Hi everyone... I am really wanting to make something amazing in PS since I feel it. But first, I gotta get an idea. Well, whatever. I am mostly looking for some really nice creations/inspiring creations. Post your best arts no matter what it is (Digital art/music/blablabla...) You know the drill =0 No pr0n stuff ... if there is a render in it, PLEASE NO ANIME I HATE ANIME AS HELL!
This was writting two years ago by my, inspired by Megadeth's Countdown to Extinction, this has the same title. --- DAY 8 Ryan looked at the sack of newspapers on his desk. The first one, made just over a week ago, said 70000 People Died in Horrible Plane Crash! It seemed impossible at first, but investigators concluded that seventy pounds of anthrax and forty pounds of asbestos were in the planes cargo. Evidently, it was a suicide mission meant for the White House, but missed it by about 300 miles. Even afterward, it seemed ludicrous. The next one said 60000 People Dead from Nuclear Blast in Northern California and Southern Oregon! This, too, was a suicide mission, but in a different context. A plane pilot, not knowing what he had in his cargo, had become suicidal over the period of his flight, and crashed three miles from the northern Californian border, right on a Wal-Mart. He moved those aside and smoothed his thick brown hair back. He looked at the next one and grimaced at the photo in the front page. It had a simple title, which meant reporters were already getting used to the unusual amount of deaths. How comforting. It said 50000 Dead; Government Worried. No one in he United States knew how this happened, and even the President was worried. Two people survived it, and said that 25000 people, who were in a group of Satanists, claimed that Satan told them each to kill one person, and then kill themselves. This, of course, is ludicrous, but police officials had to believe something. He went to the bathroom to throw up; he couldn’t take seeing the pictures in the newspaper. It was too much for him, and he didn’t see how the press could allow pictures like those open to the public. The next one said 40000 Dead, and worried Ryan most of all. A plague had started in Arkansas, and had spread over to Pennsylvania in less than two hours. Luckily, in was only in a near-straight line and was quarantined within minutes afterward. It was estimated that over forty-thousand would die each day, until everyone in the quarantine was dead, and the plague could spread no more. It was said that the plague even got the trees and plants, dissipating them within minutes. By then, he got depressed, but knew he had to go on reading. It was his job to read these and help the CIA solve the mystery behind them, but there was no pattern, other than the decrease in number every day. After reading the next one, he started to sob. It said 30000 Californians Dead; the state shut off to outside world. His family lived there, and had apparently died unmercifully. Several hundred killers got out of prisons all over the state, and started up the business again, but not after freeing over thirty prisons. They had all started killing immediately, and not even the Army would go in and stop them. All government officials were flown out of the state, and other loose criminals somehow snuck onto the planes. One killed the governor, and several other people, before the co-pilot shot him in the head with a flare gun. After he was done sobbing, he wanted to sleep, but his job and his mind screamed no. He threw the two top papers into a wall, paper flying everywhere. He looked at the next one, and nearly puked on it. It didn’t even have a title. It had a picture of a faceless head stuck onto a pike, in front of a Catholic church. The church was burning, and another picture showed a dozen more heads on pikes. Obviously, Atheists or Satanists did this. Next to each corpse was piled about twenty to fifty bodies, including the headless ones. He guessed that twenty thousand were dead, and his guess proved correct when he read the article. People were getting panicked, and started accusing each other of the deaths. A small suburban war started, hence the rest of the 19000 or so deaths. A little too many people dead from just Floridian suburbia, but officials claimed people in other counties and nearby states joined in, as well as the Army when they found out. Just one more, Ryan told himself. Just one more. He flipped over the previous paper, and looked at the last one. No picture; no title. Barely any writing, either. Apparently, the ‘countdown’ had restarted, and one million dead. Every last person in Canada was dead, and many people from the northern states. Nobody knew why, because the leader of Canada was dead. There was no way the USA would stay where they were, so immediate evacuation took place. Planes all over the country were taking off south, to Brazil and other South American countries, and others to China and Africa. Of the remaining people in the USA, no one knew. There were about 200-300 million people left, but, of course, they would all be dead in due time. Of course, that’s hat the paper said. Meanwhile, when all this death was happening in North America, Egypt was completely wiped out, as was Russia, Germany, and Arabia. People all over the world were causing chaos, doomsayers running around their towns, screaming and killing. Governments were all collapsed; Presidents, Prime Ministers, Kings, Queens, Lords, and any other type of leadership were assassinated. The CIA was only several people then: Ryan, his brother Jesse, and eight other people. His commander called himself Ace, but Ryan knew that Ace wasn’t his real name. Even in complete and utter chaos, he had to make himself look and sound ‘cool.’ He turned on his television, and flipped to the news, and a woman in torn clothes and disheveled hair, in front of a torn up set, was sobbing. She muttered something, and then started screaming. “This is it! This is the countdown to extinction!” She ran off the set, screaming and crying, repeating the same phrase over and over again. Ryan didn’t turn the TV off; he wanted to know why she said that. Another man walked onto the set, obviously trying as hard as he could to stay calm. “As you should know, for over a week now, there have been nearly countless deaths worldwide, and they all have the same pattern: a countdown. Many believe that this is a ‘countdown to extinction,’ but officials say—“ “There ARE no officials!” Ryan yelled at the TV. “…untrue. I have learned that several Prime Ministers from Africa and Europe have come to town, which is said to be one of the most civilized cities in the country. May we all live our full natural lives, and hopefully get through this. Now, here’s Jim with the weather—“ Ryan threw a chair at the television, breaking in the screen. In pure rage, he tore up the newspapers and threw random furniture out the windows of his thirty-two story apartment. Suddenly he stopped. His faced transformed from an expression of rage, to an expression of wonder; amazement. He was contributing to the deaths in the world, for he knew he had killed at least two panicked doomsayers on the sidewalk or in the road. He sat down for a moment, and then stood up. “I will not help this ‘countdown,’” he said to himself, and threw on a leather jacket. He was going outside. DAY 9 According to the Countdown, three days were left. Three days to try and make a living, or to try and help humanity survive, or to kill, or to be killed. Or, of course, to solve the puzzle that Zander had masterfully created. He smiled to himself, sure that no one could solve it. Random deaths helped create this puzzle, confusing what government was left and panicking everyone else. He watched his Live-Globe, watched the population decrease greatly every day. All of the Americas were gone now, so they were red, all of Japan, Africa, and most of Asia were gone, too. So, all he had left were Turkey, Latvia, and several dozen people on an uncharted (or at least to the humans) island in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. Which country would he destroy today? He liked the idea of destroying the last literate place on Earth, but then no one would communicate their panic. He wanted chaos, he wanted destruction. Besides, he didn’t want otherworld archeologists finding any kind of civilization, primitive or not. But there was always the choice of playing God with the lost island. He could let them reinvent the wheel, literature, etc. until they got to boats. Then he could create a sort of ‘Bermuda Triangle’ around them, so they couldn’t leave the area. Hmmm… Many possibilities, but what if there are literate people? What would he do then? He could only wipe out an area, not a certain person. Never mind that nonsense, he told himself. Just get on with your daily destruction. He touched Turkey on the globe, and smeared his finger around it. Goodbye, humans. Soon there will be none of you left. He grinned. DAY 10 Ryan sat in the corner, sobbing. Still in America, he had to contact with the outside world. He was sure there were no other humans for at least four thousand miles, in any direction. At least most of his neighbors had candles, and lighters. He promised himself that he wouldn’t panic until he died. The television was his last spark of hope, but now he had nothing to live for. He also promised himself that that would be his last fit of rage until he couldn’t help himself. Before it got dark, Ryan silently walked outside. There was no sound whatsoever anymore. Every person in America was gone; and that left a strange and eerie silence. Not even Ryan’s humming a song could break the silence. He swallowed down tears as he went to his best friend, Trevor’s house. No bodies were even in the living room, in which a TV was emitting static. That was the only sound now that Ryan had. He looked on the mantle above the fireplace, and, sure enough, there were about a dozen candles. Ryan grabbed three and left the house quickly; his fear of things not seen taking over his other senses. He ran home, his heart racing, and slammed the door behind him, locking the deadbolt and the chain. He dropped the candles on the table, and barricaded every door and window in the house. He even took apart the coffee table to board up the living room windows. Finally feeling safe, but still unsure, he grabbed a .9MM pistol and searched the house. He found nothing, and, truthfully, was a little disappointed. Nothing to do anymore except reread the newspapers, go outside, or make something. Making something sounded good, but he had no wood for it; he used up all the wood on the doors and windows. He sat in his recliner, rocking back and forth, moping. He was depressed and angry that there were no people to communicate with, or even animals to confide in. Nothing was left to live for, and… and… He started sobbing silently. Tears rolled down his cheeks freely, and he made no effort to stop them. As suddenly as he started, he stopped. He felt eyes watching him. All around him, he felt eyes and hands reaching out, as if screaming for help, or trying to help him. He let out two shots into the floor. Now scared nearly witless, he grabbed a meat cleaver and two steak knives: one large, on small. He put the gun in his pocket, with the safety on, and pulled a sawed-off shotgun from a dusty cupboard, along with a rifle and several explosives. You can never be too safe, he thought to himself, but no smile came to his lips. It was like Gulf War all over again: Sudden, quick, and no apparent reason. He snatched a pad of paper and a pencil and a pen. Ryan sighed, and shoved the couch into the door, knocking it down. Outside darkness was enveloping suburbia slowly, but effectively. Within a short hour, it would be pitch-black, and Ryan wouldn’t be able to see. So he made a torch. He smashed up his door, made a four-foot-long, thick stick, and wrapped some cloth from the couch on it. He ran inside and grabbed his lighter fluid, poured a little on the cloth, then put it in his cargo pocket. He lit it before the fluid dried up, and started walking west, hoping that within several days to a week he could make it to the Colorado state line, where everyone else should have started heading by now. Ryan really only went to see his brother and kill Ace for taking Jesse. He didn’t care if he would contribute to the end of the world; that old man would pay for kidnapping, law-like or not. Preferably not. DAY 11 Scanning the horizon of a once bustling Michigan area, she only saw empty land, with no hope of life. Nothing. When Vale first saw people drop dead, she thought a plague had spread, and ran barely faster than this plague spread. “All’s clear,” she whispered into her radio system. Several men and two other women popped out from discreet hiding places, also scanning the horizon. They were all wearing black masks with three red bubbles of glass on them, with lasers emitting from the bulb. Through the eye the bulbs were medically attached to, they saw infrared, and the other, heat vision, thanks to the mask. Seeing