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Heavy Metal - Chapter 9: Gun

 
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PostPosted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 3:39 pm    Post subject: Heavy Metal - Chapter 9: Gun Reply with quote

Heavy Metal
Chapter 9
Gun



Gun.

The word alone inspires excitement, power, and fear.

No earthly creature wields weaponry like a human. And no weapon ever devised has had such far reaching, society altering consequences as the simple handgun.

Unlike the rest of the animal kingdom, humans weren’t blessed with claws, teeth, tough hides, great agility, stealth, furred camouflage, acute noses, nor savage might. Of all the inhabitants of the earth, humanity seems to have been denied most of the gifts of survival granted to its cousin animals.

What humans were given, however, were minds. Brains which could conceive of tools, and opposable thumbs with which to manipulate those tools, such that any task or challenge could eventually be overcome. Perhaps the greatest of those tools, fire, would come to form the core of humankind’s technologies.

It was with the use of fire that metal became man’s dominion. And it was with metal that truly powerful weaponry could be developed, knives, swords, axes and armors. It can be said the sword, in its cross-like design, could very well be the balanced pinnacle of weaponry, neither too powerful, nor too weak in its application.

Humanity went beyond the sword with its next quantum leap into weapons development, another powerful expression of man’s command of fire, gunpowder.

It didn’t take long for gunpowder to find battlefield applications, both in the cannon and the arquebus, evolving rapidly into the musket, then the rifle. The gun became man’s primary tool for hunting and defense. It could overcome any armor devised, eventually known as ‘the great equalizer’, for one’s skill in swordplay and physical health and endurance mattered little to the might and devastation of a gun.

Then was developed the handgun. Never before had come a weapon that had little to no application aside from the killing of other men, one that was so easily concealed, so readily produced, so cheap and affordable to even the lowest of the low.

Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people have experienced the power of holding such a handgun in the palms of their hands, adrenaline coursing through their veins, a feeling of command and power over any who dare oppose them.

And perhaps as many have experienced the sheer terror of staring down the barrel of one, their knees wobbling, their lives flashing before their eyes, knowing that a bullet lies at the end of that dark tube, one with their names spiritually inscribed upon its lead surface, a bullet prepared and ready, in that very moment, to whisk them off into their eternal afterlives.

On this day, perhaps twenty years ago, a young Tyrone Myer, crippled and deformed from his abuses as a younger child, at the very hands of the man before him, enjoyed, for the first time, the exhilaration of wielding such might and control. He marveled at how steady his hands were, how rock solid the gun felt in his palm as the device menaced instant death. Somehow, he’d always believed he’d never have the guts for this, that he would chicken out and panic. But deep within, he now felt a welling strength he’d never before known.

Today, the great evil in his life would be purged. Today, his father would die.

Tyrone’s father, Jerome, had backed up into a spackled wall against the side of the halfway house where he had recently taken refuge, staring down the barrel, knowing he deserved that bullet’s fate. He marveled at how terrified he now felt, how quivering his lips, how unsteady his knees were as he gazed into the face of the reaper. Somehow, he’d always believed himself to be fearless, stronger, faster, tougher than everyone he would ever encounter. But deep within, he now realized how driven by fear he’d become, possibly more a fear of himself than he’d ever before realized.

Today, the great evil in his life would be purged. Today, he would die.

“Son… I… I’m sorry! I never meant for any of this to happen! That day I was… It was like I was possessed!”

“Shut up!” Tyrone screamed. “I don’t want to hear it old man! I will live in fear of you no more!”

“I know there’s no excuses… I learned that while I was imprisoned. I haven’t made it out of there just to make your life miserable son! I just want to make up for…”

“There’s no making up for what you did,” Tyrone snarled. “There’s no punishment harsh enough for you! LOOK AT ME! LOOK at what you DID TO ME!” The teen, of course, was referring to his own crippled and broken body, hunched and awkward, a faint reflection of the pain and scars he bore within.

A tear dribbled down the elder man’s face, one much older and more grayed than Tyrone recalled. “I… I can just leave you to be then, boy. Just put down the gun and I’ll walk away forever. I’ll leave you in peace.”

