<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' gd:etag='W/&quot;CEQMRn84eSp7ImA9WhZUFkU.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4522065959229597447</id><updated>2011-06-09T22:06:27.131-07:00</updated><title>Hell City Anthology</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default?redirect=false&amp;v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Brandon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16449534580640518767</uri><email>spyhippo@gmail.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CEQMRn8_eyp7ImA9WhZUFkU.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4522065959229597447.post-6342540964215476308</id><published>2011-06-09T22:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-09T22:06:27.143-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2011-06-09T22:06:27.143-07:00</app:edited><title>A Jokers Paradise</title><content type='html'>I want what i deserve, and i deserve it all&lt;br /&gt;
When its my time to shine, this world will fall&lt;br /&gt;
When i meet grim death, right at hells gate&lt;br /&gt;
Ill laugh in his face, For he cant stop fate&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When the world is angry, and they give me a lashing&lt;br /&gt;
Ill bide my time, and give it the worse thrashing&lt;br /&gt;
Ill burn this world to the ground&lt;br /&gt;
Ill make it suffer, but ill make it sound&lt;br /&gt;
Even in space theyll hear the cries.&lt;br /&gt;
Finally, ill rip off the humans mask of lies&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ill make them face the fate I hold in my hand&lt;br /&gt;
Ill make them see just where they Stand...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And as I laugh at the hell to arise&lt;br /&gt;
Youll look at me, and stare deep into my eyes&lt;br /&gt;
Youll see a devil, longing for power&lt;br /&gt;
And ill see that its my final hour&lt;br /&gt;
Ill present you with the knife, to wipe away my sin&lt;br /&gt;
Ill kiss you one last time, and youll forgive what ive been&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Because even in my darkest hour, when I rip this wretched world in two&lt;br /&gt;
I want you to know, i still love you...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4522065959229597447-6342540964215476308?l=spyhippo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/feeds/6342540964215476308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/jokers-paradise.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/6342540964215476308?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/6342540964215476308?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/jokers-paradise.html' title='A Jokers Paradise'/><author><name>Brandon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16449534580640518767</uri><email>spyhippo@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05807423764147986020'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;A0MDQ3Y_fyp7ImA9WhZUEE8.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4522065959229597447.post-5472197015420699049</id><published>2011-06-02T08:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-02T08:44:32.847-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2011-06-02T08:44:32.847-07:00</app:edited><title>A Brief Summary of the life of a henchman</title><content type='html'>The Everyday life of a henchmen....&lt;br /&gt;
7 AM:Wakes up...brushes teeth...&lt;br /&gt;
8 AM:finishes getting ready/puts on mandatory evil guy outfit&lt;br /&gt;
9 AM:heads to work/leaves sleeping quarters...&lt;br /&gt;
9:30 AM:Spends the next half hour thinking of how life could have been different&lt;br /&gt;
11 AM:Issued task for the day...pees his pants when he finds out its to assault super hero&lt;br /&gt;
12 PM:begins thinking of what his mom said...about being a doctor&lt;br /&gt;
1 PM:Is on guard...probably conversing with other henchmen...&lt;br /&gt;
2PM:Catches sight of super hero&lt;br /&gt;
3 PM:hyperventalating but overly estatic..slightly freaked out that half of his team mates are dead, but that the hero is caught&lt;br /&gt;
4 pm:takes hero to evil villian to hear boring master plan again&lt;br /&gt;
5-8 pm:Set to guard Good guy&lt;br /&gt;
9 pm or earlier:injured on the job during good guys heroic escape&lt;br /&gt;
10 pm:rushes to the hospital, only to find out his Evil Boss was lying about health insurance&lt;br /&gt;
11pm:He stil gets treated, however with an amputated arm.&lt;br /&gt;
12 AM:Finds out his boss has died...he is jobless....&lt;br /&gt;
1:finally returns home to cry himself to sleep....also henchmen dont get many lunch breaks...he was probably hungry too...yes he ate then slept! Maybe he didnt cry either? I mean maybe hes optomistic!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4522065959229597447-5472197015420699049?l=spyhippo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/feeds/5472197015420699049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/brief-summary-of-life-of-henchman.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/5472197015420699049?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/5472197015420699049?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/brief-summary-of-life-of-henchman.html' title='A Brief Summary of the life of a henchman'/><author><name>Brandon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16449534580640518767</uri><email>spyhippo@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05807423764147986020'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;CE8ARH49eyp7ImA9WhZVGUQ.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4522065959229597447.post-2196440223848632724</id><published>2011-06-01T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T22:34:05.063-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2011-06-01T22:34:05.063-07:00</app:edited><title>Hell City Anthology Continues</title><content type='html'>about the story :its some old 20 stories of anthology I once did and it feels like ages ago...I sort of rushes near the end of it but ill post the orignial story regularly, and then when its done ill begin writing some new stuff..maybe ill redo the anthology and make it better...share your thoughts?