Showing posts with label Andrew Bradley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Andrew Bradley. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Ninja

The rain poured down on the helpless African diamond miners like the tears of those sent to heaven by Andrew Bradley’s bullets and grenades. A whole line of skinny workers were on their knees with their arms bound behind their backs and their heads down in shame. Some of them were so skinny that their bones were visible. Some of them didn’t have arms or hands. Some of them were as young as seven years old. All of them shivered at both the sensation of cold rain and the fear of the mercenary for hire standing behind them with an AK-47 in hand.

“Alright, you little wankers, listen up!” said Andrew Bradley in his tone-deaf English accent. “I came here for one reason and one reason only: the Ninja Ruby is here in this exact diamond mine. I’d better get some answers as to where the hell it is or else all of you are getting bullets! Not excuses, not questions, but bullets! Bullets in your head! Bullets in your back! Bullets up your arse!”

With his muscular and hairy body, black tank top, camouflage pants, and eye patch over his right eye, Andrew was a specimen of intimidation. The worst part about that? He could back it up. When he wasn’t getting answers from the bound up miners, he took the butt of his rifle and smashed it in the back of a random worker’s head. The worker screamed in pain as he laid on the ground with his wound bleeding like crazy.

“Consider that your final warning, you little twerps! If I don’t hear an answer soon, I’m going to start shooting!” screamed Andrew as he fired his automatic rifle in the sky and laughed his ass off.

And then a shuriken flew past the scene and lopped off the tip of the AK-47. Another one flew past and exploded the ammo card. One more flew by and was centimeters away from taking off Andrew’s trigger finger if he didn’t drop his weapon in time.

One of the workers smiled up at Andrew and said, “You want to know where the Ninja Ruby is? You can find it on that cave. There’s just one problem: you won’t make it out alive!”

“Is that a threat? Huh? Is that a threat?!” Andrew roared when he pulled out a bowie knife and held it to the smiling worker’s throat. “You’d better wipe that god-awful grin off your face or else you’ll get a Columbian necktie! We’ll see if you’ll be smiling after that!”

A blowgun dart whizzed by and struck Andrew in his thick leg. He hopped away from the “smart-assed” worker and grimaced in pain. With one swift jerk, he pulled the dart from his leg and allowed it to bleed minimally. He stared down the cave with gritted yellow teeth and a death grip on his knife’s handle. “That’s it! You want to screw around with me! I’ll slash your fucking head off and drink your nigger blood!”

Andrew marched into the cave and lit up his club-like flashlight. No matter where he shined it, he couldn’t find even the slightest clue as to where the perpetrator might be. “Alright, you little pansy!” shouted the mercenary. “I’ve had just about enough of your smart-assed trickery! If you won’t come out of here with your hands raised to the sky, I’ll blast this goddamn cave back to the Stone Age! I’ve got enough dynamite in my truck to shake the entire earth to its core!”

“That won’t be necessary, my friend.” Andrew turned around and saw that the source of the deep-voiced dialogue came from a man dressed in multi-colored robes with a demon’s mask over his face and a katana in his hand. “My name is DJ Rouge. You wanted to know where the Ninja’s Ruby was. Here it is. Come and take it.” DJ removed his eye patch and revealed a beautiful red gem in his socket.

Andrew looked at the ruby with O-mouthed awe as it shined brightly enough to illuminate the whole cave. DJ pulled the gem out of his eye socket and threw it out of the entrance to the cave, darkening the atmosphere yet again except for Andrew’s flashlight. “What are you waiting for? Go fetch, you hideous dog!” said DJ.

“You cheeky little bastard!” yelled Andrew as he charged up to DJ while swinging wildly with his bowie knife and flashlight. Every blow he threw scraped dust off the cave walls and ground, sometimes even taking whole stones. But never once did Andrew hit his target, who was moving with acrobatic quickness and calm stealth.

