07-14-2017, 05:11 PM
Quote:Continuing from earlier dreams in the Astralverse: http://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=8599
Once again Sergeant John Estes found himself standing within the empty and vacant expanse of the Nexus. For seven days and nights the burly officer had dreamt of days gone by. Unlike his first pass through the hallowed halls, Mad Bull wasn’t confounded by the sudden confusion of being dropped off in such an alien and unfamiliar setting. Rather, he felt exhausted.
The great god of the Omniverse himself had been so kind as to revive the lumbering cop in his full dress blues. It had been years since he could remember wearing such crisp and pressed trousers. The uniformed shirt was stoutly buttoned across his bursting pectorals, just the way he liked it, but didn’t have the usual stank of sweat and B.O. that came from sitting for hours behind the wheel of a squad car. There was an eeriness to it, that crisp, sharp starchy feeling of not only being in a new pair of cloths, but a new body - reborn, from temple to toe.
Even for the veteran officer it was a new experience. Mad Bull contemplated the complicated idea of it all and scratched at his thick Burt Reynolds styled mustache with agitation. He scowled at the gleaming white horizon, realizing his dear sweet Ma would be spinning in her grave if she knew that her one and only son had been blasphemously reborn like El Jesucristo.
“I’ll say a couple o’ Hail Marys for ya when I get back on solid earth,” he muttered to no one in particular. Instinctively, he reached to his hip and satisfyingly felt that his revolver was in place. While gazing across the endless confines of the Nexus, he lackadaisically unclipped the leather snap and withdrew his weapon. He held it in his palm, admiring the safety and serenity that came from its weight. As his eyes had done a thousand times before, he read the stenciled letters etched along the barrel – SMITH & WESSON.
His chest heaved, hearkening back to the memory, the dream that his sleeping self had reflected upon while in the Astralverse. He could remember with crystal clear clarity that first time he had read those eleven letters in the dirty bathroom of a porno theater on 42nd Street, and could remember even more vividly when he had shoved the barrel, obscuring those letters, into the mouth of El Jefe Negro and pulled the trigger four times.
With grim satisfaction he shoved the weapon back in its holster.
He paused for a moment, studying the lay of the land. In the far distance he could see the gates of Corsucant, but not far away either Camelot and other locals could be spotted, promising new adventures, new friends and certainly sunnier beaches than the always oppressively bleak and polluted streets of Corsucant. With the pains of death still lingering in his bones, the unknown elsewhere held a certain appeal, until he suddenly saw a small object lying on the blank ground. Mad Bull bent to pick it up.
“SERGEANT: JOHN ESTES – 34 PRECINCT”
He held the badge in his fist and gripped it tightly, the etched metal pressing indentations into his flesh. The memories of his final fight in Dante’s Abyss came flooding back, reminding him of the passion, the zeal and the fury he poured out from his simple, wicked heart.
“I ain’t done down there yet. My shift ain’t over. For you Ma, for all your kind and mine. This one, this life is for all the no good kids like me tryin’ to climb out of the gutter and trying to make it…”
He pinned the badge to his chest proudly, then patted the SMITH & WESSON revolver at his hip, “And this one, this one still carries four in the chamber to make things right, to let crooks and crumbs taste justice for once in their rotten lives, even if it’s gotta come churning out the barrel of my gun.”