The Blurred Lines

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A collection of stories written by four separate writers, with the intention of telling a larger-than-life tale through the eyes of differing characters.

The stories explore different genres and realms of the supernatural, and will eventually be forged into one world. In this one world the characters, who to this point have been seperate, will unite to fight the evil that is plaguing the millions of universes around. Our protagonists are chosen by destiny, for better or worse, to be part of a select few who can navigate these merged worlds, and who pose a threat to the ultimate villain. Drama, intrigue, and action lie in wait, and in this world, death is most certainly an option.

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  1. Soo Yung Lee- Chapter 1 by Bob

     ”That’ll be $7.36, ma’am,” Soo Yung Lee sighed. She had been dealing with assholes the whole day, and she hadn’t had a day to herself in over two weeks. “Did you want a bag?”

          “Naw, I’mma jus put em in my purse,” the woman at the counter said. It seemed like she was the billionth customer to come into the store in the past hour. The customer snatched the cigarettes from Soo and stashed them away in her Louis Vuitton knock-off. “I’mma pay with mah Access Card. Can I get a hundred dollars back?”

          Soo furrowed her brow. “No, ma’am, the limit here is fifty. Does your card swipe?”

          “Naw, yall gotta punch the numbers in.”

          “Then you have to go to the front runner’s podium. If your card doesn’t swipe, that’s the only place we can do it at.”

          The customer huffed and clicked her gum. “I need to speak to yer manager. This is ridiculous.”

          With a sigh of relief, Soo walked over to the phone and paged her manager. Thank God, she thought. That means I don’t have to deal with her. Fucking customers… “My manager is on his way now, ma’am. Just stand over at the side here and he’ll be right with you.” The young girl motioned a few feet away from the long line standing at the customer service desk. “Can I help who’s next?”

          Before the next customer could come and harass her, however, the next cashier came in to relieve her of her shift for the day. Soo imagined a chorus of angels singing as her boisterous co-worker commanded the customer service lines to form into the one. “I’mma bail you out, sista,” she said with an exaggerated accent.

          Soo chuckled at the sentiment. “Thanks, Camille. I’ll send someone for you once I make it past the ‘border.’” They both had a laugh as Soo snuck out of the customer service nook and went into the bookkeeping office to count out her money. It had been a long day, and it seemed like every customer had something up their ass today. People were acting stranger than usual, she thought. Normally at least SOME of the customers were nice, but even today, the regulars just seemed out of it. Come to think of it, the only person that didn’t seem off was Camille.

         “Jesus Christ, are you ready yet?” A hoarse voice came from behind the plexiglass. “I gotta get out of here and pick up my kid in fifteen minutes.

          “Oh shit, my bad,” Soo said. She tucked her black hair behind her ears, uncovering her almond-shaped eyes. “I’m just dozing off. Here,” she slid her till under the plexiglass and hunched over onto the counter. I’m ready now.”

          “Finally,” the bookkeeper muttered under his breath. He grabbed Soo’s money and double counted everything, then mechanically punched in numbers without skipping a beat. It was amazing how quick things could get done when dismissal was on the line. “Your till is fine, sweetheart,” the bulky man said, softening his tone. “Now get outta here.”

          Soo smiled back. At least not everyone’s stuck in Assland, she thought. “Thanks, Butch! Seeya later.” She turned on her little Chuck Taylors and got a move-on to her locker to grab her things and go. As she went towards the employee locker area, she passed by her Louis Vutton knockoff lady and saw her yelling furiously at a suit-and-tie manager. “Thank God that’s not me,” she said to herself, and she entered the doorway and walked to a locker nicknamed Salvation.

         She changed quickly out of her work shirt and slipped into her favorite red jacket. “Keys, phone, wallet, iPod…” she checked to herself. “Okay. I’m good. Now let’s-” Her vocal thought was interrupted by a silly jingle coming from her phone. “Ugh, who the hell’s calling me?” She fumbled with her phone as she walked towards the exit. Finally getting a good grip on the buzzing piece of plastic and metal, she looked at the screen blinking “Mom” at her. With a puff, she pressed a couple buttons and placed it on her ear. “Hey mom,” she exhaled. “I just got done work.”

