Topic: The 99 deaths of Dillon Tacitus Jones. (18+)

Dill T Jones

Date: 2009-11-02 21:39 EST
((Poster's note....Authors" Mods" Somebody's note. >=) For intense language in parts, a bit of the ol' ultra-violence, and later on in the series horror and gore, this is not for younger readers.))

It opens on a black screen, this chapter. Though soon snapping electronically to life a second later. In the frame of the screen, a much older man though he still towered over most in both height and size. A series of scars mar the side of his face over his eye, that has been replaced with a patch.

Standing in what seems to be thick in a forest lush and green, and even now the man's one good eye takes in his surroundings with a visible mixture of both awe and uncertainty. This easily read, contrary to his very soldier like stature.

The man is left to look, as the narrator's voice comes over the video.

"We have brought General Thorius Jo'Neas here for the first time in over one hundred years since he last jumped off of this planet. To this very spot. The spot of the harshest combat, in what historian's now call the most dangerous battle in all of the Chaos wars. It is the first time he has wished to give a briefing of that night, and therein is the only recorded version of this fight."

The old man looks back to the camera, though off to the side of the lens. Focusing on a person, rather then the object. Youth somehow still clinging to his form, at least in the smoothness of motion. Even when standing still.

Off screen came another voice, but focused out. Showing that it was most likely the interviewer, and the focus of the General's attention.

"Go ahead please, General."

With a small ruffle, the older man smoothed his hands down the black fabric of the dress uniform. Fitting nicely and showing the form underneath of a man in the prime of life, though the stark whiteness of his hair showed his true age. When he spoke, the tone was intensely deep.

"I am Thorius Jo'Neas. Son of Talnas Jo'Neas. I am a blooded member of my family's house, with honor surpassed only by my ancestors when it comes to the slaying of my enemy. I am, and have been acting General in the Wolfe Inc. Security Forces for seventy years. Before that I was colonel to the second army, infantry. Before that I was-"

Off screen the interviewer wisely cuts off the General's ritualistic call of honor. Which on a man his age, would take a bit of time.

"General, Please..."

Though this was met with of course, the sudden snarl and show of teeth over towards the interviewer by the older gentleman, which smoothly turned into a humored grin. A break in tradition of course, but the General did not seem to be a man to fully stand on such.

"-And it was here, that I had my first combat at the age of 17 in your years. My first pure taste of demonic blood was here, in the 'Pit'." The man made a light motion behind where the forest bloomed life behind him. As he turned to look, a slow laugh came out from him.

"It looked different, then." Still the same chuckle, deeply mirthful. And considering what he was discussing, was a light tell to the strength of his mind.

"And this is what you called this place then. 'The Pit'?" Off screen, the man spoke once again.

"Mmmm, yes. It was, at the beginning of all of it, a depression....at the end of everything with the firepower put down around here, and the stamping of feet and armor, it leveled out a bit. But I always will remember it as the Pit."

"This might seem to be very contrite General....But could you tell us what happened that night?"

"Mmmm, well....I guess you heard from the early reports what had happened. We jumped on this piece of shit planet with the intention of saving the lives of some remaining folk stuck here after the demons broke out. Last remnants of an entire planet. We got them out okay, but the beginning was brutal....very brutal. Just a taste of what was to come though."

A long inhale taken as memories began to flow back to the surface of the man's mind. Ones long deadened, opening up like fresh scars.

"Our deaths were the trigger, they say. Pushed this planet over the edge from something normal to a world....touched by demons."

"An infernal planet." Off screen the interviewer gives the more commonly known term to whatever audience this would be replayed to.

"Yeah, one of those. I don't know if you've ever fully seen one, with how things are now a days....but it's a horrendous place. The very earth rebels against you. The animals and corpses of the dead population become your enemy. Even the plants assault you. It was such then, and worse since it was so new, well back then we couldn't jump out while the planet was like that."

"Couldn't jump out?" The interviewer asks with a very definite disbelief.

"Hell no. We were stuck there....Happened a lot back then. People would jump in to the wrong fight, try to get out and be stranded. We were then. We lost over ten thousand men in little under four hours as the night came on. Whittling us down until the last nine hundred stragglers came to be gathered here. In the Pit."

