Crimson: The Second in the Trinity Series Novels

by Blade, CG

  “What the fuck did you do to me?” she was becoming more aware—and angrier.

  “We made you better, to serve our master!” Emily said cheerfully.

  Dreama smacked the mirror out of her way and it flew out of Emily’s hand shattering as it hit the cement floor. Her optic nerves began clearly focusing for the very first time in over two years. Catching her eyes was a colorful calendar hanging from a nail on the wall of the garage. It was a 2046 calendar of ‘The hunky and sexy men of Hawaii’ edition. The summer monthly calendar featured a model adorned with tribal tattoos outfitted with Hawaiian warrior armor and a feathered helmet. He had darkened very appealing features. His muscles had muscles and glistened with oil. Dreama slipped her legs over the side of the tank with Emily’s assistance and shakily stood nude on the concrete floor dripping crimson gel like an ancient goddess awaiting her servant’s attention. Her curvaceous and beautiful form excited Emily who smiled lovingly at her. Pleased with the results Emily advanced on Dreama and began reaching out and caressing her gradually transitioning crimson armor plated breasts and body. Emily closed her eyes moving her lips towards Dreama’s mouth. Dreama reached out and ran her fingers through Emily’s hair. Squeezing tighter on the sides of Emily’s head, she covered Emily’s ears with her hands and forcefully lifted her up off the floor until her head stretched off her shoulders. Her metallic eyeballs popped out of their sockets with the sound of fracturing polycarbonate steel and cracking circuit boards, synthetic rubber, and plastic. Smoke mixed with the stench of sparking electronics began pouring out of the empty sockets in her head. Her body fell to the concrete as Dreama held her head in her hands in front of her inspecting the lifeless polymer face. The exposed wiring and tubing were squirting hot crimson fluid in all directions. Pieces of microchips fell to the floor from her open neck wound. What the fuck is this thing? Tilting the head and inspecting it, she held it out in front of her as if it were radioactive. Still unbalanced from her long slumber she tossed the head on the floor with a clunk, spattering crimson material as it bounced. This stuff smells awful she thought as she wiped away the liquid that had covered her body dripping from the tubes inside Emily’s decapitated head. This equipment, this room, what is going on here? Dreama turned slowly inspecting her surroundings. The second tank caught her eye and she slowly walked over to it tapping on the side of it. It was still warm. Tunnels of light poured in from the shoddy construction job in the ceiling of the garage. Dreama inspected the cables and massive cylindrical monstrosity sticking up from the rafters that went through to the sky above. The sounds of computer processors and faint chanting radiating off the garage’s walls were present. Turning to look towards the mumbling sound, she noticed the man rocking back and forth in the corner.

  “What’s your story?” The priest fell to his knees looking up at Dreama. He began worshipping her like an ancient Hawaiian God that had just appeared miraculously in front of his eyes. He began bowing repeatedly pressing his hands to the floor, chanting. She walked over and squatted in front of him with her creaky crimson plated armor now encompassing her entire body like a second skin. She violently cracked the vertebrae discs in her neck then all of the knuckles on her fingers one by one trying to get a good look into his glazed petrified eyes. She lifted his chin up staring at him intently. “Dude do you know where I can get something sweet?” Slowly he curiously inspected her body holding his hands up in the air as if saying huh. He pointed to her right upper arm with a trembling arthritic finger. His eyes widened as he retreated to his own little world, wrapping himself tighter around his knees in fear. Dreama turned her head staring at the image burning on her right arm. The Ouroboros was wide-awake.

  She stood balancing herself against a crate, then walking over to the door leading to the kitchen; she opened it. Staring curiously into the kitchen her nostrils flared immediately sensing the crimson odor. “Damn it smells in here!” she waved her hands in front of her face trying to rid her olfactory senses of the corrosive smell. Surveying the decimated kitchen area, she spotted the body lying on the floor and the many red Skittles strewn about. She squatted down picking up Skittles one by one and popping them into her mouth chewing with immense satisfaction until she noticed the face attached to the body lying in the center of a pool of crimson gel. She froze. “What the fuck?” She squatted next to the body and flipped the head over inspecting the face moving its wet sticky gelatin covered hair out of the way. “What the fuck is going on here? It’s—it’s—ME!” Dreama was staring at a morbid mirror of her own mortality. The Vidset on the floor next to the polymer head started chiming a playful digital version of ‘Crimson and Clover’. A holographic flaming letter ‘C’ appeared hovering inches above the device. Dreama picked it up and began staring at it, shaking it and finally speaking into it.