         “Thank God you’re done on time for once,” a voice yelled through the phone. “I need you to hurry home and watch your brother for me. I’ll be going out tonight.”

          “I know, Mom,” Soo retorted. “You’ve been telling me this for, like, a week now. I’ll be home in fifteen minutes or so… Ow! Shit!” Her phone is flung ahead of her as she fell forward onto her knees. Her phone skid just out of arm’s reach. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” She could hear her mother scolding her over the phone for swearing, but then she heard something else that troubled her: a distant yelling. Soo stopped and listened for a moment to see where it was coming from.

         “It sounds like it’s coming from…”

         The young girl gasped as she bolted out the door, leaving her scowling piece of technology behind. The distant noise sounded worse than before, like screaming and pain, and sort of like… someone her age. She felt her heart race from both nerves and the extreme dosage of exercise for the first time in a few years. She pushed herself further and further to keep running towards the screams to see what she could do. Her ears had reined her feet to run towards the back of the store, by the dumpsters. In the same brief second, the screaming both ceased and her logic kicked in.

         “This is how every single horror movie starts,” she thought aloud to herself. “Behind a store by dumpsters. Why am I even back here? If I get raped and killed, I swear to God I’ll-“

         Any further thought of doubt, however, was halted by a gurgled cough coming from behind a group of trash bags in front of the foremost dumpster. The rest of the night had seemed to silence itself to listen to the noise as well. Traffic from bordering streets ceased. Raccoons and squirrels refrained from scratching open any more trash bags. For an urban supermarket, it was unnaturally quiet. And Soo noticed that right away.

         “H-h-h-hello?” she stammered nervously. “Is anyone there?” She took a quivering step towards the trash bags. “Are you, uh, okay?”

         Soo took a deep breath for courage. Too bad she forgot about the dumpsters and sewage surrounding her; all it did was make her gag. She held back from throwing up as she tried her hardest to observe the trash bags. Something seemed off about them. The dumpsters weren’t filled, so why were there bags outside of them? Someone could have been lazy, but for once her store was in an era of diligent custodians, so it seemed highly unlikely. And homeless people never really stayed here for long, so why would they be here?

         She threw all her instincts to the wind and decided to do what her gut said. The terrified nineteen year old moved the middle bag off to the side to see if anything could be underneath. Unfortunately, her gut was right. Out of shock and horror, Soo gasped and jumped back, her eyes still focused on the terror she just witnessed. She didn’t expect anything nice to come out of this, but staring back at her wasn’t quite what she expected it to be.

         “Oh my God… Oh my God! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD” the teenager shrieked as she finally regained the mobility to run back inside the store for help. She wasn’t sure what she would do, but all she knew was that she needed someone to verify she wasn’t crazy.

         As the thudding of little Chuck Taylors and screaming faded into the distance, the glazed look over Soo Yung Lee’s dead face poked out from under the garbage.

  2. Night Brigade: Part 1 by Josh

         The air filled with steam as the gears of the factory twisted and turned. The cogs fit perfectly together as they were designed too spinning in perfect synchronization. Thousands of pieces worked in harmony to create. This is the sight Maxwell Wright saw as he looked down into the factory from the skylight on the roof. He stared in awe at what man had come to create.

                   Maxwell was tall and full, but not heavy. He had strong legs from his years spent running through the streets and jumping from roof top to roof top in the complicated labyrinth the people called a city. He had long auburn hair which had and odd way of always returning to the same place it sat no matter what he did to it. His eyes were a deep blue that was matched only by the sky itself. They were eyes filled with wonder. They were the eyes of a young man, barely an adult. Eyes of one filled with excitement, filled with hope.

          “What are you starting at? You look like a slack jawed idiot,” said a voice from behind him.

