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Twins in Death: Chapter Seven – Part Three

Twins in Death

A Tale of The Weirdo

By Brett N. Lashuay



Chapter Seven: Face to Face



October 24th, 2002

3:06 p.m.


            The Weirdo had been in Europe during the mid nineties, learning all about counterterrorism. He therefore continually called the device in his pocket a mobile instead of a cell phone, as is the more normal practice in America. He wondered for a moment what old Sean might think of this? Was he even still alive? Hard to say, but he had lived through everything else, even that foolishness with January 30. It would be easy to surmise that Sean was probably still alive and well in London to this day. The mobile began to rumble in his pants pocket and he reached in and got it. He looked at the number on the small screen and recognized it as the one used earlier.


            “Yes Loki?” He asked.


            “Nice to see you here brother.” Loki said. “I wasn’t sure you were going to show.”


            “Why wouldn’t I?”


            “Because I’m going to kill you.”


            “But not yet.” The Weirdo said, but I must remember to jump when it happens.


            “No.” Loki said. “Not yet.”


            “I’ve got some youngsters watching me.”


            “Yes I know.” Loki said. “They have come to see their god in action.”


            “Did you convince them all of that?” The Weirdo asked.

            “You think of them as street vermin.” Loki said. “Rats, which you act as rat catcher against. Never killing all of them of course, just enough to get a fee and another one tomorrow. They’re not vermin though. They’re just hungry. They’ve seen the privileged classes get the good schools, the big cars, and all the tax cuts. They just want to be let into the party. They just want to be accepted as part of the club. All they really needed was something they could believe in. They just needed a god that could deliver them from the wretched squalor that their Jesus put them in. All the other churches and societies had failed them. I gave them something to believe in and we shall go against all those who kill them and their families for pay.”


            “I don’t collect a fee.” The Weirdo said.


            “Not all fees are payable in cash.” Loki said.


            “Well that’s true.” The Weirdo said nodding. “But it’s not the adulation or fame I seek.”


            “Then what?” Loki asked. “I’m really quite curious. Do you think you can make a safer world by lashing out violently at its more violent members?”


            “Nope.” The Weirdo said. “Just trying to keep the lid from flying off until the solution arrives.”


            “You’re not the solution?”


            “Don’t think so.” The Weirdo said. “Just a stop gap.”


            “I see.” Loki said, and The Weirdo really thought he did.


            “You’re not really a god are you?”


            “Of course not.” Loki said. “They made me in a lab and sent me back in time thirty years. For what reason they did this I can’t even begin to pretend I know.”


            “You’re not as dumb as you’re trying to pretend you are though.”




            “You’re vocabulary belies your intellect.” The Weirdo said.


            “My father wanted to hear his little fuck toy speak well when he presented me to the group.” Loki’s voice took a cold edge of menace.


            “So you had a father?”


            “Oh yes.” Loki said. “A drunk who demanded that his boy know how to speak and a pill popping mother who demanded the screams of the creature who had sprung from her unholy womb.”


            “I thought you said a lab?”


            “You think I was just grown in a vat?” Loki asked. “Someone had to carry the fetus up her worthless cunt.”


            “And they let them keep you?”


            “They stole me.” Loki said.


            “You sure you don’t want to stretch out on a couch?” The Weirdo prodded. “You’re being pretty open.”


            “You don’t understand.” Loki said. “I came from the future, if I kill you and the parents and young doctors who are going to become my tormentors, then it can’t happen.”


            “You’ll vanish in a puff of Einstienian logic though.” The Weirdo said.


            “You have no idea the pain of my existence.” Loki said


            “You know if you want to die, come down and I’ll do it myself.”


            “It’s going to have never happened.” Loki said. “I’m going to prevent the pain before it happens.”


            “You’re setting up a difficult paradox.” The Weirdo said.


            “I will never have been.” Loki said. “Then I will be free.”


