Disclaimer: This novel contains adult material including sexually explicit activities, strong language, extreme violence, mass murder, child murder, suicidal themes, derogatory language, and more. This work is not suitable for minors. Reader discretion is advised.
Psycho Bullet Festival 2222
Bout 12: Enter Jad Spencer
Date: November 19, 2014
Time: 05:22 UTC – 23:22 LT
Coordinates: Oransen, North America from My Life As Abigale Quinlan
“Who am I?”
That is the question that has been haunting me these past 55 days. Ever since I woke up in this body.
Before this, I was Jad Spencer. An unremarkable teenage boy, age 17. But then I woke up as her. As Abigale Quinlan. A renowned terrorist responsible for the deaths of millions. She stole my body, stored me in hers, and… died while in my body. Now, the world views me, views Jad Spencer, as a school shooter, responsible for the deaths of dozens.
At one point, I thought I could clear my name. That I could explain my situation. That I would be forgiven for my inherited sins. But alas, I have strayed too far to claim redemption. I stained my hands with the blood of soldiers, gleefully tore away the life from their dying carcasses, and crashed a plane into a mountain… because I was bored.
Why did I do this? How did I turn into such a person? Well… it was not by my own doing. It was because of him. Because of Peatrice. An electronic persona ingrained into my new brain. Someone who served as Abigale Quinlan’s personal digital assistant. He played a similar role for me, acting as my guide shortly after I gained this body, but he only made things worse. He took away my one chance to surrender, to plead for mercy and understanding. But it’s worse than that. He took away my identity.
After being subjected to an incalculable amount of physical trauma, the line between him and I began to blur. I began to indulge in his psychotic impulses, and to any onlooker, I was acting like the woman I appeared to be. I was acting like Abigale Quinlan. I looked like Abigale Quinlan. I had all the powers Abigale Quinlan had. Ergo, I was Abigale Quinlan.
Still, I could not accept that I was Abigale Quinlan until I confirmed I was not Jad Spencer. That was why I returned to Oransen, the town I lived in for all my life. If I could put this place behind me, discard it and pass it by, then I would accept my new identity. If I couldn’t, I would try to reconnect. Try to assume my old life.
I said goodbye to the familiar streets. I examined the ravaged remains of my high school. I found my corpse… and turned it into dust. I even tried to reconnect with my friends, Maxxie Flare and Zoe Xing. But… I could not. I was not sure if it was shame, concern, fear, or a sense of superiority, but I could not bear to tell them the truth. To let them know that the suspicious woman staring at them in the pizzeria was their dead terrorist friend who nearly killed them along with most of the student body. The most I could do was leave them a note. A cryptic hope that maybe… things would get better. A hope that was more for me than for them.
Now, I was looking at the final destination during my visit. My home. Or rather, the home of Mr. Bryce Spencer and Mrs. Eleanore Spencer. I never liked my father. He was strong, aggressive, demanding, unsightly, crass, and violent. While he could provide more than enough for our family through… unscrupulous means, he was not a person I could ever claim to love. At his best, he was indifferent to me and paid little mind to my existence. And at his worst, he viewed me as a tool to vent his frustrations.
As for my mother, her sweetness and warmth brought me untold comfort over the years. But as I grew older, she grew weaker. She grew complicit in her role beneath her husband and, in order to maintain her own life, she stopped questioning or resisting him. She modified her body to his liking and devoted her every day to fulfilling his desires. When she was removed from him, she was one of the kindest people I could even imagine, but I could tell that she was suffering inside. That she had for many years.
With a heavy sigh, I took a Real Booted skeleton key to the front door and turned the lock. The house was dark, as to be expected given how late it was, but I could hear a noise coming from upstairs. A noise that I knew all too well. I groaned, but I stepped foot into the house and up the stairs until I found them. Laying in their king-sized bed, fucking. They didn’t even bother closing the door.
It was not the first time I had seen either of them naked, unfortunately, but as I looked at them this time… I felt something was missing. They looked like the same people they had always been. Eleanore was a woman in her 40s with a body rejuvenated through cosmetic surgeries. While Bryce was a man a few years older than her, with a strong and thick body and a face that conveyed that he knew how to hurt people, and would not hesitate to use that knowledge to his advantage.
They were the same people physically, but when I saw them… I saw them as people. I did not see them as my parents.
“Who the fuck are you?!” Bryce shouted as he ripped his hardened dick out of Eleanore.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, and if you stay put… I’ll know the answer in a few moments.”
“Get out of our house, you awful woman! How did you even get in?” Eleanore exclaimed as she shielded her silicon-filled breasts under a blanket.