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Assasin&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I am death. I grew up in death. Born to a dead mother, a fatherk illed himself in grief. My brothers died from starvation on the streets. Even the little rats which kept me company on lonely, hungry nights had to die..Little bastards only life like two years...Either that or I had to cook them to live..I was born in death so being asked to kill The Avenger wasnt any biggy. I had followed him to some murky bar. I entered into the back door and watched as he approached The one called Knight with a sword..I decided itd be amusing. As he began to position the knife for a swift kill stroke the Knight Laughed..I couldnt hear what they said exactly, but suddenly they began talking about some girl and what? Cross roads? I looekd about the room. One junky in the corner, one burnt out loon in a suit of armor, and another loon with a big smiley mask he probably paid five bucks for at walmart. SO how in the hell are there five dead men at their feet? Crossroads? As I watched I became so distracted..what is it about the crossroads that bugged me when i heard it. As the clock struck midnight my mind had completely forsaken my mission. I walked out to the middle of the street. A business man in a suit and yellow, horn rimmed glasses showed up, offering a hand to shake. I stayed still. "You came..good Robert Lee..Or should i call you by your code name:assasin?" I was perplexed. I tried to ask him who he was but he interupted my question 'Ah, you only get one favor..now what do you want?" I thought this man was insane..but something inside my head compelled me to listen to him and do as he says...What do I want? I want to avoid the one thing that haunts me..I want to avoid me..I want to avoid death..He handed me some paper, said mark the X. Half of me didnt believe him, but the other half couldnt help but move my hand over the paper. And just like that he vanashed, walking away into mist. I turned around, and stood face to face with These masks..The Avenger and The Knight, both seemed to notice what had gone on, as if they knew the man all their life. Like a childhood friend, except the childhood friend you screwed your lfie up and made you want revenge, yea. That friend. Hell I could take em right? I couldnt die...God I wish I could..I drew a blade and tossed one at each of them. the Avenger Bounced it away with his own knife, the Knight, old and frigid, took it right in the torso. Too easy, right? The Avenger now stood over his fallen comrade, and gave me the perfect chance to take him out. Death beats all, even those who always succeed, it will claim this just as it does the losers in life. Avenger was both a loser and a winner. He lost his friend that night, but he won his life for that moment. I fell to the ground in horrible pain, it felt as if someone was drilling into my skull. I cant die though...So there I lay, burried in a coffin. My nerves to my body completely disconnected. the only thing im able to do is wish I never made the deal..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Woman:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Im Rebecca Parsons. My team called me Snow. Twenty years ago I was hot stuff, now I just want to see my friends again. Is that so much to ask? Can the dealer make me another deal or can the Doctor simply let me go? SHIT. Can I just get a drink? There was one among us who never took a name, nor did he ever share his own. We just called him the hero, he always seemed to know what to do to get us out of the Situation. He just somehow knew..He let us escape once from the mental hospital, god knows what happened to them. The deal i made: for this team not to be together. Well perhaps it wasnt the best wish. While we were in the hospital, and after we escaped I loved them. I loved them all. You can call me a whore or a slut and I know it wasnt right but. I couldnt help myself..anyways that was a long time ago. I still love them all. As I sit in a cage with this Insane Doc bastard rambling about some "special core" I only have one thought..I only want to see them again...maybe theres a soft spot in hell for us. Thats the best hope I can have now..if god can see it in his heart to at least let me suffer with them..but I dont even deserve that, after what I let loose...Now I sit here...waiting for a hero..or a monster&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Doctor:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Im impressed. I sent the assasin not to kill them, I knew he would fail at that. I sent him out to test them. I am Doctor Aushivan. Twenty years ago I worked at a mental institution, where I stumbled upon a set of special patients. One patients Mouth we had to staple shut, it seemed no matter what he said people would listen to him..Another patient seemed to always delight in the situation, for christ sakes he somehow always got liquor in his time. Another kept talking about vengeance, while an older man always told him it would be alright. The next block over we had a gambler, no matter what risk he took he always seemed to come out on top. Always made a profit, and for some reason people were simply compelled to go with it. He practicly won most the patients medication. When I tried to confiscate it I couldnt help but make a bet with him, he came out on top..Lucky bastard. I was not quite sure of the speciality of the last male, but a certain female seemed to charm these six men in ways id never seen. She was Nostalgic, romantic. Even I wanted her...I got her too..The night they broke out I had my way with that woman. Perhaps that was the edge that caused them all to escape. I couldnt help it, i had to show her that I loved her and she loved me..I had to force her to see. And god she waas beautiful. That was twenty years ago..since that night I lost my liscence to practice. They may haev taken away the paperwork but I was never more inspired to look into these bizarre people. The monst interesting occurence however; the girl was pregnant. The bastard child could have them all as a father, anythings possible with this bunch. I spent the next twenty years in the city, tracking them down. tracking down my love. The child called for me. And for the last twenty years since its birth it has layed in a tank, isolated from the world so I could watch it grow. Sometimes I fear it, sometimes I am proud to call it my bastard son. The possibilites are endless. And when he broke out in furry, I looked at him with pride almost, as my child had developed power I had never seen. As I bleed to death on this wall, i na ruined laboratory; the woman freed and my scientist helper dead I am filled with pride, that my legacy has such an impact..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Scientist.