            The rifle aimed out the window and swept around the plaza, searching for the perfect target. He found her, Alice Peterson, age eight. She was dressed in a red beret, and a red and hounds tooth wool coat. She had been insisting on wearing the beret since the Peterson’s went to Paris in August and her father had bought it for her. Loki centered in on her. He realized he could hear her thoughts as she was caught in his cross hairs. She was thinking about a computer-generated clown fish, and his turtle friend. She was just wondering how a turtle could learn surfer lingo, and thought it was because of all the time he must have spent near the surface to breath.


            A snap cut into the air, deadly quiet when compared to what people think gunshots sound like. Alice’s small head suddenly exploded in blood and particles that seemed to hang in the air for far too long.  The Weirdo’s eyes caught the whole event, from the child’s face, to the explosion of blood. The bullet that had torn through the child passed through and also tore away a huge piece on concrete that fluttered into The Weirdo’s face. The universe did that lovely slowing down trick it can do at times like this. Well, actually it went at the same speed it always does, but The Weirdo’s mind processed things differently. For most people their brains cease up and they panic. The Weirdo’s mind took in everything and his mind played it at a speed where it was appropriate for him to still react. A reasonable example might be the fact that in truth, deer almost never really freeze in headlights, it just seems that way to the observer whose mind has ceased up do to the sudden panic.


            The head of the child had actually exploded, leaving only part of it connected as it began to slump. The Weirdo looked at the woman; whose hand the child held. She looked down as the tiny hand tugged on hers. This of course was due to the fact that the body was sharply banking to one side. She screamed as she saw that nothing remained of the right side of the child’s head, and began to scream more uncontrollably. The Weirdo’s mind recorded every image, every instant, for later playback. He would remember that image for the rest of his life, just like all the others.


            Had he been like Omega he would have seen the bullet moving like a snail, and reached out and taken it. Omega would have been able to snatch the bullet out of the air, and put a stop to all this foolishness right away. The problem was Omega was dead. That nameless thing had shown up and killed him. They had called him Apocalypse or some other dumb name, but it had simply been a nameless killing machine. It had been a huge event and the months that followed had kept The Weirdo’s personal tragedy and subsequent self-exile away from prying eyes. The problem was that now there were no Superheroes here; there was just The Weirdo. He watched the little girl die and looked at the windows looking for the place where the shot had come from.


            “I thought you wanted me!” The Weirdo said into the phone as his right hand slunk into his coat and pulled his forty-five out.


            “Just to get your attention.” Loki said and re-aimed the rifle.


            The Weirdo could tell where the window in question was suddenly, and without a doubt. His attention had somehow managed to zero in on the right spot. He began to fire towards the open window, emptying his gun in a few seconds. He threw himself down below a concrete barrier meant to keep people from falling into the ice rink and lunch café. Loki fired another round and an elderly man clutched his chest and The Weirdo would have thought he was having a heart attack if not for the blood seeping through his fingers. He fell to his knees and the old man and The Weirdo looked at each other. The old man’s face was questioning and he shook his head slightly. He wanted to know why The Weirdo didn’t save him, why was he hiding when there were people getting shot? The Weirdo reloaded the pistol and decided his only hope to prevent more of this was to make himself a target.


            ‘Are you going to wave you hands over your head and scream shoot me?’ Grandma’s voice enquired.


            Never one to take sarcasm lying down, The Weirdo decided that was a fine course of action. He stood up, and then stepped up onto the high concrete barrier. It was such a stupid suggestion and meant sarcastically, but what the hell? He waved his arms over his head and hooted out to the window.


            “C’mon! You want me? Let’s go, come on out.”


            The Weirdo expected to have a bullet punch into his chest and yank his heart out the other side, but it didn’t happen. Instead Loki emerged from the window. He got out onto the ledge and began to walk slowly along the wall to a corner where he could lean in. The Weirdo watched him and felt the gun in his hand begin to rise. He was balanced on a ledge of his own as well. If he fell forward it was nearly fifteen feet before he hit the cold hard ground. Loki had a longer drop, but a better position. He slunk his back into the corner and set his feet apart to steady himself.