Before I could formulate a response, Bryce moved his large ape-like body away from the bed and thrust his thick hands into a drawer. He pulled a handgun from it and wasted no time aiming it at me. I did not flinch. I had been intimidated with far worse.
“Get the FUCK out of my house!” Bryce barked, while my expression remained dull.
“I always knew you had that gun hidden there, but I never dared to touch it. I used to think that guns were the worst thing, but… there are far worse things in this world… and I guess I am now one of them.”
Bryce then shot me. A bullet pierced my thigh and ripped through my pants. It hurt, but not for very long. Within a few seconds, the lead oozed out of my leg and my skin healed itself. Bryce gawked at this miraculous sight, unable to truly understand what was happening. Instead of asking questions, he fired the gun again, this time aiming for my head. Things went black, nothingness settled in, but I got back up.
A few minutes later, the gun was emptied. Bryce’s conviction had given way to an emotion that looked wrong on his hardened visage. Fear. He looked at me, clad in hole-filled bloodstained clothes, identified me as a problem, and had no solution. I approached him as he pointed the gun at me, pulling the trigger even though it had no bullets, before I grabbed the gun out of his hands and threw it out of his bedroom. He stammered for words he could not find before I placed a hand around his flabby throat.
“Why should I let you live… Bryce?” I asked as I looked into his blue eyes.
As he failed to deliver a prompt answer, I snapped my fingers. Blood sprayed over the bed and my body as his head popped open like an overripe fruit. I smiled as I saw what remained of his face. The back half of a skull, an assortment of brain matter, and everything below his jaw. The sight alone did not inspire joy, but knowing who this corpse once was… it made me happy, as a figure I once believed to be invincible had fallen. A man who I had grown to hate was dead. And that… was a good thing.
“He’s finally gone, Eleanore. Doesn’t that make you—” I paused as I locked eyes with her.
Her pale eyes now looked as if they were empty. As if whatever remained within them had been eked out. She looked as if reality itself had shattered before her, and instead of rejoicing in her newfound freedom, as she should have, she instead screeched and fled.
She grabbed the cordless phone from her nightstand and began sprinting out of the bedroom as she jammed her fingers against the rubber buttons. In her haste, she tripped on the emptied handgun I thoughtlessly threw into the dark hallway. I did not see her as she fell, but I heard a loud clunk and a delayed scream.
I flicked the light switch to the hallway and saw Eleanore lying on the ground, blood pouring down from her forehead, her ankle twisted, and the phone out of her hand. She tried to call 911, but never initiated the call. She looked up at me and, despite her piteous state, she spoke to me with scorn and fury.
“You MONSTER!!! You… what the hell even are you? How did…”
I could tell that, despite her passion, she was dealing with the adverse effects of losing so much blood, and was struggling to speak. She needed to suppress the wound and rest, but she instead lunged at me, wrapping her manicured hands around my throat as she struggled to stand up. I did not resist her as she pushed me down to the floor, where she began clawing her naked body over me.
Tears began washing away the layers of makeup adorning her face, and with her teeth clenched, she brought her hands to my face, where she rammed her nails into my eyes. I did not resist, as there was nothing to fear but pain. And this pain was nothing compared to what I had experienced. I did not scream as she pierced my corneas. I merely remained as I was and asked myself a question. Did I love this woman? This woman crawling over me, sobbing profusely, and stabbing me with her hands? …No. I recognized her role in my life, but looking over her, in this bloodied frantic state, I felt nothing for her. And as I realized this, I snapped.
Blood gushed from Eleanore’s neck, where it sprayed onto me.
I let her squirm until the blood stopped pumping out of her.
I just killed my parents, and afterwards… I felt disappointed. Because I could have handled that better. I could have had more… fun with these people before I broke them and turned them into things. I groaned as I realized my wasted potential.
“Well, if that is my reaction, then I guess it’s clear who I am. I am not some teenage boy, and these… These are not my parents. No. That man is dead. He is not me. I am not him. I erased him from this world. Instead… I am who I appear to be. I am who the world knows me to be.”
“I am not Jad Spencer. I am Abigale Quinlan.”
Date: February 22, 2222
Time: 16:06 UTC – 11:06 LT
Coordinates: 45°N 73°W (Neo Montreal, North America)
I awoke amidst darkness and I could barely move. I was naked and stone surrounded every part of my being. Stone pressed against my head, my breasts, my butt, and even between my toes. At first, I thought I had been encased in rubble, but no. It was as if the stone had been carved to caress my very being, to contain me. But why? I survived acid baths, bombs, and giant slabs of metal slamming against my body at hundreds of kilometers per hour. You’d have to be retarded to think that something like this could contain me.