no heat signals or movement, they moved on. The squadron covered ground quickly enough, and perimeters were quickly set all around the city. “Bring in the choppers,” she said into the ERS, or Elite Radio System, created specifically for her job. About three dozen helicopters, filled to the brim with people, landed in a nearby field, and spread all over the city within minutes. Finally comfortable that they were safe, she took off her mask to reveal long red hair and ice-blue eyes. The eyes of a warrior. Mimicking her actions, almost everyone around her did the same. “So what are we gonna do now, Sarra?” a man asked through the ERS. The ERS was truly elite when a person could hear through it as clearly as they would if someone was right behind them. “We’re gonna spread the perimeter, of course. We really need to get to the coast quicker, though. I’m getting tired of all this useless caution.” She could hear the other man sigh, and she smiled. “We’re not going to die just because we skipped a couple cities. Or states…” “Yes’m.” She again smiled with his response. At least there was little tension between them; life would be dreary if all they did were work, eat, and sleep. Of course, that’s basically all that they did do. Another line entered, and she heard frantic breathing. Several screams came through; some for help, others yelling obscenities. “Sarra! Something just happened, but it was too quick! Jerr and Collan are dead! Some kind of monster attacked them, and now it’s chasing m—AAAAAAGGHHH!” Only static went through after that. How could something like that happen? No, she mustn’t question. Action, action was what she was taught. “Re-secure the perimeter! Check all lifelines, and get your masks on!” Everyone obeyed, but as they did, a large beast jumped out from a building. It had teeth at least a foot in length, and scars all over its dark brown body. An eye was missing, and it had four horns; one was broken. “What is that thing?” she screamed through the ERS, but only static could come through. Great time for a system failure. She pulled out two loaded .9MM pistols with enhanced barrels and bullets. This thing shouldn’t be on Earth, it should be in another planet. Or did it? She let out at least twenty rounds of wall-shattering blasts from her pistols, but all the bullets just bounced off its leathery skin. It looked around, pummeled by useless bullets. As it tackled a man, two more emerged from what remained of the house. After that, four more. “Stop shooting and RUN!” she screamed. “Get out of here, now!” Static stopped, and she heard screams and pleading from dying soldiers, and screamed through the ERS “Get some choppers down here! We’re being attacked!” No response. “Hello?! HELLO!” Still nothing. She started running away from the beasts, but they didn’t follow; they were far too distracted with the bullets. As she ran, she yanked a grenade from a waist pouch, and pulled the safety. Only one more and it could be pulled as she threw. Just when she looked back, a house in front of her imploded, and one of the creatures slowly walked out. She had enough time to see that it had no eyes, and then was forced to pull the pin when it suddenly opened its mouth. She heard a snarling behind her, and turned around. The last thing she saw was large, black teeth smashing in on her eyes. DAY 12 Zander sat back in his chair, thousands of miles above Earth, smiling. His work was finished. Now all he had to do was clean up, and, luckily, that was what his homemade hell hounds were for. Thousands of them were stationed in every city, eager to destroy everything in sight, even each other. Of course, they would become the next dominant species on Earth, and there would obviously be other creatures, but Zander had yet to figure out which ones. He had almost a million species of animals to put on Earth, and tried as hard as he could to let the existing bugs stay; it would work good with ‘Prehistory.’ He leaned back in his chair, satisfied with his handiwork. Soon this planet would be his, and he wouldn’t have to sit at his battle cruiser thousands of miles away from it. A thought flashed through his head of stragglers remaking civilization, but he shooed it out as soon as I was there; it was impossible for anyone to survive unless he let them do so. Unless… No. He mustn’t doubt himself. Earth would be utterly destroyed, and his creations would become the new dominant species. Unless, of course, he felt like getting creative with squid. That sounded extremely fun, yet just as humiliating. All fun set aside, this was the day Earth would be empty, rid of humans. He placed his hand on the last red dot, and smeared the globe. Now all was gone. Now he could do more work with creating his other— An alarm sounded, and the globe shattered. A holoscreen appeared in front of him, showing a map of the world. What now? he thought. Several red dots appeared in the USA and Canada. “NO!” he screamed, and rushed out of the room, preparing to go down to Earth. DAY 13 Ryan tugged off the ragged cloth covering a wound on his arm. Blood started seeping from the wound, so he needed to replace the cloth as soon as possible. He had killed two of the creatures, but not before another appeared, and slashed his arm before it ran off. What were those things? They had human arms and lion legs, with foot-long teeth and four horns. Whatever they were, they were dangerous and extremely strong, if not extremely stupid. He scared the third one off with a gun shot. He lost all of his ammo for his shotgun before he figured out that bullets couldn’t get past its leathery skin; it had to be shot in the eye or in the mouth when it was open, which it inevitably would be. He walked down the street in broad daylight, his guns pointing in nearly every direction. He knew something was going on, he just didn’t know what. In a moment’s notice, as he was walking down the empty road, he noticed something life-changing. This wasn’t real. How could it be? How could it be possible for every single person on Earth (except for one) to be gone within mere days? Well, he thought, he would be the foreclosure of this dream. No longer would he fight back. He would run, and survive, and prosper, but not fight back. Northern Canada sounded good, but it was over a thousand miles away, and he doubted any cars still worked. So he sat. He just plopped down in the middle of the road, dropping his guns at his sides and leaning back, with his elbows supporting him in the glistening sun. He had to plan before action or nothing but