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;That idiot doctor is proud of what he made. He has no idea the cotastrophe which is unfolded. I am but a humble scientist, I have worked with my team on this child for nineteen years. In nineteen years he had done nothing, and then the Doctor had to go after that woman. With her incarcerated I dont know what set the boy off. These monsters which the Doctor "helped" have..powers over others. She must have called to this ragtag team. Misfit bastards they are..But I dont knwo what came over me..I stared at the bastard monster and something inside me told me to let him free..When he was free he spoke for the first time in nineteen years. he told me it was okay..he told me to put the gun to my head. He told me to pull the trigger...as My body fell limp..I somehow still thought it would be okay..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Hell Hound&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I am you. I am they...Twenty years ago I was born, thanks to that womans wish I existed between seven individuals. I am the hound that works for the dealer. I want what he wants, he was the father of these seven afterall. And I am their Achetype. I am them. Twenty years ago they were banded together, these hell hounds were close and one because they thought as one. I am that one they thought as..as they split up my power weakened, but hope was born. A child, Bastard son to them all but one. I exist inside him too..Hell, I am him. Though inside the others I had little control, I could raise this childs mind. be his guardian. Tell him when it was time to leave. When I sensed the coming of those seven, their dark reunion my power was once again strong enough to help my boy..to help me..As long as they are together, and as long as that woman thinks of their bond I will only increase this boys power, in ways they never dreamed. I only hope, they have joined with the one I cannot sense..The Devils Misjudged Deal.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Avenger(3):&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The bastard killed The Knight! Oh well..if he died that means he died happily..at least it wasnt me who had to kill him. But still...am I in some way, to blame for his death? No. I got no time to think about that. My adreniline is still pumping, and before this night is done much more blood shall be shed. With a new take on the vengeance...My son...My comrade...My god damn conviction! my beliefs! If they take my vengeance..I only have myself to blame..I need this. Something in my head told me where to head next. I had to find the boss. Before the knight died he told me that if the stakes are high enough hed come find me. Bull...I broke into his base, its location somehow ringed clear as day. One by one, I killed his men. Petty gang members, they cannot kill me. Their sorrow is too few..Only One of my team mates has that power. So Slive after slive, chip after chip I gambled on this and won. Ill take the elevator to the top floor. The Boss always did have a kick for the highlights. Im curious though as to why the elevator wont work. I look out the side of the glass. A man stands there, mouth stapled shut. Dear god Rick..what did they do to you?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4522065959229597447-2196440223848632724?l=spyhippo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/feeds/2196440223848632724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/hell-city-anthology-continues.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/2196440223848632724?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/2196440223848632724?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/hell-city-anthology-continues.html' title='Hell City Anthology Continues'/><author><name>Brandon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16449534580640518767</uri><email>spyhippo@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05807423764147986020'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;Ck4ERX44eSp7ImA9WhZVGUo.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4522065959229597447.post-2170349100138231438</id><published>2011-06-01T13:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T16:28:24.031-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2011-06-01T16:28:24.031-07:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stories'/><title>The story of the boy who cried demon</title><content type='html'>someone said it in a byond game called Phoenix Sundered earth XD so i thought id finish it!&lt;br /&gt;
Twas a long time ago! Many ages! Probably more then YOU willl ever know existed! (so one plus whatever age you are) There was a boy! A little boy! Who, like normal boys, dreamed of gum drops and ice cream! And like most normal boys he owned an xbox, which evolved his dreams from gumdrops and ice cream to Gun shots and icing! a hoe that is!&lt;br /&gt;
Once the boy was asked to guard heaven! Now..it seems pretty stupid to leave a boy to guard heaven im sure...but ya know what? Your a jerk...know why? Cause you just HAD to point that out huh? Jerk....if your a jerk then your stupid...maybe your the boy? Anyways if you need an excuse the last guardian of heavens gates was fired for incompetence so they were left with a kid! Better? Good! lets get on with it!...jerk....&lt;br /&gt;
One day the boy was SOOO bored! And like any small boy he decided to pull a prank on heaven! and He cried "DEMON DEMON!" as loud as he could! and everyone came running, because if a demon was at heavens gate then all the horrible apocolyptic signs were to be happening! It was a big deal! so big infact it was not to be joked about..the apacolypse started prematurely! and The second coming came! Then the earth was sreigned down upon by fiery and god-like vengeance the likes of which no one had ever seen! And up in heaven many a person was &amp;nbsp;judged and sentenced...the world had met its end..maybe a few survived...but that was all...&lt;br /&gt;
Anyways the boy told the crowd after all the commotion was over "False alarm everyone!" and they decided to forgive him cause...come on..jesus was leading the crowd and he forgives EVERYONE...why do you think hes not the judge of heaven? I mean hed let anyone in! Freakin goody two shoes...but hey! He forgave him! Well the next day Jesus was sick in bed! And the boy was guarding the place yet again! and he so wonderfully called out "DEMON DEMON!" and the second apocolypse happened, flooding the corpses of earth with an infection that made the dead walk with the living..the zombie was born...and only a few remaining humans fought off the plague..others hid in underground bunkers never to see the light for a hundred years, as nuclear arms were set off to destroy the zombie invasion..&lt;br /&gt;
Will the dick-head boy who thought this was funny had a good laugh, then when everyone came running they were pissed...and he was sent to hell where Satan sent him to double hell! For ruining his plans of domination before hand by making the angels aware that demons could invade their gates....&lt;br /&gt;