I did what I do, and Real Booted the stone away until I had enough room to throw a good punch at the darken wall before me. With a single hit, it crumbled, and specks of light began to fill the dark tomb I had been placed in. With a few more strikes, the wall before me broke away, and I jumped out from this shoddy prison. My feet slammed against concrete, and before me was a brick wall with a metal door. A closer look at my surroundings revealed I was wedged between two large buildings, inside an alley. Both buildings before me rose high in the sky, and based on the snippet of vertical skyline I could make out, I was in a city.
I was in a city, I was naked, it was midday, and it was cold. As to be expected for December. That all checked out, but how in the hell did I even get here?
I Real Booted myself some clothes as I recollected what I could. Last I checked, It was December 25, 2014. I was on my way to meet with United States President Ji-Hyun Xing, where she would surrender this nation to me, the closest thing there was to a God in this world. But then I woke up here…
“This doesn’t make any damn sense,” I said as I clenched my temple. “I may as well hit the streets to find out what I can, but first, a girl’s gotta look her best.”
I Real Booted the wall before me into a mirror and scoped out what I looked like. My skin was still the same beautifully maintained deep brown. My eyes were a deep black— odd considering their usual red hue, but that was not a concern at the moment. And my body was toned and sculpted to the perfect balance of sexy, slender, and strong. After checking out my boobs for a moment, I began to Real Boot myself some clothes, and I decided to go with a version of the outfit I wore during my Halloween excursion. A cream-colored dress with a denim jacket, leggings, and tall black boots. But I felt that my hair, which had been flattened by rock, needed a bit more volume, inspiring me to Real Boot some product to give it a nice little poof.
Looking fresh, I turned onto the streets to get a feel for this city, see if I could find any clues to where I was… only to pause as I got my first full look at this place. This city was meticulously clean, the cars were slick and zoomed past the streets almost silently, and there were loads of people walking around.
But what truly grabbed my attention were the buildings themselves. While still made from stone, steel, and glass, the buildings all had a sleekness to them. What’s more is that, unlike most cities, which were a cluster of buildings thrown together and rebuilt over the span of years, these buildings all looked specifically designed to create a collective whole. There was also much greenery around the city, with gardens lining the tops of some buildings, and trees peppered at the sides of streets.
As I gawked at these sights, acting like a total tourist, I failed to notice that a crowd of dozens had surrounded me, and all stood at least 5 meters away, but it was clear they were staring at me. I groaned at this crowd, knowing what was going on. The US government must have revealed my identity at some point, and now these people could tell who I was. That I was Abigale Quinlan.
I expected them to run, but instead, they gathered around like a gaggle of dodos, murmuring to themselves. I groaned as I devised ways I could make a fashionable exit. But as I readied my hands to snap a few heads open, one member of this group approached me. I leered at them and… they weren’t human. Their face was plastic and colored a soft pink. They had lights for eyes. And when they opened their mouth, they spoke in a synthesized voice.
“Greetings. Are you Abigale Quinlan?”
“Pfft, is it that obvious? If I knew people were looking for me, I would have worn a disguise.”
“…Are you hostile?” The robot asked, inspiring the surrounding crowd to take a step back.
“Look Tinman, I am the Abigale Quinlan. I nuked Mexico and killed 52 million just for fun. If you don’t think that’s hostile, then you’re nothing but a waste of minerals.”
“Everyone, please return to your homes immediately,” the robot said, their voice devoid of emotion. “We will detain this permutation immediately.”
“Permutation? The fuck are you rapping about, ya gussied up drum machine?”
“You are not in your own world, Abigale. You are in another world, where Abigale Quinlan is celebrated as the savior of the world, having brought prosperity to humankind these past 200 years. Over the past 14 hours, various other Abigale Quinlans have been appearing throughout the world.”
“Heh. So you are saying that there are other Abigale Quinlans? That this is another world? You must think I’m stupid or something. But no matter. If you don’t believe who I am, I’ll just need to show you.”
The robot’s head then popped open, revealing all sorts of circuits and motors that resided behind their face. As the robot died, the people scattered, and I brought my hands to the ground, ready to prove my dominance. Prove that, no matter what, I was the true Abigale Quinlan.