his death would happen, and that would be the permanent end of the dream. Or so he thought. After several days of wandering the country, literally, he started to get lonely; he needed to talk to someone. Talking to himself was not enough, mainly because he didn’t even hear himself over his own thoughts. “You look tired.” Ryan jumped and aimed his gun toward the voice, but lowered it when he saw a tall, well-built man with bulging muscles and a stone-set face. The man managed to smuggle a smile out of the stone, and Ryan couldn’t help but smile back. “Jesse!” he exclaimed, and embraced his brother, and Jesse nearly flattened him. “How did Ace get you with you being this big?” “Guns, and power over the other marines,” Jesse muttered. As he said the word, over three dozen marines stepped out of a nearby house. They all saluted Ryan and his big brother, and then sat down to start cleaning their weapons. “Where’d Ace get these guys?” “I have no idea. Prolly the government’s last order to them was to serve the commanding officer of this branch of the CIA. I killed Ace when he wasn’t looking.” As a look of disgust went over Ryan’s face, Jesse quickly said, “Because if he was lookin’, he would’ve told one of them to shoot me. So I did it to him in his sleep. Besides, none of us liked him. It’s not like the President will come out and say ‘Arrest him; he’s committed reason!’” Ryan chuckled, glad that his brother was safe. “How’d you get past those bullet-proof dogs?” Ryan inquired, curious and mystified that none of the marines were scratched. “Oh, those things? I’ve had more of a challenge from an eighty-year-old man with a walking stick! They were trained to shoot the eyes, so that’s what they did.” After looking Ryan over, he stated, “Looks like you’ve had a little trouble with ‘em.” Ryan gave his brother a playful punch. “Nope. One just snuck up on me.” Was it really going to be this easy? Just wander the country, and find more and more people everyday? He doubted it, but there was still a hint of hope in the back of his head. Glancing at the sky, Jesse said, “We need to get inside and get some light. It’ll be dark soon, and I hope you haven’t seen what stays in the dark.” Ryan blinked at him, his smile quickly fading. “I never saw anything last night.” “Did ya have a torch?” “I small worthless one, but yeah.” “They avoid all light, no matter what.” As he said that, a snarling hellhound appeared behind him, and guns started blazing. DAY 13, 7 PM Zander stepped off of the large battle cruiser, and inhaled the evening air. He coughed until he nearly bust a lung; the air was absolutely filthy on Earth. This, he would remedy soon after the entire country was a pile of dust. He pulled out his handheld supercomputer and paged his bodyguards. Two heavy humanoid machines slowly stepped out, but they showed no resemblance to the science-fiction movies. The head was oblong and lop-sided, made by hand, and each arm resembled a crane with five fingers. The legs showed nearly no difference, except the gun silencers and extra ammo packed into crevices. They each had camo-generators one their shoulders, showing that knew how to be silent and deadly. Nearly identically, they brought their left arms up over their right shoulders, pulled out a double-barrel sawed-off shotgun, and loaded it with ammo. That should kill any humans within range. Zander put the computer away and ordered the two brutes to find any life other than his own. They obediently left, each going a different direction, and Zander sighed. His work was going so flawlessly, so perfectly, that he overlooked any possibilities of humans that would move while he conducted the Countdown. It indeed sounded like humans, though. He was glad he would get rid of the scum and begin this world anew, with new laws, governments, and even civilizations. He might even let some humans stay solid after death, so the next dominant species can dig ‘em up. After a while he noticed he was sitting down, his fist under his chin thoughtfully. He shook his head quickly and jumped up when he noticed that gunfire was blazing not too far off, but it wasn’t in the directions the guards went. Zander supposed he would have to go and kill these things himself, and grabbed a high-tech, fully operational proto-type photon cannon, which should separate their mass so much that all that would be left was maybe lint, from their pockets. Zander smiled to himself, knowing that thing would be coming together soon. Day 13, 8:30 PM Alvis Vale looked up at the huge starship, in awe. She moved her deep red hair out of her eyes and stared some more. When a man and two big robots came out, she nearly yelled in fright and cowered inside a house, near the fridge. A robot stomped by, and smashed in a wall. It looked around, and she could hear small gears clicking and its cooling fans whirring. It left shortly after, and she let out a sigh of relief. She snuck out of the house after changing her pants, for reasons she would refuse to admit, then gasped. A large man, with tentacle hair and large, black balls for eyes and grayish blue skin, was sitting down. After a minute he went inside and brought out a big gun and went off, heading for something that escaped her mind. The ship was all alone. She wasn’t much of a thief, but she could figure out which buttons were which. So, she did the only logical thing in her mind, and snuck inside, silent as a mouse. Blast doors easily opened for her, without question for DNA or the like, and she soon got to what she thought was the ----pit. A red light turned on next to her, and she jumped away in fright. A small in-table-sized robot hovered out of the shadows, a robotic grin spread across its metal face. Big green bulbs stared at her, while a mechanical hand held a portable life-scanner. “Greetings, human. How may I be of service?” It seemed friendly enough. “I want you to teach me how to fly this ship,” she commanded. It bobbed up and down, trying to nod. “Or course. May I have a hair so I may scan your intelligence and vocabulary?” Alvis nodded. She plucked a single red hair and handed it gingerly to the robot. It whirred and clicked for several minutes before giving its reply. “Hmm… Okay, then. See that red knob? The one on a stick? Yeah, that one; push it away from you.” She obeyed. “Now, do you see the number pad? Press three, then nine, then six. Got it done?” She nodded. “Good. Next you step on the middle pedal next to your left foot. Okay, good job. Now just say what you want to do or where you want to go and the