MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

~MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!~

I can’t believe it! It’s Christmas already. And guess what? I’m going to give you all a big Christmas present. First off, I am giving out the picture of Jodi Harte! That’s right!

So here you go, Lenka. And like Hell you deserved this.

(incoming pun alert-shield your eyes if you want)

The Ace of Hartes.

By Louis Bullock. Merry Christmas, Lenka Sweet.

By Louis Bullock. The original sketch.

 And remember how in the comments of the last post i said that you would most likely only get one costume on Christmas?

Well guess what?

I LIED! MWHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

(this is my fav. Image)

By Louis Bullock

By Louis Bullock. Keep in mind that we were using tracing paper at one point to show the different costumes, and so when i scanned it, i just placed the tracing paper over the original picture with your head, and so that's why you can see hair and rainbow clips over the hat. :P

 Enjoy, Lenka Sweet. As i said before, you definitely deserved this. 

AND THAT’S NOT ALL!

No, no, that’s not all! 

I’m even going to post the latest part! How awesome is that?

So behold, my blogger friends, Endgame, Part 1, episode 6, Necros Nightbane.

(This is the last episode of part 1, just so you know. The next episode will be in Part 2, featuring different characters. But it’s not going to be for a while because I still have to plan the baseline of it. I know about 5% of what’s going to happen in Part 2. :P you’ll all just have to wait)

 

Necros Nightbane surveyed the misty mountains below him, glaring at each rock and outcrop as if it harboured some unknown enemy. When he had finished scrutinising every pebble in his sight, he sighed, turned on the spot, and focused his magic, leaning forward and then springing towards the small cottage several hundred metres in front of him. His form seemed to disappear, leaving nothing but dust whirling around in his wake.

He reappeared one hundred metres away, if only for a split second, to land on the upward slant and then spring back into the air, two fast for the normal eye to catch. He kept repeating this, moving at an inhuman speed, until he reached the cottage door. He outlined the inscribing on the door until it glowed, and then he muttered a word in Japanese that he had been taught by Ki-Yoko, and the door opened.

Inside, the ‘cottage’ was more like a fortress, built to withstand some of the greatest attacks. The walls were lined with all sorts of weapons, from blades and crossbows to rocket launchers and firearms.

He moved into the living room, which had been converted into a sort of makeshift medical facility, with Jodi Harte lying on the coffee table, an angry Ki-Yoko above her. When Necros entered, Ki-yoko rattled off a sentence in Japanese with a frown on her face. Necros just shrugged; he did this whenever the old crone spoke to him. She was useful, definitely, but seeing as how he couldn’t understand her for the world, he would just have to shrug and hope she wasn’t offended every time she spoke to him.

Dragona walked into the room, and gestured to Jodi, then spoke rapidly to Ki-Yoko in Japanese. She just nodded, then retrieved a small bottle with a green liquid from the shelf behind her.

“Where did you learn to speak Japanese?” Necros asked Dragona.

“Ah, I had some zombie-hunting work in Japan, and I wanted to learn how to call the zombie the worst Japanese cuss I could find before he died-again, that is-and instead I spent the better part of a month learning Japanese. My teacher wouldn’t tell even tell me any curses in the end either, and by that time the zombie had already decomposed. One of my least heard of journeys...”

Necros just frowned, and Dragona fired a question back at him. “So, how long do you think we have?”

“Well, I reckon that they must of tried and traced us as far as the foothills of these mountains, so they’ll be bringing in search parties to look for us. Once they do find us-”

“Wait- do you hear that?” Dragona cut in.

There was a low rumbling in the distance.

“Speaking of which...” muttered Necros, drawing his modified Colt M1911 and peering outside the window. “Shiza,” he said, backing away and aiming his pistol at the helicopter landing just one hundred metres away. He flicked the curtains across the window, hoping that the cleavers that had just disembarked hadn’t seen him. He peeked through the window once more, and counted the cleavers there. Fifteen.

One cleaver stood alone from the group, surveying the land with a slowly pivoting head. Suddenly the cleaver’s head stiffened, and it sharply turned to the window where Necros was, it’s visor glinting in the sunlight.