I grabbed the robot’s remains and used them to Real Boot a weapon. I could have chosen anything, but today I felt like using an RPG. I grabbed the fully loaded weapon and aimed it at the gawking masses shuffling away from me. With a flick of the trigger, I emptied all chambers of the weapon. Vehicles exploded, people were turned into charred corpses within a single second, and trees were sent ablaze as the flames spread. The scent of burned flesh quickly filled the air and, upon taking a deep breath, I felt it all come back to me.
I dashed towards the survivors, popping their heads open with a snap or with my bare hands. I leaped through restaurant windows with a blade in hand and ensured that not a soul left the premises. I rammed into vehicles carrying the horrified masses and tore them open like a chainsaw to a tin can. And just as the streets were emptying, I found the biggest building in the block and tore through its foundation, blowing its steel beams to smithereens before the structure grew unstable. After decimating the first floor, gravity began pulling the 12-story complex downward, where it fell toward the street, the upper floors clashing against a parallel building while the lower floors smacked the asphalt below.
I made sure that my laughter could be heard even as alarms blared and people screamed in agony. Because their suffering truly mattered not. It was insignificant next to me. Next to my pleasure. However, as I was enjoying myself, as I was basking in my immense power, something decided to steal my thunder.
As I laughed, I heard the turbines of an airplane dipping close to the ground, flying straight for a building I had yet to demolish for myself. Before I could react with more than surprise, the airplane collided with the building in a barrage of glass and fire, sending a horrible noise throughout the city and spraying a powerful gust that blinded me.
I scowled at this audacious lump of metal. How dare it try to take this moment away from me? But before I could let my anger do more than simmer, I heard something overhead, and as I tilted my eyes upward, I saw a shoe falling from the sky. Before I could comprehend more than that, the shoe slammed into my head, and crushed it like a pile driver to an obese minx.
By the time my head un-pile-drove itself, I had found my fury. I glared from the ground and at the shoe that incapacitated me… only to realize that the shoe was attached to a person. A woman donned in a bloodstained yellow suit. I looked up at her person carefully before reaching her face. Her skin was dark, features were sharp, hair was short and black, and eyes were a sharp yellow. She… looked like me. She was my doppelganger!
“And who the hell do you think you are, bitch?!” I said to her, standing up and realizing that my top was utterly fucked by her divekick.
“I could ask you the same thing, faker,” the imposter said with a smug grin on her face.
“Faker?” I repeated with a chuckle. “I think you’re the fake Abigale Quinlan around here. You’re not even good enough to be my fake.”
“Oh? Not good enough? So you think you are the real deal? With this utterly amateurish display of destruction?”
“What, and crashing a plane into a building makes you the real deal?”
“No. Nuking a city, dropping gas bombs on population centers, and then crashing a plane into a skyscraper is what makes me the real deal. I’ve been in this world for 4 hours, and my body count is easily beyond the 1.5 million mark. What about you?”
“…Wait, so you are from another world too?”
“Um, like, obviously? Ohmigod, are you, like, stupid or sumthin’?” My doppelganger said in a valley girl inflection.
“Oh, forgive me for not knowing the intricacies of transdimensional travel.”
“…Your snark seems familiar. Tell me, who actually are you?”
“My name is Abigale Quinlan,” I said without a modicum of doubt in my voice.
“Thanks for the non-answer, dickmunch. Could you at least try to answer the question? Here, I’ll go first. While I am also Abigale Quinlan, that name is taken, so I’ve been going by Peatrice—”
“Peatrice? But you died! You died and we became one! How the fuck are you back here?”
“…Is your name Jad, by any chance?”
“I… It was, but I have since evolved beyond that identity. In my world, the mind of Abigale Quinlan entered my body, leaving me in her’s—”
“—And then she shot up Oransen High, couldn’t get back to her old body, and left you bumbling around in Colorado with some electric mind demon by the name of Peatrice.”
“…How in the infinite permutations of fuck did you know that?”
“Because, sweetie, I went through the same thing. And let me tell you that it brings me so much joy to see Jad Novus, dearest Yahd-kun, embracing her feminine side and becoming my successor… It makes a girl wanna cry. But I’m too far gone to indulge in that pussy shit.”
“Jad… Novus? My name was Jad Spencer, and who… what world do you come from?”
“Eh, I could explain my theories, but I see a plump rump before me, and papa wants to stick his dick into somethin’. So sit back, relax, and let me do my thang.”
This Peatrice from another world then kicked me in the left tit, knocking me onto the ground, allowing him to hover over me as he licked his lips. I half-expected him to whip out his 69 cm and have a dick wrestling competition with me. Instead, he brought a hand to my mouth. I murmured in confusion as he did this, but soon found my vision growing… hazy.
