Post by deus incognito on Dec 11, 2010 13:10:16 GMT -5
DEUS INCOGNITO
welcome to the end of humanity, so what's your name then?deus incognito. if you're sitting there thinking "that's not a real name!" then you're a smart bugger, aren't you. because it's not my real name. and i'm not going to tell you my real name. clinging to the past isn't going to save our future. it's time for change. for revolution. and i'm going to rebuild even if i have to do it single-fucking-handedly.
i really like that name. so how old are you, and when were you born?another thing you don't actually need to know. but i'll tell you I was born in the '80s. i'm thirty something. you decide the second number.
lovely. so it's the end of the world, who do you belong to?so-called "government," but these idiots are just as competent as the last, if you know what i mean.
that sounds just great. now in one word, how would you describe yourself?bad. i'm a bad guy. i smoke cigars and drink scotch from the bottle and wear black suits. fucking classic. i've also got a penchant for swear words, if you haven't noticed. i carry a gun and i'm not afraid to use it, whether on resistance members, non-compliant citizens, or out of line military personnel. i guess bad could easily be substituted with "viscious" though. i've got a nasty temper and if there's anything i love, it's being in charge. if you see me coming you'd better stand down. otheerwise? you're in deep shit.
uh-huh, any big historic events you'd like to share?me, i'm a boy from wichita, kansas. i lived in an apartment with my dear old ma. i was a kid with an attitude problem. i had issues with anger and aggression. i didn't play well with other children. the social workers all blamed it on ma, said she smoked and drank and shouted too much. but really, i think it was one part genetic, one part personality, and six parts daddy. daddy left when i was three, but i can still remember his face. he was a regular everyday alcoholic, came home and slapped ma around, made her wish she'd never been born, and then he'd turn to me. and he never hit me, never hurt me, never laid a hand on me. but he told me that if i turned out like her, he would.
when he was gone, i would go to ma, watch her picking herself up off the floor. i hated him for hurting her - that was the first emotion i ever remember feeling, this ashy rage that curdled the contents of my stomach, that made me want to puke and hurt someone and leave my own fucking body. but i hated her too. maybe i hated her more. i hated her for being as weak as he said she was. i hated her for never fighting back, for taking it like she deserved it, for being so pathetic that she believed she deserved it. and i hated her because she loved him anyway.
after dad left, mum starting taking drugs a lot. she never showed up at school when the principal called to tell her i'd been fighting. she hardly paid any attention to me. and i focused on my own little life, not hers. i fed and dressed myself, i got myself to school, i kicked the shit out of anyone who ever talked down to me, or looked at me the wrong way. because i knew i would never be like ma, because that's the only thing my dad ever taught me.
i visited juvey a few times as i grew up, but eventually grew out of petty crime and street fights. you could say i got smart. i started to put my skills to a more lucrative purpose. it started out with money laundering for a local gang, and turned into a corner office and a high-up job at a swanky corporation. it wasn't much, but i could yell at underlings as much as i wanted and buy all the tobacco i could handle. i always dreamed of something bigger, but I never thought i'd ever get an opportunity to play them out.
i guess, for me, the bombs were a savior. a chance to fucking shine.
how'd i survive? luck, i guess. it was my job to survey the newly-built wichita subway system's security monitors for errors in the first few weeks of its opening. the security room was a dug-out off one of the tunnels, and the door was built thick to block out the noise of the trains. all i heard was distant rumbling, and the ground shaking all around me. i did as every schoolboy is taught, and crawled under the desk to wait out what i thought was a simple earth quake. the tv monitors blacked out. for two days i stayed in that room. it occurred to me, after twenty minutes, that this was not an earthquake. i came to the conclusion that it was the end of the world. it was amazing how calm i was - i got up from under the desk, counted up my rations (three bottles of water, a ceasar salad, a PB&J and some pasta salad in the mini-fridge in the corner) and sat quietly in my chair.
when everything got still and quiet, i took a chance and opened the door. everything was burned black. there weren't any bodies, just those black imprints like hiroshima. and i soon found it wasn't just underground. it was worse in the city streets, collapsed buildings and bodies that were half protected and lay mangled on the sidewalk. i was the only survivor there, as far as i could tell.
shell-shocked, i wandered for months. i scavenged food, stayed alive, stayed cautious. and then a group of people found me. told me they were going to new york, to the last civilization. i had nowhere else to go, so i joined them. half of them died on the way. some starved, some went insane. we all carried guns. it was the only way to protect ourselves.
and when i got to new york? i joined the "government." because i'm the only goddamn guy left who can lead the shambles of humanity.
okay. last question: who's the face behind the character?fernando torres