        Maxwell turned to see his comrade in arms, Felicia Irons. Tall, slender, and athletic, Felicia stood with a presence that seemed to command all others. Her hair was as black as the night sky and her eyes as green as the as the leaves that cloaked the trees in the summer. She was clever, sarcastic, and ruthless. She held life by the balls and wouldn’t let go. She held a soft spot for no one, no one except Maxwell that is.

        “Come on, Cat! You don’t find anything breathtaking about this. Look at the beauty of it. All those intricate pieces so precisely placed to make this working machine. I guess in the same sense though it can be seen as ugly for destructive tools it is creating. It is quite the conundrum,” Maxwell said as he sat on the ground putting his head in his hands. “It’s giving me a headache just thinking about it.”

        “What did I tell you about thinking, Max? You’ll only hurt yourself,” responded Felicia with a smirk on her face.

         “You’re right. I think I’ll just turn my brain off for awhile. Oh hey, Frank!” Max exclaimed. A small, gray cat colored with black stripes and wearing a black bandana wrapped around his neck slipped between Felicia’s legs and walked up to Max. The cat plopped down in front of Max and looked at him expectedly.

          “You still call me Cat, but you call an actually cat by his name?” ask Felicia as she crouched down and began petting Frank behind the ears. He purred in approval.

           “I couldn’t call anyone else Cat but you. Anyway do you have the mission information, Frankie?” asked Maxwell turning back to the feline.

             “Meow,” Frankie responded in a deep tone.

             “Sweet,” said Max as he untied Frank’s bandana and pulled out a little piece of paper. Max then pulled an green crystal tied to rope from around his neck and placed it on the paper.

           “This is Specialist Maxwell Wright reporting. Reveal your secrets,” Max with his hands over the stone.

          The stone glowed for a second and a robotic voice sounded, “Identity confirmed. Message will now be played.”

          The message began and a deep gruff voice could be heard, “This is Sergeant Bill Wilkinson. All the information you are about to hear will is completely confidential. I hope that is clear Specialists Wright and Irons. This goes for you too, Corporal Frank.”

           “Meow,” said Frankie.

            The message continued. “You’re mission is to break into the arms and ammunition factory and retrieve as much info about the enemy as you can. That isn’t your priority though. First: Retrieve any and all information about something called COG. We believe it may be a weapon being developed by the enemy. Second: When you are finished with priority one, destroy the factory. This will cut off weapon supplies to the enemy. Do not leave any trace of your selves behind. We want this to look like an accident. For goodness sake get the hell out of there alive will you? Wilkinson out.”

           The stone stopped glowing and the paper proceeded to burst into flames and the ashes blew away into the wind.

            “All right, we have the details let’s get moving,” said Felicia.

            “Give me a second, Cat,” whispered Max and he looked up into the night sky. It was clouded with smoke and steam from the city. “I remember when I could still see the stars.”

           “So do I,” she said as she put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “That’s why we have to teach these sons of bitches a lesson and win our sky back.”

          “Meow,” said Frankie.

          The three friends were quite a sight that is to say if someone were actually there to see them in the black night. Felicia donned in her combat boots, black tights, leather jacket, her long black hair tied behind her head, her goggles around her neck, and black fingerless gloves to help grip her weapons.  She had her rifle on her back and two black revolvers on each side of her hips. Maxwell stood with a black petticoat, dark slacks, combat boots, and a gray scarf that billowed behind him. His combat knife sat safely at his side hanging in his belt. Frankie sat in front of him with his black bandana. They were the Night Brigade, a small special ops team of the Liberation Front of Viridian and they were about to blow this factory to hell and back.

  3. The Hombre Presents: Reaping, Chapter 1

                The sound of tires screeching erupted from the busy street, which woke the streetwalkers from their sleepy morning doldrums. An old woman lay crippled in front of the car responsible for the noise. A scream was left in her place. The driver’s face held an impressive amount of shock, as he hit the gas, fleeing the scene. People circled the scene, the poor old woman, who had been hit and left to die. As some of the witnesses called for an ambulance, only one jumped in to try helping the poor woman. A young man, no older than twenty leapt forward, trying to stabilize the poor old thing.

