Hello all, this is an ongoing novel I made set in a post apoc world.
Note: You may not want to read this as it is quite explicit and gory.
Rooney gasped as he woke up from his coma, deeping inhaling the stale air of the darkened room. Trying to sit up, he realized his hands, legs, arms and head was strapped to some strange dentists chair. Above him was an intensely bright light, aimed directly into his face. Rooney's eyes constricted against the harsh light. Around him was nothing but black, maybe it was because of the contrast.
Then the pain, in the back of his head, he felt a throbbing pain. Some bastards obviously smacked him on the head and dragged his body somewhere.
"Heretics! Who dare hath taken me from mine exalted God?!" Rooney thought to himself. He tried to gulp down his cottonmouth to no avail. The room was dry as well as dark. To make things even more eerie, there was absolute silence. Rooney could only hear his fingers scratching against the padded chair and the incessant ringing in his ears.
Seconds passed, minutes passed, an hour passed, Rooney could no longer count the time. All he knew was that he was thirsty.
Then a door opened. A smooth sliding sound. Rooney knew what that sound was. No doubt, it was an interior vault door. Old age has its advantages, one of them luckily was a vault dweller's background.
A strange figure began to emerge from the darkness, nothing more than a strange head propped up on a huge cloak which barely touched the floor. A seam down the middle of the cloak sparkled in radiance.
Just then Rooney noticed a strange contraption levelled right in front of his chest. On it was a screwdriver. An electric one with an oversized drill bit.
The cloaked figure walked directly up to Rooney, stopping in front of his feet on the footrest.
"You are Rooney." A dark voice bellowed within the abnormal mask, shaped like a gleaming metal face, stoic in it's expression. Two eye slits jutted out near the top, and a pit of darkness diffused any light entering. The entire body never moved.
Rooney said nothing. He just struggled against his restraints. He knew why he was here. But he wouldn't say nothing. The ordinator shall protect him, always. In the afterlife, there is no room for traitors. Only the faithful will prevail.
"Where is your ordinator." The same monotonous voice questioned again, never changing in pitch, barely human.
Several minutes passed. Rooney perspired like a dog, still struggling against the straps which held him.
"Where is your ordinator."
Rooney stopped and looked the figure directly in the eyes, or the lack thereof in a tangible sense.
Inside the figure's mask, there was a clicking sound. A minature holographic picture appeared in a HUD, visible only to whomever the towered figure was. In it appeared the outline of a man.
Inside the mask, an earpiece clicked on. Another man's voice muttered, "Status."
The figure spoke once more. "He does not talk."
Rooney smirked. The nonbelievers are much less intelligent than he thought. He looked around once more, and rested his eyes on the strange device floating above his chest.
"Kill him," the voice said. And with that, the HUD flickered off.
The cloaked thing hovered over to Rooney's left and turned exactly ninety degrees toward him. The seam parted and a metal plated glove shot out, seizing the screwdriver. The glove's fabric groaned against the grip, which aimed the device directly against Rooney's head. Rooney grimaced and his eyes went wide, crosseyed looking at the appliance. He could feel the cold steel completely unmoving and perfectly leveled on his forehead.
"Where is your Ordinator."
Rooney remained silent, besides his gasping and wimpering.
The metal hand pressed a trigger and the drill span aganist the flesh. Blood splattered across Rooney's screaming face and bits of skin caught in the grooves of the drill bit, flinging off into the dark room. The drill stopped, having completely penetrated all layers of flesh and was now aligned aganist pure white bone.
Rooney was a mess. He was crying, tears mixing with blood streaming down his face in a waterfall of blood and gore.
"Where is your Ordinator."
Rooney began to pray. Even as his nose dripped with mucus and blood pulsated from his gaping forehead wound, veins severed and still pumping fresh blood.
The figure stood there, unmoving, maybe confused from what he was seeing. The man would not talk. His command was to kill it. Interrogation was not working.
Kill it.
Once again the drill span, aganist bone, a horrific sound of cartilage grinding aganist metal was accompanied by the death throes of a single man. This symphony of death lasted one minute until finally the bore met brain, completely ceasing any signs of life within Rooney. A writhing corpse, all manner of fluids pouring forth from a gaping wound, was the only thing left in the dark room besides a cloaked form, silently placing the drill unto it's metal carriage, and eventually left from where it came.
