Two Page Shorts - Nick Venom (big ebook reader txt) 📗

didn’t exist to him. 

“We keep moving with him,” I told Frost, who shot me a worried expression. He doubted that Scarecrow would be fine. And, unfortunately, I would have to agree. Scarecrow’s condition worsened by the minute and the poor bandaging job I performed on him wasn’t enough to fully stop the bleeding. It even appeared to be getting worse because of his condition.

“Are you sure… And… It’s been a year, sir, so why are you still referring to me as Frost and Scarecrow as Scarecrow? No offense, but why don’t you call us by our real names. Everybody else refers to each other as-”

“Help me hide the humvee, Frost. Now.” I ordered, ignoring his comment. I didn’t want to think about his comment, pushing it out of my mind instantly. Frost, meanwhile, opened his mouth to argue, but couldn’t find any words to say. Instead, he gave in and helped me push the humvee off to the side. We were stuck on the highway and couldn’t get down to ditch the humvee into the forest. 

Once our job was done, Frost went to grab Scarecrow from the humvee but stopped. He heard the stomping of feet, looking around for the cause of the sound. I looked around, searching for the cause of the sound as well. 

“Sir?” Frost muttered, creeping to the edge of the highway and peering over it. He noticed a different horde of zombies trudging down the cramped highway under the one they were standing on. “Drop to the floor.” He whispered, pressing flat against the highway’s concrete. I followed his lead, dropping against the floor. 

The sounds of the horde marching under us lasted for what felt like an eternity before it was far enough to confidently stand up. Frost followed me, quietly tiptoeing to the other side of the highway and staring at the horde as it moved away from us.

“Where are they going?” I asked.

“No idea, sir. However, that’s worrying. They’re like the hordes that devastated us in Chicago. We need to head home before that horde or something like it attacks Grandville.” He suggested.

I nodded in agreement. “Good idea, help me get Scarecrow,” I said, turning towards the humvee. Frost helped me take Scarecrow, whose condition was worsening, and threw him on my back. “Let’s go before nightfall. We got about an hour or two run from here.” 

Frost nodded. “Last person to reach the gate loses their muffin.” He joked.

I turned to him, grinning. “Sneaky bastard. Don’t think I’ll lose to you because I’m carrying Scarecrow.” I remarked before turning to face my front. I sprinted forward, catching Frost off-guard, who then raced to catch up to me. 

We sprinted towards the safe haven of Grandville, the only town that still exists out here. Towards our home.

Titan: Chapter One - Underground

The kingdom of Ruris suffered from a plaque that every city in the world had - corruption. This corruption created human trafficking and drug rings. Crime followed as murder rates increased after a very dangerous crime lord revealed himself. Flame was his nickname, mainly for his ability to control fire; an ability that could kill anybody within a moment. The crime lord ruled over the slum district of the Capital, known as the Underground. 

The Underground came to consume a fifth of the 234 square mile city. In addition, the Underground’s population was only a tenth of the total population, but the powers that the few in the Underground had created a barrier that barred police and politicians from entering the area. 

Any plans to reclaim the Underground led to mass murders and police corpses being soaked in their blood, disfigured and soulless. The Ruris government, after many failed attempts, decided to stop the Underground from expanding by creating checkpoints and restricting the criminals to that district. Unfortunately, not every officer sided with the government. The criminals were free to roam through the checkpoints and ship out crates of drugs thanks to corrupt officers.

The president of the Ruris Kingdom, Asad Venture, didn’t like how the corruption continued to grow after several years of trying to put it down. Now angered by rumors floating around that criminals are smuggling out products through the checkpoints, he called his cabinet to discuss a new plan.

“Damn!” Asad declared as he sat at a round wooden table with his cabinet. His cabinet stared at him, all stunned at his outburst. His night-black eyes glittered with anger, darting from cabinet member to member. 

“How is the corruption spreading? Why aren’t the checkpoints working?” He spat out. He was dressed in layers of red, blue, and gold luxurious cloaks. He resembled a king in every aspect but title and power.

“Mr. President, if I can speak?” An older gentleman asked, dressed in a suit that was a size too small on him. Asad nodded his head, acknowledging the man. “The checkpoints aren’t ineffective, but the workers. Smugglers and criminals are bribing the checkpoint guards. We need to do a mass expulsion of these guards and replace them with new ones.” The man, Thomas Hillen, said.

“Then what?” Asad asked. “We replace one seed of corruption with another. What we need is a for-sure idea that can stop its spread.”

“There is one way… a full charge into the Underground and erase the main players,” A female around Asad’s age remarked. The others snapped their heads to the female with widened eyes and opened mouths. 