The haze grew into a fog and developed into a miasma that ate away at the world around me. My clothing disappeared, the rubble against my back faded away into flatness, and the sounds of muffled screams gave way to silence.
I found myself in a place of vagary, where nothing had a definite form other than myself, where I could no longer see or otherwise sense Peatrice. I shouted for him, demanded that he explain himself immediately, before my calls were finally answered. But not by a person. At least, not quite.
“Oh, Jad Spencer. You are quite the nasty boy!”
The voice was that of Peatrice. The Peatrice I knew. He sounded like a middle-aged woman doing a subpar impersonation of a prepubescent boy, embracing their inner psycho with every syllable. Hearing it inspired anger… until I remember that Peatrice is me. I am him. He is me. And we became one.
As I thought that, this disembodied voice let out an uproarious laugh.
“Different universe, different gender, same Yahd-kun. And you know what? I think I just might like you better.”
“I am not Jad!” I shouted at the voice. “Jad is dead, and only I remain. Only I, Abigale Quinlan, remain!”
“Uh-huh. You say that you are Abigale Quinlan. You believe that you are Abigale Quinlan. That you are two consciousnesses that merged into one. Abigale’s aide and her final victim. But lemme tell you something. I can see beyond sight. I can view your innermost desires. Your fears. Your psyche. It is all open to me, and I can tell you, with the utmost confidence, that’s a load of shit! But you are a stubborn little boy, so allow me to break it down for you, starting with your original sin.”
The vagary of the world around me then twisted and shifted, transforming itself into something solid, tangible, and familiar. It was the apartment where I first woke up in my new body. However, just as the setting form, it started to become populated by characters. Soldiers appeared in large numbers, securing the walls and pointing their firearms at someone. At me. I saw myself, my back to a window, looking at the leader of this squad, Dick Kikansky, with a face flushed with fear.
I questioned how this was happening, how I was seeing all of this from a different angle, and why I could effortlessly walk through this mirage-like scenery. But before I could think of an answer, I saw another familiar face. It was the Peatrice I knew. A young boy, no older than 12, clad in a leather onesie that left his nipples and slender limbs exposed. His cheeks were colored a bright pink, eyes a soft blue, and hair a distinctly yellow blonde.
“This is where you first tasted true death,” Peatrice said, speaking using this newly formed avatar. “This is where you learned what it was truly like to be immortal, and where you became acquainted with death. All because of the other Peatrice.”
“…This is where Peatrice detonated an explosive and knocked Jad down to the streets below,” I continued. “He tried to surrender to their leader, Dick Kikansky, but Peatrice wanted to make things more exciting, and ordered Jad to run away. From the streets to the sewers to the nature preserve, where Jad, under the influence of Peatrice, tasted his first blood.”
“Interesting interpretation ya got there, sweetums. Let’s see what the man of the hour had rocking in his head at the time.”
The world twisted and shifted yet again, turning into a burned forest with a floor lined with charcoal and the bodies of young men who dedicated their lives to the military. In front of me stood their killer. A bloodsoaked and scowling reflection of myself. As I looked at her, I could hear her thoughts. Jad’s thoughts.
“I robbed people of their lives out of my own frustration. They were merely following orders. They did not want to burn me for anything I did. They were doing what they rightfully thought was just. But me? What I did was not just. It was monstrous. My life ended two weeks ago and now… I just wish that I could end this one. I just wish that I could die.”
“Yes. Jad killed these people out of pain and frustration,” I explained.
“Which caused you to develop a lust for blood,” Peatrice quipped. “You learned the thrill of the kill! And did Peatrice help you in this process? I think not.”
“No… he was not part of Jad until he was at the military installation. The physical trauma melded the two together.”
“Mm-hmm. So, you’re saying that what you did in the woods was just a natural human reaction to being abused. It was not because of the interloping of an electronic devil, is that right? This one instance was the exception because you felt remorse for your actions. Because there is no way that a human being, one who had killed out of frustration before, would kill again after being exposed to even more physical trauma and frustration. Especially not after he accepted that his life was over, and that there was no way that he could live a normal life. After he compared himself to a monster. After he wished for death? You following this bouncy ball? Or do I need to bust out the Crayola and draw you a picture? Because I would love to baby yo ass like that.”
I scowled at Peatrice as he tormented me… but as he phrased it like that, I felt part of my conviction chip. Jad had called his actions monstrous, but what he did once his mind melded with Peatrice, that was a devil beyond. It was a jovial murder spree with no survivors.