                “Grab my hand, I’m going to help, I promise.” The young man was panicking, but he could not let her know. She needed him to be calm. “What’s your name, young lady?” He flattered, he’s always known that calling a woman who was clearly in her eighties young always made them smile, and smile she did.

                “My name’s Beverly,” she said calmly.

                “I’m Arthur; let me take a look at your wounds.” Arthur checked her quickly, and began applying pressure to her thigh where a fracture had occurred. Beverly’s femur was jutting out of her leg, and Arthur did not have the medical know-how to set the bone, so he did all he could. He applied some pressure to slow the bleeding, and tried comforting her. He heard a siren coming from down the street, not too much longer now, hold on Beverly.

                Moments later the ambulance arrived; Arthur sighed with relief and turned to the arriving paramedics. “I’ve done all I can for her, he said, I’ve tried to keep her comforted.” Arthur slowly lifted off of Beverly, letting the paramedics do their job. They did not respond to him, almost as if they didn’t hear him at all. Arthur figured that they must have been too busy to acknowledge him, so he backed away from them, and watched as they grabbed her neck, checking for a pulse. After a few seconds, the paramedic who checked her pulse shook his head, and drew a blanket from the ambulance. He placed it over her body, and tried pushing people back. Beverly was dead.

                Tears streamed down Arthur’s face, he was scared at how little he could do for her, scared to see a dead body this close, but most of all, scared to be the last person to talk to Beverly. He waited for the police to come, to examine the body, he felt it was necessary for him to come forward, and tell them what he had seen. After they spent an hour interviewing the many witnesses, Arthur felt it was his turn, but the officer’s thanked everyone present and got back in their squad car. Arthur ran over to the car, and knocked on the window, attempting to get their attention, but to no avail. The police officers just drove off, ignoring his knock.

                With a confused turn, Arthur looked back at the body that lay on the ground. Beverly was no longer covered, but instead was lying on the ground, looking oddly perfect, as though she were never in an accident. He looked at the paramedics, and noticed them lifting a heavy gurney with the same sheet that was on Beverly into their ambulance. Arthur rubbed his eyes for a moment, not knowing what to say about this situation. Not knowing what was going on. He thought he was hallucinating, he thought that everyone around him was just playing some practical joke on him. With deliberate and heavy steps, Arthur walked to Beverly’s body, and knelt beside it. She looked so alive, so well; there were no gaping wounds, not even any scratches on her. She was so peaceful, then, she opened her eyes.

                Arthur fell backwards onto the street. His mind was racing, trying to come up with some reasonable explanation; he scurried backwards before rising to his feet. He had to keep his distance from her; there was something incredibly wrong here. Arthur was panicking, but he managed to find his footing and stand up again. A tough hand grabbed his shoulder, and behind him was a large man with dark skin, wearing clothes straight out of the seventies.

                “Shit, boss-man, you look like seven different kinds of hell,” the stranger spoke smoothly and somehow set Arthur at ease.

                “What, what’s going on here?” Arthur spoke in a very nervous manner.

                “Well, I’m here to bring her to the other side, the real question is: Who fucked up and left you here?”

                “What? Are you…the Grim Reaper or something?”

                “Nah, not the boss herself, I’m a reaper though, and you’re a lost soul my brother. Let me settle things with her first, then we can try and sort you out.”

                Arthur sat down promptly; his jaw was slack with disbelief. What in the world was going on? The person he’d just met helped Beverly off the ground, and they walked away from Arthur, hand in hand. Beverly turned back and smiled at Arthur, he felt good for a moment, because he knew she recognized that he made her happy in her last moments on this world. They walked through a crowd of people, towards traffic, and there was an eruption of bright white light. For a moment, Arthur felt truly at peace, sadly that moment passed as quickly as it set on, and Arthur was face to face with the guy straight out of the seventies.

                “I’m goin’ to take you to my boss; we’ll see what he can figure out about your…situation. My name’s Osiris.”

