Slain Vs. T-Rex (1)
Slain vs. T-Rex
Warning: this book contains explicit scenes of gore readers beware
Chapter 1: Genesis
The revolutionary work had almost been complete. Finally the work that had been done for years was about to be ready, fully real breathing and living dinosaurs. Genetically modified to suit whatever needs, all the years of palaeontology and digging had finally paid off. Bones and information had been collected and finally they had done it, got enough to create real dinosaurs. Velociraptors, Kentrosauras, Spinosaurus, Dryosaurus and many more could be created, even the devastating Tyrannosaurus Rex. They could be created easily and sold for large amounts of cash, people could have a cuddly dinosaur that was completely real, and also could be cuddly. “Doctor, how many should we produce” asked the female scientist. The head doctor looked up to a storage tank filled with some kind of green fluid, wires going inside. The fluid got thicker inside and hid a monster away from human eyes. Only a single large tooth could be made out in the think of the green fluid. “First of all, let that one out, give it the E-Gene. And then produce 500 hundred on a natural selection, but I want at least 100 velociraptors” the set of scientists nodded and fled in every direction to start the amber drilling process. “Finally, my own army, my own fighting force” he thought to himself in a silent chuckle.
The road was long and dirty, the sunset sat just on the horizon glowing nicely on the road. Another war over, another fight won. He had shoulder length brown hair, tied back by a strap bandana. Was roughly medium build, 6 foot 3 tall and about 270 pounds of weight. Glowing green eyes and a scar that diagonally went down his face starting from his left side, across the bridge of the nose and just under the eye. He was about 34, maybe 35 years of age. He had a rugged beard, the total opposite to cleanly cut as hairs randomly spread out. A torn old brown rucksack laid on his shoulder with only one strap. He wore jeans with a black shirt; a long sleeved denim jacket over covered the shirt. The road was full of dust and melted grime underneath the crimson sun. The occasional car sailed gracefully across the road looking at the strangler as he kept on walking forward. No matter the length of the road, he kept on walking just as determined as the last mile. His hair flapped around in the viscous wind, a warm breeze flew fast through the air. A barretta tucked nicely, hidden away from sight in his back pocket. Also a silver knife with shrapnel edge that he had gained from his last three wars, hidden in a chief, which laid down his left side. The walk went on and on, until a sign could be seen from far away, he could see it from where he was. “Detroit, Michigan, 3 ½ miles” he was almost there, almost home. It was the end of world war five; three almost consecutive world wars almost crippled the United States. As he walked forward, pass the sign he could see his house, it was on the outskirts of the city, and the first one in view. It was small but the sun shimmered off its edge creating an eye-catching effect. Before he knew it, he was inside, it only took two days this time, and the last couple of times it took a little longer, like a day or so. He could see the huge buildings of the city as the beautiful light shone down upon them. This graceful look contrasted the traumatic scenes that he had seen during his life.
He threw over his bag and looked inside for his keys. After some rustling around he pulled them out through his army uniform and extra ammo clips. He threw his bag back over his shoulder and flicked his hair behind his shoulders. The keys slotted in nicely but before he turned the lock, this was too quiet. It seemed to him like everything inside was being forced to act normal, experience could tell him this. Everything for one was too perfect. He pulled his barretta out and slid his knife between his teeth, with one hand, slowly opened up the door. He charged forward, firing rounds into a man standing in the middle of his hallway. He hit the man three times in the face, but as he fell another attacked from behind with a knife. Which speed the owner of the house fled behind the new attacker as a another fighter armed with an AK47 ran down the stairs and began to fire into his team mate, then as he reloaded, a knife flew into his forehead spreading blood on his portrait. One more man walked in from the kitchen, however he was clapping instead of attacking. He was dressed in a typical army uniform, the medals flashed in the orange sun. As he stepped over the bodies he began to speak “well, if it isn’t Marc Slain, world war hero and killing machine”. Slain looked over to him, piecing together the puzzle “General, what do you want, what is all this for?” the general looked up to the hero, he didn’t even break a sweat killing these three. “They were dispatched to test you, but it seems you have yet again, been underestimated” Slain walked into the kitchen and grabbed a soda, then offered it to the general who followed him “first of all, it was obvious as soon as I walked in, first the electricity was on, when I tell the company to turn it off when I’m away, also your guys lovely break in left it obvious on my door, but you know what really got it obvious, the front gate was open, come on General, your guys are getting worse” the General didn’t like that remark, but it was true “well Slain” he said while walking into the front room, sitting down comfortably in the classical style décor that surrounded him “that’s why we need you again, to go out into the field and train these youngsters”. Slain walked in with a piece of toast in his mouth, soda and barretta in both hands. He laid his pistol down on the coffee table and laid his soda beside it. As he started to eat his toast he spoke “look, I’ve seen almost too much death to live myself, please, my fighting days are over, I lost my wife because of fighting okay? I just don’t want to fight anymore, it’s my time to start laying down my weapons” the general looked deep into his eyes, he was being serious. “You sure this is what you want, you’ve gone past serving your country”. Slain grabbed his soda and opened it up with some tenacity “this is what I want, no more death, just to live again” the General stood up and let himself out, he nodded to a team waiting outside. He looked back and said in an honourable tone “y’know Slain, you were one of the special ones, I just hope you find happiness” the team moved in and cleared up the mess that Slain had made just a few minutes ago. The day was almost over also along with Slain’s fight helping the military. It was time to sleep, and now live the life he had to kill so many people for.
