Spark 1.7: Malcolm

 

                There was something so incredibly satisfying about munching on a peach while shooting people. Part of it was the way its soft fur rubbed against my lip as I heard the gunshots ring. Another part was its delectable nectar flooding my tongue as I saw my enemies fall to the ground. My treatment of peaches and criminals were actually similar in a way. I always made sure there was nothing left.

 

                I finished my peach and laughed as I filled the room with bullets. I’d brought two of my little sisters with me on this mission, Chewie and Dot. Chewie desperately needed a cleaning, but she’d begged me to bring her along. Plus, I knew Dot was great at eliminating large groups, and she worked pretty well.

 

Bang, you do realize that there are no more living persons in this room, right? Dot whispered in my ear.

 

Oh let him do what he fucking wants! Chewie responded. Don’t you just love the feeling of getting fired on a nice summer day?

 

I stopped firing before lowering my guns. “I guess I did get a bit carried away. You guys know how peaches make me extra trigger-happy and horny.”

 

I’m guessing this means you’ll be getting a few hookers after we’re finished here, Dot said.

 

I nodded.

 

The factory we were in was gigantic, dank, and dark. The gray stone floor and walls made it clear that this place was pretty old, given how eroded they were. There were cobwebs hanging everywhere; there was an assembly line in the middle of the room, and thanks to me, Dot, and Chewie, there were now about a dozen corpses lying on the ground.

 

I was decked out in my usual gear. I had my gray tank top on under my black leather jacket with white stripes on the sleeves. I had a power drill tucked inside one of my jacket’s pockets, with a grenade tucked in another. I was also wearing black sunglasses, black jeans that were ripped at the knees, and I had extra clips of ammo strapped to my legs. My sneakers were set on fire a week ago, so I was just wearing socks at the moment.

 

I walked to the other side of the room, bent down, and sniffed the floor.

 

Jackpot.

 

I opened up a trapdoor, revealing a staircase.

 

When I reached the bottom, I found that the three of us were atop a balcony, overseeing a humongous meth lab with at least 15 cooks at work. The walls here were a sickening neon orange with the cooks wearing jumpsuits that matched them. There was also some high tech looking equipment present, and while I sometimes had dreams about being a scientist, I didn’t know the specific purpose of any of it.

 

Hey guys. Chewie said. What do you think their METHod is for doing this stuff?

 

Really? You’re going for those kinds of jokes now? Dot responded, sounding disappointed in Chewie.

  

Ooh. Ooh. I’ve got another one. When we start killing these fuckers, do you think they’ll have the blues?

 

Come now Chewie. The meth they’re making is white.

 

So is the guy behind all this probably.

 

Dot sighed.  You just finished watching Breaking Bad didn’t you?

 

Yeah, and it was fucking awesome.

 

Maybe so, but I was pretty disappointed in the ending.

 

Hey guys,” I whispered, cutting in.

 

Yes, Bang?  They both said.

 

Can we please talk about this later?” They both stopped talking.

 

Party time.

I screamed out to the whole floor. “Hey motherfuckers! Get set and prepare to get decked!”

 

I leaped off of the balcony, spinning and firing. Already a few dead once I hit the ground, two of the bigger cooks rushed me. I tossed Dot and Chewie into the air. With my now free right arm, I punched one of the guys in the face, knocking him down, and with my left arm, I took out my drill and drilled a bit into the other guy’s head. I pulled out the drill and holstered it as I caught my little sisters.

 

A few cooks tried making a run for it while I was dealing with the big guys, but I shot them right down.

 

Hey Dot, I am so killing more of these guys than you are, Chewie said.

 

In your dreams. See? I just wasted all six of them.

 

It doesn’t matter how many each of you kill.”

 

Because you love us each equally?  Dot asked.

 

Hell naw. It’s because I’m the one who’s really scoring all of the kills.”

 

Um.” A cook who’d been hiding behind some giant machine said. “Who are you talking to?,” he asked, sounding terrified.

 

Oh. He was one of those people. He was one of the people that thought guns were just tools.

 

Hey,” I growled, walking towards him. He looked more and more petrified the closer I got. “I think you owe my sisters an apology.”

Make the fucker beg for forgiveness! Chewie shouted.

I don’t see any girls here,” the cook whimpered.

Typical,” I muttered, before shooting a single bullet through his head.

Bang, not to alarm you, but while you were defending our honor, which was pretty cool, the remaining cooks made their way out of the lab.

Don’t worry, Dot. That’s what the landmines were for.”

We leisurely made our way out of the factory, Chewie spouting off Breaking Bad quotes the entire time.

When we exited, we found just what I had been expecting. We saw a bunch of blown to bits monsters who had been making meth that was being distributed to kids.

Is it time for the fuckin boom? I really hope it’s time for the fuckin boom! Chewie proclaimed.

I nodded with a gentle smile on my face. I walked past the bodies, knowing that the mines I’d placed near where they were had already gone off. I pulled out my grenade, pulled the clip, and tossed it into the factory.

Good work tonight, Dot. You too, Chewie. In fact, screw the hookers. Tonight, I’m giving each of you a solid cleaning. And as a bonus for me, I’ll have the time I need to finish the preparations for my trip.”

*

I put down Dot and Chewie next to each other on the shelf, laying them down to bed. They slept on the same shelf as the other assault rifles in the family: Miranda, Sparky, and Zelda.

My apartment was looking good at the moment. I didn’t mind if it looked like shit, but it mattered to some of my sisters that I kept everything organized. They probably had the right idea.

I went to the table in the kitchen, on which I had all of the newspaper clippings I’d collected lain out. From his humble beginnings to his most recent moment of triumph, I had his whole story right here.

What I saw was a tale of someone doing what he thought were good deeds for the completely wrong reasons. He’d taken glory, he’d been shortsighted, he’d put innocent lives in danger, and worst of all, he’d been trying to revitalize superhero culture.

I couldn’t allow this to go on any longer. He fought crime, but I dealt with the world’s real problems. And right now, he was one of them. And when I had my heart set on eliminating a problem, it got eliminated.

I had to go to Bluejay City.

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One Response to Spark 1.7: Malcolm

  1. unclepulky says:

    I’m going to be going away for the next few weeks. So to make up for that, this week, you’re getting three chapters. Enjoy

    Like

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