“Damn,” was all Necros said, then he drew an identical Colt from his jacket, swept the curtains aside and fired sixteen shots at the cleavers. More than eight found their mark, and Necros smiled grimly at this. He slotted two new clips into the pistols, holstered them momentarily, and turned to face Dragona, just as a Spaz 12 shotgun came flying towards him. Necros caught it easily, and he saw Dragona taking a similar shotgun from the wall, slinging a shotgun shell belt around his waist and sliding the pump action grip back.

“I see you already decided how you want to take care of those cleavers outside,” said Dragona, attaching a strap to his gun and slinging it over his shoulder. He went to the wall and heaved a huge stinger missile launcher onto his shoulder. “Yep, this should do it...” he muttered, just as Mary walked into the room.

“What the hell’s all this noise?” she said, her hand on the hilt of her Shaolin Broadsword. “It sounds like there’s a war going on-”

There was a smashing sound and the window beside Necros shattered, followed by as small cylinder that bounced into the room. “Go!” shouted Necros, as there was a small pop and the grenade started emitting a gas. “It’s tear gas- move!”

All over the house they heard the windows breaking, and the same pop as the tear gas grenades detonated. They ran to the kitchen, Dragona moving as best as he could with the Stinger missile launcher on his shoulders. Jodi Harte and Ki-yoko sprinted into the kitchen just ahead of them, Jodi clutching her side painfully. “Glad to see you’re back in the fight,” commented Necros in Jodi’s direction, then tossing his Colts to her. She caught them deftly, glancing back at Necros.

“Aren’t these yours?”

“Yeah, well I need you to take care of them for a while. I kinda got my hands full right now.” Necros reached under the kitchen sink, coming back with a bag of gas masks. He fit one on his own head, tightening the strap and then fastening goggles on as well.

“Who the hell keeps gas masks under the sink?” asked Mary.

Necros didn’t answer. Instead he cocked the shotgun, peered through the doorway and then ran into the cloud of tear gas, his form disappearing in the smoke.

I falter, reaching for the kitchen table for support. The bandages around my waist do nothing to help the pain, and even as I stand myself back up again, the wound re-opens and bleeds once more. Ki-yoko is searching the cupboards for anything that will help, and Mary is pressing tea-towels onto the bottom of the doors to try and stop the tear gas from reaching them. I lay the dual Colt pistols on the table, clutching my chest in agony. It should end. It could...

My hand stretches to one of the pistols, grabs it, and then slowly lifts it up. Ki-yoko and Mary are still busy, both of them facing the other way. One shot, and my worries would be gone. I feel the barrel of Necros’ gun touch my temple. I give a little smile to the world, and I rest my gaze on the glorious mountain range outside, the hills, the grass. Now, I think, but before my finger sqeezes the trigger, I hear the scream.

*****

Necros heard the scream, and instantly he smashed his frame into the door on his left, breaking it open and peering into the gloom. There, in the middle of the room, was Kallista, screaming. Men in grey uniforms were shining lights everywhere, and Necros identified them as Cleavers, armed with machine guns. The moment Necros entered, the flashlights attached to the cleaver’s weapons swung around, and Necros cursed, ducking back out of the room.

Bullets ripped into the doorway, centimetres away from where Necros stood, shotgun in hand. His mind went into overtime, and everything seemed to slow down. He had seen how many cleavers. He knew of their weapons. He counted the rapidly fired shots until he was sure they were out.

Smiling, Necros dived back into the room, firing at a cleaver point-blank. He came up from his dive roll and shot another one. His hand brushed against the bangle on his wrist and the gauntlet formed, covering his hand in time for him to swing his arm at a different cleaver. The soldier dodged, throwing his empty gun at Necros’ face. Necros simply sidestepped, letting the weapon smack another cleaver in the nose behind him. Necros raised the shotgun again, firing round after round into the defenceless cleavers. They fell, and when the final one had gone down, Necros grabbed Kallista’s gloved hand and pulled her out of the room. His hand gripped the Katana at his waist. He didn’t want to have to use it, but...

More flashlights. Necros dragged the now-quiet Kallista down under the coffee table. The booted feet of the cleavers thudded past. Necros waited for the last in the line to walk by, then motioned for Kallista to keep quiet, and they crept back down the hallway. The tear gas had almost dissipated in the air. Almost.