"And then?" Another quick question by the interviewer, eager to keep the story going as it was now on the cusp of information never before revealed.

Though this was met by a sudden, sharp laugh from the older man. Hands slipping into the pockets of his dress slacks casually.

"And then. And then man I waited to die. Waited to be torn limb from limb by screaming horrors and nightmares. And this was when we had mark two armor. We were just flesh and bones underneath all that fancy technology. So what was there to do' Pitch black, nothing to do there but sit and wait. My first combat was going to be my last."

The man stopped for a second, rolling his tongue around in his mouth in a tell. Calming himself down a bit before continuing.

"Now we couldn't jump out, but people....people could jump in. But who the hell would jump into this hellish land for nine hundred soldiers, who knew the risks" No one would. Not a single soul in all the forces were willing to come in, and I don't blame them. Not one bit. People started falling off....Nine hundred became eight fifty. Eight twenty. Eight hundred. And then, then he came."

"Who came?"

"The General." The word holding a much higher press then the old man's own rank, even when he spoke it.

"Well, he was a Major back then. But we all knew him. Major Dillon Jones jumped into the planet, right over there." Even through the forest, the man points. And the camera panned then to show the peak off into the horizon. The camera panned back, and smoothly and right on time the General went on.

"Right through the black like a blade. Falling to earth. Bright as a star. It illuminated everything. And the demons, they saw it....and they went to it. And when he landed on the peak, he landed on the horns of a demon that he slew."

"And....then?" The interviewer manages to speak up, in a bit more silence then normal.

"And then..." Another sudden, sharp laugh in recollection. "And then the demon below that mother fucker reached up, grabbed the Major's legs, and tore the man in half."

The sudden silence all around was thick as ever, the drop of information a revelation.

"But you, were all in mark two armor....So the General..." The interviewer weakly replied. But the older man nodded.

"Torn in half, blood and glory all. They tossed him around a bit, devouring him piece by piece. And he died." The sudden purse of the man's lips, words coming out but not felt until they were out in the air.

"You have to understand, this was before we even knew about some of the medical technology being tested out. So all we saw, was our Major coming down and giving his entire life, to just give us....the tiniest sliver of hope. And suddenly, we were not children playing in an adult's game. We were beasts. Beasts darker then anything out there."

The sudden bloom of a smile came over the man's lips, then.

"We dropped more ordinance in an hour in this area then was dropped in the whole of Terra's world war 2. When the Company, and everyone heard about what the Major did....they were happy to provide it. It was a constant metal rain. If the plants wanted to annoy us, fine, then we would eliminate the plants. If the animals, and risen corpses wanted to fight us....Fine, we would fight them. If the demons wanted to hunt us, this was not fine. We would hunt them."

The smile grows wider, until it shows the more....feral nature of the man. Still quite human, but nothing decent smiled like that.

"And hunt we did. And we died, but more came. And on the second day of pure combat the dead of our enemies piled among our own. But now people poured in. What was once horror, now became a race of endurance. Our blood for theirs. Our lives, for theirs. For no reason because we could."

"And....then?" Even quieter off screen, meek in the light of the man's smile as he discussed the killing of demons in wholesale.

"And then he came. Again." A slow chuckle, as the smile faded into something more, warm.

"What?"

"Our Major returned to us. Came in a jump in full armor. And as he killed the first demon of many, he proclaimed to us over the net these simple words....'Not even death can stop me from my duty'."

"That's....Impossible. General, he couldn't of jumped back out. He was torn to pieces, and eaten by demons. There wouldn't be anything of him left to pull out of here, anyhow. It's just plain, impossible."

"Then you are missing the point from a seventeen year old soldier on the ground that had been fighting in a frenzy for two days straight. He did the impossible. And in that instant, so could we."

"I hear they found what they needed. With our fighting, they could pull it out in the confusion. It was a finger. In the stomach of a demon. He came back to us, from a single finger. The Company, healed him, from a single finger..."

"Wanna know the best part of all of this. The one that made even the Major laugh, after the planet was finally clean?"

"Please..." A sudden needy gasp for the information.