ship will do it.” The robot bobbed up and down again, then set itself down and shut off. Thank goodness, she thought, I won’t have a talkative robot bothering me. As she started to lift off the ground, the ship shook, and a holo-screen appeared, showing two deformed robots latched onto the ship like it was a magnet. “Get rid of them!” she yelled, and the ship obeyed by shooting the robots with every small weapon available. After they fell to the ground, she rose to at least a thousand feet in the air in minutes. “Warning: Low fuel; must restock in supplies.” Great, she thought. Not even enough fuel to go to another country where there might be people. “Land the ship,” she yelled as another robot jumped on. Or was it off? She couldn’t tell, as too many things were making the ship rock back and forth. “Warning: Low fuel; must restock in supplies.” “I know! Shut up!” The ship careened and plummeted down, towards the Earth. In her panic while running around, she saw a huge globe with red dots in the USA. Curious, she thought, as the ship crashed into New York with the power of a nuclear explosion. Day 14 “NO!” Zander screamed as his ship plummeted to the ground hundreds of miles away. After investigating the shooting, he found no life forms on his life-scanner, so went back to the ship to go to another city. As he approached the place where his ship was, he found two large piles of metal: his bodyguards, who were immediately magnetized to the ship as the reactors started improperly. He examined the metal, and concluded that it was enough to make a small transport. As he turned to look for a metal wielder in one of the houses, he muttered, “Rust in peace,” to the body guards, and then walked off. After hours of searching, he found one two miles away, so he grabbed it and hurried back, which took him another hour. At about noon, he started making the engine, powered by the core of the head: a nuclear generator the size of a quarter. With two of them he could travel around Earth several times and still have enough fuel to go back and forth around North America three times. So he began to work, and figured it would be useful to add their weapons and scanners to the transport. Day 14, 4:21 PM Ryan yawned as he reloaded his pistol. If this was what life was going to be like, he might as well shoot himself. All they did was fight off the hellhounds and kill some other ravenous animals. Before the thought of suicide crossed his mind, guns again blazed outside, making his throbbing migraine even worse. He rushed outside and started to help the marines. This time they had helmets and black visors, and were using advanced machine guns. Without shooting the hellhounds in the heads, they each died and dissolved within one hit. Who were these people? Where were Jesse and the other marines? “Get the civilian,” a muffled voice said. Two large arms surrounded him and carried him off to a large vehicle, and tossed him into it. Jesse was crouched in the back corner, and his marines were sleeping, scattered throughout the huge vehicle. Well, at least he knew where everyone was. He walked over to Jesse, stepping over bodies as he went. He plopped down next to his brother, sighing. “What’s goin’ on, Jesse?” No reply. Ryan shook his brother; Jesse fell into Ryan’s lap. Teeth marks were all over his face, and three large holes were on the side. The hellhounds did this. Those marines let it happen. Ryan pulled out the flashlight Jesse gave him, and examined the sleeping marines. Tooth and claw marks were all over their bodies, also. Oh my god. “Help… me…” Ryan looked up, and saw a familiar marine attached to the top of the vehicle by a large chunk of red, bloody… something. What was it? “Help… me…” Ryan took his silencer out of his pocket and attached it to the pistol, and shot the marine, to put him out of his misery. He thanked whatever watched over him that no marine heard it; then rage reared its ugly head. They let Jesse die. His last reason to live is dead, and they were going to pay, with their lives. He snuck out, and saw the closest marine, with his helmet on. He casually walked up behind him, making sure no one saw him, and then shoved the pistol into a gap in the helmet and shot twice. No one heard him because they were still shooting off the hellhounds. Good. Ryan grabbed the marines weapon ad shot two other marines, took their guns, and went inside the house, where there were four more marines, all their weapons raised at him. Great. Ryan raised one machine gun that belonged to a marine, and then shot around the room, killing the three marines as he wrecked the house. Pottery was shattered; blood was everywhere, and so on. Even more great. He ran down to the room he stayed in and got his backpack, filled it with the guns, zipped it up, and ran to the living room. He looked outside; the shooting stopped. Three hellhounds were left, and they were chewing on several marines. Now this made his day. “DIE!” A man with long black dreadlocks and dark skin was riding up towards them in a motorcycle. He had a submachine gun, and was emptying countless rounds into the hellhounds, but they just stood there; the bullets got stuck on their skin, but didn’t pierce it. Ryan ran out and shot one, making it dissolve. The man looked at him as he stopped the motorcycle. The hellhounds were slowly advancing on the pair. “Your bullets didn’t work.” “Well watch this,” the man replied. He pressed a button on the gun, and each of the bullets exploded, leaving the street full of carnage. “Get on my bike. I’m gonna gather their guns.” Ryan obeyed. DAY 14, 9:37 PM Zander stomped on the ground to emphasize his anger, although nobody was near. Or alive, for that matter; at least wherever the ship crashed. That was the ship provided by his employers, and it was the only one with the new Hell Hound prototype. Apparently humans have developed a gun able to disintegrate the old hellhounds. So, Zander started designing another one, of which there would be only one, that would be completely invincible against all weapons ever created or that will be created. He was stomping and trudging around the town in anger and disappointment, with a mix of resentment and hate for humans. At least that annoying robot was gone. That was comforting. At last, after several hours of stomping, he got on his new vehicle and rode off. Probability demanded that he find somebody. DAY 15, 3:00 AM He lost his torch while running. A large beast, worse than the hellhounds, chased him on and on, relentlessly. He had taken countless