  “Hello?”

  “Is it done?” The baritone digitized masked voice on the other end asked.

  “Is what done?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Who is this asshole?” Dreama asked growing tired of the banter.

  “Where is Emily?” The digitized voice became deeper and angrier, also tiring of the conversation.

  “Who’s Emily? Is she the one with the no good head on her shoulders, that Emily, or the naked one in the kitchen with too many holes in her head?” Inspecting the synthetic body, she poked a finger into the hole in the back of its neck. Red liquid and microchips seeped out. She studied the end of her finger turning it slowly. Microscopic prisms shone brilliantly as she flicked the substance away.

  “Who is this?”

  “I don’t know who I am asshole, or what I am, who’s this?”

  “You will not talk to me like that!”

  “Fuck you!” Dreama threw the Vidset across the room and it bounced off a wall gouging it. It came to a stop in the middle of the busted appliances scattered across the floor in the kitchen. She inspected her sculpted crimson armored hands and fingers closely. Is this my—skin? Fear started setting in quickly. She gently touched and pressed her filigree poking it with her finger. What the fuck is this thing? “What the fuck is going on?” She screamed aloud her voice quivering and trembling.

  “Hello—hello—HELLO?” The voice became louder and angrier coming from the pieces of the Ninjdroid Blender’s shattered cover lying in the middle of the appliance junkyard on the floor.

  Dreama turned her head with growing hatred and contempt for that digitized voice on the other end of the Vidset. She quickly popped upright and stepped over destroyed appliance casings covered in gel. She swept away the trash and broken pieces from the kitchen floor until she retrieved the Vidset once again. Holding it in her hand, she stared at the crimson font with a sneer on her lips. “Who—the—fuck—is—this?”

  “Never mind who this is. We made you, you ungrateful little bitch!”

  “Oh, so you’re the one that did this to me you asshole! Why don’t you tell me where you are at so I can show you my gratitude personally?” she was inspecting her pointed fingernails, as one would while talking to a girlfriend on the phone discussing their day. Her cuticles were starting to seep yellow liquid. Right before her eyes, her nails were starting to get—longer—sharper. “I’ve about had it with you asshole. Why do I have this—this skin? Her crimson plated armor was rough and bumpy. She ran her fingertips over her thigh. Her skin rippled as if it had a ‘mind of its own’ shuffling across her epidermis anticipating her muscle memory before her brain did. A gasp of horror came out of her mouth as she watched the phosphorescent dermis and connective tissue come alive.

  “We gave you what you needed! Now do your damn job!”

  “You know what,” Dreama told him calmly as she continued to inspect her own body looking it over closely, “go fuck yourself.”

  “I just can’t deal with this anymore. Teach her how to behave.” She heard two men with deep masked voices begin a conversation to each other on the Vidset.

  “So, which button is it again?”

 
; “What do you mean which button is it?”

  “I don’t know! I’ve never done this part before. It wasn’t in my training.”

  “Just press them all you idiot!”

  “Okay, okay you don’t have to call me an idiot. I have feelings too you know. You drink entirely way too much DeadBull. You do not have to go all bonkers—“

  “—just shut up and do your job!”

  “Are you two assholes done yet? I’m outta here.” Dreama threw the Vidset down on the floor again and began to turn towards the foyer area leading to the front door. She could hear the two of them still arguing on the phone behind her.

  “Yes you idiot that one!” A ‘smack’ sound came from the Vidset, the sound of a man crying followed shortly after.

  “You are part of the Crimson Alliance you little shit— and you will obey me! Activate her algorithm…no it’s the other button you moron!”

  The Greek definition of metamorphosis:

  Change of physical form, structure, or substance especially by supernatural means. A beautifully striking alteration in appearance, character, or circumstances typically marked and more or less abrupt developmental change in the form or structure of an animal as a butterfly or a frog occurring subsequent to birth or hatching.

  This was not the correct definition.

  The Greek definition of transmogrification:

  The act of changing transforming or transmuting into a different form, change of appearance especially a fantastic or grotesque one. The change can be sometimes painful or distorted during or after the transformation.