"It was his middle fucking finger....How fucking funny is that?"

The screen is left with the old soldier grinning into the lens now, humor rolling off of him thickly.



1.

Dill T Jones

Date: 2011-04-08 05:39 EST
It had all broken to hell and back. All plans failed when they met the first taste of combat, this he knew. But his plan had suddenly become his trap and his doom. But still he sprinted on.

He couldn't of been older then eighteen. Youth clung to his form and the chip on his shoulder was a mountain few dared to climb. What he ran on were masses of shipping containers. On the deck of a rather large cargo ship that was currently pitching through dark waters, dotted with a sharp contrast of white ice well broken up. The back lights of the Metro glowed on the horizon, close enough to reach out and touch.

What he ran from was currently sparking up metal behind him as the the almost constant thunder of shots followed him a bit too closely. Dillon knew that sound. He had pissed someone well off. But his was a speed borne of desperation, something he knew even more so. And with sharp growls he would leap from container to container, aiming for the open bow of the ship where he could at least have an open chance to dive into the cold waters. Something he absolutely did not want to do, but the alternative was currently snapping past his ear.

The last shipping container was a 20 foot fall that he took with full speed and a roll that had him dislocating his shoulder on impact. He corrected it with a sick wet snap as he came forward with his momentum and climbed up towards the open bow. And he was there....Until a voice called from behind him. Normally it wouldn't of even of stopped him. But he knew that voice.

"Was it worth it?" Feminine and cold. Something that pierced him right through the soul. It was a natural reaction for even him. He had called that woman lover mere moments ago. But in the speed of combat his mind knew what this meant. She was here. She wasn't supposed to be here. Unless this trap was her fault.

All that speed ended when he smacked hands into the iced over railing. He should of tossed himself over it and went with the results. But something stopped him. A moment of nothing, even as more gunfire pelted around him. Turning to give a look back over his shoulder. His grin apparent, even through the bandanna he wore over the bridge of his nose like a bandit.

"Fuck yes it was worth it." It came out of him like a curse. Just from the force of his confidence behind such words. Dillon knew what was coming next, and perhaps part of him thought she would never do it. Never would use what was held tightly in her grip and aimed at him. But the first shot hit him dead in the back and right out his front. The second pierced right beside the other. And in that moment, Dillon was surprised.

His grip on the railing slipped and he fell over it from the sudden loss of his legs. Falling quick down the side of the ship until he impacted with the water with a forceful splash. And that was it.

In the dark, cold water his body naturally turned. Already he was too weak to think of the danger. Too weak to think of the mind numbing fear that should be springing out from his hydrophobia. Too weak to care about the churning blades that moved the ship through the water. Eyes opened lightly, to see him sliding deeper through a red haze. His own blood, leaking out quickly.

His last thoughts were lost in the chaos of the moment. No flash backs through his life. No bright lights. And in that moment of the most extreme loneliness the man had ever experienced a voice came out in his own thoughts.

Was it really worth it"

Too weak to answer. Too tired to care. The gentle fall of his form continued. But lips turning blue did curl into a deep grin. And his middle finger lifted up towards perhaps the fleeing boat. Perhaps to the voice asking him. Perhaps just to it all.

And Dillon Tacitus Jones died.

But in the deep black of the water, something much larger then him moved.



(2)





He should not of awoke. He knew this. But when he came to it smashed into him like so many more times. Oddly enough, dying and coming back to life was exactly like waking up from drinking way too much. Somewhere in the back of his mind he might have seen the humor but in that moment of extreme horror there was nothing but a man screaming against the gauze that wrapped around his mouth. Only one eye was unpatched, and everything for a long moment was just a white blur.

No. Calm down. Breathe. You might have to fight out of here, act like you are asleep.

It was his usual response to waking up from a black out. If it wasn't from alcohol, it was because someone had taking a black jack to the back of his head. But as his eyes focused he saw the fluorescent bulbs buzzing above. Mind soon picked up on the odd beat of sound that was squealing out every few seconds. His heart beat. Focus turned to the EKG machine for a second, then he pierced it together.

A hospital.

