20, 000 Tons Of Machinery TO Smash Matter

"May God have mercy upon my enemies, because I won't." - General George S. Patton

[Two weeks ago...]

[A slender, dark haired man sits behind a small round table in an East Village coffee shop. His coal black hair is slicked back and a pair of black rimmed glasses are perched on his thin nose. With a black turtle neck and burgundy corduroys he fits right in with the largely Bohemian crowd. The shop is littered with art students, trust fund babies and aspiring actors. Despite the beating pulses of the early morning crowd, the man's attention is completely taken by a wispy blonde waitress. He watches her over the top of his glowing Powerbook. She moves through the room like a sprite, dancing from table to table, dispensing small talk as easily as the strong black Peruvian coffee she carries.]

[She catches his gaze out of the corner of her eye and turns towards the man inquisitively. He smiles broadly and waves his empty mug at her. She nods, the turns to pour a cup at the table next to her. As she leans her profile glows in the bright morning like an angel. Sunbeams dance down her gentle nose, glowing on her full lips and setting softly down her slender neck.]

'Perfect...'

[The word escapes the man's lips like a thief in the night. His compliment is lost in the malevonance glowing in his dark eyes.]

[She moves across to the room to him, drawn closer still. She arrives at his tableside, almost out of breath from the morning traffic. None the less, she smiles broadly at the man.]

'Can I get you anything, sweetie?'

[He pauses a beat, slowly looking up and down her body, letting her see him do it. He speaks in a barely whispered tone.]

'Would you mind if I bit off your clitoris?'

[She starts to answer, bending down to reach for his cup, then stops, not sure if she really heard what she just though she heard. She does a double take, clearing out some cobwebs possibly. She looks at him for a clue, but he is just smiling a killing rock star smile at her.]

'Excuse me? Uh...I mean, what did you say?'

[He raises his mug.]

'I said would you mind getting me some more of this? Is there something wrong?'

[She shakes her head in negation.]

'No. I just...I don't know. I thought you said something else for a minute. I'm sorry. It's been a busy morning.'

'Don't worry about it. A simple misunderstanding.'

[He reaches out and pats her hand. The touch of her cool skin rips through him like an electric shock. He takes in a deep breath, fighting back the arousal. His middle finger traces down the vein on the back of her hand and down her fingertip, pausing for a moment on the tip of her nail.]

'You have beautiful hands. Wonderful skin. So smooth...'

[He looks up at her and smiles. His black eyes lock onto her blue ones like a tractor beam. She tries to stammer out a thanks.]

'Uh...thank you...er...I mean, thanks, you know.'

'No problem. A pretty thing like you should hear that more. Are you an actress?'

[She nods, then laughs.]

'Yes, well, I'm trying to be one. But then I think this whole city is. I dunno. It's better then Iowa.'

[A flash burns through his black eyes.]

'Are you new to the city then?'

'Yeah, I've been here a month. I don't know anyone. I haven't even made it to an audition, I've been to busy working. No one told me how much it cost to live here.'

[He shakes his head knowingly.]

'Yeah. It can be rough. Say, what are you doing later. Maybe we could catch a show? Cheer you up a bit, you know?'

[She blushes a bit. He just the type of guy she was hoping would say something like that. He's clean, well dressed and more importantly, looks like he has a job. That is in stark contrast to the majority of the patrons in this establishment. She's been lonely since she got here. She misses her boyfriend she left at home. More importantly, she misses the late nights by the quarry. She misses his hot breath on her neck and she misses his rough, farm boy fucking. Who knows, maybe she will get lucky.]

'Sure. That would be great. It'll be my first New York date. My name's Kate.'

[She extends her hand.]

'Pleased to meet you. I'm Silas Belle.'

(blackstardeceiver)

[She hastily scribbles down her address on a napkin.]

'I don't have a phone yet, so just come by. Say eight?'

[He flashes a predatory smile. If she wasn't so tired, so glad to finally talk to a friendly face, that smile might have bothered her. In fact, back home, that smile might have down right frightened her. But today it goes right over her hand. She's much too busy trying to figure out what wonderful brand of cologne he is wearing.]

'Wonderful. I'll see you then.'

[She quickly tops off his mug, then glides across to the kitchen, her tables all waiting for a refill. She's a good worker. Her boss is going to miss her when she doesn't come to work tomorrow. He'll just chalk it up to another pretty country girl that couldn't handle the big city and ran home with her tail tucked firmly between her legs. Then he'll hire another one just like her.]

[The only difference is that this girl's last sight won't be the glowing lights of LaGuardia on the red eye to Chicago. No. This girl's last sight while be the insane glower of Silas Belle as he chokes the life out of her with a leather belt. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. That's how life goes.]

'Perfect. Just perfect.'

[His attention is interrupted his the ringing of his Motorola cellular. He deftly picks it up, flips it open with a snap of his wrist and answers.]

'This is Silas...'

[Through the wonders of role-play technology, we get to hear both sides of the conversation.]

'Silas, I need you to do me a favor.'

'How come everytime I answer the phone lately it's to do you a favor. You know I cut my trip to Japan off early to get you back on TV...'

'Shut up, Silas.'

[He does.]

'Look, I need a full detail on Tama Porter. ASAP, got it?'

'Yeah, I figured this was coming. You really don't like that guy, do you?'

[The answer is quick and forthright.]

'Not anymore. When can you get this?'

'Depends. How deep you wanna go?'

'All the way.'

[Silas Belle thinks for a split second before answering.]

'Give me a week. And you know it's gonna cost.'

'Whatever, just get on it.'

'Consider it done. Anything else?

'Yeah. Silas?'