Kallista stood up, thinking she was far enough away from the Cleavers to stand the rest of the way. She drew in breath, but instead of breathing in a lungful of oxygen, she sampled the remnants of the tear gas as well. She made a slight choking noise, and Necros pulled her back down, covering her mouth with his hand. But it was too late. The last cleaver in the line said some unspoken order, and the whole group halted, turning slowly around. Necros willed Kallista to not react to the tear gas, willing her to be still, but to no avail. She sneezed loudly, but before the cleavers could even react to the noise, Necros had pulled the Katana from his waist, and swung it vertically in front of him.

The air shimmered. There was a moment of total silence; the calm before the storm, and then all hell broke loose. A wave of energy shot forward, slicing through the first cleaver to react. He flew backward, sliced in two, and then the other cleavers slowly raised their weapons to train them on Necros.

He was glowing with power, a shining red light that illuminated the cramped hallway. His eyes had no pupils, insted they were completely red, gleaming intenslely. “There’s a gas mask in my bag,” he barked to Kallista. “Take it and head to the kitchen. I’ll meet you there.”

Kallista nodded quickly, grabbed the mask and ran off into the gloom. “Just you and me, boys,” Necros told the cleavers, waiting for them to make the first move. None of them did. He didn’t care. They would have died anyway.

Necros lunged forward, the Katana stabbing through the chest of one cleaver. Necros whispered something and the blade lit up, then seemed to burn the cleaver from the inside out. He whipped the sword around, slicing it against a cleaver’s throat and then smashing the hilt against the helmet of another. The headpiece exploded inwards, sending shards of the visor into the soldier’s head.

There was a scream and Necros swung around, seeing another squadron of cleavers come forward, out of the gas cloud, revealing a figure in their mist.

“Dammit, Kallista!” Necros shouted, ran forward, but there was the sound of gunfire and Necros felt himself stumbling to the ground.

His hearing went first. He looked up, saw the cleavers stop firing, saw how Kallista’s mouth kept opening and closing in silent screams. When the feeling started to go out of his legs and his senses stopped being assaulted with pain, he knew that it wasn’t long now. His legs collapsed he toppled over, his blade tumbling out of his grip. The rune’s on the sword stopped glowing, starting to fade to darkness. He could feel himslef fading as well. His vision started to go, and he laid eyes on his attackers, hatred and anger clear. Kallista struggled, then broke free, running forward to him. The cleavers nodded to themselves, and one of them stood forward, a pistol suddenly in his hand.

*****

I try to warn her. My mouth fails to form words and the cleaver just steps closer and closer. Her eyes are filled with tears, as she realizes there is nothing she can do to help. She goes to stand and run but it is too late; the cleaver is upon her. He raises the pistol to her head-

Sword.

-Pulls back the slide-

Tighten grip. Stand...

-flicks the saftey off-

My power returns. That cleaver is a dead man.

-and pulls the trigger.

Kallista is still alive. Why? Because the bullet never left the barrel. My blade is wedged in the slide, and the cleaver steps back in wonder. Before they can even begin to react or reach for their weapons, I lift my sword above my head, aim it in the general direction of the cleavers, then swing it downwards, releasing an energy blast right into the midst of them. The ground shakes and I wrap one hand over my chest; it’s not long before it is covered in blood as well. The roof collapses on top of the cleavers, but I hear nothing, and only feel the shockwave through my legs.

I stumble over to Kallista, falling to my knees when I reach her. The part of the building above me could collapse at any moment, but still I push aside the rubble and bodies until I can pull her out. Her eyes are open, but she isn’t aware of her surroundings, at least not yet. With the last vestiges of my strength, I stagger to the door, Kallista walking in a daze beside me. I feel another quake as the rest of the walls and rooms beside me cave in as well, the dust clouding our way. I see a figure in the hallway ahead, moving towards me. His shape becomes more defined, and suddenly he’s pulling us, yelling for us to move. Dragona spots something behind us, and his eyes widen in obvious fear. He grabs us and pulls us to the ground, just as my hearing properly returns and I am assaulted with sound.

Explosions. Gunfire. Shells rip into the ruined carpet beside me, and I hear the distant firing of a minigun. It must be the helicopter, I think, as a rocket detonates behind my head and shrapnel flies. Dragona motions for us to move, and we do at a painstakingly slow rate, crawling on our stomaches to the doorway. Dragona is sweating and concentrating, creating a wall of air to protect us from the bullets and shrapnel. Slowly but surely, we make our way through the door, and then Dragona pulls the Stinger rocket launcher from on top of the couch, aims back through the door, and fires.

