Carnage on the Horizon

Volume 1 Prologue

As the burlap sack slid past his face, the all-encompassing darkness vanished—morphing into a blinding light. A lamp, conveniently placed by the interrogators, shone mere inches from his face. No dire clenching of eyes could impede the light that pierced through. The murderer’s attempt to look away proved fruitless as leather straps constrained him.

Without warning a heavy punch connected flush with his jaw. The taste of blood and saliva brought nostalgia and pain. Without thinking, his instincts took hold. Blood spat towards his attacker as if fired from a rifle. The blind shot didn’t reach its mark, but instead pooled on the floor. Another blow landed on his cheek and knocked a tooth loose. With fresh ammo loaded, the murderer took aim and fired. His second shot hit the assailant’s center mass just above the heart. The assailant’s face contorted with fists readied when a door opened leading several others to the fray.

“That’ll be enough, Major. We need the blood inside his body, if you don’t mind.”

A devious, scarlet smile crept onto the murderer’s lips. The new figure’s remark had won him the bout of wills. He could sense the Major’s animosity as it screamed, unwilling to let his prisoner go unpunished. Victories, however small, needed to be celebrated.

Seconds that pressed on like hours went by; nothing happened. Complete silence enveloped the scene, save the sound of a chair scratching the floor. The first images to come through past the blinding light blurred beyond recognition; crimson mist veiled his vision. As the blinded man’s sight adjusted, those present came into focus.

Standing to the side, a man sporting a glossy, red stain on his chest showed an expression of disdain. The Major wore a sleek, black military uniform. No color was visible aside from patches displaying his rank and a flag of liberty on one shoulder. His hip held a handgun aside what appeared to be various grenades and a handheld radio. Behind him stood at attention three soldiers with mirrored fashion sense.

In a chair a few feet away sat a man clad in a lab coat. He had a slender build and an intense, yet relaxed demeanor. Not a trace of hair grew atop the man’s barren head, but his chin fostered an unruly beard. Hints of grey dashed among the black. He periodically adjusted a pair of glasses that sat on the edge of his nose. His eyes darted over a clipboard that demanded complete attention. Every so often barely audible whispers escaped.

“I see… Aha... Oh... Very interesting...” The cliché lines transformed him into a comic book villain; one with poorly-scripted dialogue.

Given a moment to collect himself, the prisoner surveyed his surroundings. A small, square room with concrete flooring and walls surrounded him. One door and sparse furnishings spoke for the uninhabitable atmosphere; two chairs were all the space had to offer. Dirt piles lay in every corner and stains painted the scene. Most had a crimson tint that climbed to the ceiling as if splattered, and the walls told tales of suffering—a history of those locked in a cage slowly driven to madness as they begged for their confinement to end.

A searing pain set into his jaw as his nerves caught up with reality. A canine rolled along the floor and a few teeth jutted out at new angles. After several minutes of being ignored, the prisoner’s mood began to shift; in his theology, wasting time weighed as an intolerable sin. He took up God’s work and attempted to rectify this heretic’s misdeed. “Can’t you just get this over with? The Warden said I’d be dead by eleven.”

“Don’t be so eager to die, Mr. Yeager,” said the man in a lab coat. He didn’t bother looking up as the statement was dismissed. Back to his reading, he immersed himself until what seemed like an eternity passed. The document was set on his lap and his attention turned to the prisoner. “Now that I’m caught up, I’m sure you would like to know why you’re here.”

“If it’s not too much to ask,” retorted the prisoner. His overly sarcastic response plastered a cringe over the Major’s expression. At the first opportunity the soldier resolved to get revenge; his stained attire demanded it.

“Not at all. That’s why I’m here.” The scientist smiled. It pleasured him to deal with a lab rat who refrained from spewing profanity. “I’m Dr. Smith. A terrible name—I know—but I didn’t get to choose it. Now Daniel, is it okay if I call you by your first name? Or would you prefer Baron? That’s what your friends called you if I’m not mistaken...” He flipped through the pages of the report looking for reassurance.

“Daniel is fine.”

“Alright then, Daniel. As you may have noticed, you aren’t dead. We had a... Less suitable applicant take your place during the execution. As far as the world is concerned, you, Daniel Yeager, are dead,” Mr. Smith paused for a moment before adding a hint of excitement to his voice. “And that opens a world of opportunities, you see.”