The moral of the story...never EVER shout out the word demon around angels! those guys CAN NOT TAKE A JOKE! also the kid was a jerk..dont be a jerk...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4522065959229597447-2170349100138231438?l=spyhippo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/feeds/2170349100138231438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/story-of-boy-who-cried-demon.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/2170349100138231438?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/2170349100138231438?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/story-of-boy-who-cried-demon.html' title='The story of the boy who cried demon'/><author><name>Brandon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16449534580640518767</uri><email>spyhippo@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05807423764147986020'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;Ck8FQXw8fSp7ImA9WhZVGUo.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4522065959229597447.post-4777704624150423024</id><published>2011-06-01T10:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T16:26:50.275-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2011-06-01T16:26:50.275-07:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hell City'/><title>Hell City Anthology Part Two</title><content type='html'>The Scum&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The bastard came out of nowhere! Fuck a part of me was glad to see him, the other part knew what he wanted. I worked with the team back in the day..My wish on that night: To have fun. This may sound common but all I could do was have fun. Killin myself aint fun, couldnt do it. If getting shot isnt fun, wont have that. Back then I torched down an entire city and laughed at every single puppy dog eye and moan and sob I got. It was somehow euphoric...and Her..Oh man...She was so fine...he body screamed to me..And rejection isnt fun...I got a taste of the woman of my dreams. I was Her love, I know it! But hey..that was twenty years ago...now I work for The Boss...Everyone deserves a last meal right? Mine:a shitty pizza and cheap beer, while some gutter loving junky eyed me down..For some odd reason...no..I dont know how it happened. Being stabbed isnt fun. Maybe it was the whiskey then..I dont know how I came to let down my guard. Before I knew it I was face first on the ground the broken glass my face landed next to reflected a bloody smiley face..I laughed as it whispered to me "Soldier, special Corp. Dishonorable Discharge; betrayed by his people..We go back a long way Jim...Having Fun?" He laughed, I started cracking up a bit myself, thought it was an old friend pulling a gag..that is until I felt the sting of a blade go into my calf...Not very fun...I began to get to my feet, this type of wound may cripple a normal man, but being crippled isnt fun is it? So why was I laughing? "Back then..." the smile muttered "we called ya the scum...you took delight in every dirty deed you did. You remember that code name? Here..I knew that wouldnt really hurt you..take a drink.." He handed my a half empty bottle of some murky liquor. I swished it down before nailing him in the face for stabbing me. Looking back I should have thought how odd it was for the Avenger of all people to let his guard down for that. He kicked back behind the dumpster, the dirty junky seemed asleep so we had some alone time, talking about the good ol days. Talking about the horrific hell fires, the screams, the training, the funny man at the cross roads...Yep..fun times..We got to a point where he wanted to discuss The Boss..I was shocked, that was the one man I knew he wanted vengeance on..he was however, My Boss now too...I knew i shouldnt have told him all i did but for some reason it was..fun...I told him I didnt know where he was, but I knew where an old friend who worked for him is. Before we said our goodbyes though he turned to me..and the smile on the mask seemed smaller then the sick smile he must have been hiding.. He held out his knife..."Thanks for the memories old friend..." He said in a gleefull tone "But they arent memories I care to remember..." In one quick jester I found a knife inside my stomach..As I began to lose vision I saw something on the floor next to the damned junky..Molly...I had been drugged bad...I passed out I had one last thought.."This was...fun..?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Knight&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;My codename was The Knight back in the day. I attacked that town in chainmail and a sword. I had been trained well in many arts of combat, and though my work with the government had proved questionable, i never thought theyd ask as such without good reason, then betray us when the chips are down. After I escaped the mental institution I spent the next twenty years of my life curled up inside a bottle, drinking away the horrors as bessed I could. So there I sat that night, in a damp, dark bar. It was already a bad night, some weird looking junky eyed me at a table in the back. As he did Some asshole punk came up to me. They asked me why I was dressed in a knights suit with a sword. As they laughed I told them to piss off. Ever strike a bees nest? They were five men to one worn out man in a suit. They struck the hornets nest. The one to the far left, with some awesome skull tatoo swung a fist to me. The idiot his the armor and busted his hand. I sighed as I got up...They jumped when they thought they had the chance to, two seconds later there were four dead men in eight equal, bloody parts. As I turned around smiling at my work, it seemed one of them was smart enough to point a gun to my mouth. "This was it..." I thought.."no..am I happy?" as I flashed back in a cliche memory clip to the story of my life the man dropped to the ground. It seems some fried hole was in the back of his head, I looked around, I saw no one who seemed to be my ally..Why did they kill this man? Its a question I still wonder in my grave. as I sat back down in the bloody mess and poured a new drink, a Big, yellow smile waved to me...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Avenger(2)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The Knight...One of the few of my old comrades I dont want to stab in the head. Too bad I sorta have to. His deal with the dealer was by far the oddest one..While we all asked for the poweer to win, he in turn asked for his last thought to simply be a happy one. I guess with the horror we were about to cause, he knew it would be needed. Im bewildered at the moment though. Here I sit next to a raggidy old "knight" in a run down bar covered in blood. Least I got to see him again. Least I got to see my mentor. As I approached him with a tear in my eye, knife drawn, he did not try to defend himself. "Ya know Chay..Im happy.." I paused.."heh..lookin back...she loved me didnt she?" Rest in peace Knight..you taught me what I needed to know..you were the only good man out of us all..