  This was the correct definition.

  Grasping for the door Dreama suddenly became still. Her outstretched arm and reaching hand appeared as a stationary wax figure sculpted and frozen in time. What the hell is going on now? She tried to move but couldn’t. Only her eyes shifted repeatedly side to side. They rolled into the back of her head as she started to feel herself vibrate. She tried to scream but no words would come up from her throat. Just gasps of air and fluid. She heaved forward dropping on all fours spewing a yellowish milky substance from her esophagus. The substance coated and caked the front door and wall. She watched it drip down the wall. The smell of her stomach contents was rancid. Repeatedly heaving to expel the fluid, she tried to stand but kept falling back on her knees. Not able to catch her breath she felt as if she was having a heart attack or worse. Panic set in as she was once again on all fours her spinal column arched in the air. Her teeth clenched together so tightly, grinding from the intense pain that one of her back molars dislodged and she swallowed it. She heaved again and projectile vomited. The molar hit the door in front of her and bounced as her spine started to crack open splitting her skin down the middle from her neck to her buttocks. The pressure of her long fingernails digging into the floor gouged the floorboards and wood slivers began to appear through the ripped carpet. She felt a burning in all of her joints as if someone or something was using a flamethrower, dousing her entire body in intense heat.

  “AHHHHHHHHhhhhhhh!”

  Finally, she was able to let out a painful scream that was just begging for release from her aching form. Her breathing was starting to settle down and she opened her eyes. The floor, inches from her face, was torn and dug out. Her fingernails were now four inches long. Golden fluid seeped out of her wrist joints and fingers. “Oh no, not more, please no more!” She felt pressure in her head and screamed aloud again in waves of excruciating torture. Propping herself up with one hand she grabbed her head with the other hand and squeezed it. The agonizing throbbing mixed with cracking and fracturing bone made her fall over on her side as she grabbed her head with both hands and held it tight. Her legs convulsed as her lips, cheeks and jawbone suddenly split horizontally across her face. Her skin ripping apart from the transformation made way for the next phase in eviloution. She hurled more fluid up from her stomach. Her throat started to close. Trying to scream was useless as her breathing momentarily stopped. She opened her eyes and began to see a new world. Crossing her eyes, she caught a glimpse of something smacking her in the forehead. It was wet and red. She tried to control it but it was just waving around in front of her face like a flag waving in the breeze. It playfully became straight sticking out in front of her ridged and forked. The foot long tongue began twisting and whipping around like a ringmaster’s whip at a circus. The transmogrification was complete and Dreama became still, compliant.

  “Music files Dreama?”

  “Why yes that would be nice. What do I call you?”

  “Lavinia, Lavinia Fisher dear. Lavinia or Lav will be fine Dreama.”

  “Thank you Lav.”

  “May I suggest a song? Here is one I think you will like.”

  Pearl Jam’s ‘Do the Evolution’ began playing loudly in Dreama’s head as she opened her eyes and began to stand. She popped a red Skittle into her mouth from her right palm courtesy of her new appendage, her split tongue. Her nostrils flared and she breathed a sigh of intense orgasmic pleasure. Walking over to a full-length mirror in the foyer, her new crimson dermis anticipated her moves, as did the raspy voice in her head. Her hair had become longer, more vibrant. Irises glowing like rings of molten lava, she perked her head up and twisted her body admiring the plates of armor protruding from her back as a Triceratops once had. Reflecting off the mirror, her shapely red form accentuated by the seeping golden liquid oozing out of her joints was a visual pleasure. She smiled deviously at herself in the mirror, cupping her breasts, kneading them, squeezing them. Her tongue flicked back and forth, side to side, wanting to play.

  “You look simply delicious dear.”

  “Thank you Lav. I think I hear voices.” Something peaked her auditory senses.

  “Yes. You should attend to it quickly. We must protect our territory.”

  INTERMISSION

  This is the intermission in the novel. Go ahead and get up and stretch you deserve it and most doctors recommend it. If you’re wearing a BitFit it’s probably vibrating by now. Don’t be gone too long as this story is about to get more intense. While you are taking a break, please enjoy this slow steady hard rock song from STARZ, a heavy metal power rock band from New Jersey. The band has a lasting cult following and has been cited as a major influence by bands such as Motley Crue, Poison and Twisted Sister. Without further ado, here is Starz with S.T.E.A.D.Y. from the Album ‘Violation’:

  "Strip it off, spread your legs Give a cough, shave his head", that’s Dr. Klein... Make a chart; check his heart, Twenty CC's for a start should be just fine... "We have seen your kind in here before... You think you deserve a little more"...