“The hatchery service is almost complete, we have the 100 velociraptors you asked for doctor, and the E-gene has been injected into subject T,” explained the scientist. The doctor smiled and looked out the factory window; he could see the velociraptors in the enclosure below. He had become god, he could create life. But his greatest creation was yet to be alive, now it had the E-gene, it would be unstoppable. “Sir!! Sir! We have some great news, we have created subject T-A, the female version, and also something that you wanted us to do ages ago sir, the target virus” the doctor seemed surprised, but in a good way, now instead of one, he could have two. “Excellent, I’ll gain a sample from the hospital tomorrow, and we’ll see if the gene works.
Chapter 2: Dragged back
The new morning light whimpered into the training room. There he was, Slain fighting a punch bag. Over and over again he attacked and attacked, barely having a struggle. With the white straps over his hands he continued to beat down the bag, until it split open. Suddenly a beeping sound generated around the room, it was the telephone. Panting for some breath he walked over to the cordless device hanging on the wall and picked up the phone, inevitably ending the tone. “Hey, it’s Marc” “HEY MARC, your back man, that’s awesome” “yeah, who is it?” “It’s me, Pete!” “Oh hey man, what’s up?” Pete was a friend of Slain’s ever since he was born, he did join the army as a surgeon, but after world war three, he quit and joined the national health. “Hey, it’s so boring round here now, can you come over for a bit, catch up on old times?” Slain looked around the training area, there was no need for him to train, so there was nothing to stop him doing what he wanted for once “yeah sure man, be there in an hour”. He walked through into the front room and grabbed his backpack, taking the pistol out for the first time in his life, putting a football in for some fun. It was time to start living again.
Sudden life surged into the beast, suddenly after its time in cryogenic stasis. The harsh reality hit it hard; all he could see was a green cloud around him. All he could hear was the water damping his ears. The liquid put a bad taste on his huge tongue and all he could smell was human flesh. Wires dug into him while clamps held him in place. He had awoken before but fallen back to sleep, but this time, he seemed to know much more about the world. For some reason, now he was more intelligent. It was weird but now he seemed to know almost himself more, about the humans that surrounded him, even weirder, now, he felt a deeper sense of emotion. Deeper anger burned inside him like a fiery torch of rage. Somehow he could sense something big was coming, the beast didn’t know what it was, but he knew it was coming.
“Sir, subject T has awoken!!” shouted a scientist. The doctor looked at the tank deeply and looked toward his next course of action. “He’s becoming more aware and less numb now, we need to get our sample, I’ll be back in half an hour, prepare the entire set of carnivore’s for DNA insertion”. The plan was now in motion, there was no looking back now. It was now time to have it all, or end up with nothing. He walked out the door with a syringe in hand still with his white coat. The secret research base was on the lower floor of the hospital. It was used as a nuclear bunker for the fourth world war, but afterwards it wasn’t needed anymore, so they sealed it off. The only way into the secret complex was by obtaining a key card to fit into the hospitals main elevator system that lead all the way up to the top of the hospital, covering all levels. The bottom level looked like a giant steel army storage base, whereas the public levels were nicely decorated in a white arrangement of furniture and staff. The small sound of hustle and bustle was almost pleasant to the ears of the hospitals recipients. It was about noon now, and by the end of the day, there would be an army of savage beasts roaming the planet.