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4522065959229597447-4777704624150423024?l=spyhippo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/feeds/4777704624150423024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/hell-city-anthology-part-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/4777704624150423024?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/4777704624150423024?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/hell-city-anthology-part-two.html' title='Hell City Anthology Part Two'/><author><name>Brandon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16449534580640518767</uri><email>spyhippo@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05807423764147986020'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;Ck8DQHw-fip7ImA9WhZVGUo.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4522065959229597447.post-7731592247553357878</id><published>2011-06-01T01:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T16:27:51.256-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2011-06-01T16:27:51.256-07:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ideas and real blogs'/><title>Reality a Fantasy (feel free to comment your own oppinion)</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; The Reality Of Reality&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Do we live in our own head?&lt;br /&gt;
"Cogito Ergo Sum; "I think therefore I am"( René Descartes). The reality in&lt;br /&gt;
which the Human Brain rebels is constantly interrupted by ones own thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;
You cannot cease self controlled thought beyond sleep, in which case thought is&lt;br /&gt;
still constant and reoccurring. However thought itself can be justified as&lt;br /&gt;
responses to interpretations made by the human brain. In turn, it can be inferred&lt;br /&gt;
that if dreams can be created in which the character we play believes such&lt;br /&gt;
scenarios to be real, we, in turn, suffer from a delusion which we believe to be&lt;br /&gt;
real. Imagine back to your most in-depth dream. In this dream a character you&lt;br /&gt;
followed was portrayed, along with other scenarios, by your own mind. You&lt;br /&gt;
controlled such a scenario in a sub-omniscient view, however what could happen&lt;br /&gt;
in such a dream is still able to stimulate some degree of shock to yourself. As&lt;br /&gt;
humans we are gifted with the unique ability to create our own interpretation, and&lt;br /&gt;
in turn our own world. However, is this truly able to be called freedom, or slavery&lt;br /&gt;
to our own design? (Osho Dhammapada Volume 9; Canning, Bard "The Death&lt;br /&gt;
Delusion")&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt; “If real is what you can feel, smell, taste and see, then ‘real’ is simply&lt;br /&gt;
electrical signals interpreted by your brain.”-Morpheus. In our current reality our&lt;br /&gt;
body is the vessel of an endless amount of nerve endings and signals. An&lt;br /&gt;
Electrical impulse, when interpreted by the brain, can mean pleasure for one&lt;br /&gt;
man then pain for another. When broken down, reality becomes two main points&lt;br /&gt;
of stimuli: Electrical stimulation, and the way our brain interprets such. &lt;br /&gt;
Therefore, electrical stimuli influence brain interpretation, which influences&lt;br /&gt;
stimuli in the next scenario our body will endure(eating, fighting, loving, buying,&lt;br /&gt;
etc.) If our mentality is truly slave to its self-determined responses there are few&lt;br /&gt;
scenarios in which our conscious mind(ourselves) can take:We can rebel against&lt;br /&gt;
the mind by resisting our own instinct of what to do and not to do, we can&lt;br /&gt;
attempt to exceed such capacities through mental highs, or we can accept such&lt;br /&gt;
delusion as a real enough truth. (The Matrix, 1999; Canning Bard)&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Tyler Durden once stated "The things you own end up owning you.." Think&lt;br /&gt;
of this past simple material possession such as electronics, store bought&lt;br /&gt;
appliances, and Ikea. You not only own your material possessions, you own the&lt;br /&gt;
love you've been given by others, the rank in your job you've earned, and the&lt;br /&gt;
dignity you've left yourself with. All These attributes contribute to what you do on&lt;br /&gt;
a daily basis. You hope not to burn down the house so you turn off the stove;&lt;br /&gt;
you hope for promotion so you brown nose your superiors; you may look in the&lt;br /&gt;
mirror and credit yourself because you do not want your pride jeopardized. The&lt;br /&gt;
inevitable truth behind this is that your possessions, whether mental, spiritual, or&lt;br /&gt;
physical, are compelling your actions. If you take this concept and imagine reality&lt;br /&gt;
as stimulation then your mind creates rewards, punishments, and possession&lt;br /&gt;
which drives your own delusion. Of course Tyler Durden was a delusion of the&lt;br /&gt;
Main character in the book Fight Club his words still ring a reality. In turn, the&lt;br /&gt;
only way to rebel against your delusion is to rebel against the society you see.&lt;br /&gt;
This, however, does not need to mean burning down your house and quitting&lt;br /&gt;
your job. Since the beginning of time there have been those who stood up&lt;br /&gt;
against society for better, or for worse.(Chuck, Palahniuk Fight Club 1996)&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In the 70s civil rights activists flourished to combat the "reality" in which&lt;br /&gt;
they had to live in. They combated the accepting nature of man by attempting to&lt;br /&gt;
change the reality around them. Though heroic this concept can only be&lt;br /&gt;
acceptable if you see anything wrong in society, and choose to rebel against&lt;br /&gt;
them in "realistic" ways. You do not need to picket and march however, Stan Lee&lt;br /&gt;
of Marvel Comics combated injustice by writing comics, his "X-MEN" were also&lt;br /&gt;
his opinion and take on civil rights. To affect the outside world he created a&lt;br /&gt;
dimension which reflected natural problems in supernatural ways( Meigs1997;&lt;br /&gt;
55)This is but one proof that by bending reality in his mind, by going with the&lt;br /&gt;