As expected, the room transformed yet again to another scene. That of a large concrete room with walls stained with blood and floors stained with bodies, while a naked version of myself stood in the middle of it all. The only true difference between these two images was the lack of tears in my eyes, the setting, and the quantity of corpses. I knew this was intentional by Peatrice… but the similarity was a truthful one. There was little difference between these events. The first time Jad went soft and lost his nerves. But the second time, after growing used to the sense of death… he was able to kill with greater ease. As if on cue, Jad’s thoughts played out before me.
“Were there better options than going on a killing spree and acting like the person I had been trying to distance myself from? …No. I was imprisoned. They would never release me. They would have tortured me endlessly. This action was necessary.”
“Hm…” Peatrice hummed, “rationalizing your way out of murder, aintcha? You sure that is because you are under the influence of Peatrice and not that you were getting used to killing, but were too much of a pussy to admit that you enjoy it?”
“…Jad’s mind was warped and clouded from the burgeoning influence of Peatrice,” I explained. “He did not understand what he was doing, and out of desperation, he relied on what the Peatrice part was telling him.”
“Well then, Jad sure sounds like he is resistant to the effects of torture. People do some real fucked up stuff when tortured, but Jad seems to be the exception. He killed his abusers, but he did so for a completely different reason! Wonderful! Onto the next setting!”
For the third time, the world around me transformed. It saw a car parked in a dark forest, its headlights and overhead lights shining through the night. Inside the car, I saw myself, with my penis unleashed and wrapped around the neck of a young man with a pale face. He was dead, because Jad had killed him, having fully fallen under the influence of Peatrice. At least that’s what I told myself as his thoughts were presented to me.
“Look at this fucko! So desperate to get his dick wet that he would go out into the woods with some random girl he never saw before. And now here he is, having fallen into my trap, and lost his life for being such a horndog. Oh, I can still remember the days when murder was something I thought was awful, and should never be done unless absolutely necessary. But now? It brought a smile to my face like nothing else. And why shouldn’t I kill all these flakey mortals? The world is my bitch and I’ll rape her as much as I damn well feel like it!”
“This is sometime after your Peatrice said he would meld with your mind, turning you into a psycho freak, right? And you only did this because you were under the influence of Peatrice, right? You did not do this because you were developing murderlust after killing hundreds of people. You did not do this because you were completely desensitized to death after dying hundreds of times. And you did not do this because Peatrice explicitly told you that you were going to start acting like a crazy person. Do you agree with all the above?”
“Yes, absolutely!” I deflected. “Peatrice told me that this was happening, and I could feel it. With every passing day, the urge got greater and greater, until… I gave up. I embraced it. I accepted my fate. I did not do this because I had grown used to killing! I did not do this because I was desensitized! I did this because Peatrice was changing me! I know what was happening in my mind better than you do!”
“…Honey, I am literally reading your mind right now and, uh, no, you really don’t. But it’s okay. Based on the tone of your voice, I can tell that you are already half-broken, and I have just the thing to shatter you.”
Yet again, my surroundings changed, and this time it was a sight still fresh in my mind. It was the Spencer household. I was looking at myself, dressed in clothes marked by bullet holes and painted in blood, standing over the corpse of… my mother.
Before I could hear my own hours-old thoughts yet again, I looked at Eleanore Spencer’s bloodied face and fell to the floor.
“I… I wanted to kill my father. I despised that man! He should have been killed long ago! But my mother… I wanted to kill her, too. She was complacent with him. She allowed herself to be turned into his sexual servant. And while she loved me… I needed it all to go away! I needed to erase it all. Because I… never wanted to go back to being myself. I couldn’t go back to being Jad Spencer. So I told myself I wasn’t him. I told myself I was her. I wanted to be her because I did not want to accept that I was still Jad Spencer. That I had killed all those people. That I… became a monster not in body, but in mind. A monster known not as Abigale Quinlan, but Jad Spencer.”
As the world around me transformed, becoming a feature-bereft miasma, so too did I change. My body fell to the floor and a powerful sensation pulsated throughout every facet of my being. My bones rattled, skin crawled, and muscles tensed. Tears flowed from my eyes as I realized what was happening to me, and what I had done. The lie I had invested myself in.
My hair thrust itself deeper into my head, becoming lighter and curling itself in the process. Melanin left my skin, leaving it pale. My fingers grew shorter and thicker, while my body lost height, going from 2 meters to 1.75. As I brushed a hand against my breasts, their fat dissipated inwards and the areolas shrank. Another hand went to my privates, where my vulva expanded into a pair of testicles, and my penis shrunk to a fifth of its former size.