“You can’t play defense forever, you little swine!” yelled Andrew. He was right. DJ slashed the mercenary’s flashlight in half with his blade and darkened the room once more. The only light remaining was at the entrance, which was still somewhat dim due to this cold weather. “Where are you?! Where are you, you little bastard?!” bellowed Andrew.

With darkness as his ally, DJ threw knees and elbows to Andrew’s ribs, stomach, and face. Each blow shook the brute’s body and made a resounding thud. But even with a few crunches here and there, Andrew boldly said, “Is that all you’ve got?!” DJ then threw a sweep kick and knocked the British warrior on his ass.

Instead of growling in pain, Andrew did so in frustration and got up immediately to throw random punches and kicks in the dark. Not one of them found its target and instead all he got were DJ’s kicks to his thick legs, almost buckling his knees. “Where are you, you little creep?!” yelled Andrew Bradley.

The mercenary threw another uppercut, but this time hit the ceiling with such force that a rock came down and bonked DJ Rouge on the head, prompting him to let out a small “Ow!” That one mistake was enough for Andrew to grab DJ around his throat and pin him against the wall with brutal force.

The mercenary squeezed with such force that he could feel DJ’s throat becoming thinner and his neck bones popping. “You hear that, you little shit?! That’s the sound of your own undoing! Are you ready to tap out?! Are you ready to give up?! Huh?! Huh?! HUH?!”

DJ was on the verge of passing out or having his neck snapped when the sound of a loud explosion boomed across the mine fields. Andrew’s grip weakened as he started to worry. “Oh no!” he yelled out before releasing the chokehold and running out of the mine. He could hear DJ coughing violently with bloodily, but the music to Andrew’s ears was ruined when he saw his truck bursting into flames.

“No! No, no, no!” yelled Andrew. He dropped to his knees and cried pathetically, though the African workers would have no sympathy for him. They stood around the explosion with their arms folded and their expressions angry.

“What was that you said about having enough explosions to shake the earth?” said one of the workers in a mocking tone.

“Oh, go to hell, you little jerk-offs!” cried Andrew. “All I wanted was a little ruby for my bosses! It wasn’t personal! It was just business!”

“Ruby? You mean this?” said the worker as he pulled out the brightly shining stone. “Go ahead. Take it. It’s yours.” Except he didn’t just hand it over. He threw the gem right into Andrew’s good eye and caused him to scream pathetically some more. His eye was squished like an olive and all he could do was roll around like a wounded animal.

And then the gem was ripped from Andrew’s good eye and a blade was held to his throat. DJ’s familiar voice said, “These people you held captive. They were never meant to be slaves for your corporate banks. I came here to free them. They’re not just ‘cheeky bastards’. They’re hard workers who deserve much better than the treatment you gave them today.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want! Just don’t hurt me! I’ll never come by here again!” pleaded Andrew.

“Anything I want, huh? Alright then. Tell me who you work for and I might let you go.”


The next morning at Babylon Bank, the chubby, white-haired CEO received a package in his office. He smiled at it with his saggy jowls and opened it up like it was a Christmas present. It was delivered by Andrew Bradley, so he was expecting a brightly shining Ninja Ruby. Instead all he got was pieces of Andrew’s hair and his heart. A bloody, sloppy heart that would have been cold even without the dry ice. The CEO screamed in a tone-deaf voice that would have woken up the dead, including Andrew Bradley.

Friday, June 19, 2015

The Broken Skull Mercenaries

TEAM NAME: The Broken Skull Mercenaries
TEAM MEMBERS: Andrew Bradley, Mitch O’Connor, Jill Henderson, and Mattie Dent
OCCUPATION: Mercenaries
CANON: Garden of Evil


For those of you who actually read Garden of Evil back in 2012/2013, to clear up any confusion, Andrew Bradley, the unofficial leader of this team, used to be named Andy Bryan. His name was tweaked because I already have enough characters in my archives with the last name Bryan (Mario, Wade, Tina, Chris, etc.). I just thought I’d throw that disclaimer out there for those who really are concerned, which might be a small number of people, but they’re people nonetheless. Anyways, on with the show!