imaginary flow, one can change the outside world.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;However noble the quests of these activists were, other activists could&lt;br /&gt;
include dictators such as Gengis Kahn, Modern-Day Kim John, and the ever&lt;br /&gt;
memorable Adolf Hitler.Though their methods were questionable at best, the end&lt;br /&gt;
result was taking their ideas and attempting to make such a reality in reality.&lt;br /&gt;
Even if you don't think of reality as nothing but mental interpretation, there is no&lt;br /&gt;
end to imagination; and if that becomes reality there is no end to the power of&lt;br /&gt;
what you can imagine.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Your imagination can prove fierce, so much so that Jhonen Vasquiz&lt;br /&gt;
(Creator of Invader Zim and Johnny the Homicidal Maniac) and his associates&lt;br /&gt;
would sometimes phrase it as "That little monster." Jhonen however was an&lt;br /&gt;
artist and comic book writer, and let his destructive monster free in realities he&lt;br /&gt;
would know he created. By making comics and cartoons he let his "Monster"&lt;br /&gt;
Free for a stroll, without affecting "reality." In fact, every fictional book, movie, or&lt;br /&gt;
story comes with its own dreamland, free for conscious creation; Be it Sin City,&lt;br /&gt;
Gotham, or even Hogwarts. In Conclusion to his pathway, if you do wish to rebel&lt;br /&gt;
against the ideas of reality you can fight the society you see before you, or&lt;br /&gt;
create your own. In either scenario however consequences will follow, whether&lt;br /&gt;
real, fake, good, or bad.( Vasquez, Jhonen "A sleep deprived introduction"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;You may interpret that choice as still being under the omnipotent control&lt;br /&gt;
of instinct and subconscious rationality. However much truth this can hold, it only&lt;br /&gt;
determines that one truly cannot control their own mentality. If you cannot control&lt;br /&gt;
however, perhaps you can excel beyond it. (Canning, Bard)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Every culture includes religious ideas, a land beyond land. It could be a pit&lt;br /&gt;
of fire known as hell, cloudy abyss known as heaven, a cycle of reincarnation&lt;br /&gt;
and inner-truth. Though they can be argued as delusions in our reality, arguing&lt;br /&gt;
our own reality only justifies their ability to be true. If religious land can be truth&lt;br /&gt;
however, so can images and hallucinations. If a bent reality from drugs can be&lt;br /&gt;
true then, Ego Death becomes its bible.(Walter Houston Clark,"The Psychedelics&lt;br /&gt;
and Religion" 1970 )&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Ego death is not true death(if true death exists in this philosophy), it is&lt;br /&gt;
best defined as....."a sense of being controlled by frozen block-universe&lt;br /&gt;
determinism with a single, pre-existing, ever-existing future. Experiencing this&lt;br /&gt;
model of control and time initially destabilizes self-control power, and amounts to&lt;br /&gt;
the death of the self that was conceived of as an autonomous control-agent.&lt;br /&gt;
Self-control stability is restored upon transforming one's mental model to take&lt;br /&gt;
into account the dependence of personal control on a hidden, separate thought-&lt;br /&gt;
source, such as Necessity or a divine level that transcends Necessity"-&lt;br /&gt;
Anonymous. In Ego Death one will most likely succumb to an out of body&lt;br /&gt;
experience, in which consciousness travels beyond physical coil into a realm of&lt;br /&gt;
which they have no control, except for interpretation. You could end up in a&lt;br /&gt;
destroyed city, a forest burning black, a hive under invasion, or anything; it can&lt;br /&gt;
all be beyond what you thought imaginable as well. To succumb to this realm&lt;br /&gt;
one must give up on self-control. whether they know they do or not, that is the&lt;br /&gt;
concept behind the death of the ego; the death of the need for self control.&lt;br /&gt;
(Walter Houston Clark)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Attaining Ego Death requires controversial means, for the most part. It&lt;br /&gt;
usually attained by allusiveness such as lsd, DXM, shrooms, DMT, etc. If such&lt;br /&gt;
acts don't suit you it is also said to be reached by meditation. One can attempt to&lt;br /&gt;
"Pry open" their "Third eye" through meditative process. Whether through&lt;br /&gt;
hallucinogens or deep meditation the state known as Ego Death is hard to attain,&lt;br /&gt;
and can vanish almost as quickly as it becomes apparent. Ego Death and drug&lt;br /&gt;
trips are but a few means to stretch your mind beyond reality, however. As the&lt;br /&gt;
authors look for control in the dimension you can be the audience, accepting the&lt;br /&gt;
words presented for fun. Movies and stories show a in-depth differentiation&lt;br /&gt;
between our world and another, almost like a split universe. Infact, if the quotes&lt;br /&gt;
of men such as Morpheus and Tyler Durden can ring true, its possible their&lt;br /&gt;
emotions can affect your empathy as well. In short, seemingly artificial scenarios&lt;br /&gt;
can affect your superficial emotions and stimuli. In such a case, you have&lt;br /&gt;
exceeded your own reality by stepping onto the edges of another, while obeying&lt;br /&gt;
the laws your mind laid out as well.(Walter Houston Clark;Kaufman, Carolyn &amp;nbsp;"A&lt;br /&gt;
Primer on Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious")&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Ergo, escape from our dimension does not have to be by some physical&lt;br /&gt;
mean. In extensive thought however, the perception gained through such mental&lt;br /&gt;
means is nothing more then perishable adventures our mind creates. In this&lt;br /&gt;
sense our subconscious mind truly does control us, however it is also agreeable&lt;br /&gt;
such a mentality is attempting to please our stimulus. The only conclusion&lt;br /&gt;
gathered by idea behind resisting and going beyond the mind is such: If our mind&lt;br /&gt;
or another truly is creating an omnipresent reality for us, it is doing a righteously&lt;br /&gt;
powerful job to keep us entranced. The Ultimate Ultimatum behind the concept&lt;br /&gt;
of reality not being truth, is to go with the idea as truth. Georgle Orwell's most&lt;br /&gt;
powerfully message is "Power corrupts" however perhaps it goes beyond&lt;br /&gt;
something as simple as society. If you gained omnipotence over your own mind,&lt;br /&gt;
it is improbable that you'd experience the same pleasures that of a common man&lt;br /&gt;
would. You would be able to bend the concept of "reality" and even transcend&lt;br /&gt;