“THERE WILL BE NO PEACE! I WILL NEVER FEEL AN OUNCE OF PEACE! Not while you still live anyhow…” the boy smiled a wickedly. “You once told me, ‘If I’m gonna stand up like a man, I’d have to learn how to be one.’”

“Son… I’ve lived with a lot of demons in my life. They are our own to live with. We have to kill them on our own, within ourselves. Lord knows I’ve had a lot of them to kill. And a lot of years to do nothing but do battle with them.”

“Me too, father. Those same years have been no easier for me. And you know what?”

Jerome’s eyes looked up, pleading, hoping to find some understanding, some more positive connection had perhaps been established with his son.

“I realized that on that CHRISTMAS day that you KILLED my MOTHER, YOUR demons had defeated YOU.”

“That’s right… they did indeed son! But I’ve overcome them now… I’m changed, I promise!”

“So am I, father. I’m glad you found your own salvation, for you’ve found it in the nick of time.

Because, as for me and my fight with my own demons…

Like you did on that day…

I’ve chosen to lose.”

The shot rang out violently in the still night.

The elder Tyrone, bearing a ghostly witness to the scene, could feel all the same hatred and menace flowing through him with every word his younger self delivered, fresh like the blood that sprayed across the stucco wall, burning like the rage that now drove the boy to pump lead shot after lead shot into his father’s dead corpse until every bullet in the gun had been emptied from the chamber.

His only wish, as he watched this scene, was that he could relive it, over and over, that his father could be brought back to life, only to be killed and tortured and maimed again in new and more excruciating ways than the last, for all eternity.

The boy spat on his father and limped off into the night, an echo of maniacal laughter from some place in the spiritual distance echoing into the night.

The man now more associated with his adopted moniker, the Bouncer, floated along as a silent and invisible witness, as the young Tyrone returned home, reloaded and carried the weapon with him in the months to come.

The boy’s savagery grew. Within weeks, every teen peer whom had picked on the boy for his misfortunate scars and misshapen injuries lie dead in an alley somewhere in the dark recesses of the city. Tyrone had power now, and was no longer afraid of his tormentors, nor of the consequences of his actions.

Before long, his hatred for the entire pool of humanity had become a monster outside of his own control, and no one was beneath his scorn. He left school behind entirely, figuring his newfound power would be provision enough for him to make his own way.

Ironically, despite the many murders he’d now committed, despite the blood that flowed in his wake, it was at a simple convenience store robbery that he ran afoul of the law. An undercover policeman had happened to be in the store at the time, and when the cop’s gun was held to the rear of Tyrone’s skull, the boy quickly realized there was no escaping arrest.

Funny thing about it was… he had thought he’d be ready to die rather than allow his capture. There seemed to yet be a spark of life inside him however, perhaps entirely due to realizing that life might be worth living if he were the victimizer, and not the victim.

So despite himself, he let his handgun clatter to the convenience store counter, allowed the shopkeeper to flee into the backroom, and allowed the cuffs to clamp down around his bent wrists. The ghostly Tyrone snarled at the memory, still seeing no way around that inevitable fate even from the third person’s vantage point.

But while the young Tyrone cursed himself for his carelessness and quivered in terror of his future imprisonment, the elder smirked in amusement, knowing the events to come would redeem this terrible moment.

Tyrone could never figure out how the police had never pieced the puzzle together enough to realize that the weapon they confiscated from him had been the cause of so many of the recent corpses found in dumpsters around the city. While he rotted in jail, he had expected the law to come at him with at least one murder accusation, but that accusation had never come.

His charges were rather minimal in comparison, attempted armed robbery, aggravated assault, etc… In those days, where a slightly older juvenile was concerned, such charges indicated a debt to society that could be repaid without facing prison time, inviting instead a military tour of duty. Nevertheless, Tyrone, due to his youth and his broken frame, could not apply to this alternative.

Within weeks of his imprisonment, Tyrone faced an immediate return to abuse at the hands of his peers, tortured and maimed for his lack of power to defend himself against equally malicious criminals behind bars with him. The abuse was all too familiar and despite of the rage it inspired within, these new cruelties could not be denied nor resisted; any and all attempts to defy the beatings and the rapings merely invited worse punishment.

