Mzzkc's Mind Games

Have been out of state on vacation this weekend. Picked up a cute little pocket-booklet that I can easily bring to work and jot down quick notes about my dreams. Had notes for a couple, but I didn't feel like trying to type them out on a phone, because ew. Am home now, which means it's time for another....

BARE-BONES ENTRY OF MEDIOCRITY

Nightmare

Ugh, this always happens when I need to do it in real life. In and out of bathrooms I go, unable to find relief. My anxiety over using restrooms in public doesn't help matters. Neither does finding that all stalls in one of the bathrooms are weird plastic pod things with seats that are pretty much totally exposed. Even when I finally score a suitable stall--a nice roomy one against the wall--and lock it, somehow another girl barges in right as I'm sitting down. I consider waking up, but decide trying to scrounge up a shirt to use the actual bathroom isn't worth the trouble, and instead head back into the theatre.

Guns

This can't be happening. No. No fucking way.

I hurry out of the car, reaching for my phone, as the man who just shot my father notices me and steps around the vehicle. Black jacket, spiky white hair, he's obviously a punk. A punk with a gun leveled at my head. I manage to get the police on the line and quickly relay the fact that my dad has been shot, but realizing it's going to be several minutes before any help arrives I hastily toss the phone to the tiled ground.

For my dad's sake, I take matters into my own hands.

Dipping behind a triangular structure, I bait the punk, pointing my finger at him like a gun and saying "bang!"--like a damn child. Nothing's happening, so I consider switching to a sword, but decide No, I can make this work. At this point, the punk has fallen for the bait, following after me as I swing around the freestanding obstacle. He's on the other side now, expecting to catch up to me around the corner, but he's also an idiot, so it's only natural he looks so dumbfounded as I seemingly defy gravity and vault over the barrier. As I descend in a long arc, I pull from my Modern Warfare 2 and Halo Archetypes and fire a few rounds from my finger gun, which has taken on the properties of both a Desert Eagle and M6G Pistol. One of the shots connects with his shoulder and I hear that trademark soundclip signaling I've made a hit, but he's still standing.

Running even.

Leaping down, into an atrium.

I leap after him, but he's landed and already taking aim.

He shoots...it's a perfect shot.

I'd be dead to rights, the bullet taking me between the eyes, but this is me we're talking about.

My perception slows as I track the searing lead. Moving at inhuman speeds, I dart my head to the side, avoiding the shot completely. Again, the punk seems surprised. Landing on one foot, I immediately push off towards the walls, dashing and gliding along them whilst unleashing a flurry of bullets. Most find their mark and punk finally goes down...

Later, at the police station, I embrace my father. He's alive and healthy, and I couldn't be more relieved.

Updating my DJ is annoying because I hardly ever use Windows anymore.

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

28.09.2010

Can't You See I'm Busy Here? (DILD)

★★★☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

After a bloody debacle involving a back-room-human-body-slaughter-shop mall worker and his henchmen (most of whom end up with missing limbs), I construct a thin round tower reaching into the heavens, wherein I host a DBZ-style tournament; the top of the tower is complete with a huge central arena and luxurious living quarters for every combatant and their guests.

Originally, I was going to be writing about helping some DV members build a literal dream house, but an afternoon nap cropped up this gem. Part 2 will follow later tonight.

23.07.2010

Good Cop (Part 1 of 2) (Non-lucid)

★★★★☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Feeling less than safe, even with my Riot Shield and full SWAT uniform, I quickly crouched and raised my shield as two thugs came up the stairs. I turned as they moved past me and MTM, making sure to keep the both of us safe in case they decided to start shooting. Glaring as they passed, I could see they were making their way further up into the mall. Maybe we should be going down, then.

Motioning to MTM, who was armed with a G36C, we began moving down the stairs. As we went, I would jump over the ledge each time we reached the halfway mark, making the descent even faster. Soon enough, we were on the tiled ground floor of this vertically structured mall.

PING! PEW! PING!

Becoming very much aware of the bullets ricocheting off my shield, I ducked down, protecting the both of us from the fire raining from above. I looked up to see the thugs from before firing at us with a G18 and a Mini Uzi from a balcony several floors up. Calmly, I took out my Intervention, and peered through the thermal sights. Taking a breath, I fired a warning shot at each, hitting the barrels of the assault rifles hanging from their necks. Although, they seemed un-phased as they switched to their ARs, which were functioning perfectly fine despite the holes I had made. . .

MTM took cover behind the stairs and lay down suppressive fire; I moved in closer to try and stop them. I made it a good distance, but a stray shot clipped my arm rather badly while I was putting my Riot Shield onto my back. Just like that, I was down for the count.

The world faded in and out, as the amount of gunfire increased twofold. An old squad-mate ran over to me, unconcerned for her own safety, as she stood over my failing body, firing up at the goons who started this mess. It looks like the calvary has arrived, I thought as everything turned to black. . .

Images flashed before my eyes. First, a scene of the two low-lifes explaining their position and admitting they were wrong to start shooting me like that, especially when they realized I could have taken them out at any moment. They showed the camera the damage I had done to their guns. Then, my time in the hospital drifted past my faint consciousness, and I became painfully aware of the toll the recovery process took on my psyche.

A meaner, more bitter cop than before, I would no longer hesitate to take out a perceived threat if they even looked at me funny. The only thing that kept me from going off the wall was my family, who weren't taking my personality change very well. I feared they could leave me at any time. . . .