Side Story: Good ole Bart

These groups of hunters are out to save the world from the demons, devils, ghosts, spirits and the monsters found under the bed and in your closets. Although most of the world doesn’t know or believe in most fairy tales, these hunters are out to try to stop the things that go bump in the night from doing their evil deeds in the world as we know it. Some bonds have already been formed and others are still being built. But will they be able to survive from the dangerous things they hunt? Will they be able to trust one another enough to try and fight together? Or will they collapse under pressure? These hunters will face dark times and go down a long dark road. Will they find hope or loss at the end of their path or paths? Happiness or despair? Life or Death? Will they ever find Dex, the one hunter who may have already lost his life to the demons? Each of them must draw from their strengths and work together or they will finally meet and stare death in the eyes.

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Side Story: Good ole Bart

Postby Daemon » Mon Jul 06, 2009 1:26 pm

Bart gunned the throttle, pushing the pedal to the floor in his red 69 Camero. Andrew was in the back seat, bleeding all over the vinyl he had just cleaned after the damned Sherwood incident. And Chris was doing his best to not fall to pieces, getting that far off luck in his eyes, one suggesting something bad was coming.

Bart didn’t care, didn’t give one ounce of shit about Chris and his stupid visions. They could deal with it when they got Andrew to the fucking hospital. Andrew moaned something, as the engine revved loud, Chris leaning back to check on him. He had enough composure to at least to that.

“Shit Bart, Drew isn’t looking to good. Whatever the fuck that was, it tore him to ribbons. This wasn’t supposed to happen; I didn’t see this in Nashville. Bart, something’s wrong, something is off about all of this.” His voice whined, hands covered in Drew’s blood.

Bart couldn’t help but snort, his anger welling up at the entire situation. Slamming his fist into the dash, he pulled his gaze away from the highway and met Chris’s dark green eyes. Orbs shining with doubt, fear, and pity. Fuck him. “Doesn’t matter Chris. You get your mojo going, and you make sure that thing ain’t following us. You got me?” He said, not leaving room for the younger man to question him.

Man? Maybe in the eyes of the law, but Chris was really just a kid. A kid messed up in the grand daddy of all shit piles. The radio came on; dial spinning as it flared to life. Stations crackled on and off, music shifting and morphing genre’s.

Eyes back on the road, Bart could already feel the shit rising on the horizon. He had a knack for telling when it was about to get bad. Real bad. Drew was the brains, and he was down and out of it. Chris was losing his mind, blaming himself and about to send himself into a bout of visions, and all Bart could do was drive.

Eyes peeled on the road, he checked the rear view mirror, catching the flicker of light in it through his peripherals. There the bitch was, standing not three hundred feet behind them, smiling that damned smile. Only Chris’s scream saved them, Bart’s eyes flashing back to the road and the truck zooming to meet them in their lane.

Grabbing the wheel two handed, he hauled hard on it, sending the car off the road and onto it’s side. Bart was thrown from his seat and into Chris, Drew bouncing around in the back as steel crushed and glass shattered. It was all tumbling and falling, helpless like a doll Bart could only curse his thrice damned luck, and that she bitch that seemed to have something out for them.

The car came to a rest, Chirs and Drew both out of it. He could hear shallow breathing, the gentle rise and fall from Drew’s chest. Chris would be fine, a slight trickle of blood falling from his temple, eyes clouded over as a vision was surely taking him full on. Crawling from the wreck, his arm screaming in protests, Bart managed to get himself standing just as the woman came over the edge.

Her gown was red, torn to shit, and her skin shining with that glow. Blood trickled from her mouth and eyes, ears and nose. She walked and didn’t make a sound, didn’t leave a track or any evidence. Yet this wasn’t any ghost, she wasn’t bound anywhere, didn’t have a body. Salt didn’t do shit, and the church they had first run to had been laughably ineffective.

Reaching into his belt, pulling the colt revolved from his pants, he raised his shaky left hand with the smooth wooden grip in it, aiming down the sights at the creature. He knew how little it would do, how little it had done. But he had to do something. He wouldn’t just lay down and die, not with Drew and Chris counting on him. Not today, not ever.

The shot ripped through the air, a crack like lightning. It missed, the beast moving faster than Bart could track. He lifted the revolver again, taking another shot as the thing appeared and just as fast vanished. “Drew…. What did you call this thing again?” he said, the worry slowly rising in his voice.

Drew looked up at him from the back seat of the car, the computer folding slightly in his lap. He looked up for a moment, starring at Bart’s back before responding, his mind reeling for something useful. “Kee-wakw. I can’t find anything Bart! Just shoot it!” he screamed, as the thing materialized and slammed it’s ape sized fists into the trunk, a bestial roar bellowing from its large frame.

Bart turned; his brown eyes starring as he finally got a chance to size the thing up. Hunched over, it could probably pass for a man, but standing upright? Thing was nearly ten feet tall!
Squeezing the trigger twice, the thing vanished before he could tell if either hit. Rushing back to the car, he looked in through the window; eyes connecting with Drew to make sure he was ok.
“Bart, we don’t have time for this! This thing has Chris!” he announced loudly, turning back to his computer and scrolling helplessly through the web, eyes roving pages and pages of information on how to kill the thing.

Again it appeared, as if out of nowhere in the night air. Bart pulled the trigger, roaring definitely as the thing vanished again. “Drew, will you just tell me how to make this fucking Wak-kee stand still?” he screamed, spinning around, trying to see everywhere at once.

“It’s Kee-wakw! And I don’t know Bart, all it says here is the thing is apelike, and eats people!” he bellowed, eyes going wide as he looked up to check on his cousin.

Bart dangled from the things grasp, its two mitts wrapped around his neck. “Little… help…” he managed through gasps and gurgles, Drew alighting with joy as he finally found something.

“Spit! Spit on it! Spit is it’s weakness!” he said, folding his laptop and jumping at the door.

Bart swung his legs forward, kicking the beast in the jaw. Wriggling free for a moment, he had just enough time to hawk a good one in the things face. With a gallant look on his face, he stared in silent fuming horror as the spit had no apparent affect.

“Drew…. What site were you on!?” He asked, his voice faltering as he thing got it’s grip again.

“Wikipedia, why?!” he asked, the tone in his voice seeming oddly innocent.

The only solace Bart could take from the situation was how much pain he was going to inflict on Andrew after this was all said and done.
"Uh, we had a slight weapons malfunction, but uh... everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?" Han Solo
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