As my face mangled itself, I continued to stare down at my naked form, and I identified it immediately. It was not something unfamiliar. What I saw when I looked down was merely myself. It was the body of Jad Spencer. The body of a dead deranged killer. The body I had before it was stolen. And… the way I had always truly seen myself. It was what defined my sensory homunculus, what I had always pictured in my head when I thought of myself.
“So, tell me, who actually are you?” Peatrice said. Though I could not see his body, his voice resonated all around me.
“My name is Jad Spencer,” I said with my true voice. “I am a murderer. I… take pleasure in ending the lives of others. In the power I have over other humans… Or just humans, I suppose. I murdered people for fun, and murdered my parents so… I could disassociate from myself. So I could forget who I was and escape into the role of someone else. But no matter what mask I wear, I am only myself. I am always myself.”
“You will always be yourself… but your self has changed,” Peatrice declared. “You were once a human and now you are something worse. Something monstrous. Something demonic. And you know why you turned out like this? Because you wanted to end up like this. Because when confronted with the choice of clinging to your humanity or embracing the beast within, you took the easy way out. You chose to be weak. You became a creature not of principles, but desire. And tell me, Jad, what is it you desire?”
“Death,” I replied. “The death of myself, and the death of others. It is all I am good at. …And the only thing that gives me pleasure in this world. Nothing I tried to stave off these desires worked. Not deep escapism. Not lifelong friendship. Not worldly travel. Not endless leisure. I tried them all. I tried to cling to my human and mundane desires. But they brought me no pleasure. All I desire is death. And death is what I will bring!”
I opened my eyes, and I saw the sun staring down at me from the sky above. Muffled screams could be heard in the background, and the coarse texture of rubble laid against my back… No. The back of Abigale Quinlan. I was back in her body. I was back in the waking world.
I wanted to die. I wanted to die for so long. But no matter how hard I tried, I always came back to life. Even when I begged for death, it never came. It was a curse. A curse that I could not escape. A curse I shielded myself from with lies. But now, the truth was revealed. I did everything of my own fruition. I made the choice to become a killer because I liked killing. This Peatrice was right… and I think my Peatrice knew I liked killing as well. That’s why he lied to me. So I would indulge in my desires. So I would show my true dark colors.
Using the rubble as my weapon, I struck myself, pulverized my brain into mush, and paused my life over… and over… and over again. My methods were crude but fast, and time lost all meaning as I drifted in and out of consciousness, returning to a frenzied rage whenever I caught a whiff of sunlight.
I thought I could continue this cycle forevermore, remain in this state of constant death, but I knew that was no solution. I did not want to exist in constant pain. I did not want to exist at all. I wanted to become nothingness. And, even though I knew it was impossible with my Real Booting powers, I tried channeling this thought unto reality.
My lower body disappeared before my eyes. My torso faded into true nothingness as it was erased from the world itself. And as my heart stopped, so too did my mind. However, it came back. The sunlight above returned, and with it, my naked body. It did not work. So I tried again. I tried to remove myself from reality. I threw my body into a fetal position and thought bigger. I looked at the rubble around me and tried to delete it. All of it. In one singular motion.
As this order left my mind and the area around me began to fade, I was greeted with the sweet embrace of unconscious nothingness… for a matter of seconds. I awakened with the sun mockingly staring down at me, and with my back pressed against dirt and pebbles. I looked down and saw that the surrounding rubble had indeed disappeared, and been replaced by the crater I now rested in.
“Dayum, son. I thought my Trauma Amplifier ability was some hot shit, but you… You can take matter and make it disappear. You take matter and instead of booting it, you crash it into nothingness! You have the ability to defy the laws of physics! How does that make you feel! Not only can you Real Boot, but you can Matter Crash! Does it make yo dick feel swole as fuck? ‘Cos it should!”
I then looked at Peatrice and thought about him, still prancing about in his bloody yellow suit. If I could, as he put it, ‘Matter Crash’ the world around me, then could I Matter Crash him? I walked closer, my eyes glazed over, desperate to test this power. Peatrice did not resist as I approached him and put my hand on his face. I exerted my will unto reality and transformed him into nothing. There was no prolonged transition. His body merely vanished into nothing. As if I pressed the delete key after highlighting him.
I was in awe at this power. The power to delete things from this world, including people… but then I saw Peatrice appear before me yet again, standing right where I Matter Crashed him. He fell down, naked and disorientated, and then looked up at me with a toothy grin.
