Phantasm

In the late 22nd century, humanity is on the verge of space colonization. Meanwhile, back on Earth, Johan Brock is sentenced to life at the "amusement" park, Lucifer's World Of Wonders (L-WOW). While serving his sentence, Johan discovers the dark powers of rage, and joins his fellow prisoners in cleaning up a mess of zombies just outside the park...

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1. This Moment

You know that feeling you get when you sit on a skateboard and roll down a big hill, and there's a moment of total loss of control before you get thrown off? That's how I feel right now. Except, plot twist, I'm in a car.

And there are people in front of me trying to cross the street. But, for some reason, I don't feel bad that I'm gonna hit them. The only thing I feel is rage. Weird...oh, and I'm pretty sure there's a cop behind me with his siren wailing. Oh well. Oh shit.

As I barrel through the crowd of people, blood covers my windshield, and I'm temporarily blinded. I slam the wheel to the left, and my car overturns. Crimson colored land and sky flip several times before I come to a grinding halt. A quick check shows that I'm alright, if not a little buzzed by what I just did. The next thing I know, I'm being dragged out of the side door of my ruined Beemer and having rough hands clap me in handcuffs. This seems a bit kinky, I think to myself, before I hear the rough whisper in my ear:

"Damn it, son, you just killed 13 people. Thirteen goddamn people are dead because of you! Do you have anything to say for yourself?!"

I can barely get a word out before I'm shoved in the back of a police cruiser. Now, people have noticed who killed the others and are starting to pound on the windows, shouting things like "Murderer!" and "You should die as well!"

Because, clearly, one more death will help.

Driving off, the cop stares me down in the rearview mirror. His eyes, almost black, seem to pierce my very soul.

"Now look, kid", he starts, "I'm not supposed to do this, but I've been ordered to bring you in."

I'm obviously confused. Ordered by who?

He's still talking. "Now I'm sure you're wondering who, but I can't tell you. Listen to me carefully, now. Legally, I'm supposed to bring you down to the precinct, process you, and eventually take you to a correctional facility where 'people like you'-", he made the quotation marks with one hand, "-are supposed to be and, eventually, you will be given lethal injection. However, I've instead been ordered to take you to Lucifer's World Of Wonders, and I've been given a very high raise to keep quiet about this. The alternatives for me are...not exactly prefferable."

He stops the car, and I peek out the window.

High above the squad car, a stadium-sized building towers over every building in the city, which is saying something. On the front, a large neon sign hangs, with the words "Lucifer's World Of Wonders" pasted on it. As I look down, I notice a crowd stationed outside the front gates.

The cop grunts. "Just in time for the Scream Wars. Perfect." He looks back at me as he opens my door and drags me towards a side entrance. A group of men in red jumpsuits spots us and one of them jogs up to meet us. As Iook closely, his hair, a lustrous golden brown, shines in the sun. His eyes, blue like the sea, almost seem to sparkle in said sunlight.

Whoa man. Try not to get gay in front of prisoners. It's a sure ticket to Analrapevile, stopping only at Homo junction.

While trying to stop my gayness, I notice his nametag: Agapov-A239. Must be Russian.

He nods at the cop.

"Another one for the meat grinder, eh, Lucky?"

The cop takes off his hat, smoothing his sparse, graying hair.

"Of course, Finn."

The man in front of me, in the red jumpsuit, presumably Finn, looks at me and says, "What's yer name, kid?"

Startled, I stutter "J-Johan." Lucky chuckles and pats me on the back.

I speak up again. "I-I'm still confused." I look up at Lucky. "You know him?"

Lucky chuckles again, and Finn laughs out loud. "Of course Lucky knows us, ya dope. Johan, meet Lucky Sanders, aka Prisoner E-115. That cop getup of his is bogus, and so is his story. He's a Red Crew member like me and the gang here." He stabs his thumb backwards where five other people are watching us, including a girl with flowing black hair. 

A girl?

"Ah, you've spotted Sammy, my man. Prisoner B-111. She's a bit of a mean cat, but if you ever make it onto Red Crew with us, she might actually look at you a second time.Now, onto business. You need a jumpsuit, cuz ya gonna be here a while, eh.?"

I nod slowly. These people are very weird, dude. I can't believe I'm stuck here now. 

Finn tosses me an orange jumpsuit, with a nametag on the front: Brock-B112.

I gulp, trying to swallow the fact that the mean looking girl, Sam, was now my cellmate.

Finn stares in disbelief at my nametag. "So she's your roomie?  I'd give anything for that. Anyway, good luck with that sumasshedshiy suka, dude." The other Red Crew members laugh, except for Sam, who keeps glaring at me.

"Anyway," Lucky booms over the laughter. He's shed his cop getup and is now clad in a stylish crimson jumpsuit, like the others. "Lots to do before Sam kills the boy later." The Red Crew laughs again, except Sam again. She's still glaring. I look up at Lucky.

"Lucky?"

"Yeah?"

"What did Finn mean, when he called her sumasshedshiy suka?" I struggle with the pronunciation, but Lucky catches my drift. He throws his head back and laughs.

"Oh, that Finn is quite a guy. It's Russian, kid. It literally translates to 'crazy bitch'."

I looked down at my shoes, still caked with blood. "Oh." Lucky thumps me on the back.

"Relax kid, she ain't all bad. Just messed up in the head a bit, after what happened to her before she came here."

"Well, what did happen to her before she came here?"

"I don't know, kid. She never told us. And I don't think she's gonna in the near future. In my opinion, it's best to let sleeping dogs lie, you feel me?"

I nod, for the umpteenth time in the last hour.

"Anyway, we've got lots to see, and you deserve the grand tour."

The grand tour?

The "grand tour" turns out to be Lucky showing me my cell, with a fiberglass barrier between mine and Sam's bunks; a precaution set by the guards, who were tired of having the prisoners being beaten almost to death when she got a new roommate.

“Anyway,” he mutters, “I better get back to the Crew.” He turns to leave.

“Hey, Lucky” I call to him.

“Yeah, kid?” He turns

“Why the hostility when we met?”

He grins like a kid. “It was all for show, kid. You want people to think you’re a cop, the uniform is only step one. Step two is overreacting to stuff, according to the public eye.”

“Thanks, Lucky.”

"Good luck" Lucky winks and walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I lay down on my bunk, staring at the terra-cotta ceiling. I don't remember passing out.

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