May 29-Jun 12

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May 29-Jun 12

Post by Titanhawk 881 (JT) on Fri Jun 12, 2015 3:05 pm

"You wake up and get out of bed, heading down stairs you notice that your family isn't there and has been replaced with a new family. Any genre no word limit
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Titanhawk 881 (JT)

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Memory Mysteries

Post by Titanhawk 881 (JT) on Fri Jun 12, 2015 3:06 pm

I stumbled out my room, gripping the doorway. My knuckles were white, straining to support the weight of my body. A limp forward sent me crashing down, and as I picked myself up, a hand rested on my shoulder. Without turning around, I knew it was not anyone I knew, and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Who are you?” I demanded. Though the voice of my companion was gentle, I associated it with the crash and roll of a storm. “Alan, stay down. It’s ok, I’ll carry you to breakfast.” My mind raced at the sound of my voice, my thoughts penetrating into the archives of my brain. I looked for who this person might be, but nothing came up. My memory was blank. I twisted around, and looked the man in the eyes. “What are you doing here!? This is private property!” I shake him, my eyes blazing with confusion and territorial feelings. He looks at me bewildered as well, but he doesn’t have to worry, as I fall to the ground as soon as I stand to shake him further. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Then he stands up. “Let’s go for breakfast. We can talk over some food.”
Fifteen minutes later I was downstairs, feebly scooping cornflakes and milk into my mouth. The man – Tim – introduced me to his wife, Jill. The red-haired woman was jolly, but at a first glance, I noticed she was in her 50’s. After closer investigation, I could also see that Tim had threads of white hair, hidden in the golden grass on his head. The couple had no children, as I soon learned, and were immigrants from Canada. As soon as I finished my food, I stood up, but too quickly. My mind went spinning and I crumpled to the floor once again, the bowl shattering a distance from me. Jill rushed to my side, and checked me for injuries, while Tim got a vacuum and started cleaning up the broken pottery. Suddenly, I remembered something - something from my past. I remembered gunfire, glass breaking, and shouts. I remembered smoke spilling into my nose, drowning in the thick fog, and a gloved hand pulling me out, before I went unconscious. I wondered what I had been doing there. Then I went out cold.
I woke up once more in my bed, and before I could whisper to myself that this was only a dream, Jill came in with a bowl of soup. I sniffed, and smiled to myself. It was mushroom soup. The kindly woman sat down beside me and fed me, but my mind was on something else. “Jill, where did I come from?”
“Well... we don’t know. We were immigrants, and Tim and I were hoping to start a new life here. Then when we were about to find a house, the government called. They said they had a house, but it came with you. We gladly accepted, and moved in a few days ago. You were unconscious, bruised, and charred. They told us the house belonged to you, but we could live in it as long as we took care of you. It worked out perfectly.” I stared at my bedroom door. No one knew where I was from. I didn’t know where I was from. This was my home, but these people weren’t my family. They could never be. But who is? A voice inside my head called out. “Me and Tim will be going shopping, just so you know. I hope you’ll be fine. Would you like to come instead?”
“No thanks, I’ll be fine.” I finished the rest of my soup and thanked Jill, before staggering back outside to the study.
I looked through my books. I needed to find something about my past. My journal, maybe? Where did I put it? I wonder to myself. I search through my messy desk, relieved to find that no one knows of this room yet. The dust crawls on the floor as it is blown by the sweeping of my clothing, and I reach the desk. While searching, I reflected on Jill’s words. How dare they intrude my house? I thought. The government. I depended on them, didn’t I? And they depended on me. I was... I was an assassin, maybe? No, I don’t have any weapons or tools for the job. A soldier, then? No, I had to be over eighteen to apply, and I was only 16. A spy... yes, I was a spy. What kind of secret intel did I hold, that was so unimportant that I might be allowed to roam freely and communicate freely with people who could potentially be spies? Maybe that’s why I don’t remember anything. They erased my memory... My mind returned to looking for the journal, when my fingers brushed against something. Something metallic, something cold. A gun. The polished steel gleams wickedly and I am afraid to touch it. Such power does not belong to me. Then I look around the room once more, to see countless hidden vaults and weapons in the shelves and surfaces of the room. No, it can’t be. I’m not a killer! I’m not a killer! This... this is all a bad dream. But the realization that dawned on me would not be going away anytime soon.
After spending hours in the room I felt my new friends would be missing me, should they be back. Not wanting to attract any unwanted intrigue, I stepped out of the room and silently closed the door. I went back to my bedroom, and lay on my bed. Something moves in the corner of my eye. I sit up, but before I can do that, a threatening tone creeps into the room, filling the silence. Chills going down my spine, I clench my hand into a fist and the other into a perfectly flat edge, like I learned in martial arts. I stand up, and look around. No one is there. Suddenly, a figure leapt out of the shadows inside my closet, holding two double-bladed knives, each knife with two edges. As he leapt out, he twirled them quickly in his hand, and pinned my down, the knives against my neck. He then proceeded to lock my hands under the other ends of the blades. “That’s a lot of edges...” I gasp.