Before long, Tyrone had returned to a state of despondence, a defensive mechanism he’d spent so many years inhabiting. For the years to come, until his 17th year of age, he suffered through his punishments silently, never uttering a word, going limp as a rag when the thrashings came.

As the adult Tyrone watched, his anger burned hotter and brighter than ever, powerless to change the things he witnessed, adding fuel to his rage with each scene of abuse relived, many of which he had come to forget since.

Eventually, the guards began to realize what was becoming of the boy, and began sending him to solitary confinement for long lengths of time, just to give the lad a break.

On the last of these occasions, after what seemed like a month inside a cold, dark, stone cell, Tyrone, spending time in deep contemplation, plead to the darkness for the pain to stop, finally uttering words for the first time in over a year.

“This CAN’T go ON like this! I would rather DIE!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, the words echoing back and forth between the tiny little chamber walls until fading into a reverberating hum.

The ghostly Tyrone smiled, remembering this moment, perking up entirely from having been patiently waiting for this dull and blank time in his life to pass by. Whether the guards had realized it or not, these long periods of confinement had been yet another form of torture. Each moment in this coffin-like cell had been like a knife stabbing him in the eyeballs or like a drop of water on his forehead, constantly dripping… dripping… dripping until it began to burrow into his brain. Now, it was as if the first drop had finally pierced his skull as the boy shouted out in awakened defiance at the pain.

“Can you HEAR ME?!?” Shouted the boy. Tyrone knew whom his younger self was referring to, but the guards outside could never have realized, merely figuring the inmate was finally coming around and finding some life within himself again. They ignored what they believed was a comment indicated for them, but listened at the door in amusement nevertheless.

“What must I do to make THIS change?” the younger Tyrone continued, hoping desperately his pleas would fall on the right ears. “I can’t take this powerlessness anymore. I’d give anything… ANYTHING to make it go away forever!”

“Anything?” the shadows in the corner whispered, though the guards outside could not hear it.

The young Tyrone smiled for the first time in years. “Anything,” he reasserted simply.

“Anything,” the elder wraithlike onlooker whispered in echoing agreement.

“Very well,” the shadows hissed as they formed into a dreamlike image of the lithe man Tyrone had encountered in a snowy alley years before. “This time, Tyrone, I’m going to ask for it all, your fealty, and your soul,” he taunted.

“You deliver,” the young man bargained, “and I will deliver as well.”

A hollow laughter echoed in the cell, somehow again unheard by the guards outside the door. “Very well then. I will repair your broken body, Tyrone, make you impenetrable, invulnerable, undefeatable. Those who deign to harm you will find that harm reflected upon themselves.

But in return, Tyrone, you will be my servant in this realm. You will obey my slightest commands for all eternity to come, and upon your inevitable death, as all mortals shall die, you shall be consumed into my being, to become one with me, one of the millions of souls in my legion. Upon that time, you shall join us forever.”

“In all my life,” Tyrone answered after a brief moment of contemplation, “none has aided nor assisted me save one. None has rescued me from my tormentors without offering me greater torment save one. That one has been you.”

“So you agree to our bargain then,” the voice hissed?

Tyrone nodded.

Again, the Bouncer, watching from the corner of his cell, was in awe of how real this whole scene had actually been, as when he was a young man making this bargain, it had seemed like little more than a dream.

Now, while reliving the scene, he watched as the elegant, darkly clothed, shadowy man produced from what seemed like nowhere itself, a parchment, and a needle. The needle was copper, long, and graceful.

Like a spark of lightning, the figure lurched forward and pierced the boy’s finger with it, to which the younger Tyrone merely winced momentarily.

A glittering bead of blood welled up around the miniature incision. The young man looked at his finger in awe as the parchment was thrust into his lap.

“Stamp your fingerprint on this line. That ‘signature’ should be sufficient to seal the deal. Then you shall be soon made more powerful than any Human to walk the earth,” the dark one seduced.

Tyrone hesitated, briefly, wondering just how real this entire event really was, fuzzily thinking perhaps it was little more than a solitary induced hallucination. Whether it was or not, he realized, this could be the key to his release from his struggles. He marveled at how perfectly his fingerprint was left behind at the base of the parchment.