steps and ran countless miles for his life. The other man was dead, eaten it one bite. Death incarnate chased him, literally destroying every thing in its path, including the small rat-like beasts that hid in darkness. It chased and chased, until it fell back and tired. Ahead was a light. Small. Forgiving, and gracious. Even happy. Ryan ran for the light, using up the last of his strength to go as fast as physically possible. The light neared, closer and closer, and then faded. But then the figure under it started glowing. It was a light green hue, and the eyes shone red like gleaming blood in sunlight. “You are no longer welcome on this planet. Leave.” The figure stepped over to Ryan and placed its hand on his head; on the top. Fingers clenched on his head tight as it was torn from his neck like he could pull a leaf from a tree. Funny; he could still see. His dismembered head somehow managed to scream in pain as his arms and legs were torn off, and then a sharp object was thrust into his stomach. It tore from one side to the other, and his insides splattered all over the ground with a sickening splut. The bottom of his jaw was torn off by teeth, and what remained of his head was thrown to the Death creature, who grinned down at him with sadistic glee. Day 15, 3:02 AM His body was soaked through with salty sweat from a nightmare. All he could recall was death and blood. Funny, though, how he was traumatized by it, and never recovered. The man that had rescued him called himself Jeremy. He had four friends: Alexander, Thomas, Rafael and Samuel. They were hidden in an armored bunker full of homemade weapons and bullets, with some body armor and a helmet from one of the marines. Apparently, they had been in the bunker since the beginning of the Countdown. For fifteen days they sat in the bunker, sending out one man each day to get food. According to them, a prowler walked the streets at night, searching for anything living, hellhound or human, and it kills them. As he heard Thomas nervously recall seeing the prowler, waves of fear swept through him. “It looked human, but it had red eyes… red, glowing eyes. It had green skin… and... and…” Thomas went to his corner and curled up in a fetal position, whimpering. The prowler must be extremely frightening to do this to a grown man. “Oh, grow up, Thomas,” Alexander scowled. “At last you lived. If it weren’t for us, those wimpy hellhounds would’ve eaten you already.” The way Alexander talked, he made it seem like they were watching a scary movie. Of course, there was some truth in his words. “Alexander, please. He’s in a bad enough shape.” Jeremy glared at Alexander. “If it weren’t for my guns, all four of you would be dead or dying. Except for you, newcomer. You were in a decent spot. Where there are dead humans, nothing passes. I think we should take the prototype armor and put it on that house today, or tomorrow. We could do so much more there than we could in this cottage.” Rafael spoke up. “But, you see, it would take all of us to do that. The bunker or the house would be unguarded, leaving them open for attack from the hellhounds. They destroy everything, you know, so they would try to get out bunker from the unarmored part.” Jeremy sighed. “Whatever, guys. We will take the armor down to that house, and we will do it tomorrow. What could go wrong?” That was the last time Jeremy would ever ask a question. [LOG: 17, CtD; Project 4 Area 1. 1700 Pop., 2004: Just as Alvis plummeted towards the ground in the battleship, she flew across the room and hit a button as she landed. Dozens of types of humanoid and other species were created that instant all over the world. I have foreseen this event, and I am now ready to take action. I have opened three Rift Cannons on Earth, and every day they are shooting out larvae of various creatures, unknown to man. I sit in my Battlecruiser waiting for Earth to either implode or to destroy itself. Danak Xanik, Captain of the Marshals of the Order] DAY 15, 6:00 AM Dawn was peeking over the horizon, and Zander cursed humans as it did. He was stuck on this miserable planet, with depleting gas and increasing hunger. He would’ve eaten a hellhound, if he didn’t make their meat and blood fatal. He didn’t know what the crash would do to living things on the planet, or if it created anything, but he knew that his employer would be eternally angry at him. Anger was more than fatal from Xanik, and Zander would rather eat the hellhound meat. Houses zipped by for hours, and Zander just realized that he was moving, and not the houses. He looked around, and down and also noticed that the vehicle was gone. “What the—“ A wall shot up in front of him, and his blood squirted everywhere. His skulled was the second thing to impact the wall, and his brain was flattened from a velocity of his travel. His bones were also flattened, and hellhounds immediately ran up to eat what was left of the destroyer of known Earth. DAY 15, 8:02 Ryan stretched his arms and yawned as he looked at the house and its new armor. Amazingly, nothing had attacked, and they had made it without conflict between anyone. The four-inch-thick chrome-plated sheets covering the house reminded Ryan of a science-fiction movie he had seen recently. Alexander hadn’t spoken a word for hours, since they started to transport the armor, and even now he refused to have a conversation with Ryan. He was sitting on a makeshift bench, gazing off; he looked peaceful. Ryan wished he could have that same peace. Rafael jogged up to Jeremy and they exchanged words, casting sidelong glances at Ryan as they did so. Ryan became shifty as they did this, and went over to sit next to Alexander. Alexander nodded in acknowledgement that Ryan wanted to talk. He looked at Ryan, waiting for him to say something. “So… How long have you been with this bunch?” Alexander shrugged. “About a week and a half, when these hellhounds started appearing in Connecticut.” Ryan’s eyes widened. “Wow. You guys have come a long way.” “Well, we did have cars and trucks. Eventually, we ran out of gas and stopped finding usable cars, and started walking. For what, we didn’t know, but we just wanted to get away from the hellhounds.” “Sounds like you had an adventure already. Are you expecting to survive?” Alexander shrugged again. “I really don’t care. I mean, I saw that huge truck with the dead marines in it, and I thought that there might be others out there. That is a little motivation, but not enough. I figured that I should just live for the moment, to kill those monsters