“I refuse to give any chance of escape, especially one who I presume to be a formidable foe?”
I take a quick look at the man. He is muscular, tall, black, and is bald. His polished head reflects the light from the sun outside. I feel like I have dealt with him before, but cannot remember exactly. But now is not the time. I have no weapons on me, nothing I can use. I am at his mercy. “You know, I’m going to have to kill you. My boss doesn’t like prisoners.” His tone is cold, mixed with mockery. I shiver at the thought. If only I could call for help quickly enough... “Oh, and don’t bother calling for help. This room is soundproof, as you requested.” I faintly remember soundproofing, but how does he keep managing to read my mind? Then I notice his tattoos. Something clicks in my mind. “Ironshade, you swine,” I whisper through gritted teeth. His name. His eyes widened. “I thought... but... that’s impossible! No one recovers from the Deadmind procedure!”
“Well, then, I guess I’m remarkable then.” I struggle to say. He narrows his eyes, then he raises his blades, preparing to kill me. I close my eyes, but a sudden gasp startles me into opening my eyes. His eyes are blank, his mouth gaping, his breath ceasing, and I know what has happened to him even before I see the bullet hole. On the ceiling is another assassin. She is holding a self-loading pistol crossbow and a half-sized sword. I didn’t recognizer, at least not yet, but I had a feeling she wanted to kill me or take me hostage. But I was not defenceless this time. As I picked up Ironshade’s weapons, I wondered where Tim and Jill were. I hoped they were alright. They had no part in this, and I didn’t want to drag them in. She fired once, twice, three times, pinning me to the wall of my own room. She smirked. “You seem to have lost some of your moves,” she said, but I scoffed. I wrenched the bolts out of my clothing, then throw two of them back at her, one of which she easily catches, and the other which she deflects with her short sword. Another arrow whizzes past my ear, nailing into the wall behind me. I spin Ironshade’s double blades, hoping to block out at least some of this assassin’s bolts. But she’s changed tactics. Moving swiftly on the ceiling now, she gropes in her coat for something. I fear they are explosives, but instead throwing knives speed towards me. As a knife slits my cheek, the gash throbs with pain. I try to wipe the blood off, but another arrow-like knife slams into my wrist. I run for it. Out of my room, I escape into my secret room, my study. My hand has turned a deep red, bathed in the warm, metallic scented liquid. I bandage it with some tissue, covering the worst of my cut. My cheek has already started clotting, and I look for a weapon to defend myself. A pounding on the door shudders and shifts my being, and I take the gun, alongside the double knives. I stand beside the door, gun raised and loaded. The knives are in my belt. The door crashes down with the continuous beatings of my opponent, and she steps into the room. I shoot, but my shots hit nothing but air. She’s been expecting this... is all I can think about. She has everything planned, no doubt. I just hope Tim and Jill are out of this. I hope they’re not hostage. Then I notice that on my way I did not see or hear them come back yet. Groceries don’t take that long, but I couldn’t risk investigating the house with the assassin outside the doorway. I wonder when she’ll show up, as she hasn’t made a sound since the door blew down. Sudden movement catches me off guard once again and I am forced down by the assassin. I can’t remember her name exactly, but it was... something like the name of some glossy black stone. Not obsidian, no. Tektite? Tourmaline? Onyx! Yes, onyx. Her name was Oniix Vexblaze. Or so the world thought. To her clients, she was nothing more than that. No one knew her real name, or where she came from. But now she pressed NRG-cuffs against my wrists and feet, and a shock collar around my throat. I knew not to shout somehow, as it would zap at the slightest off-set struggle. “Time to die,” she mutters as she drags me back into the hallway and to the front door. She is taken by surprise, and activates the shock collar. “Aaaaargh!” I drop to the ground slightly smouldering. Only when I was down could he see that Tim and Jill were tied to the staircase railing, suspended off the ground. They weren’t speaking – gagged, I assumed. She laughed, activated the collar again, and I knocked out with another blast.
I woke up blank again, but I knew I had remembered something before I woke up, now out of my reach. My mind raced once more, and I stumbled as I stood up. Two people were in my house... a woman, black haired and small, and a tall man with brown hair and a beard. They were frowning over me, wondering what had happened to me and why I was unconscious. “Wha.... what happened?” I moaned. These people were on my land, in my house. They weren’t even offering to help me up! I stuck my hand up, and the man pulled me to my feet. “Something happened to you... but we’re not sure what.” The man raised an eyebrow. The woman was dabbing at cuts I didn’t even notice I had gotten, and I winced as the sting of alcohol met my raw flesh. I didn’t know who these people were, but I hoped they were decent people. I was pretty sure they weren’t my family, but I might have been theirs.
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Re: May 29-Jun 12

Post by ScrambledMemories on Fri Jun 12, 2015 5:26 pm

Slowly I opened my eyes, yawning as I rolled over onto the right side of my bed. 'I don't want to get up...' I whined to myself inwardly, before groaning as I pushed the covers off and promptly fell to the floor. I contemplated just lying on the floor and not moving, but the thought of spiders crawling over me as I slept spurred me onwards to continue my quest upstairs.