            The Weirdo steadied himself on the concrete barrier and aimed the pistol carefully. It’s quite hard at range to hit the side of a barn with a handgun, which is something most people don’t consider when they heft one up for the first time. Even after years it takes a pretty good pair of eyes to hit the target. The Weirdo fired a round and part of the stonework next to Loki’s head vanished into dust. Loki aimed the rifle down swiftly and put pressure on the trigger, nothing happened because he hadn’t cocked the weapon.


            He spun the rifle like a band leader’s baton and he worked the bolt on it. The Weirdo watched him as he went through an amazing amount of rig-a-ma-roll to cycle a new round into the chamber. He watched how Loki did all this and wondered about the amount of energy the boy went though to do things. The Weirdo had learned long ago about math and fighting. He had learned from the math teachers about how the shortest point between two points is a straight line, and from his fighting teachers about efficacy of movement. To this end, The Weirdo never made as big a production of reloading as this boy did.


            Loki aimed the rifle down again and The Weirdo fired two shots at him. He aimed for the mass, and struck the body twice. The force bounced him off the wall and caused him to lean forward. The gun fell from Loki’s hands and he tumbled from the building’s ledge. There was a thump as Loki’s body crashed into the ground below a few seconds later. The Weirdo jumped down to the street level again and began to walk around the place where in a few weeks the ice rink and the massive tree would be put into place.


            It was just beginning to be cold enough for thoughts like that. Soon it would be time to think about a turkey, and the gathering of cranberries for sauce. Soon it would be too cold to go out without a hat and he’d need his big black velvet scarf as well. It was going to be Halloween very soon, and everyone would dress in their costumes. What was he going to be? He had a funny feeling that there was an extended answer to that question.


            He came towards the place where Loki landed and found a somewhat surprising sight. All of Loki’s various bones should have been pretty much broken. There might be a finger or toe bone left unbroken, but all the major and important ones should have been shattered. Even if the bones hadn’t all been broken, there is really a lot less damage the internal organs can take than Hollywood would have you believe. In short, The Weirdo was quite surprised to see that Loki was slowly, but inexorably getting up to his feet.


            The Weirdo ran towards him and swung his leg to give a pretty good kick to the solar plexus. Loki’s hands swung out and he caught our hero’s leg though. He stood and threw The Weirdo towards the side of the building. The Weirdo put his hands up and stopped himself from becoming one with the stone face of the building, pushing himself back from it and landing on the ground.


            “When did this become big time wrasseling?” He asked regaining his ground.


            “Just now.” Loki said rushing towards him.


            Loki had what looked like a straight razor in his hand, and it swung out at The Weirdo in a wide and complicated arch that was easy for the gray-coated hero to not only dodge but take a hold of the arm. Loki’s speed was pretty amazing though and his left hand caught The Weirdo in the kidney’s before he knew the punch was coming.


            The Weirdo didn’t let the hand go, rather he grabbed the head and smashed his own visage into the ground twice very hard, hearing something crack on the second strike. Loki managed to slip from his grasp on the second strike and caught The Weirdo under the chin with his blade. The Weirdo fell back and Loki leapt on him, the blade cutting a deep wound on his check under his eye.


            Loki’s face had already regained its normal countenance. The nose had moved back into place and much of the blood seemed to be vanishing as well. The Weirdo’s hand was busy with the blade that was trying to cut deep into his head but couldn’t help but notice how the blood was drying and seemed to be drawn in through the pores to get back into the body. This scrambling on the ground wasn’t working very well in The Weirdo’s favor. He kept wondering how Loki could be so strong when he was such a skinny kid. Even though he was so thin, his strength was as great as The Weirdo’s. He shifted his weight and brought both legs up under him and flipped Loki over his head. He stood, and grabbed at his fallen gun, turning quickly and pegging Loki twice in the chest.