The resolve of an inmate fresh off death row kept his fear in check, though the wry smile on the mad scientist’s face would have sent shivers down an average man’s spine. It wasn’t just being on death row that hardened him. Daniel’s life paralleled Hell in a constant struggle to survive. An existence that gave breath to more life lessons than the devil could ever hope to spawn demons.

Growing up, he and his family lived in poverty. Even compared to those in the ghettos of East Chicago they were poor. His mother and stepfather both lived the lives of addicts. They depended on welfare since neither parental figures bothered to work. At a ripe, young age he learned that life was cruel; to what extreme was a lesson saved for further down the road.

Throughout school he remained on par with his peers, which didn’t say much while living in the worst school district in America. By the time high school arrived he dropped out, a wise decision since a life of crime didn’t need a diploma. His circumstances could be called shit, but he gritted through it; that was until his 18th birthday.

To celebrate, he decided to go partying with some friends. The four of them belonged to the same gang. In reality, they never invested themselves too seriously or even identified as a gang. The last thing he could remember was buying some ecstasy to help liven the mood, and after that his memory went blank. Everyone died.

Waking up the next morning Daniel found himself in a jail cell. Broken and charged with three counts of murder in the first degree, his life came to a standstill. During the trial evidence surfaced proving his loyalties had switched to a rival gang. It gave clear motive for the treachery of killing his three friends.

Ten years went by as he served a sentence of forged charges. As a man with an expiration date, what is there to hope for? Acquittal is a fool’s dream; repentance is lost on the faithless.

Countless times he tried to end his life in vain. Sitting awake every night thinking of the possibilities—imagining what he might have done—there wasn’t much else to do but go insane. When the day finally came and the sweet release of death encroached, he found himself here, in a concrete room, in front of a mad scientist eyeing him with unhealthy fixation.

“Even if you have been living under a rock these past ten years, I’m sure you’ve heard about the recent development of virtual reality,” said Dr. Smith. His words brought Daniel back to the moment. Of course he heard about it, but sci-fi and fantasy never intrigued him.

“The only thing stopping further development is more realistic data.” The lab-coat cracked another deranged smile before continuing. “You see, the known effects of virtual reality are, well, virtually unrealistic; Pun intended”—he commended his own wit with a chuckle—“Every study done thus far has had to abide by these pesky things called ethics. I’m not a fan of them myself, but activists of all kind seem to fancy their existence. The information that me, and my ever-so-generous benefactors, are interested in deals with areas where ethics aren’t well established.”

He took a second to push up his glasses, “So Daniel, my dear lab rat, you will be helping me test for three very crucial things. One, to what extent is virtual reality a substitute for natural sleep. Two, what are the physical effects when the mind ages at five times the rate of the body; I’m actually quite interested in this one. Think about it. Due to the differences in time perception, after a year in this virtual world your mind will feel as though five have gone by. However, for your physical self it has only been a year. Really, quite the intriguing topic.”

He took a moment to piece together his thoughts after silencing the mad ramble, “Ah yes, and thirdly, I want to see what type of psychological conditions arise. This last one is more of a side project of mine. It always fascinated me to see what types of circumstances will drive people insane. It’s an unhealthy obsession; I know, but we all have our vices.”

The lab coat stood up and started to leave before adding, “I’m done with him, Major. Please take Mr. Yeager to the lab and have everything prepared. I’ll be by in a couple hours to see how things are progressing.” Without looking back Dr. Smith left, throwing Daniel to the wolves in the process.

Once the door shut the major got his long awaited revenge. The blow to his head left Daniel with a fresh coat of crimson face paint and a consciousness fading to oblivion.

House of Wolves

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Thanks to Xetaro, Zeref Zacrow, and zekekai4 for proof reading this chapter

Author’s Notes

Hope you enjoyed. I already have the first volume, chapters 1 through 10, written, so be sure to check back tomorrow when I upload chapter 1. Any comments, criticisms, or errors are welcome down in the comments.

If you want, I am always looking for people to proofread since this web novel is still a work in progress. You can PR this chapter here: Prologue Google Doc. My proof readers have only worked up to chapter 3 so I’d appreciate anyone willing to help with the rest, check the Google Doc link above if interested.