Note: You may not want to read this as it is quite explicit and gory.
Rooney gasped as he woke up from his coma, deeping inhaling the stale air of the darkened room. Trying to sit up, he realized his hands, legs, arms and head was strapped to some strange dentists chair. Above him was an intensely bright light, aimed directly into his face. Rooney's eyes constricted against the harsh light. Around him was nothing but black, maybe it was because of the contrast.
Then the pain, in the back of his head, he felt a throbbing pain. Some bastards obviously smacked him on the head and dragged his body somewhere.
"Heretics! Who dare hath taken me from mine exalted God?!" Rooney thought to himself. He tried to gulp down his cottonmouth to no avail. The room was dry as well as dark. To make things even more eerie, there was absolute silence. Rooney could only hear his fingers scratching against the padded chair and the incessant ringing in his ears.
Seconds passed, minutes passed, an hour passed, Rooney could no longer count the time. All he knew was that he was thirsty.
Then a door opened. A smooth sliding sound. Rooney knew what that sound was. No doubt, it was an interior vault door. Old age has its advantages, one of them luckily was a vault dweller's background.
A strange figure began to emerge from the darkness, nothing more than a strange head propped up on a huge cloak which barely touched the floor. A seam down the middle of the cloak sparkled in radiance.
Just then Rooney noticed a strange contraption levelled right in front of his chest. On it was a screwdriver. An electric one with an oversized drill bit.
The cloaked figure walked directly up to Rooney, stopping in front of his feet on the footrest.
"You are Rooney." A dark voice bellowed within the abnormal mask, shaped like a gleaming metal face, stoic in it's expression. Two eye slits jutted out near the top, and a pit of darkness diffused any light entering. The entire body never moved.
Rooney said nothing. He just struggled against his restraints. He knew why he was here. But he wouldn't say nothing. The ordinator shall protect him, always. In the afterlife, there is no room for traitors. Only the faithful will prevail.
"Where is your ordinator." The same monotonous voice questioned again, never changing in pitch, barely human.
Several minutes passed. Rooney perspired like a dog, still struggling against the straps which held him.
"Where is your ordinator."
Rooney stopped and looked the figure directly in the eyes, or the lack thereof in a tangible sense.
Inside the figure's mask, there was a clicking sound. A minature holographic picture appeared in a HUD, visible only to whomever the towered figure was. In it appeared the outline of a man.
Inside the mask, an earpiece clicked on. Another man's voice muttered, "Status."
The figure spoke once more. "He does not talk."
Rooney smirked. The nonbelievers are much less intelligent than he thought. He looked around once more, and rested his eyes on the strange device floating above his chest.
"Kill him," the voice said. And with that, the HUD flickered off.
The cloaked thing hovered over to Rooney's left and turned exactly ninety degrees toward him. The seam parted and a metal plated glove shot out, seizing the screwdriver. The glove's fabric groaned against the grip, which aimed the device directly against Rooney's head. Rooney grimaced and his eyes went wide, crosseyed looking at the appliance. He could feel the cold steel completely unmoving and perfectly leveled on his forehead.
"Where is your Ordinator."
Rooney remained silent, besides his gasping and wimpering.
The metal hand pressed a trigger and the drill span aganist the flesh. Blood splattered across Rooney's screaming face and bits of skin caught in the grooves of the drill bit, flinging off into the dark room. The drill stopped, having completely penetrated all layers of flesh and was now aligned aganist pure white bone.
Rooney was a mess. He was crying, tears mixing with blood streaming down his face in a waterfall of blood and gore.
"Where is your Ordinator."
Rooney began to pray. Even as his nose dripped with mucus and blood pulsated from his gaping forehead wound, veins severed and still pumping fresh blood.
The figure stood there, unmoving, maybe confused from what he was seeing. The man would not talk. His command was to kill it. Interrogation was not working.
Kill it.
Once again the drill span, aganist bone, a horrific sound of cartilage grinding aganist metal was accompanied by the death throes of a single man. This symphony of death lasted one minute until finally the bore met brain, completely ceasing any signs of life within Rooney. A writhing corpse, all manner of fluids pouring forth from a gaping wound, was the only thing left in the dark room besides a cloaked form, silently placing the drill unto it's metal carriage, and eventually left from where it came.