Asad shook his head. “We would lose more lives than we save. Unless you have a special assassination team prepared for the mission you suggested?”

Hana Evergood, a brunette dressed in a pantsuit, shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

Asad nodded his head, chewing on the inner part of his cheek. “... I need a plan that doesn’t leave the capital stained with blood.” He looked around at his cabinet and found them looking everywhere except his eyes. Nobody had a good idea on how to cleanse the corruption. Some even questioned if the corruption could be cleansed.

A few moments later, however, Thomas had an idea. “What if… we create our own magic users.” 

The cabinet looked at him strangely. Some even audibly gasping at his suggestion. Others were appalled at the idea. Asad joined in, staring at Thomas as if he had two heads. “T-Thomas… you do understand what you’re suggesting, right? You could be imprisoned for even suggesting an outrageous idea like that.”

Thomas nodded before bowing his head. “Yes, Mr. President. I understand. Although outrageous… we have little else aside from the massacre of our innocent citizens. We cannot purge the corruption using normal tactics. Otherwise, this city would have been clean long ago.”

Asad nodded, considering the idea. It was an arbitrary idea, but it didn’t sound like the worst option, considering the casualties the other plans would have. Even so, Asad had outlawed magic, causing some tension with the neighboring kingdom of Vulux, and dragged magic-users through the mud during his campaigning. It would tarnish his reputation if the public learned that he was allowing a plan using magic users to proceed. Thankfully, he already had an idea to counter the public.

“Fine, we’ll go with that plan.” He told his cabinet, some looking at Thomas and him with disgust and anger. “However, we cannot allow your plan to leak. Is that clear?” He asked his entire cabinet as well as the knights guarding the room. Everybody, some reluctantly and some with a few moments of hesitation, agreed to the plan.

Now with a plan chosen, Asad needed to light a fire under it. “Thomas?”

“Yes, President?” Thomas asked, furrowing his brows.”

“... You’re in charge of the project. Cultivate any magic-users you can find. I will give you some men to find anybody with talent and bring them here.” He informed him. Thomas nodded, rising from his chair and bowing.

“I will ensure the project works, Mr. President.” He said.

Asad nodded. “It better… Otherwise, the capital will be consumed by the corruption.”

***

Grian, a tanned-skinned teenager, watched two boys and a father play a card game in their living room through an open window. He watched as the boys laughed and joked around with their father. Strangely, the mother was out of the picture.

Grian titled his head, straining his eyes to see what was on the cards. However, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t read any of the words on the cards even if he could see what they said. Instead, he stood up from his comfy spot on top of an angled roof and walked carefully off the roof and onto one slightly lower. He traveled via the roofs, avoiding the thugs roaming the streets. As he traveled from roof to roof, he would glance at the house he was stepping on. He was looking for the houses belonging to gangs, usually finding a way to avoid their roofs. He wasn’t stupid to cross their roofs at the risk of being seen by a thug or two and getting beaten close to death later on. He was smart, only stepping on the roofs of people who didn’t want anything to do with the outside or people who couldn’t beat him to death - most of which were elderly people.

Grian traveled from one end of the neighborhood to the other, reaching the gutters. He slid down the gutters, landing as softly as he could using a downspout on the verge of breaking. He dropped to the ground, jumping up and hightailing it towards an abandoned wooden warehouse diagonally across from him. His black cloak fluttered in the wind, showing off the frail and skeleton-like body he had.

He made it to the warehouse, running to the other side and finding his makeshift door waiting for him. He opened the door, locking it behind him using a chain that he wrapped around the door. He then threw on the lock, inserting the key and finalizing his main line of defense. He dropped the key in the only pocket he had left in his jeans. The other three pockets had large holes in them, making them worthless. 

Now inside his house, he swung his backpack off his back and sift through the goodies he found. Most of it was garbage he got from a corpse of a street rat killed in a scuffle.

He separated his loot into three piles: stuff he could use, stuff he could sell, and stuff to throw away. Most of his loot was thrown into the third pile as he randomly grabbed what he could before other street rats jumped in and grabbed the rest. 

“Unlucky haul today,” He remarked, turning away from the table holding the piles. “I knew I should’ve checked his pockets first. That damn ugly street rat got it first.” He thought out loud as he approached his makeshift living room. The room wasn’t complete, but one filled with crumbling and half-built walls - the outside walls were sturdy and still in one piece in contrast to the crumbling inside walls. 

The furnishing was nothing more than a couch in the middle of the room and a lonely wooden chair. It was a disappointing sight to most, but not for Grian. He enjoyed what he had.

With his loot on the table and the door locked, he approached the couch and plopped himself on top of it. He glanced down at his hands, full of calluses