that killed my family.” “I understand how you feel. It happened to mine, too.” For several minutes they sat in silence, reminiscing the events of the past two weeks, until Jeremy and Rafael started walking towards them, guns behind there backs. Samuel was inside trying to find something to eat. Alexander leaned over to Ryan. “You got a gun?” he whispered. “Yea. Be right back.” Ryan stood up, his gun securely in his hand hidden inside his new oversized shirt. He gazed levelly at the two approaching, and started to smile. “What’s up?” Jeremy glared at him. “There is no way you could have survived whatever happened to your friends. Tell us how. Now.” Rafael echoed the ‘Now’ and pulled out his gun for emphasis. Ryan glared back at Jeremy. “Certain circumstances have called for certain measures, and none of them were taken by me.” “How did you get your piercing gun?” Rafael inquired. “From my brother, Jesse. He is in that truck, dead, from the marines that are on the ground, dead. If I had the ability to modify weapons, my guns would be far more effective.” “I’ve heard enough of your lies, Ryan! Sit down!” Ryan raised his gun and made it visible. Rafael jumped behind Jeremy, and Ryan shot. The bullet went through Jeremy’s heart, Rafael’s lung, and barely made it to the armor, where it just planked off. Alexander stared blankly at Ryan, and Samuel ran out and gasped. He pulled out his gun, and Ryan shot him. His skull exploded, and he fell to the ground. Alexander stood and nearly applauded Ryan’s work. Before he could, several more shots rang out, and a short, squat, stout man yelled at them. He had an orange beard almost as long as he was tall, and held a double-barreled shotgun in both hands. On his back was strapped another shotgun and a pistol was held on his belt. He couldn’t have been more than three and a half feet tall, and he probably wasn’t. Alexander ignored him and walked inside to gather supplies for travel; he knew Ryan’s intentions. “What’re ye doin, shootin’ innocent people like that?” he yelled. “They assaulted me,” was all that Ryan could manage. “I’d be mad at ye, had ye not done such a good job, fellow.” DAY 15, 12:30 Ryan had managed to get over the state line of Massachusetts before noon, miraculously, with Alexander and the babbling dwarf. Clouds began to cover the sky, and every once in a while it drizzled for several minutes. I was depressing, but Ryan needed to get to the coast. Something was driving him there; driving him to the south-eastern coast. It started raining harder, and the raindrops beat down on his face. Alexander shielded his eyes with one arm, and held out a large cup for the rain to fill up with the other. The unnamed dwarf ignored it; his thick hair blocked most of it out. It amazed Ryan, when he thought back, that he made it this far in such a short amount of time. They approached a large brick wall with a little blood on the ground to each side. He jogged up to it and looked around, and nearly screamed. At least a dozen hellhounds were behind that wall, each tugging at a body part from someone. Alexander jogged up to see what scared Ryan. He simply shrank back, loaded a gun, and whispered something. The short man saw him, and put his shotgun away. He pulled out two pistols, each looking just like he ones belonging to Jeremy and Rafael. Ryan, instead of using the exploding bullets, used his brother’s guns. Two oversized pistols were at his waist, and he unlatched them. Each fully loaded and (if they were sentient) ready to kill, Ryan assured himself that he would survive. He glanced at Alexander and the dwarf, and nodded. They each ran out from behind the wall, yelling, with guns blazing. Many of the hellhounds went down easily, but others hid behind a house. A bright flash erupted from their hiding place, and they flew out into the street. Each was completely inside out, and still wiggling and writhing around. Two short men, each blond, came out of the alleyway. They had neat hair, clean clothes, and, for some reason, held swords. One of them had two. Alexander looked at them and quickly turned away, hiding his face. The dwarf grunted, and Ryan didn’t know what to do. They looked at the trio as if it were an ordinary day. The one with two katanas approached Ryan and kneeled. “I have traveled for years in search of you, my lord. Please, take this sword as a gift from your followers.” Ryan was speechless. He looked around, and Alexander whispered in his ear, “Take it.” He gingerly took the katana and attached it onto the belt. He felt renewed as it started to glow. The other elf kneeled also, and started speaking to the taller one. “You have chosen well, Beleragh. We may leave, now.” “Wait, I have some questions…” The two men disappeared, like dust in a strong breeze. Ryan wondered what was going on, and collapsed on himself in exasperation. He decided that he wouldn’t move from that spot until he was given answers. DAY 15, 9:00 PM Alexander had dragged Ryan into a nearby house, and the dwarf wandered off. Alexander told Ryan that he was trying to find answers, too. So far, Alexander was useful, but Ryan was sure he would die sooner than later. With the way he fought, with blind rage, he was surprised the warrior had even survived this long. With new speculation, Ryan noticed that Alexander didn’t have a spot of dirt on him, nor did he stink. Strange. The warrior had seen at least a week of straight combat, but no blood or stink was on him. And, as far as Ryan knew, no water faucets ran anymore, and the nearest river was three miles away. With this thought came great thirst and hunger, and he decided to let himself sleep once more before heading towards the river. DAY 16, 10:00 AM Alexander returned late Monday morning, and Ryan pretended he was asleep. The warrior set down a large bucket of water, and a rabbit. On his back was another bucket, half full, and two other rabbits, each skinned and cooked. Ryan began to open an eye, but Alexander walked away before Ryan could thank him. The door slammed quietly behind him, and Ryan bolted up in the bed. The rabbit was on a plate, and a large cup was sitting next to the bucket. As Ryan began to eat, he began to recall some strange conversations between him and Alexander. “I hear things,” he said, simply one time. “Things?” Ryan echoed. “Everything; all things that there are to hear. I hear even your silent, mental pleas for this nightmare to end. I hear the dwarf, wishing to be gone. I hear the hellhounds, knowing that they kill for no reason, and I feel their joy.” Ryan