making him crash backward into the cheap walling. Grabbing for anything he could reach to wipe away the liquid, he found an already bloodied sheet off of a tipped over bed. Wiping his face he caught site of the man he had sentenced to death scramble to his feet then back down to his stomach on the ground, repeating the act until finally he lay still. Seventy seven switched back to his endangered friend only to have a face stare right into him. It was quickly replaced by a fist that tossed Seventy Sevens head backward making a deeper hole into the cavern which was created from his first bludgeoning. Before he had a chance to recover he felt rough calloused hands grab his face and stone like thumbs jab into his closed eyes. Searching his face and the attacker’s hands he grabbed onto his new opponent’s pinky fingers and with a cry of energy pried the pinky’s backward. Only stopping once he heard a sufficient enough snap and crunch. He felt his opponents hand retreat allowing him to open his eyes again only to reveal blurred sight that merged his surroundings as he attempted to regain his bearings. Finally focused he settled on the scalpels that littered the ground from a tilt over surgical tray for his next weapon. Extending his hand for the tools exposed him enough for the feral man to stomp down forcefully on his appendage. With a scream of pain Seventy Seven shot his other hand out for the scalpels, grabbing one he stabbed hard through the foot that wasn’t grinding his hand into a pile of diamond tipped instruments. His opponent jumped back tearing at metal that stuck from his bleeding foot, realizing the opportunity Seventy Seven scrambled to his feet.

Gathering all his strength he threw his Machina leg into the chest of the feral. He heard ribs crack under the power of the metallic leg. The force of the kick leveled the man to the ground who flew back face up to the sky. Seventy Seven felt every inch of his body pulsing with the thick burst of adrenaline that now enveloped his being. He stomped down on the exposed stomach of the stunned man, hearing a few more bones crack under the pressure. He continuously kicked precisely hitting the boniest parts of the downed man’s side until he felt as though he might be kicking minced meat. The final blow only occurred once Seventy Seven kick made contact to his head making a cracking noise that resulted in the yellow covered man to follow his fellow attacker’s extreme stillness.

Seventy Sevens breath was heavy as he turned to what was the last of the attackers. His pulse beat loudly in synch with his breath in his ears, though it wasn’t enough to be unable to hear the loud suction popping. The feral that he first saw emerge now lay straddling Locke’s limp bodied chest, a pink string extending from his hand to Locke’s eye socket. He ripped back violently forcing the string to snap, his face brightening at his accomplishment.

“NO!” A high pitched cry flew through the bloody scene. Looking back at the door that Locke had initially pointed to a woman appeared, gun in hand. Her body stopped on a dime before she exploded a punch that made the feral man slide a few meters back. In an inhuman amount of time the man was standing again. The woman lifting her gun and began to fire but the yellow fur draped man blurred quickly out of sight. “Seventy Seven help me.” The woman placed Locke’s arm around her shoulder.

It took him a second glance to recognize the woman as his trainer, Amanda. Shell shocked he walked to his friend who he still hoped severely was at least alive. Grabbing Locke’s other arm he felt the hot breath of his unconscious companion. He also heard the now rising sound of laughter filling in behind them.

“Amanda cover us, I’ll carry him,” nodding her head she let the arm she wrapped around her drop, which allowed Seventy seven to sweep his arm underneath Locke’s legs. Firing into the red to black darkness the two ran for the safe room. Seventy seven didn’t look back, he knew they were right on top of them and could only pray the exit was still open.

Rounding the corner to the room he saw the wall size steel door closing slowly. Slipping side ways he fit quite easily through. He turned to see sure that Amanda would also make it through. Her gun hand rounded the corner they had just came from, firing bursts of bullets into a mob that burst walls as they ran to their targets. “Come on.” Seventy Seven shouted.

It could only be her, only her small stature could fit through the crack that the steel doors had left the few seconds before fully closing. She pushed from the framing of the doorway she was shooting at, dropping her gun and taking two large steps to dive through the slit, sliding across the concrete floor like a baseball player stretching for home plate.

“Safe.” Seventy Seven sputtered as a mist of blood spat from his mouth onto the woman who’d saved their lives. His arms feeling weaker then ever dropped the doctor. His eyes feeling as they did when the feral clawed for his face, dropping to his knees he felt the warm liquid that pulled beneath him.

Wooooooooo!
Alright, so there it is, a Chapter from Machina .
What's going happen to the injured Seventy seven and Locke?
leave comments, let me know if you liked it. Just remember, the grammar and the wording will be fixed when i'm not so busy. So if you must comment on that aspect, make sure it's motivational for me!
Just a reminder this was very early writing so if you want an accurate measure of what i do now, read posts 3 and up! :D