Immediately, the young Tyrone fell asleep thereafter, leaving his older self to watch the dark man blend in and disappear with his parchment and needle into the shadowed corner of the cell.

After a few more hours had passed, the guards, not hearing any further babbling from the cell, decided to release the boy. The cell swung open, light pouring in, awakening the lad as each ray from the grimy bulbs overhead pierced his retina painfully.

As the fog cleared from his mind, he put his legs underneath him rather than allowing himself to be drug back to his prison cell. Something felt different, but already his memory was fogged regarding recent events, the whole transaction fading into a forgetful haze.

Before the guards could walk him into the main cell area, however, they were approached by the Prison Overseer and two men in military uniforms.

~

Minutes later the boy was shoved down into a seat in a small office, a bleak questioning chamber, across from the men in uniform.

“What is this all about,” he asked weakly?

“Son, allow me to introduce myself,” the wide shouldered man who sat opposite him declared, “My name is General Sternheim, and by God, son, ye’ve seen better Goddammed days, ain’tcha?”

Tyrone merely nodded as he took note of the single silver star on the officer’s lapel.

“What do you want with me General?”

“Son, the Army has been reviewing prison cases on fella’s around your age for the last few years. Your’s kinda screamed out at us.”

“Why is that?”

“Cuz you’ve had a damned bitch of a life, boy, that’s why! Look atcha! You’re a mess! Bet the fellas in these cells can’t leave ya alone can they?”

“I’m an easy target it seems,” Tyrone muttered.

“Kid, you’re sentence was based on the fact that your body was too broken, and your age at the time denied you the ability to enlist. But you’re older now. And what if I told you I could change all that crap that for you right now?”

“I’d ask you how you planned to do that. The doctors have been very insistent that I would be like this forever. My bones din’t heal right.”

“Heh, heh… yeah. Well, we could get ya fixed up perhaps, but… I must admit. It’s a bit experimental. And it would come with the price of havin’ ter defend yer country for a term or two. Still… beats the crap outta this joint, don’t it?” Sternheim roared with a smile.

The words, You will obey my slightest commands for all eternity to come… whispered in the back of Tyrone’s skull.

“Yes… Yes, sir. I believe it would,” Tyrone said meekly.

“Alright then, but if we’re going to be friends, I’ll need you to NEVER call me sir again, understood?”

Tyrone nodded and smiled.

~

Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people have experienced the power of holding a handgun in the palms of their hands, adrenaline coursing through their veins, a feeling of command and power over any who dare oppose them.

And perhaps as many have experienced the sheer terror of staring down the barrel of one, their knees wobbling, their lives flashing before their eyes, knowing that a bullet lies at the end of that dark tube, one with their names spiritually inscribed upon its lead surface, a bullet prepared and ready, in that very moment, to whisk them off into their eternal afterlives.

But for Thomas Forsythe, servant of the Lord, such a threat meant little compared to the divine might of God.

“Put away your toy, officer, for the man at your feet is the real threat and there is only God to decide the fate of who lives and dies tonight.”

“Wha…?” the officer was taken aback by this defiance. “I don’t know if you heard me right, freak! Put your hands in the AIR and step back!”

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Thomas answered, holding up his hands and taking a step back away from the goliath twitching on the desert floor at his feet.

Then, without warning, Thomas’s eyes began to glow softly glow as the Warrior of God turned to dart off into the night.

Gunshots rang out behind him as the policeman shouted for Thomas to “GET ON THE GROUND NOW!” but the bullets, as well aimed as they may have been, ricocheted off an invisible barrier behind him, his Lord’s gift, a ‘Shield of Faith’.

Leaping into a ravine, Thomas raced away under the stars, running until his breath came in hoarse rasps and no lights nor pursuit appeared to follow. Then, for the next hour or so he walked, emerging from the ravine as the first rays of dawn lanced across the desert floor.

Looking around, he quickly realized he had no idea where any roads were from here and the heat of midday would be enough to dry his flesh to the bone. But the rising sun gave him bearing on direction and he set off, knowing that if he travelled far enough North, he would encounter a road soon enough.

