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Hey all, I know it's been forever since I've posted in here, but I've had a severe lack of creative impulses over the last few months. (and for those of you that have been waiting for a Confessions update since Arceus knows when... it will come, I promise).
Anyways, this is a new story, based on something I wrote over a year ago. Stumbling upon old work and realizing it sucks is always... well it sucks. But realizing that you can shape it into something better, shape it into a piece of something greater, well that makes it all worth it.
Sorry for that. I'll stop with the monologue.
A Dish Best Served Cold
Chapter One: The Blackest of Days
"Judge, my man, I'm sorry, but I simply don't understand what the point of this horse and pony show is." Colt drawled in a voice that made him sound like your typical soul surfer. "Because if your witnesses are lying about the extent and methodology behind my crimes then you don't have a case." Colt's easygoing smile was infectious and a few of the reporters in the back of the courtroom actually laughed at his remarks. The judge however did not find it nearly as amusing. He slammed his gavel down, causing the room to go silent in an instant.
"Speak out of turn like that again and I'll find you in contempt of court!" The judge shouted, cutting Colt's further musings about if the witnesses weren't lying off before he could substantiate exactly what the witnesses had said. "Mr. Walker, you have been read the charges against you? How do you plead?" His options were numbered. He could plead guilty and spend a minimum of twenty-five years in prison. He could plead not guilty and hope that he could beat the justice system and walk away a free man. Or he could take a third option. And for Colt, his life had always been about taking the third option, the road lesser men were scared to travel.
He closed his eyes and flexed his fingers, waiting for the familiar surge of power that was sure to follow. His easygoing smirk turned wolfish and his deep blue eyes shifted into a demonic red and black. "My plea is meaningless. Your judicial system is nothing to me. Everyone here is nothing more than an obstacle, one that shall be overcome." The voice that Colt spoke with shifted deeper as he looked at the judge. "Only the weak plead and beg. Only the strong take action." Black shadow blades slowly emanated from his arms and with one quick swipe his handcuffs were nothing but useless shards of metal lying on the marble floor. He held his right hand out an orb of black auric energy slammed into the nearest wall, bringing it down in a heap of rubble. For a few moments that seemed like an eternity, the entire room was frozen. No one had moved or said a thing as they watched the accused murderer break out of his handcuffs with a mysterious force no one knew humans could possess. "I would like my things back." He said darkly as he walked over to the bailiff. The massive police officer was shaking like a small child as he reached over to a small shelf and grabbed the items in question.
"What... What are you?" One particularly brave officer in the back of the ruined courtroom finally managed to stutter. This heavyset balding man had been one of those responsible for bringing Colt into the courtroom.
"Every last thing that was mine was taken from me. But then I found purpose. I found power." Colt spoke every word as if he wanted them to be quoted by someone in the audience for later publication. He walked towards the large wood-paneled doors in the back of the courtroom. It was clear that he had decided to exit the building through the front door, rather than the hole he had made moments earlier. When he reached the doors, his prison jumpsuit vanished, replaced with a long black hooded cloak. The escaped criminal pulled the hood over his light blond hair, hiding his eyes in shadow. And then he was gone, nothing more than a ghost or a specter haunting the nightmares of everyone that witnessed his true form.
In order to understand a monster, it is necessary to understand the formative experiences that created him, that shaped him, that molded him into nothing more than a destructive force that none can hope to withstand.
Anyways, this is a new story, based on something I wrote over a year ago. Stumbling upon old work and realizing it sucks is always... well it sucks. But realizing that you can shape it into something better, shape it into a piece of something greater, well that makes it all worth it.
Sorry for that. I'll stop with the monologue.
A Dish Best Served Cold
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1 - The Blackest of Days
Chapter 2 - Greatness is a Two Way Street ( http://bmgf.bulbagarden.net/f227/dish-best-served-cold-126069/#post3768462 )
Chapter 1 - The Blackest of Days
Chapter 2 - Greatness is a Two Way Street ( http://bmgf.bulbagarden.net/f227/dish-best-served-cold-126069/#post3768462 )
Chapter One: The Blackest of Days
May 27th, 2084
Slateport City Courthouse
"Colt Jameson Walker, you stand before the court charged with..." For a man being led into a packed courthouse in chains, Colt Walker looked strangely complacent. Peaceful even. His deep blue eyes betrayed no hint of fear and his light blond hair was carefully mussed up, almost as if he was planning on looking good for the cameras. And there were cameras flashing throughout the back benches where the press was forced to sit. This wasn’t a normal criminal trial, and the man who stood accused of heinous crimes was far from normal. Not even twenty-three, his vicious and merciless acts had gained regional infamy.Slateport City Courthouse
"Judge, my man, I'm sorry, but I simply don't understand what the point of this horse and pony show is." Colt drawled in a voice that made him sound like your typical soul surfer. "Because if your witnesses are lying about the extent and methodology behind my crimes then you don't have a case." Colt's easygoing smile was infectious and a few of the reporters in the back of the courtroom actually laughed at his remarks. The judge however did not find it nearly as amusing. He slammed his gavel down, causing the room to go silent in an instant.
"Speak out of turn like that again and I'll find you in contempt of court!" The judge shouted, cutting Colt's further musings about if the witnesses weren't lying off before he could substantiate exactly what the witnesses had said. "Mr. Walker, you have been read the charges against you? How do you plead?" His options were numbered. He could plead guilty and spend a minimum of twenty-five years in prison. He could plead not guilty and hope that he could beat the justice system and walk away a free man. Or he could take a third option. And for Colt, his life had always been about taking the third option, the road lesser men were scared to travel.
He closed his eyes and flexed his fingers, waiting for the familiar surge of power that was sure to follow. His easygoing smirk turned wolfish and his deep blue eyes shifted into a demonic red and black. "My plea is meaningless. Your judicial system is nothing to me. Everyone here is nothing more than an obstacle, one that shall be overcome." The voice that Colt spoke with shifted deeper as he looked at the judge. "Only the weak plead and beg. Only the strong take action." Black shadow blades slowly emanated from his arms and with one quick swipe his handcuffs were nothing but useless shards of metal lying on the marble floor. He held his right hand out an orb of black auric energy slammed into the nearest wall, bringing it down in a heap of rubble. For a few moments that seemed like an eternity, the entire room was frozen. No one had moved or said a thing as they watched the accused murderer break out of his handcuffs with a mysterious force no one knew humans could possess. "I would like my things back." He said darkly as he walked over to the bailiff. The massive police officer was shaking like a small child as he reached over to a small shelf and grabbed the items in question.
"What... What are you?" One particularly brave officer in the back of the ruined courtroom finally managed to stutter. This heavyset balding man had been one of those responsible for bringing Colt into the courtroom.
"Every last thing that was mine was taken from me. But then I found purpose. I found power." Colt spoke every word as if he wanted them to be quoted by someone in the audience for later publication. He walked towards the large wood-paneled doors in the back of the courtroom. It was clear that he had decided to exit the building through the front door, rather than the hole he had made moments earlier. When he reached the doors, his prison jumpsuit vanished, replaced with a long black hooded cloak. The escaped criminal pulled the hood over his light blond hair, hiding his eyes in shadow. And then he was gone, nothing more than a ghost or a specter haunting the nightmares of everyone that witnessed his true form.
In order to understand a monster, it is necessary to understand the formative experiences that created him, that shaped him, that molded him into nothing more than a destructive force that none can hope to withstand.
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