“Bahahahaha! You seriously tried to Matter Crash me? Good job, kid. I knew you had it in ya! But now… why do you think you have this power? I have Trauma Amplifier because I am a twisted fuck who likes hurting people. Physically and mentally. While you… are a killer. You are a creature defined by death. Normally, nothing killed is truly destroyed. Matter is merely redefined and atoms are rearranged. But you can do more than kill. More than just distribute death. You can remove, you can delete, you… are beyond death.”
I felt like a wad of puss had been drained from my head, along with a quart of blood. I felt both free and empty. And this feeling made me laugh.
“Hahaha! I truly am a creature defined by death. All I want is to die, but all I’m good at is killing. Peatrice?”
“I win what, pray tell?”
“You win me. I give up. I give up on life! I know you can do things to my brain. I don’t know how, but you can! And I want you to do more stuff to me. You can go into my mind and kill part of me, can’t you? Kill it with trauma! If I cannot die physically… I can at least die mentally. And you will do that for me, won’t you? You want me as a servant, as a puppet. And here I am! Here I am, begging to be strung up and danced about. Kill the part of me that still feels and make me your slave! Make me your slave, Master! Kill the part of me that still feels and make me your toy!”
Peatrice looked at me with a befuddled expression for a moment, stroking his chin while staring at my trembling form before, after seven agonizing seconds of waiting, he answered my request.
Peatrice then placed his hand against my face, muffling my cries of joy as I once again returned to the realm of my own mind. Reality phased away, the miasma set in, and my body dissolved into my true form, the form of Jad Spencer, once again. Alone, weak, and naked, I walked through the miasma before stepping onto something. A jagged metal spike that pierced my foot. I winced from the pain, but remained where I was, knowing that whatever this was, it was something I needed.
A second spike then appeared from under my other foot, planting both my feet in the ground. And from the ground, I felt something crawl up my toes. Something metal that layered itself over my toes. The metal was hard, dense, put pressure on my body, and moved up my feet rapidly. But before they could get past my ankles, I felt something slam into my right arm. It was a piece of metal armor, its exterior ornate yet rigid and interior coated in spikes. It pierced my skin, shredded my muscles, and impaled my bones.
I cried out in agony as the armor assaulted my very being, and before I could move my left arm, armor appeared from nowhere and dug into my flesh. Try as I might, I could not move either arm, just as I could not move my feet. Immobilized and with no recourse, I simply stood there as the next piece of armor appeared from the miasma and assaulted my body. This two-part torso piece sandwiched the core of my being, stabbing my spine and thrusting itself between two of my heart’s arteries.
A metal mask then appeared from the miasma and clenched itself around my face. Spikes tore through my eyes, into my mouth, and shredded my nose into bits. I could not scream, but I tried. I could no longer move, and between the pain coursing through my body, I could barely think. I was a half-living corpse propped up by tiny metal rods that penetrated my bones.
Just as I began wondering what the purpose of this all was, I felt the armor tug at me… and the spikes began to shake, throwing my body into relentless pain as the spikes began to… suck away at me. I felt my blood flow up and through the metal. It drank the marrow from my bones, the fat from my arteries, and the blood from my muscles. Everything that defined me as a person was being eaten by the armor around me, and there was nothing that I could do but take it. Take it and release a muffled cry. Because I was finally getting what I wanted. I was… dying.
I cheered on the spikes as they dug deeper into my person. As the metal around me grew thicker. As I felt my body eke away into nothingness. As the spikes fully consume my feet, my arms, and soon enough, my brain. As I neared nothingness. I tried to mutter a few words. But with my jaw locked by the spikes, my final thank you went unremitted as my body solidified and my senses… went to black.
Psycho Bullet Festival 2222 Main Page
Bout 01: Enter The 2-2-2-2
Bout 02: Enter Raiyne Underwood
Bout 03: Enter Abigale Quinlan
Bout 04: Enter Miss Flare
Bout 05: Enter Terra Flare
Bout 06: Enter Verde Dusk
Bout 07: Enter The Righteous
Bout 08: Enter The White
Bout 09: Enter Nari
Bout 10: Enter Punky
Bout 11: Enter Peatrice
Bout 12: Enter Jad Spencer
Bout 13: Enter The Genociders
Bout 14: Enter The Destruction
Bout 15: Righteous X Genociders
Bout 16: Raiyne Underwood X Punky
Bout 17: Terra Flare X Genocider Jad
Bout 18: Verde Dusk X Peatrice
Bout 19: Abigale Quinlan X Nari
Bout 20: Black Righteous God X White Genocider Daemon
Bout 21: Enter Shin Abigale Quinlan
Bout 22: Exit The 2-2-2-2