Indeed, by the time the sun had fully graced the sky for an hour, a long desolate road winding through the desert crossed his path. And by the grace of God, a car followed soon thereafter, a family on a vacation with their two children and the family dog.

The Harrison’s were friendly enough and were certainly inquisitive as to why a uniformed police officer would have been stranded on a lonely desert highway, but he deflected these questions easily enough.

“Alright then,” Sam Harrison finally gave up his questioning, “I understand, it was a police matter and all, but,” he glanced over at his wife Alecia. “Where are you headed now?”




So that’s the DP. Where should Thomas go now?

And as for the Bouncer’s life review… much more to come of course…

I know it was a long one… sorry for that. And a long wait since the last chapter… again… sorry for that. I haven’t had a lot of time to read and write lately. Will hopefully be making more time for it more regularly now.
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CHAPTER 25: Near-Light Speed (NEW CHAPTER! (12/4/2011))
Zephyrrr! And...


Last edited by Thunderbird on Sun Oct 03, 2010 6:26 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Tikanni Corazon
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PostPosted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 4:03 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

That was a brilliant chapter TB! And I didn't find it too long at all, and the quality of your writing is good enough to keep one engrossed even if it was, so I see no reason for you to apologise for it. Smile

The dp, I am going to have to have a think about, and get back to you with it soon. But I just had to let you know how much I enjoyed reading this. I am especially enjoying this almost a story within a story type thing, of learning about the Bouncer's past.

Well done! Smile

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 31, 2010 8:37 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I like it too! I just stepped in to look around, and got caught up in the story. I haven't read any of the other chapters yet, but it has the feel of a first chapter. I'm going to go look for a synopsis.
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PostPosted: Tue Aug 31, 2010 9:18 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, I'm up to speed. I read a few key chapters as well, so I understand why any of this is happening. That helps! So if Forsythe's mission is to deal with the Bouncer, he needs to get back to it. He should ask to go to the nearest city, get himself some new clothes, and turn on the news. If the Bouncer recovered enough to escape, he probably made a big show of it. If not, Forsythe should assume he's in custody for now. He should just keep a close eye on the jail and wait for the moment to finish the fight.

In brief, ask to go to the nearest city and look for signs of the Tainted.

It might also help to ask for more help from God, perhaps to disguise his appearance so he won't be arrested when he shows up around the police department. In lieu of that, a nice pair of sunglasses can help.

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 31, 2010 5:32 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks for catching up Lebby! And thanks for the compliments to both of you. Definately helps the motivation to keep movin' on this.

The nearest city would still be Vegas. Well... of any significance anyhow. And it would certainly be where they would be immediately carting off the Bouncer if he remains in custody for long. Thomas has a lair there where he can change his clothing and adopt a new appearance for a stake out if you'd like him to make a quick detour there first.
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Zephyrrr! And...
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PostPosted: Tue Aug 31, 2010 7:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Lair it up then! He just needs to remember that he's wanted now too. Impersonating an officer is no small offense.
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 03, 2010 2:14 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Whaaa? You mean you're going to leave Walter there on that cliffhanger with Agents Johnson and Johnson waving guns at his precious spaceship!?!



So we have more on Tyrone's backstory, and are brought back to the scene where Walter escaped the police thanks to the distraction of the war between Thomas and Bouncer.

A little critique if I may... This could be because it's been such a long break since reading about Thomas defeating Bouncer - but I am not sure you really needed to use Bouncer as an etherial viewpoint to show us the continuation of his backstory. I may be wrong but I don't recall you doing this for the introduction of the young Tyrone... just a point of consistency to consider if/when you get around to tidying it up.
Smile

From Thomas's POV, the bouncer is one of the Tainted, and so is Walter. I think going back into town and asking after the Tainted (Walter) - would be a realistic decision for Thomas. He may be wanting to 'save' Walter from completing his 'unresolved contract' (mentioned in Chapter 5).

With his power I don't think he needs to worry about going back to his lair and changing his appearance right now. He's driven by an unbelievably strong force. Save Walter before it is too late...