the mental law of death, however with such free will over will the game of life&lt;br /&gt;
could become meaningless.(Canning, Bard)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;'Have you ever had a dream, Neo, that you were so sure was real? What&lt;br /&gt;
if you were unable to wake from that dream? How would you know the difference&lt;br /&gt;
between the dream world and the real world?”-Morpheus. In examination of this&lt;br /&gt;
philosophy it is likely that a human would want out of the dream world. This&lt;br /&gt;
promotes the one flaw and true beauty in being a human; irrationality. In the&lt;br /&gt;
concept that the reality you see is a dream you can wake up from one would&lt;br /&gt;
want to awake undoubtedly, however in the dream we feel we are given the&lt;br /&gt;
stimulation of food, water, love, hate, pain, pleasure, and the luxury of most&lt;br /&gt;
anything our mind allows us. In the reality which can extinguish this "dream&lt;br /&gt;
world" it is likely to be a hell. "Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent&lt;br /&gt;
one.”-Albert Einstein. If you ignore human nature to rebel against design, you are&lt;br /&gt;
left with a comfortable coma of wonder, just as real as any reality could be.&lt;br /&gt;
Perhaps this is not the point such fictional and real men tried to make, but the&lt;br /&gt;
argument I give you as such: Consider reality you live In a creation of your own&lt;br /&gt;
imagination; if your mind gave this purgatory of bliss and pain it is obviously&lt;br /&gt;
meant to be entertained with your own actions. To rebel against this system is&lt;br /&gt;
simply another way to go along with it, and to try to rise above it is only extending&lt;br /&gt;
its walls. (Canning, Bard)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Scientists have determined a 20% probably factor that the world you live&lt;br /&gt;
in is a dream world, a simulation for some reason we likely do not want&lt;br /&gt;
knowledge of. If it is such, will it affect your life?(Bostrom, Nick "Do We Live In A&lt;br /&gt;
Computer Simulation?" New Scientist/00 month 2006)As you read this closing&lt;br /&gt;
statement keep in mind, it could simply be your mind telling you not to rebel&lt;br /&gt;
against your system; however, it is science to determine truth, and science is a&lt;br /&gt;
gift of man. Whichever way you choose to interpret this world, you still will have&lt;br /&gt;
impact, and your consequences, whether real or imagines, will be determined.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4522065959229597447-7731592247553357878?l=spyhippo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/feeds/7731592247553357878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/reality-fantasy-feel-free-to-comment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/7731592247553357878?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/7731592247553357878?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/06/reality-fantasy-feel-free-to-comment.html' title='Reality a Fantasy (feel free to comment your own oppinion)'/><author><name>Brandon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16449534580640518767</uri><email>spyhippo@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05807423764147986020'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;Ck8FQXw8fSp7ImA9WhZVGUo.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4522065959229597447.post-60852389582880541</id><published>2011-05-31T23:25:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T16:26:50.275-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2011-06-01T16:26:50.275-07:00</app:edited><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hell City'/><title>Hell City Anthology Part one</title><content type='html'>Hells Metropolis Anthologies: A town that was brought to hell. Its main heros being nothing more then warped kids and tattered memories.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Dealer:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The Boss may run the gangs, The Junky may run the lowlifes, the Avneger May run the chaos, but I run this town. I am the dealer. Its what I go by, its what I went by. I've always been the shadow behind man, given them what they seek. When an end to WWII was saught, it was me who dealt the final hand and gave the U.S. the push it needed. When Julias Ceaser needed to be assasinated it was me who stabbed in his back first. The mystery behind the kennedy family, the conspiracies in the back of your head, that one bad event in history that you may be thinking about right now: All me. If you see me as a murderer though, my hands are clean. I never once pulled the trigger, I only gave people what they wished for. I only dealt them the hand they wanted. I Am the Dealer. I Run this town...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In this situation though, I had seven comrades wish upon my help. I dealt them all what they sought and hoped for. I gave them survival, and I gave them the power to accomplish what they had to. That was twenty years ago and I still remember the blood soaked streets, civillians screaming, and the Metal they all got for slaughtering so many...Its even a bit sick to me, but I only give them what they seek. I am the Dealer. I run this town.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Kid:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;My dad was in the army. He never told me many stories, but the scars across his body told it all. The burns on his legs told the tail of how he rescued civillians from a great explosion. The cut on his right arm was gained from protecting a foreign General from an assasin attack. He is a true hero! But the one scar that always gets me is the bullet hole in his chest, that he earned when his team mates betrayed him. Well, I wanted to be like dad; an undercover hero! Fighting crime and protecting the innocent. All I was thought was an idiot...Dad sometimes muttered some words about "12:00...zero hour" The mental institute they imprisoned him in didnt seem to keep his spirit from forgetting how all this began. I was eager to know but first I had to prove to my dad what I could do. I got into his closet and found some old halloween costume. I put it out, and like dad I decided id start like my dad did, at midnight..Fighting the badies. Clothed in some Green Tarp-like suit and a green and black wrestling mask on my face I made my way through the dark streets until i stumbled upon my first criminal. Some bald man assaulting a lady. When I approached them weilding old knife he said one thing :"Let it go man.." I told him to give up and change his ways. When he shook his head I charged at the man, like a mad bull. Well my knife was no match for his gun...a bullet to the chest. The man ran, leaving the girl. and as I laid there weakly inhaling my last few breaths a beautiful woman touched my arm.."Thankyou.." she whispered in my ear, still in shock from her assault. I smiled. Even though I died like an idiot, least I did some good..didn't I? Thats what I thought, but as time went by I learned the truth..I learned just how deep vengeance can go, even if the victim just wants peace...Dad..how could you?