slodwickMany thanks to Hope (
rosenhoThe Ballad of the Flexible Bullet
We all know that Andy responds strangely to these title challenges, true?
Well, slodwick
Many thanks to Hope (rosenho
I have been brought to my destiny. Here, first in line for greatness, I
shall fulfill my purpose.
Waiting makes me anxious, but I hold to the knowledge that I am prepared. I am
elite. I am cradled in the chamber of a Glock 17 9mm handgun. I have
been chosen, singled out, and I shall meet the challenge with a glint on my
casing.
Men tremble before me, fear my power, and it should be no other way.
At last, I feel the swing of the barrel surrounding me, unsheathed and ready to
draw blood. Rising up, made steady, leveled at the target. The explosion behind
me is a thing of beauty, rocketing me through space toward my destination.
I am the harbinger of death. Youth and beauty do not deter me... but a
blur of speed does. Driving into a glass display case, fragments
shattering, cessation of my movement brought on by inanimate materials, not
flesh and bone. Death no longer my calling card, my history reduced to the
ignominy of mayhem.
Well, damn.
~*~
Now... this is a party.
Crammed in the magazine, I survey my compatriots. We all have a single
goal. An individual may fail, but as a team? We are indefatigable.
Undeniable.
Plans -- laid out carefully, precisely -- ensure our victory, once the
call to arms sounds. We have planning on our side, but we also enjoy the
benefit of numbers. A target, no matter how small, no matter how quick,
can not evade us all.
The loud clack brings us all to attention, and we prepare to face the battle.
Our expulsion screams with metallic fury, a beautiful sight to behold. I
already see myself embedding in the flannel-covered torso before me, and...
I find myself entombed in metal. Disregarding my own discomfort and
failure, I take reports and discover others have succeeded... but no. They
made target contact, but receive no more glory than I. Flattened, falling
to clank with defeat on a grease-stained concrete floor, they leave no more than
minor contusions on our target.
Defeated, humiliated by this one who appears human. Our design is to
permeate, to pulverize in the right circumstances.
This? Completely unacceptable.
~*~
We are one. We are many. We are legion.
A soft murmur of sound rustles amongst us as the implement moves, jerked
upright. Primer at our backs, plastic mesh before us, and we stand at the
ready.
Our life is one of companionship. We await our calling, be it to fell a deer or
to scare off a wild being of two legs or four. It matters not, for we
believe in the sacred ohm of the shift that takes us in front of the hammer.
Then, our moment comes. The firing -- a lightning crack of ignition, a blast of
thunderous sound. We expel on a belch of sulfurous smoke, scattering in a
spray of individuals, no longer joined.
No time exists to adjust from We to I. The smell of burning cotton heralds
the end of us all.
~*~
Shattering a glass mirror would be preferable to this. At least that lucky
bastard got to do some pretty damage. The rest of us? Five holes in a red
t-shirt make for cold comfort.
This wasn't supposed to happen. The cop had great aim, and the kid just fucking
stood there. Didn't even try to get out of the way. I thought he was suicidal,
or stupid, or he'd invented the world's thinnest Kevlar vest.
None of the above, as it turns out. He just had nothing to fear. Five of us, and
not a dent in him. I think maybe there was a faint smell of scorched chest hair,
but that's probably wishful thinking. He didn't even flinch.
Laying here on the ground, wondering what the hell went wrong, I can't help but
think about the rumors that had hit the grapevine. I'd dismissed them as
fantastical nonsense. More fool me.
Paying for my arrogance, I resign myself to being spent and useless, bearing the
ignominious new title of "slag". I'm only certain of one thing.
Smallville sucks when you're a bullet.
-- The End --
Notes: I'm hoping the references are clear, but given the "unusual narrators", I figured a little exposition might be necessary. Section one is Phelan shooting at Clark in Rogue. Section two is Lex's Uzi fire in Hug. Section three is the shotgun blast Clark takes from Jonathan in Nicodemus. Section four is Clark being shot at the carnival grounds in Obscura.