looked quizzically at Alexander. “That’s… impossible.” “Not so, only improbable. You have much to learn, before… I tell you how.” That was all Ryan could get out of Alexander that day. The rest of it he just meandered about, looking for food and supplies. He was very skilled and smart, if not a genius. After Ryan was eating Alexander barged in too quickly for Ryan to lie back down; a set of clothes, just right for Ryan, was set down hastily. Alexander paced the room nervously, muttering. “Get those on, now,” was all he managed to say. The clothes were colorful and warm, but uncomfortable and scratchy. He actually likes them, a little bit. DAY 16, 10:13 Zander looked around him. Dank gas and moist air made him sweat, and he started to get nervous. “Calm yourself.” Zander swirled around, looking in every direction, trying to find the source. He saw no one, and started to run. He didn’t care. Witnessing his own death had shattered his confidence in survival. “I said STOP!” Zander stopped. His employer, Danak, stood before him now. All he could see of his god-like boss was a holo-screen, which only showed his head. “Why did you die?” he asked simply. “I thought…” “I did not pay you to think!” Danak interrupted. “I paid you to destroy Earth and remake it!” Zander sighed and started to walked off, but n ethereal hellhound stopped him. “I will give you another body, and you will finish your job. If you’re lucky, I might even let you have something to ride…” The screen disappeared, and Zander started to scowl, but he was interrupted by swirling and violent winds, which brought him down to Earth in a new human body. Day 16, Noon It was sunny enough outside. In several areas, the sunlight seemed particularly bright in certain areas, but not too bright for Zander’s new body. He was riding on a very primitive motorcycle, and was only carrying a simple .9MM Heckler & Koch, with only .329 caliber. He was disappointed, but it would prove efficient against simple humans. The first batch of humans he came across was behind a wall of dead bodies, mainly human, but some were hellhounds. They had explosive bullets, a new invention, and missed easily. One shot to the gore wall had body parts flying everywhere, and sent the humans running like small animals. As one ran, Zander shot him squarely in the face, sending him flying. The second shot himself in the frenzy, and the last man somehow got behind a brick wall. This would be tougher than Zander thought. The human lifted his gun up, a very large mistake in Zander’s eyes, and started to shoot. After the second shot, Zander shot the gun, making it explode. The man screamed. Zander jumped over the wall and pointed his gun down. Still in the air, Zander cleared the humans head off his shoulder. The bullet made a channel within the mans throat, but did not go through his body. This made Zander thoroughly. The gun had low-powder bullets, so they wouldn’t go through a human. He tore the shell out of the other humans skull, and concluded they the bullets were also hollow-tipped. Ups and downs, Zander thought; grand. He got back on his Harley and rode off, in hunt for more contemptible humans. Day 16, 9 PM Ryan felt ill at ease in the new clothes, but they would have to do. They were sanitary and new. Again, they would have to do. He forgot his sword in the room, and started to return and get it, but Alexander declined. Ryan would have to do without it. He was grumpy for a whole two minutes, before he saw a man on a motorcycle ride in their direction. “Who is that? I though we killed Jeremy?” Two shots rang out, and impulse forced Ryan and Alexander to get behind barricades, each made of brick, with small holes for guns to shoot through. Another man, whom they found wandering the street three blocks south. He was armed with a high-powered assault rifle. The other man stopped his bike, and Ryan nearly gasped. It looked just like Jeremy, but with no bullet wounds anywhere. Alexander grimaced, and the other man didn’t know what to do. Jeremy fired at an empty opening, and the ricochet and clipped the new man. He winced, and fired back, but missed by about three feet. Jeremy chuckled, and Alexander threw out a frag grenade. It exploded, but Jeremy still stood, proud and tall. He took another step forward, and the newcomer shot him in the face, the powerful bullet going straight through his head. Jeremy’s smile faded, and he began to fall to the ground. Ryan and Alexander recognized this feign, but the other man did not, and rose to cheer. Jeremy shot him in the chest once, sending him flailing over other dead bodies, all of which were hellhounds. Alexander cursed, but held his position, and fired his recently acquired chaingun. Jeremy took each hollow-point bullet in his chest, but didn’t falter in his steps. He walked surely towards the wall, and Alexander stopped firing, and crawled inside as Jeremy shot the sniper-hole. Alexander made a noise as if it hit, but crept away. Jeremy fired at Ryan’s wall, but he was too transfixed on the dead accomplice to make any noise. Jeremy sneak around behind Ryan, and started to fire. Ryan, somehow, turned around and shot Jeremy square in the head with an exploding bullet in the same time it took a hollow-point bullet to find his forehead. Jeremy fell to the ground, all of his wounds finally leaking. His job was apparently finished, and he shook spasmodically before stopping. He didn’t move for hours, but Alexander prudently stayed inside, two pistols still aimed at the dead body. At eleven that evening, he passed out from fatigue. Day 17, 1 AM “Why?!” Zander screamed at Danak. “Why what?” came the serene reply. “Why did you let me die?” he screamed back, infuriated at Danak’s sereneness. “You had done your job, Zander, and it would be prudent to shut up right now, before I erase your existence.” Zander would not give up. “I thought I had to destroy the last humans on Earth?” “No, it wasn’t. Your original mission was, but it was interrupted by that fifth human you killed. Your new mission was to repress the human uprising, which would be lead by that fifth human. Before you ask, a psychic told me.” Zander shrugged, and waved good-bye to his ex-employer.
i was going ot do somthing along the lines of the body clock or what ever basically a torso with an open chest filled with like the insides of watches and bolts etc like clockwork or somin im not good at explaining
psh... i guess my sig now would be some of my best, it would take way to long to go through my like, 20 pages of photobucket libraray..