[He knows what's coming.]

'Don't fucking do that shit anymore. I'm running out of ways to get you out of trouble.'

[Damn it. He always seems to be able to read Silas' mind. Fuck, he seems to know what's going on in everyone's head. It's goddamn disturbing.]

'Don't worry, Jay. My doctor says I'm a new man.'

'Right. Later.'

[With a click the line falls dead.]

'Damn it. Damnnit, damnnit, damnnit. Why does he gotta go and try to spoil all my fun.?'

[No one answers his rhetorical question though, so he just takes a sip of his coffee and turns his attention back to the lovely Kate.]

---

[She walks quickly through the hospital hall, moving with a purpose. She got the '911' page and that is never a good thing. A quick glance at the nurses station tells her what direction the problem is coming from. The solitary ward.]

'Of course...'

[The words slip from her lips with a haggard sigh. Lately she's been thinking about quitting this job. She remembers why she quit it the first time, to go be on TV with her man. She's really starting to wonder why she came back. She vaguely remembers it having to do with the sense of honor and the willingness to help her fellow man, but right now all that is lost as a plaintive wail echoes down the stone hallway.]

'Silas...damn. This is gonna be rough.'

[She picks up her pace and moves down the hall swiftly, meeting up with a gaggle of orderlies outside a metal door. She surveys them, noticing the freaked look in their eyes. That can't be good, it just can't. These guys have been here for years. They've dealt with every sociopath the streets could spit out for them. But they are worried. No, fuck that. They're scared shitless.]

'What's the story gentlemen?'

[One of the looks around the group, scratching his head.]

'Geez, doc. We didn't go inside. We just peeped through the slot. But...gosh. I dunno. There's stuff. All over. On the walls.'

[She throws a sharp look his way.]

'Stuff? You are a educated nurse. You think you can supply with me a bit more scientific term then that?'

[He shakes his head.]

'That's just the problem. We're not sure what it is. No one's been in there yet. We weren't really sure what to do...'

[Her patience at a near breaking point at the shortcomings of her assistants, she hands off her clipboard to the nurse she spoke with. She runs her hands through her hair, binding it back in a tight ponytail. Her violet highlights shine in the fluorescent glow of industrial lighting.]

'Well, let's see what we are dealing with.'

[She bends down, coiling her lithe body so she can see through the slot in the metal door. She's met with a disturbing sight. The normally white walls of the room are stained with great splotches and smears of a dark substance. The patient sits in the middle of the room, naked, his back to the door. His right arm is working furiously on something. The doctor calls out to him.]

'Silas. Is everything okay?'

[The patient stiffens for a second at the sound of her voice, then a low moan escapes him. His arm works quicker then before, the fapping sound echoing off the walls. The doctor jerks upright, away from the slot.]

'Oh God.'

[The male nurses nod knowingly.]

'Oh Jesus. This is because of me?'

'We think so, Doc. He was saying your name, before, when he was..uh...painting the walls. Well, he wasn't really saying it, per say. He was kinda moaning it, you know?'

'Oh God.'

'Yeah, pretty much, Doc. This guy is fucked up.'

[A voice from inside the cell breaks their conversation. A low, whining voice, like a spoiled child.]

'Doctor Belle, Doctor Belle, Doctor Mandy Belle. I've got a present for you.'

[She looks at the nurses, but they shrug and look away. She leans down towards the slot apprehensively.]

'Yes, Silas?'

[His arm is stopped now. As he sees the silhouette of her head in the door, he turns towards her, reaching out his right hand.]

'I've got a present for you, Doctor. Come and get it.'

'I don't think I can do it, Silas. Why don't you tell me what it is.'

[He shakes his head maddeningly.]

'No, no, no. I want to give it to you. Give it to you.'

[He starts to get up. She tries to tell him to stop, but is taken aback by his appearance. He is covered in nothing but the same dark splotches that are on the walls. Could it be feces? Something worse?]

'No, Silas, you stay there...'

'NO, Doctor. I want to, give it to you!'

[He turns fully towards the door. She sees the source of the dark stains now. He's sliced his chest in twenty places, fresh blood pouring down his pale body. His left hand jerks impatiently at his semi-rigid penis as he walks towards the door. His right hand is cupping some substance, holding it out to her like a gift. He breaks into a run, yelling her name as he speeds towards the door. She's actually scared motionless by this creature before her, sickened by what she sees.]

'Oh God.'

[At the last second one of the nurses jerks her out of the way, slamming the slot shot just as Donnie's fleshy mass slams into the steel door. He howls in pained ecstasy.]

'I want to give it to you. I want to give it to you!'

[The pretty doctor collects herself on the floor where she has landed.]

'That guy's fucking nuts.'

[The nurses nod in agreement.]

'Pretty much, doc. Pretty much...'

---

[The screen is abruptly filled with the glowering visage of Jay Moreno.]

'It's come to my attention that some people have taken notice of my return to the UEF. Some of you may be asking yourself why exactly I'm back.'

'Let me clear all that up for you...'

[Pause.]

'It's none of your fucking business.'

[The smile is gone, replaced by spite.]

'What I do, who I do it too, neither of these things are anyone else's concern. Those of you who know me know better then to get in my way. Right?'

[A knowing smile, followed by a cutthroat motion across his Adam's apple.]

'For the rest of you, the new guys. Guys like Mixer. Fellas like Jonathon Drachen. Let me inform you of one very important fact. Something you don't ever want to forget.'

[He runs his tongue across the front of those sickening razor jaws. His cold blue eyes burn apathetically into your soul.]

'Never, ever forget that children shouldn't play with dead things.