                “Arthur,” he spoke with a nod, and then followed closely behind.


    Thank you all for your time in reading this post. I’m releasing this a little earlier than usual since it’s recommendation Tuesday; if you like this post, and the one before, please do your part in recommending us, we’ll be free to return the favor. :)

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  5. Chapter 1: Tyler Auburna; by the Yetti

    Tyler woke up to the blaring mesh of polyphonic tones blasting from his phone sitting on his nightstand. His barely functioning body reacted with panic, slamming his fist onto every stable surface until finally groping his phone, next to the husks of empty chip bags and long since finished cans of soda. He fiddled with the touch screen attempting to disarm the incoming call which was still throwing his previously sleeping nervous system into chaos. He finally found the accept button and intercepted the call in just time.
    “Hello?” Tyler answered his shaggy dark haired head, barely rising off the pillow.
    “Tyler?” Tyler’s recognized his friend Gary’s bass tones.
    “Yo, what’s up GG?”
    “You busy, man?”
      “Not quite, just woke up. Not that I’m not delighted to hear from you but if this isn’t life threatening, your testicles are forfeit.”
    “It’s four in the afternoon you deviant. But I got something…uh weird to show you. Can you come on down to the morgue for a bit?”
    “Aww c’mon man, I just spent all last night popping in and out of morgues.” Tyler rolled onto his back, brushing his ebony hair out of his blue/grey eyes. His shirtless well muscled torso was covered in light scars, some fresh bruises and lacerations, and a soft film of ebony hair. His body was battle tested and fit, hard muscles crafted from a life of hard work. His shaggy black hair fell to his broad freckled shoulders.
    “I know, but trust me this is one of the most important things I’ve ever asked you to do. I’m gonna be here till eight but you need to come down okay?”
    “G, what is this about?”
    “I can’t really talk too much about it; I’m already getting pressure from my boss to call this into the Department. Hurry up and get down here.”
    The sharp click signaled the abrupt end of their call. Tyler sighed knowing his old friend wouldn’t have bothered him at this hour if it wasn’t something ungodly important.  He rolled reluctantly from the comfort of his bed. He stretched extending to his full 6’4”. He threw on a pair of jeans and a black tee. He grabbed his black long coat from off of a chair occupying a corner of his room.  His room was reflective of his night time wanderings, heavy blackout curtains hid Tyler from the day light hours. His walls were covered in intricate, elaborately curvy symbols, some of them circling around in patters forming shield and circles. The two dressers he had were accompanied by a small manageable altar, bedecked with the statues of twelve gods. Several small knives sat on the altar in ascending length. A small badge also sat on the altar, a silver pentagram with the letters “PPD” embossed on the metal. Tyler grabbed his badge and slipped into a breast pocket of his long coat. He picked up each of the knives and slipped them into their hidden holding places on the inside of his coat. He bent down lifting the cloth that covered the altar. From underneath it, he pulled a large black box, covered in runic symbols in the same circular pattern which decorated the walls. Tyler uttered several odd legato syllables underneath his breath. The box began to glow and then sprang open, revealing two black semi-automatic pistols.  He popped the magazine out of the first one and checked the bullets in the magazine. He popped the magazine back into the gun and shoved them both into the holsters on his belt. He then removed the false bottom of the box, and took from it a large revolver. Its chamber held eight large bullets all of which Tyler checked thoroughly before spinning the chamber, and flipping back into place. He placed it in another hidden pocket of his long coat. Tyler checked his reflection, adjusting his shaggy hair. He scratched his bearded chin, stretched one final time and strolled casually to one of his rune-covered walls. He muttered another spell under his breath and walked right through the wall.
    Several minutes later Tyler walked through the glass doors into the elaborately decorated stone building.  He slouched his way through the cavernous marble lobby, attracting stares and odd looks from the police officers passing by. Tyler strolled up to the receptionist causing him to stare open mouthed at the approaching man.
    “I’m looking for Greg Hastings, he should be somewhere in the morgue.”