            The blood spurted up, and then sucked back in, the wound closed and he saw with amazement that the shirt closed in behind it. That wasn’t an advanced healing that was going on, that was something else. He didn’t know what, but more than his own accelerated healing was going on, something more. He knew his face had probably already healed, that there would be no scar. It could be the same power that let him close his own wounds up had been a trick on the genetic code. He had learned it, but he had been better than anyone else at it. It could be that this was an accelerated pace; he had said the power had been turned up.


            “You can’t kill me.” Loki said. “You can shoot me as many times as you like, but you can’t do it.”


            “Well you did invite me.” The Weirdo said and fired a few more times.


            The forty-five stopped firing, the chamber held open to allow for easy reloading. When the fresh clip was inserted, the chamber would close and the first round would already be primed. He had hit Loki twice in the head and was dismayed to find that he didn’t even knock him down. He had taken two forty-five rounds to the head and managed to stay standing. There wasn’t much a person could do after that, but The Weirdo had an idea.


            “You’ve got nothing.” Loki said softly. “My followers will now be convinced, having seen you shoot me and still unable to kill me.”


            The Weirdo was still aiming the pathetically empty pistol, mainly because he didn’t know quite what to do after that. He dropped the gun, and his hand went under the coat again. He caught the grip of another gun, but not the one he’d wanted. He had wanted to draw up the black gun, but the coat had presented him with a different gun.


            Still, a weapon is a weapon, even if it wasn’t the one you wanted. The Weirdo pulled the Thompson sub-machine gun out from under his coat where no such weapon could have possibly been. He aimed the big gun and felt his heart thudding in his ears. He wanted to kill this man but didn’t know what trying would do.


            Loki reached behind his back and pulled out a small sub machine gun of his own. The Mac 10 looked like an Uzi from the worst manufacturing plant in the world. It was an ugly boxy weapon without any class whatsoever. He aimed it out into the crowd, who had actually gathered to watch this idiotic struggle. The Weirdo once again wondered how many of these people managed not to get run down in the street every morning. When danger was clearly a few feet away, the people of New York would move in, expressing that if it was a few feet away, they could get at least a foot closer.


            “We could see how much you really care about these tiny mortals.” Loki said, panting slightly from the expelled effort. “You’re choice is to let me go, or to watch a blood bath.”


            “You would.” The Weirdo said. “Just to see the result.”


            “You know, I know I would.” Loki said, stepping back slowly. “But I must admit I’m not sure you wouldn’t. I’ve been reading about the difference between genetics and environmental influences. Now I can’t be sure, but I’ve got this odd feeling that some part of you would just as soon let all these people die, just to get me.”


            “Some part of me doesn’t care about them.” The Weirdo said. “A few of them die but I get you and less die later.”


            “Practical.” Loki said nodding. “But is it really you?”


            “We could find out.” The Weirdo said.


            “But you’d rather not.” Loki said, looking at him sidelong.




            The Weirdo was a trained shooter, and Loki wasn’t, so the movement was quick and the man in red wasn’t looking for it. The Weirdo’s waist moved slightly and he trained the gun on the Mac 10. When the shots exploded from the Thompson, the Mac 10 shattered in Loki’s hand and part of the hand went missing as well. Loki screamed and held his hand to his chest. He turned and began to run, his left hand reaching for another gun behind his back. The Weirdo raised the machine gun again and caught Loki in the back a few more times. Loki tumbled to the ground and two of the street punks helped him up as another one began trying to draw covering fire. The Weirdo shot the one who had picked up the gun before he could get a shot off and aimed his gun up at Loki again, they had turned the corner and The Weirdo began to chase after them.  When he came out into the crowded street he ran into two men in business suits and fell to the sidewalk, his gun clattering to the ground next to him. They looked down at him shocked, and he looked up at them annoyed.


            “Had to be a couple of old drained yuppies, didn’t it?” The Weirdo asked.


            “What?” The bald man in a dark suit asked.


            “Nothing.” The Weirdo said. “Just go away.”




© 2012 Autumn Knight Productions

April 4, 2013 - Posted by | Photo | ,

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