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Henchmen:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;HOLY SHIT! The kid came out of nowhere! I told him to let it go, let me do my business then he charged at me, the only ones who were there seemed to be the whore and some lame Junky who probably thought he hallucinated the whole thing. This costumed idiot had it coming, I had to shoot him! It was me or him! why couldnt he let it go...well I left that spot and the whore bag. I needed to scram before cops showed up, or worse, The Bosses muscle. The only ones there were a junky and a whore, yet somehow someone found me! Not the cops nor the gang, na. This was some nut job in a mask. a big smiley face justl ike the one wal mart has, and a store bought costume I didnt think anything of him, just another nut job I had to kill. I pulled out my gun but damn this guy was fast. Before i knew what was happening I had a knife, just above my kidney..He Cradled me in his arms for a moment, I almost felt bliss. I didnt have to die alone..even a guy like me would accept anything but death alone..He whispered softly, asking who i worked for..I muttered out one bloody word "Bo-ss.." The last thing i remember is a tilted smiley stabbing a knife into my chest..least i Didn't die alone..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The Avenger:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Not a day goes by I dont remember that incident. Burning down a city That had been protesting against the war. It wasnt uncommon but these particular protesters were undermining the government; they had radical training programs and advanced bio-chemical warfare. That wasnt why we killed the town though. We could have shut that operation down and hardly killed anyone, no. Instead the government wanted to make an example of the town, without losing face. A team of seven, including myself, were given specific orders to exterminate the town, while making it seem like the work of terrorists, not soldiers. It seemed unlikely, seven men up against a militia, not to mention the weaponry, policeman, and publicity.The higher ups sympathized, they told us to go to the crossroads at the town square, at midnight. We were told to go to the town wearing some looney super hero costumes and to make a wish involving our victory. It seemed odd but when you work in covert operations you know its best not to ask questions. SO there at that very spot we met a man, who made us a deal. We didnt believe at first, but when seven people burn an entire town to ruins with not one casualty, it makes you believe we got what we wished for. But that was it, afterwords the government locked us up into a mental institution. Luckily one of the comrades saved us, he just somehow knew what to do. He knew "how".. We followed him out and stayed inside the ruined city, watched it rebuild and we each took our seperate turns. My hero and I stayed in touch, we figured that what we had was a power, and we should make sure to be prepaired if its needed for revenge. In the end revenge was all we seemed to have, if we ever stopped to think too long that we killed those people...I don think we'd be able to hold it together. Even if I wanted to though, I couldnt lose. That was my power.."To Succeed"...funny yes but somehow I always do succeed in my missions, be it taking out a town, proving myself as a soldier, or fathering a child. Maybe the charm wore off though, because tonight i got contact from my friend. He said I was dead in an alley..Going to check it out i wish it was me, it might as well have been. As I saw my son lying on the cold, blood stained ground something in me did die..Something said this was my fault..I had no time to point blame to myself, I want vengeance. After tracking down the killer I found the bigger fish..Looks like a reunion will be happening soon, aye Boss?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4522065959229597447-60852389582880541?l=spyhippo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/feeds/60852389582880541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/05/hell-city-anthology-part-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/60852389582880541?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/60852389582880541?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/05/hell-city-anthology-part-one.html' title='Hell City Anthology Part one'/><author><name>Brandon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16449534580640518767</uri><email>spyhippo@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05807423764147986020'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag='W/&quot;A0IGRX4zeCp7ImA9WhZVGU0.&quot;'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4522065959229597447.post-5460100447159764091</id><published>2011-05-31T23:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T23:25:24.080-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app='http://www.w3.org/2007/app'>2011-05-31T23:25:24.080-07:00</app:edited><title>So here we start</title><content type='html'>Greetings all! Im the usual kind of guy...a no count kid in the middle of a backwater city, with a public school education and no sense of direction. But like any other backwater kid my mind is something hard to keep up with..perhaps im more insane then I think? Perhaps I'm rather worse off...who knows? Who cares?!? Lets start!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4522065959229597447-5460100447159764091?l=spyhippo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/feeds/5460100447159764091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/05/so-here-we-start.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/5460100447159764091?v=2'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4522065959229597447/posts/default/5460100447159764091?v=2'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spyhippo.blogspot.com/2011/05/so-here-we-start.html' title='So here we start'/><author><name>Brandon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16449534580640518767</uri><email>spyhippo@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05807423764147986020'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>