I can see nothing through the smoke, but Dragona must of shot the helicopter, because I can hear the whine of it’s rotors as it struggles to stay in the air. The whine becomes a screech of metal as it finally crashes, and the light from the explosion illuminates the messed up hallway.

Dragona drops the launcher to the ground, massaging his right arm. “Man, that hurts,” he mutters, and we walk back to the kitchen.

Jodi is unconscious in one of the chairs, one of the Colt pistols dangling dangerously in her hand. I reach forward and slowly retrieve it, flicking the safety back on and wondering what she had been doing before the pain of her wounds had most likely caused her to faint.

Ki-yoko is stirring ingredients to some unknown recipe in a silver metal bowl, muttering franticly in Japanese, and Mary is staring outside of the window, eyes fixed on the crash site of the helicopter.

“It’s a good thing that’s over,” she says to me. “Gave me a damnright scare.”

“It’s not over,” I reply. “I hate to sound clichéd, but it’s only just begun. That helicopter was a scout. I give it fifteen minutes tops before they come in with the reinforcements.”

“Then we don’t have a lot of time,” Dragona says, pulling out his phone and hitting speed dial. “Skyril, you there?”

Four kilometres away, in a foxhole near the summit of the nearest mountain, Skyril Oblivion dug out her phone from her pocket and put it to her ear. “What?” she said, shifting uncomfortably and wishing that she’d brought something to sit upon.

“They found us. Fifteen minutes until they’ll be here, gun’s a blazin’. You got that fifty cal, still?”

“Locked and loaded, Dragona. And with enough clips to stop a small army,” she answered, patting the scope of the 50. Calibre Sniper Rifle that was mounted on the edge of her foxhole.

“Good. ‘Cos we might be needing all of them.”

Dragona hangs up, opening the kitchen door and running through the house, opening the windows to try and get rid of the tear gas. I retrieve my other Colt from the table, and holster them both, moving back to the living room to review the wall of weapons once more.

The first gun I reach for is a P90 with various custom attachments, and I replace the Spaz 12 already strapped to me with it. I take down an M4A1 Carbine, sliding a sight on the tactical rail and adjusting the stock to a better length. Satisfied with my choice, I step back and let the others choose their weapons, and then I step towards the kitchen. Before I go, something catches my eye. I turn, and smile broadly at the Gatling Gun leaning against the wall in one corner, just asking to be used.

Fifteen minutes later

The sound of helicopter rotors spinning filled the crisp, clean mountain air, and I sit up eagerly, doing a last minute check on all of my weapons. I am sitting in what’s left of the ruined hallway, crouching amongst the rubble with the Gatling gun mounted in front of me. Ten helicopters, full of scythe wielding cleavers, were fast approaching to the cottage on the hill. A walkie talkie on Necros’ belt squarked, and Skyril’s voice came through.

“I have visual,” she said. “Ten helicopters, roughly ten cleavers in each one. That’s one hundred of ‘em. Not my kind of odds.”

“Mine neither,” I reply into the radio. “But there’s no other place to run. This is it. Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s been an honour working with you.”

A chorus of vice versas and ditto’s ring out from the speaker, but I am focused on the task at hand. I hold the trigger on the Gatling gun, spinning the large barrel and aiming it at the helicopters. “Eat this, Sanctuary bastards,” I whisper, and then let loose Hell in the form of bullets.

I can barely see if I’m getting any shots. The recoil is tremendous, and the tripod the gun is sitting on hardly helps. Suddenly there is the whine of rotors, and I realize I must have hit one. Then the helicopters start returning fire and I have other things to think about.

I dive to the ground, pulling a smoke grenade from my belt and throwing it at the ground in front of me. As the smoke fills the hallway and starts pouring out into the open air, the helicopter’s shots become more erratic as the pilots realize they can’t see me any more. I leave the gun where it is, launching myself onto the grass below as the first sniper rifle shot rings out. I run, faster and faster, the smoke covering my advance. The P90 at my side comes up just as I clear the smoke, reaching the first landed helicopter.