He pulled up outside the hospital; it was huge and almost looked like the white house. Before it was bombed that is. His car was a classic 4 by 4 land rover. I reliable car in his eyes and in the eyes of many spectators. He climbed out his car carefully as the sun glared in his face. It was about noon now, and surprisingly the hospital wasn’t that busy. A lot of people however stared at his attire; he only wore a pair of army trousers with boots, no top. He was used to this because of the many years out in the field, on the hot conditions in Africa. Many people stared, mostly women at his muscled body, scarred in many places. He grabbed his old training bag and headed into the hospital with his head held high, smelling the free air. Pete worked inside, he had been a surgeon for almost far too long but then again Slain couldn’t say much, he’s been in the army for way too long himself. There were many steps up to the main reception, which seemed fairly stupid, as what would a person do if they had a broken leg? Somehow it seemed like a type of humour to the ex-army hero, reminded him of old battles when he had to carry downed soldiers away from the fire fight. It seemed almost harsh but if he were to remember these memories in that manner, there would be more sleepless nights occurring. The door approached, just behind a security pass beacon. Almost like a metal detector, simple by look, complicated by design. As Slain walked through, the green light went on and he was free to continue. As he walked inside he could hear many things, conflicting in sound and couldn’t be heard without some effort. Or maybe it was the continuing mortar shells in Iraq had attacked his hearing somewhat. As he walked up to the receptionist to ask directions, he could hear a severe beeping behind him, back at the gate control. Then, just as quickly as Slain could turn round, two rounds from a low duty pistol fired into the security guard. “Shit” he thought “everywhere I go, I have to fucking fight” Slain jumped behind the counter, dragging the receptionist down with him. The terrorists wore pure black, with a black mask over their heads to fit and there were about 10 of them. “What’s your name missy” Slain demanded. “Nicole, my name’s Nicole! What’s going on?” Slain looked just over the counter, most people had fled, only to fled, only to be shot in the back. He had to at least get this one girl out alive. “Here’s the plan, you see that door over there, run for it when I jump over the counter, do you have a company pen or something?” Nicole looked through her pockets and revealed a plastic pen. “What do you need that for, you can’t beat them lot?” whispered the young receptionist. Slain peeped over again, gaining his needed information on his enemies whereabouts. “You don’t wanna know, get ready, three, two, one….”
Chapter 3: Beginning Of The End
Slain flew over the other side of the counter, armed with only a pen he started his attack. The first man was not alert of the new threat against him, and suddenly, a pain flew to his throat. As he looked down, a pen was half way inside him. Blood spew from his throat on the floor and as he screamed, the other terrorists were alerted of Slain’s attack. Suddenly it was 9 on 1, which in Slain’s mind seemed like fair odds. He used the new corpse as a new shield and ran toward a corridor. The murderers moved forward, only to see the corpse of their teammate. They looked around but their unknown attacker was nowhere in sight. Suddenly a scream on anger generated above them as Slain fired shots into the heads of two more attackers, he let go of the walls and landed on 3 more oppressors. However the other men started to fire, and a few bullets managed to hit Slain, splatting his blood over the walls. This would not stop him though, he acted dead, stopped his movement and his breathing. When the other men dropped their weapons and checked on the so-called dead hero. Slain jumped up with his legs, and snapped the neck of his front oppressor with his feet. Then kicking the corpse to knock two more into the wall then flipped up preparing for a fistfight. Two more forced their attack, throwing in a punch each. Slain dodged both attacks while grabbing the arm of one and snapping it completely out of place. With a swift kick from Slain, the other was down on the floor completely unconscious. Another swarmed toward him with a knife in hand and desperate to use it. The hero stepped out of the attack path and smashed his way a fire hose mounted on the sidewall. The oppressor attacked again only to have the fire hose wrapped around his throat, and the hose tip entangled on the hose bar. The attacker eventually suffocated to death, however the three who were knocked down started their assault. Slain used a three inch punch to collapse the lungs of his nearby attacker, the move he learnt high in the winds of China. Then flipping over in a kind of cartwheel move, he picked the knife that his other attacker had died with. Then stabbing one in the back, making him drop instantly. The last man turned around only to see Slain’s huge hands around his head, with a quick snap, the whole fight was over.
Pete ran out after the storm settled, somehow he knew that Slain would of made it simple because he always did. He peeped round the wall only to see a complete blood festival around the corridor “did he survive?” asked Nicole who was just behind him. “Lets see shall we?” Pete replied. They both walked slowly toward the battle scene. As they got closer, they could see a heavy breathing hero. “MARC, you alright man? Damn your hit,” shouted out Pete. Marc just looked up at him and forced a smile before he passed out. “Shit, Nicole, get some help, we need this man is surgery now!” As hospital attendants and police staff came, Slain was lifted up on a stretcher and rushed to surgery. One man, dressed in white walked over to the wreckage of bone and blood, swiftly and quickly he scooped up a jar of blood. He made his exit concealed; no one knew what he had done. He had started a whole new war, and was definitely proud of it.
“I have the sample, upload it into all carnivorous subjects, including subject T and T-A,” commanded the main doctor. All the scientist nodded while one took the sample of blood and carefully placed it into freezing machine. “How long will it take for them to be ready?” asked the doctor, one scientist came over to him to answer the question. “About, a day, maybe two”. The doctor silently nodded almost in approval. This was going to be the beginning of the end, no doubt, god help the person who is targeted by these beasts, because they will hunt that person down until every last bit of meat is ripped of their bones. Yes it would be the fall of humanity, but the rise of something that should have already been there. “The rise of the dinosaurs is now, and the rise of the Tyrannosaurus Rex is now!!!”
Copyright © 2004 Tony James Sayers