Of all the places he has woken up in, this was so far not so bad. His calm radiated through the EKG which had the beats slowing down. Memory flowed back just as the pain did. Moving through his form like a hot wave that burned him down to even his soul. The betrayal. The shots that pierced his chest. The fact he should of been dead. He groaned outwardly for a moment, confident in his solitude.

"Bet it hurts." Rumbled a voice nearby him. Dillon's one eye snapped open and gave a better look to the side. An older man stood there comfortably, though Dillon would of swore he wasn't a moment ago. Again, memory flooded back and recognition began to happen. Dill knew this man....but from where" His heartbeat began to elevate again.

The older man gave a tilt of his head towards the EKG as it picked up again. The resistol cowboy hat he wore covering his face for a moment, but not the grin that bloomed up. A smart asses grin. Wonderful. Dillon had lived through all that just to die at the hands of a smart ass. What ever he had done to Lady Luck, he was sure it wasn't worth this kind of treatment.

"Guess it does..." Rumbled the old man once again as he looked back to the prone form of the bandaged Dillon. The young man's hand came up slowly to grip at the railing around his bed. Again the older man's eyes moved to the motion, then back to Dillon's one good eye.

"Starting to remember me aren't you? I can only imagine the intense terror you're going through right now. I mean with waking up, and the drugs, and now I am here....Oh, where are my manners." The old man grinned. In a sick moment where the curl of his lips caught in Dillon's mind. Now he knew where he knew the man. His eye closed up tightly as if he could of fought what came next.

"My name is Mack. I was once a Marshal of these lands. That's my badge they put around your neck as if it was rightfully yours to wear. I heard they had to pry it from your hand when they found you outside the hospital..." He kept speaking on calmly, until Dillon spoke up through the bandages. Well muffled though. But the older man seemed to get the gist.

"Hmm' Oh yes. You killed me a week ago." With those words the EKG bounced up loud and sharp enough that it brought out a sharp alarm tone as well. Dill's grip on the rail tightened, and he actually pulled himself up sharply just as a nurse burst into the room. Mack was still smiling when she stepped through his form as if he wasn't there. Not even noticing him as she came to Dillon.

"What the....No! You have to lay back down!" Her sharp tone was more out of surprise. But there was no stopping the man. His hand came up sharply to his mouth and pulled at the gauze with a hard tug. Yanking the feeding tube from his throat in a long pull. The woman quickly backed away. There was nothing she could do as he tugged out the line of the IV and tore off sensors from the rare places on his chest not covered in gauze. But soon enough even that was ripped off, showing the jagged two holes in his chest, even if the fall of the marshal's badge soon covered them up in some mockery of fate.

"You can't....do that..." The woman spoke in disbelief as Dillon did just that. Hand finally coming to his face to tear the bandage from his other eye. A blink, before he looked over to the woman and spoke as gently as he could at the moment.

"I came in here with a gun." He immediately knew his tone wouldn't work. It came out like he felt. Like he looked. Like some wounded animal. He went with it though, softening it through words as he kept the woman enraptured from what she was seeing. "Please. Go get it for me."

"You can't..." But she stopped once Dillon looked back to her from the empty air he was seemingly glaring at. Then she was in motion, back out the door. At least to get out of there. This left Dillon alone with Mack. And both men said nothing. The younger man foolishly came off his bed and right to his feet as if they could keep him up. He went to the floor like rug, bonelessly.

"That hurt." Spoke up Mack again, speaking the obvious. It only brought out a growl from the floor from the young man. His wounds began to leak blood again, he felt it. But he still put hands to the floor and slowly pushed himself up to his knees. Then a foot, then slowly to both as his hands went to the wall to keep him up. Right in front of a full length mirror, that showed the horror of his wounds. Mack bent behind the man, so he could look straight through the hole made in Dillon. And Dillon saw the man's eye peeking through his chest. Jesus Christ. He had a hole in his chest. His mind rebelled, and he knew the feeling that was coming. He went his knees again and by some miracle only threw up the thin acid in his stomach in a trash can.