The P90 fires and the cleavers fall, one by one. When I get too close to shoot accurately, I slide my silver bangle onto my arm and touch the symbols, releasing the gauntlet. I slice through the cleaver’s grey jumpsuits, lunging this way and that, dodging scythes. The pilot of the helicopter pulls out a pistol and fires straight through the cockpit glass at me. I jump forward, the bullet passing just by my head, and I land on the glass, smashing the gauntlet hand into the cockpit and through the pilot’s chest. I pull it out again, take a quick look around, and leap at the next helicopter.

*****

Skyril pulled the trigger on the sniper rifle before her, took aim once more, and fired again. Her shot’s were true, but before long the cleavers where getting smart and hiding behind cover. She could see Necros attacking some of them through the scope on her gun, and she turned the rifle to her left, leaving him to deal with it.

There was a noise behind her, and she sprung up, two small knives in her hand. Billy-Ray Sanguine stood there, knife in hand, frozen to the spot. “Now, uh, this ain’t what it looks like. There was a snake next to you, is all,” he said. “I swear I wasn’t about to kill you.”

“Excuses, excuses,” replied Skyril, and she charged at him, swinging her blades.

*****

Jodi Harte sat looking at her broken sai sword blades, disappointment clear upon her face. She had been confined to the kitchen by Ki-yoko, declared ‘unfit to fight.’ So there she sat, with the crone asleep beside her, bored out of her life while the sound of gunfire was heard outside. She sighed, picking up one of the blades and turning it slowly in her hand, the weight of it all wrong. Every now and then Ki-yoko would sit up, startled, look around, and then drift off again.

Jodi yawned, her hand accidentally knocking a cupboard door. She went to close it, but stopped as she laid eyes upon the pair of perfect Sai swords resting there. She wondered if it was a dream, and almost pinched herself, when she came to the realisation. They were probably Ki-yoko’s. The whole cottage was hers, and the woman was so old that she had most likely sampled every style of fighting in her lifetime. Jodi shrugged. There was no harm in taking them out for a test drive. The crone didn’t need to know. And there were plenty of cleavers to go round.

Without another glance, Jodi grabbed the Sai swords, leaving her own broken ones on the table and heading out the door.

*****

Necros was out of ammo. He had gone through all of his two clips for his P90, and the M4A1 had less than half a clip left. He aimed his last couple of shots at two cleavers running towards him, then threw his guns to the ground, taking out his large rune covered sword.

There was the sound of running feet behind him, and he turned, swinging the sword as he went. It glowed blue as it cut through the cleaver there, and then shone red as it stabbed another one.

He backed into a defensive stance as a cleaver’s scythe clashed off of his sword. He jumped over the cleaver, flipping and carving his sword into the base of the cleaver’s skull.

Necros turned a full revolution, observing the mass of bodies around him. But it still wasn’t enough. They just kept coming. Infinite waves of the perfect soldiers. Just great, he though, summoning magic from deep within him. He let it out in a solid burst of energy at a group of cleavers near him, and they melted away without a word.

*****

So, did you like it? Are you amazed? Because if you were, there is something definitely wrong with you. My work isn’t amazing. Lenka Sweet’s work is amazing. Kallista Pendragon’s work is amazing. Alex’s work is amazing. Lizzy’s work is amazing. Leo Spark’s work is amazing. Mary Hiashi’s work is amazing. Dragona Pine’s work as well. And Oct..Octa…Octobanana…Octaaaabana…oh, whatever, you get the idea.

(btw, Octaboona is an awesome guy. Just cos I can’t get his name right, that doesn’t mean he isn’t awesome.)

WELL! What did YOU all get for Christmas, hmm? I got several DvDs (The Bourne collection, Hellboy 2), a book called 'Gone' by Micheal Grant, which i have been wanting to buy for MONTHS, and a super-awesome logitec ipod speaker that cost well over a hundred dollars, which i am listening to as i type (awesome...awesome...aawwwweeesooommmeeeee....)

Also, for those of you who are gamers, my dad got Modern Warfare 2, and i am trying so hard to install that too. ): slow installation, dammit. 

Oh yeah, and EPICA!!!

P.S As some smart people might of already guessed, i was the 'Santa' that went around to some of your blogs. :P i don;t REALLY think i had any of you fooled.

-Hellboy!