\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ //////////////////////////////// \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ //////////////////////////////// \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\' //////////////// .ao0.////////// \\\\\\ YOOOOO000b.\\\\\ YOOOOO00000@@@@@//// dOO000@//////// \\\\\ YOOO0000@@@b\\\' YOOO00000@@@@@P// dOOO000@D////// \\\\ OO0000@@@@@b' / OO000P///////// dOOO000@P///// \\ O000P'\Y@@@@D/// O0000q///////// OO000@P///// ' 0000\\\\Y@@@D/// 00000@@@@@////// 000@@@@q/ Editor: 0000Q\'d@@@@D/// 0000@@@@@P//////// @@@@@@@. Access Denied 000@@@@@@@@P'/// 000@@P//////////// .d@@@@@D X Marks The d00@@@@@@@P'//// d00@@@a///////// d@@@@@@@@@' Shit d00@@@@@@P'///// d00@@@@@@//////// @@@@@@@@' ///////////////////////////////\ Y@@@@' ///////////////////////////////\\\\ Y@'\\\\ ///////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ ///////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ ///////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ ///////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ /////////////////////////////// \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ D a m n e d F u c k i n g S h i t - Presents - Issue #54 Date: 5/30/96 Title: Scarred Author: Dementia Praecox [Editor's Note: Yeah so ya see, DFS is back with some brand spanking new stuff. Look at the index for some more inph0 on DFS mother fucker!!! -AD] - s c a r r e d - by Dementia Praecox There was rain.. it seemed almost too much rain. It flowed through the streets in small rivers and collected in puddles along the sidewalks. It smacked against the sides of buildings. It filled up all the weathered-in cracks along the ground, and took with it all the grime, all the muck and filth, that the city had collected during the day. It beat steadily against his already completely drenched and soaked-through clothes, dripping under his collar and sliding down his back, none of which he felt. It fell continually on her cold, lifeless face, mixing with his tears as he knelt over her shattered body, as he stared into her unfocused eyes, silently begging her to return to him. "Please.. please come back.. don't leave me..", he brushed aside her drooping hair and sobbed into her neck, "I love you.. ". She didn't move. The rain continued its drumming. Around them, the city was silent, waiting out the storm, as nature seemed to weep for her newly lost child. It had been so quick.. Jesus Christ. What the hell had gone so terribly wrong? What had she (or he?) possibly done to have deserved this? He searched back through his already departing memory of the incident to try to remember what had even happened.. that movie really could've been better but oh well you just can't pick these things just by the commercials that doesn't really matter anyways my god she's so beautiful i love her so much what makes her even speak to me i don't like that car over there the color just doesn't look right i really like the color grey maybe i'll paint my house looks like it might rain soon shit i wonder if it's gonna freeze again and cover everything with ice like last time is my garage door open i think i left it closed but i can't remember i can't help but smile when i watch her like this she's so funny without even trying to be i love her what was my life ever like without her i can't even remember anymore but that doesn't matter because she's here now i think it's time to pick up another battery for my cordless phone i can't even tell what anyone is saying anymore on that damn thing i like oranges i think i'll have some orange juice when i get home smashing pumpkins really sucks this guy looks like a hardass could i take him yeah undoubtedly yeah keep walking motherfucker i wonder what it feels like to beat someone within an inch of their life and then stand back and laugh at them trying to breath my god where did that thought come from i hope she never finds out these things i think about sometimes that doesn't make me weird does it oh well no one else knows anyways and everybody thinks like that god i love her so much where is this alley going anyways seems like we've been walking forever this car's going awful fast black berreta pretty sleek i guess but i don't know if i want one jesus christ shut the fuck up like you know a thing about cars oh no look out you're to close move move get out of the way lookout oh fuck he just plowed her out of the way is she okay stop stop get back here mother fucker license plate has a 9 and 0 in it is she okay dear god no no not her why not me please be okay i love you there's so much i haven't told you god there's blood everywhere how long has it been raining hang on i love you don't leave oh jesus why hang on please where's the police... The day dawned bleak. At first, he thought it was all some foul, accursed nightmare teasing his mind with the worst possibilities of his life. Then he opened his eyes. She was still gone. He called out to her, pathetically hoping she was there, but empty silence and the dying echoes of his shouts were the only sounds that greeted him. He collapsed into a weeping pile of wretchedness upon the bed. It had been almost a week, and he could still not sleep through the night. He had eaten next to nothing and even that he could hardly keep down. He couldn't go to work. He couldn't go out with friends. He couldn't do anything. Every single day he called the police, hoping that the situation had changed, hoping that they'd at least found something. Everyday, "Sergeant James Hicks" told him the same thing. "Sorry sir, we've got nothing new to report to you today, we'll call you if there's any new developments," the pig always said. He had already spent hours talking to the prick, filling out reports.. and he despised him. He seemed to be the incarnation of everything he found atrocious in people: gigantic, stupid, incompetent, a hopeless individual. Were they even ATTEMPTING to look for the killer? That worthless bastard was out there somewhere, still alive, still free, while she was gone, an innocent victim in the world of the guilty. The police it seemed, did