"I take it back. That has to hurt." Spoken from Mack even as Dillon retched and his form convulsed. The pain racking through him enough to threaten the black to creep in on his vision. But he didn't give in. He wasn't about to give in just yet. Again, slower this time though, he rose to his feet. He said nothing, he just went to the door and tossed it open. Staggering out into the hallway. Where he was greeted by the form of Mack leaning against the opposite wall.

"Through the second door over there." As if Mack knew Dillon's aim. But for some reason in the horrible fog Dillon was in, he went with it. He didn't even see the people that got out of his way, or the looks of horror he got. He just moved his form to the door and tossed it open. And it was indeed what he was looking for, a medical storage closet.

And Mack was already there, standing comfortably in his slightly western get up. Watching all this with a humored curl on his lips. This was amusing him. And that just caused Dillon to push back the haze with his anger. He found the sealed package for a hypodermic needle and he ripped it open with his teeth. Body leaning on the racks of medicine as his eyes searched quickly. The first one he came across that he wanted had demerol written on it. And he yanked open the package to pull out one of the slim vials. Top popped open, and the needle plunged in before he began to draw on it.

"Too much..." Mack warned from over his shoulder as Dillon moved the plunger up to 10 milliliters. Way too much. He tossed the vial away roughly though and looked for a moment longer. But his eyes caught onto the package marked 'adrenaline' and he grinned darkly. Ripping it open as he repeated the actions with the vial. Pulling in another 40 milliliters into the needle.

"Is mixing those even possible...?" Mack was almost in disbelief in his tone now. Watching the younger man with a sick curiosity. Dillon just grinned even more and without a word....or clearing the syringe of bubbles....he jabbed the needle into his arm with a decent bit of skill. Finding the vein and jabbing down on the plunger to suddenly fill his form with a dangerous amount of adrenaline and pain killers. It hit his mind like a hammer. Pupils dilated quickly, and that grin grew again.

Mack was silent then. Just watching this happen and fully expecting either the younger man's heart to explode, or for him to just pass out. Dillon did neither though. His hand came up to grab at a package of gauze. Ripping it open with his teeth as he roughly shoved open the door and staggered out into the hallway. He had enough presence of mind to put the gauze to the holes in his chest as he moved down the hallway. Giving odd looks to those who screamed at his passing. But still he moved. Only stopping when he came face to face with the nurse from his room. Holding a colt 1911 pistol in her shaking hands, offering it out to the man as if it was a good idea to give a pistol to a man like that, right then.

Dillon was well out of it by now, and only could grin at her as if it would make anything better. Mack behind him ruined it though when he spoke up.

"Might have wanted to ask for pants too..." Rumbled out just as Dillon looked down to his naked form, already streaked with new blood. Even for all it was, the younger man laughed. Mirrored behind him by Mack. But his hand still came up to grip the pistol the nurse had, taking it out of her grip and into his own comfortably. Then the hammer was drawn back, and he pointed it at the nearest man who looked about his size.

"This is not the first time I have had to demand this in my life sadly. But give me your pants." Rumbled out through a hoarse throat, through lips grinning like a mad man. Down the iron sights of a pistol that should of been shaking, or dipping. But was aimed straight and narrow at the terrified man's chest.

No wonder a few moments later he was bursting through the stairway doors in a new pair of scrub pants. Hitting the stairs with shoeless feet and going quick. Sickeningly seeing Mack already waiting for him down the steps. He spoke up as Dillon rounded the stairs slowly.

"Yes. They are on their way, to kill you. They actually pulled up about three minutes ago. Good idea not to take the elevator..." Rumbled out even as Dillon hit the next stairs with a bit of speed. Just to get away from the voice behind him. But he looked up to see Mack leaning against the next floor's wall. Rounding the corner he looked down to the see the man's form again, even lower.

"Fuck you." Dillon finally broke and responded to him. Which caused the man's grin to burst out again. But Dillon kept moving.

"They took the stairs too you know." Mack spoke up once Dillon rounded the next set of stairs. About to respond again before a round thundered out in the enclosed space of the stairwell and deafened the younger man. His reactions were solid though, and he hit the next floors door to burst out into another hall way. Again, a shirtless man bleeding profusely and wielding a firearm did not go over well. And people flooded out of the hallway screaming. Dillon got his bearings, and began to stagger towards the elevators.