"Put that down, Dick!" Someone yelled, a loud crash overhead waking me up fully. Either I had a person named Dick in my house, or someone was swearing. Both seemed very unnatural.

Tripping over the saw lying on my floor, I pulled my door open and ran at the bottom of the stairs, before coming to a halt and tip toeing up it. I wasn't one for huge, loud dramatic entrances.

The sight that greeted my eyes was not one that I would usually be accustomed to. Pancake batter was splattered all over the walls, floor, counters, and roof as two adult looking but not acting men struggled to pull a waffle iron out of each others grasp. "Just let it go, Jason! I can make food without burning it!" The blue eyed, black haired one protested, the iron slipping out of his grasp as the other yanked on it. "No, you can't." The one who had it in his grasp growled, plunking the waffle maker back onto the counter. He also had black hair, but his eyes were a greenish blue.

Don't ask me how I knew what their eye colour was. I wasn't staring intensely at them, I swear...

"Oh... Hey!" The first man had noticed me now, and waved cheerily, grinning. I took a step back- I mean, really, who wouldn't!? I woke up to discovered that my family was gone, replaced by who knows how many black haired, blue eyed clones.

"Dick, Jason, that's enough." Someone behind me ordered, causing me to spin around. A tall, black haired and blue eyed (Surprise surprise) man was standing behind me, and he glared at 'Jason' and 'Dick' before smiling at me, offering me his hand to shake. "Bruce Wayne."

"... No offence, but what are you guys doing in my house?" I questioned, eyeing them warily. "I went to sleep with my family, and woke up with you guys here." "Your family was replaced by us." Jason offered, as he stopped Dick from grabbing the waffle iron. "I'm not entirely sure on the details."

"... Okay then."

We sat in awkward silence for a little while, before someone else poked their head into the kitchen. Instead of it being a black haired, blue eyed male, it was a red haired, green eyed female. "You all are way too noisy." She grumbled, running a hand through her thick hair. "You woke Tim up, and he's usually the heaviest sleeper of us all."

"How many of there are you? So far there's five, and I know four names. Also, I can't eat wheat."

I gestured towards where Jason was making the waffles. "Um... Is eggs okay?" The red head suggested, and I nodded. "Yeah... I have toast that I can have in the freezer, too." Getting up, I went to the freezer and pulled the loaf out, opening the bag and plunking it down on the counter.

"To answer your first question, there's six of us. You've met myself, Dick, Jason, and Barbara. Tim and Damian are still asleep- Actually, Dick, go check on Tim. Make sure Damian didn't try to kill him or anything."

Nodding, Dick put the bowl of batter he had been clutching onto the counter and went down the hallway. Before more awkward silence could sneak up upon us, I quickly got a carton of eggs out of the fridge and put them beside the toast, turning the toaster oven on. Jason set a few frying pans on the stove and turned them on, cracking a few eggs from the carton into the pan once it had heated up enough, and I put some bread into the toaster oven.

Dick was back soon enough, a kid over one shoulder and a teen being dragged in by the back of his shirt. "Tim got to Damian first for once, and they were already fighting by the time I found them." He explained, dropping them into chairs. The older one had black hair and blue eyes, same as the younger. They both had cuts and bruises on their arms and faces, and the younger one had a split lip. Both were glaring fiercely at each other as Dick pushed their chairs away.

"Here's the first round of waffles!" Jason called, putting a large platter of waffles onto the table. Bruce followed with peanut butter, jam, butter, and syrup, and Barbara set down plates. My toast was finished, and I slathered it in butter and drowned it with jam before taking a bite.

"So... How did you guys get here? Is this some like, reality TV show or something? Families get swapped out?"

Barbara shook her head. "No, the author got this prompt from a friend in her writing group. The challenge was 'You wake up and get out of bed, heading down/upstairs you notice that your family isn't there, and has been replaced with a new family.' There wasn't any word limit, and it was any genre."

They all turned to glare at the writer- Hey, guys! Chillax, it was just the writing prompt! I wasn't the one who did this!

"Yeah, but could have just not done it." Damian retorted, glaring angrily at the writer.

Well, I haven't done any writing lately. School is stupid. Plus, this one would be kinda fun. Living in a family of superheroes would be amazing!

"You're superheroes?" I asked incredulously, looking around at the people sitting at my table. They all groaned, and Damian swore and made various death threats directed at the author.

... Sorry?

"Yes, we are superheroes. Not currently, but at night we protect Gotham city from villains like Joker, Riddler, and Penguin." Tim explained. "Oh, that's cool. I don't think we have any super villains here in Canada. We do have muggings and murders and stuff though, contrary to popular belief. We're not all that nice." I shrugged, taking a sip of milk from a cup at my elbow.

Yeah. Well, I have to go and do school so... Bye.

"Bye!" They waved, and I stared at them a second before shaking my head. "You're all crazy."

ScrambledMemories

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Re: May 29-Jun 12

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