But... as the reader I don't know yet how significant or urgent it is for Thomas to stop Walter from going into space. He may decide that it is more important to go for Lucky - Bouncer's boss.

So - two suggestions from me - find Walter or find Lucky - and I'll still be undecided at the poll!
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PostPosted: Sat Sep 04, 2010 8:30 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks CF!

Might take some research on his behalf to find either one, but the intent to do so is a decision that can be made on the poll.

In regards to the phantasmal Bouncer, he has been along throughout this life review and this is important to the overall aspect of it being a review. More will be revealed as to why it has been important to keep the reader aware of his presence in this 'memory walk through'. Though, I can see how it can be a bit distracting at the moment.
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PostPosted: Sun Sep 26, 2010 2:20 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Any more suggestions before I wrap this up into a poll? I should be posting the next chapter soon as the poll for this won't be necessary for that to take place (it regards the one given in the last chapter.)
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 03, 2010 6:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Now Polling y'all!
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PostPosted: Tue Oct 12, 2010 5:48 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Any more votes before I close the poll this weekend?
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 13, 2010 12:59 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I've apparently not helped matters.

Excellent chapter though. Much fun reading it.

Happy writing Smile
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 13, 2010 5:51 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks Smee! Don't suppose I should mention that there is already another chapter posted on this...
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 27, 2010 5:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Will definately be closing the poll by the weekend so if you've got an opinion... let it be known!
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PostPosted: Mon Feb 28, 2011 8:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

AMAZING IDEA FOR THIS ONE!!! More of a lords of rings idea for it! I only need to create this one, you asked me to start with this one. I'm inspired. Razz
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PostPosted: Mon Feb 28, 2011 9:31 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Glad to see you're enjoying the tale and the imagery its inspiring BBS! I'm really looking forward to what you come up with.

So what do you think? Would this make a killer comic or what?
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CHAPTER 25: Near-Light Speed (NEW CHAPTER! (12/4/2011))
Zephyrrr! And...
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PostPosted: Mon Feb 28, 2011 10:10 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Defenantly! Its got everything a comic book needs, the weirdos a.k.a Aliens, the mystery, I have a pretty good idea what voice I can use to do this introduction.... so May I ask could you describe some more of the characters. color of their eyes, mussle tone, height, weight, but aslong as you think of a way to describe them more to me through p.m and let the others imagine what they think they look like, or would you like to hear what others think they look like and choose from the one person's point of view or many...? So far I'll start with this chapter introduction and I'll see if my voice is good, if not... I'll use my brother's voice.

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Unlike the rest of the animal kingdom, humans weren’t blessed with claws, “teeth?”, tough hides, great agility, stealth, furred camouflage, acute noses, nor savage might. Of all the inhabitants of the earth, humanity seems to have been denied most of the gifts of survival granted to its cousin animals.


Sorry but did the humans lose them.... Razz
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PostPosted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 8:49 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Good catch... perhaps that should've been fangs or somesuch.

As for descriptions... it would be interesting to hear what others have constructed in their mind's eye before I go into too great a detail.

The only character I'd have a perfectly clear image of in my own mind would be Lucky (I see David Spade playing this character if it were cast in a movie... no one else would do (except maybe a blonde Johnnie Depp))

The rest were left to some personal interp for the reader. I mean, I've included the features I felt were important to define them... maybe having some art for them all would help the writings as well.
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PostPosted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 9:26 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok I'll try my best, I'm still new at photoshop and my 3D is a bit rusted, just telling you here. Plus I don't know where the other book for maya went flying off to... Now I only have the lords of the rings one... Well I'll let you carry on and I'll see how a voice introduction works with this... from Windows media player to maya...
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Where should Thomas go now?
Ask to go to Vegas and immediately look for signs of the Tainted while monitoring the jail for possible problems from the Bouncer.
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Head back to the lair for some rest, recovery, and a new outfit. Then get back to the jail to try to finish things with the Bouncer.
50%
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Attempt to track down Walter to save him before its too late...
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After a brief lair stop, hit the Vegas streets to research the Bouncer to try and figure out who else the behemoth may have been working with.
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Total Votes : 4
Who Voted: Crunchyfrog, Smee, Thunderbird, Tikanni Corazon

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