    “Um….um… well the morgue is through the left hallway and down the stairs, Mr. Auburna….sir.” Tyler smiled at the stammering young man, leaning forward on the desk. He smiled his most charming smile and patted the arm of the receptionist, who blushed furiously.
    “Calm down there, friend, nothing a pretty little thing like you needs to be worried about.” Tyler brought his hand up to the man’s chin. “Aw, now you’re all red. It’s a cute shade on you, friend.” He casually brought the receptionist closer until their faces were barely a few inches apart.
      “Auburna!” A deep voice cried. Tyler backed quickly away from the desk, leaving the bewildered receptionist leaning over the counter, blushing a furious shade of red. Greg stood a few yards away. He was a tall man, six foot seven inches of solid muscle. His light hair was combed back into a nice neat quaff. He was currently dressed in a white oxford shirt and a stained lab coat. “Can you hold off on seducing the staff, please?” Tyler calmly walked over to his large friend throwing his arms around his neck.
    “I can always concentrate my efforts on you my large friend.” Greg casually removed the hands from about his neck and playfully punched Tyler on the arm.
    “Focus horn dog, I’ve got something to show you. Unfortunately, the boss got wind of it and called the PPD.” He began to walk back towards the hallway he’d come from, Tyler following his attention waning and focusing on following any attractive human form that passed. “They sent some rookie chick to check things out. She was not happy when I told her that I’d called you.”
    “Why?” Tyler asked. The two of them had reached the stairs and began to decent. Their voices echoed in the stone stairway.
    “Well, that we’ll save for when we actually get there.” Tyler was very confused. He was by no means a rookie. He was the hero-cop of the Paranormal Police Department, and the best witch of his generation. He could wield the power of the twelve gods like a pro, and had slain dozens of monsters whose names could still elicit a shiver from the general populous. But Greg loved mysteries, the more bizarre the better. So his energetic reception and gleeful smirk put Tyler on edge.
    They reached the basement steps and walked through the fire door into a hallway so white it put snow to shame. It reeked of formaldehyde and the sickly sweet smell of decay. Corpses covered in white sheets lay on gurneys in one of the rooms off the all-to-white hallway. Another room held sinks filled with tools and tables lined with tools prepared for use. But Greg’s attention didn’t even stray to these rooms, it was fixed unmoving on the flapping double doors at the end of the hall. They passed through them into a room lined with steel lockers lining the walls. Tyler knew had seen enough of the slab room when checking for vampires, to wonder what could warrant such attention. Two other people stood in the middle of the room, gathered around another corpse with a sheet drawn over it The two were an old man and a young woman, wearing the same long coat as Tyler, buttoned all the way up. Her Brown hair was drawn back into a ponytail. She stood with her hand behind her back, her posture screaming military. Once she saw Tyler enter, however her pose changed, she stiffened. Her hand flew to her hip where her pistol sat just out of sight. In response, Tyler whipped out his pistol and held it up to her head. The color drained from her face and she should stock still looking down the barrel.
    “Put the gun away, Asshole.” Greg yelled lowering my arm. “She’s from the PPD.”
    “Sorry” Tyler said flipping the gun and flipping it back into the holster. “I see someone reaching for their gun and I have this odd little tendency to react.” He walked over to the corpse with Greg keeping his eyes on the girl the whole time. She was breathing heavily the color refusing to return to her white cheeks. She stared Tyler down the whole time. “Who are you?” He asked.
    “Names Moira, Moira Dunkeets.”
    “Well Miss Moira, could you tell me why you were so eager to blow my brains out?” She looked at Greg who was biting his lower lip and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
    “Ok, listen” Greg said taking the edge of the sheet which covered the corpse. “When I show this to you, your first reaction is going to be to flip out. But you need to hold that in, Okay?” And with one last gleeful smile, he ripped off the cloth exposing the body beneath. Tyler stared for a moment, convinced he was dreaming, hallucinating. Something was causing him to see this. Because there was no earthly way what he was seeing was real. Lying cold as ice on the steel slab, pale as death, stitches covering his torso was Tyler’s corpse.