Garden of Evil started out with two scientists combing through the mercenaries’ permanent records and being scared out of their mind by what they say. Aside from the fact that these mercenaries had scars all over their faces along with bad haircuts and bad dental hygiene, they’ve also been involved in a number of mass murders (long before they met and became mercenaries). Other charges included rape, torture, kidnapping, human trafficking, and drug distribution. All of these charges rolled up into one would send a normal human being to prison for a sentence that lasted a millennium.

But instead, being stranded on Mars with a bunch of bloodthirsty dinosaurs would be a better answer for these psychotic pariahs. They thought they were going there for a fruit plucking mission to sustain earth’s food supply. Hell, they even laughed about it because the mission assignment had the word “fruit” in it, which is also a homophobic slur. But once their ship touched down on Mars’ surface and the mercenaries got out, their ship flew away on its own and pretty much left the four criminals to their own devices.

If there was ever a time for good teamwork and unconditional cooperation, this would be it. The dinosaurs are fucking huge and fucking nasty. They consider tiny humans like The Broken Skull Mercenaries to be breath mints. While Mitch O’Connor is down with the idea of watching each other’s backs, Andrew Bradley becomes a selfish leader and is willing to sacrifice his own teammates to ensure his safety. Apparently, Mr. Bradley isn’t quite used to the fact that he’s stranded on Mars forever and isn’t going back to earth anytime soon.

Because of Andrew’s arrogance, Mattie Dent and Jill Henderson become his sacrificial pawns and die saving his life. Jill and Mattie are no angels, but they clearly deserved better treatment from someone they’ve worked with for many years now. Mitch O’Connor wasn’t going to have any of it, though. As soon as Mitch discovered that the “fruits” were actually quick-acting steroids that gave humans a fighting chance against dinosaurs, he took them all for himself while Andrew was left to die on the ground with a fractured spine. Jill and Mattie had already been killed, so it was too late for Mitch to save them. But in his mind, living on Mars and psychotically slaughtering a bunch of dinosaurs was his idea of paradise. Turns out dinosaur meat tastes like chicken.

Garden of Evil made for some badass science fiction. There was lots of bloodshed and lots of high-octane action. But unfortunately, gratuitous violence is not an automatic recipe for success unless you’re watching WWE or UFC. In the world of literature, Garden of Evil would have been laughed at by snot-nosed editors around the world. Not only are The Broken Skull Mercenaries far from sympathetic in their villainy, but the pace of the writing doesn’t keep up with all of the hardcore violence.

I’ve gotten better at writing faster-paced stories, but I’d still like to have something to do with these four insane criminals. That’s why if they get used again, they won’t be the protagonists since there’s absolutely nothing the readers can relate to. After all, my target audience for these four isn’t the entire roster of a super max prison. If they’re going to be characters in my stories, they have to absolutely be antagonists. They’re Complete Monsters whom I’m pretty sure everybody wants to see die brutal deaths. Well, I’m all about customer service, so if they’re going to die, they’re going to die…but not without a blood-soaked battle! Dun-dun-dun!

 

***POLITICAL QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“The FCC (Federal Communications Commission) decided all by themselves that radio and television were the only two parts of American life not protected by the free speech provisions of the first amendment of the constitution. Why did they decide that? Because they got a letter from a minister in Mississippi. Reverend Donald Wildmon heard something on the radio he didn’t like. Hey, Reverend! Did you know that there are two knobs on the radio? One of them turns the radio on and off and the other changes the station. Imagine that, Reverend, you can actually change the station. It’s called Freedom of Choice and it’s one of the principles this country was founded upon. Look it up in your local library, Reverend, if you have any left after you’ve finished burning all the books!”

-George Carlin-