A lone security guard drew down on the younger man quickly as he came up to the bank of elevators. He was in the middle of declaring that Dillon should drop the gun, before Dillon took a few quick steps and clipped the man on the jaw with the butt of his pistol. Collapsing him in a second, and not even breaking the injured man's pace. The barrel of the pistol jabbed the 'down' arrow on the elevators and he was left to wait patiently for a few seconds.

Mack was there when he looked up. Grinning at him. To which Dillon snarled.

"This is not going very well." The older man reminded the younger one. But the elevator doors opened with a chime, and Dillon stepped through without a care. The pistol jabbed the button labeled 'P', and he waited for the doors to shut. Light musac playing in the background. To which Dillon rumbled his annoyance.

"You can't get into a shoot out here you know. There are too many innocent people here..." Mack began to speak again. But only for a second before Dillon brought up the pistol towards the man only he could see. Putting it right between his eyes.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He roared out in the elevator, growling and baring his teeth at whatever the older man was. "Fuck you! I killed you! You're fucking dead! Stop fucking following me..." A moment's pause as some sound behind the younger man caused him to halt his words. The pistol coming down to jab at a number near to their own. To which the elevator stopped, and the doors opened. And the terrified man kneeling in the corner watching Dillon aim a gun at and yell at thin air got the point and cleared out quickly.

"Sorry about that..." Rumbled Dillon as gently as he could, but it did not help. Another man stepped forward to enter the elevator, but he just was met with the barrel of a colt aimed at him. He stepped back quickly even as Dillon grinned through the shutting doors, and the elevator began to descend again.

"Fuck you. Hallucination. Ghost of the past. You're nothing..." Rumbled Dillon in the silence that followed. Looking down to the gauze, now stained a thick crimson. Blood leaking out under the fall of the badge that hung from the simple necklace. The doors opened again, this time showing the parking garage. But Dillon didn't move. His hand was bracing him up in the side of the doors, and he didn't look like he was about to move it.

"Come on....you can't stay here." It was the first thing that actually hit Dillon from the man. Actual concern. The pain of such a thing rippled through his soul worse then any pain of the flesh. He had killed that man.

But still when he moved through the shutting doors roughly, more encouragement came quietly.

"There you go. You are not dead yet Dillon. Find a car." And Dillon did that. The first one he came across. Pistol used without much agility to smash open the driver's side window. Just enough so he could reach in and unlock the door. No alarm blared at his entrance thankfully. And he sat down painfully on the chunks of glass. Mack was already sitting comfortably in the passenger's seat much to Dillon's annoyance.

Pistol was dropped to the floor. Fingers gripped at the steering column and yanked the plastic away. He already knew it was a chevy. And sickeningly Mack's words mirrored his thoughts.

"It's always Christmas in Detroit." Rumbled Mack as Dillon pulled out the green and red wires from the column. He tapped them together a few times, and the car began to turn over in response. Another tap and it started up and Dill twisted the open wires together with a sharp shock of energy flowing through them. But the car started up and revved when he jabbed his foot down on the gas.

"You know where you are going?" Asked Mack lightly, even as Dillon dropped the gear and skidded into the lane. Moving quickly towards the exit that was being pointed out for him on the walls in large signs.

"No." He would finally admit tiredly as he smashed through the gate trying to block Dillon's exit. Coming onto the street in a rush of acceleration. It didn't matter where he was going, just that he got there fast.

"I got a place outside of the city....I suggest you go there." And for once in his life, Dillon was absolutely too tired to fight. He just followed direction in a blur. He still remembers the sun coming over the lake he passed though, if only that was when he fully passed out with the thud of his head to the steering wheel. Blaring out a horn that didn't end. And Mack was left to stare at the passed out form of Dillon. Remarking only now that the younger man was finally out.

"You. Of all the people in the realm....it had to be you..." Surprise was something the older man hadn't felt in a long time. But even now he did feel it. Looking up to the simple ranch house they had pulled up to as the front door burst open and a rather large man stepped out to investigate the car blaring it's horn. Impossibly dark sunglasses over a brow that quickly furrowed in annoyance....