  They set me up and gave me a taste of what they mean when they S.T.E.A.D.Y. you up. And ev'ry day at the same old place, Believe me, they can steady you up, Oh when they start to mess around certain traits Oh, yeah, they can steady you up, But I kept scoring in the eights So 'til I really buckled down and they STEADY'd me up

  I mean they split my face like a cheap pair of pants... Squeezed my brain and put me in a trance... Ev'ry night they make a little change in my blood... and I make my bed on rubble and mud...

  And they can really turn your head around Believe me, they can S.T.E.A.D.Y. you up, They are gonna make you strong and sound I'm so glad that they steadied me up, oh They got my file from Atlanta, They watched me for a year you know, I wanted far too much That's why they sent me here to Buff-a-lo...

  "Look at those eyes, like a pup I think he's softened up"...

  That's what the doctor said... When I first came here, I was just a bum... but I worked hard and reached the maximum... Two short weeks and look how far I've come...

  Just before they let you out they take one more day, To really S.T.E.A.D.Y. you up... They make sure beyond a doubt, then you celebrate, ’cause they S.T.E.A.D.Y.'d you up.

  When you leave they give you a small amount, I went out and opened up a bank account... and if you ever see your friends again, you take an oath and said you'll turn the bastards in. And when you make
your future plan, I'd like to be a union man, and if I ever see my friends again I wanna be sure to turn those poor boys in ’Cause they could use a little help from Doctor Funk I think that they would turn out fi-yiiiiine....

  Words and Music by Michael Lee Smith, Peter Sweval, Richie Ranno, Brendan Harkin, and Joe X. Dube Copyright 1977 Starzongo Publishing. We want to send a very big thank you to Richie Ranno for lending this song to us! http://starzcentral.com/index2.html

  Chapter 12

  MANEUVERABLE

  Thursday October 18th 10:00 AM

  Petra hovered over Elbert County Georgia just outside of the South Carolina state line listening to the song ‘Danger Zone’ tilting the stealth Lockheed Martin F-35B Lightning II on its left side. The beautiful October day was crisp and cool. Sunshine stopped beaming when it landed on the matte dark blue and silver drone camouflaged jet as she surveyed the torn landscape below her through the canopy. Maneuvering the flight control joystick downward with her right hand, she eased on the engine throttle with her left hand. The F-35’s crystal touchscreen display in front of her gave her all the calculations she needed. Tied into her HUD at her fingertips were airspeed, altitude, acceleration, angle-of-attack and navigational controls. She began to descend below 5,000 feet cutting through a smoke and cloud mixture that had formed from the massive pileup of the nation’s now sedentary vehicles. Descending past 3,000 feet, she circled the once famous county and began to see flashes of light and movement coming from all directions. The engine on the aircraft started to tilt vertically as she pressed the STOVL (Short Take-Off and Vertical Landing) button on the display. Three speedbrakes on top of the aircraft extended as it hovered once again at 1,700 feet. She rolled the plane over on its side, holding it steady. Her cobalt ponytail flipped over her head, brushing the side of the cold canopy. The scene below her was a mess. Massive machinery that once moved the nation now piled up as high as skyscrapers. The smoke still bellowed from the earth in all directions. She could see the bright flashes a little better now. It was gunfire and it was directly below her. Petra tilted the F-35B towards the earth and inched the throttle to the ‘military’ position. She was steadfast as the jet took off, heading straight for the center of the firefight at 300 knots. She quickly reached her destination just inside of five miles from what used to be the infamous Georgia Guidestones. Tall long green patches of farm and field grass, now enveloped in flames, smoldered below the jets powerful engine as projectiles, grenades and shrapnel bounced and blew apart around the aircraft. Petra lowered the landing gear and touched down vertically with a perfect ‘three point landing’. Her armor crept up from her toes replacing her flight suit, engulfing her body with a beautiful cobalt blackened pattern. Beautiful etched winged epaulettes and captain bars adorned her shoulders.