nothing, ever. How many black berretas, with a 9 & 0 in the plates could there POSSIBLY BE for Christ's sake?! He was obviously being screwed by the police.. there was to be no legal vengeance whatsoever for her death. She was yesterday's news, and the police department had bigger and better things to do than to take care of a single vehicular homicide in this seething gutter of despair that somehow passed for a city. He sat alone in the apartment until once more darkness lit the city with its sweet, anonymous embrace. Although he seemed to be staring at the wall, he didn't see it. He saw only her, her dark, alluring eyes, her smiling face.. her broken body cradled in his arms. Finally, he decided it was time for another try. One more trip to the police station, one more attempt at justice. He would go tonight, and he would go every night, until she was avenged, and her troubled soul could at last be laid to total peace. It was all he had left now, his only reason to continue dragging himself through this melancholy cycle of pain called life. The streets were deserted as he walked the few blocks down to the police station, his heels dragging across the sidewalks wearily. He arrived just in time to see someone walking to the parking lot. Even through the haze of darkness, he could recognize Jim Hicks' fat, unkempt bulk shuffling through the parking lot towards his car. He was about to call out to him, see if anything had happened, but found that he couldn't. His ragged breath caught in his throat, and he slumped to the ground, still encased in the protective shadows of the night. "Oh god.. no..", he sobbed quietly to himself as the sergeant sped away in his sleek, black berreta, license plate NJC-590. _______________________________________ Jim left work at the same time he did every night, slipping into his more relaxed "home" mood to escape the tensions of the day. He certainly was not getting any younger, and his heart had been troubling him lately, especially with the shakeups he'd had recently. He pulled open the door and slid his ponderous bulk behind the wheel of his new car, his pride and joy. As he closed the door, a great sigh escaped him, and he relaxed entirely. He only felt the first few dull pangs of agony after the metal bar smacked him over the head before dropping off into the depths of his subconscious. ______________________________________ He was screaming again. That was good. It meant he was still alive, still in agony, and still paying. No one could hear him here, anyways. They were deep in the heart of a deserted warehouse near his parents' old home. They had been here for hours now, and they had been busy. Well, he had been busy. Hicks, or what was left of him anyways, had been mostly screaming. "You're going to die, you miserable son of a bitch", he'd told Hicks when they'd started, "and it's going to be slow, so get ready". Then he had become vengeance personified. At this point, Hicks was only barely recognizable as human. He was strapped naked to a chair, and rivers of blood seeped from almost every pore. His right arm was stapled to a wooden desk, and the hand was completely crushed. Bone fragments protruded all over from where the sledgehammer had gone to work. Long, deep gashes from a razor blade covered his entire torso. Rusted fishing hooks and nails peeked out from any open flaps of skin. His entire body was covered with seared wounds, because everytime Hicks would pass out from pain, a red-hot poker would be plucked from the fire and pressed against his flesh. He'd wake up screaming and start thrashing all around, and the work would begin again. Finally, hours later, there was really nothing left to do but leave him to die. He sat in front of him, toying with a gun, waving it around enticingly. Finally he spoke. "Should I kill you now, fuckface?", he asked him. Hicks managed to groan out his approval around the stump of his tongue, which had been cut out earlier with a dull pocketknife. "Don't worry, you'll die soon enough. Don't even think, though, not for a second, that you'll escape this by dying. I haven't even started on you yet, you bastard. When we meet again in Hell, I'll be laughing as I flay you to pieces by the hour.. For now, though, I'm just giving you something back that you gave to her.. How does it feel to know that you're about to die? To know there's nothing you can do about it?" he stared at the quivering form for a bit. Hicks said nothing. "Answer me!". In response, Hicks moaned softly. Two shots rang out loudly through the warehouse, echoing back into the dank, foul recesses. The contents of the false judicial champion's skull emptied onto the back wall, and fragments of bone littered the floor. The haggard breathing stopped, and the form slumped over. It was done. He sank down on the floor, shaking quietly. Two tears slowly tracked their way down through his face, landing softly on the floor. "I love you", he said quietly in the darkness, before placing the gun into his own mouth. Seconds later another shot rang out in the stillness. In the end, the papers called him a monster. In the end, the police called him a demonic sadist bent on imagined vengeance. In the end, he was shunned by society as a killer of its children, an eater of its innocence. But in the end however, he was merely a lover. - t h e . e n d - Find DFS On These Fine Systems (When they're up...) ========================================================================== | Paradise Lost +1.414.476.3181 DFS World HQ | | Temporary Insanity +1.414.666.W00T DFS Affiliate HQ | | Arcane Asylum +1.414.PSY.CHOS DFS Thingy HQ | | | | FTP - etext.archive.umich.edu - /pub/Zines/DFS | | HTTP - http://www.execpc.com/~adenied | | | See, it's like this. I don't call out, so I don't know if any of my | | distros are still up. So they're all GONE! If you want to be a site | | mail Access Denied at adenied@execpc.com or call Paradise Lost. | | | | ASCII Art by Incarnate | | | | To submit, call Paradise Lost and log on as DFS. The password is: | | JINGLE JINGLE | ==========================================================================