CHOPWOOD OPERA: STAGE ONE! RUN LIKE HELL

A desert turned red by the setting sun extends in all directions, marred only by the occasional cactus and the long strip of blacktop that runs its length like a zipper on the skin of the world

The smell of exhaust and exhaustion-- of oily black smoke pouring from an overtaxed engine and the slick salty musk of sleepless nervous men. Other scents mix in, the sun-baked stink of asphalt, the coppery fuzz that could be blood or ozone, the fresh lead tang of a recently fired gun. The pine-tree shaped air freshener doesn't even factor in.

The THING running behind is keeping pace, limbs flailing and squelching, splatters of something red, congealed and sizzling are accumulating on the trunk.

YOU did a line of BLACK off the dash not ten minutes ago and so did the car. You are both going faster than anyone ever intended.

YOU just loaded a half-dozen teeth into something not entirely unlike a lobster, the trigger is warm to the touch. Your bleeding mouth hurts from where the teeth are growing back in.

YOU are clutching to the briefcase and a walkie-talkie, the batteries are missing but the cracking static continues to pour out. You were told not to peak into the briefcase. Why did you peek?!

YOU were pronounced dead on scene two days ago. A massive debt and a hasty escape from a deep-freezer later, you can’t afford for this delivery to fail.

⁂⁂⁂

It's been following since the abandoned weight station, at least that is when you first noticed something amiss. A dot on the horizon after miles and miles of nothing. A dot that became a shape that became a figure and it was obvious by now that it was not another car catching up.

It was running. It was running on limbs that did not know how to run, just a continuous meaty slap as it caught itself from the ground creating an effect as though it was falling westward. If this two story tall rolling mass of meat stretched one of its limbs, it very well might be able to grab the rear bumper.

"Hey, uh, devil lady! I dont mean to inconvenience you none, and I sure as hell 'ppreciate your driving us and all but... do you think you might be able to go a little faster somehow? You know, so we don't DIE?!"

The complainer was scrunched over in the backseat of the car, trembling and doing his best to pretend to himself that the cushion of his seat could shield him from the thing that was following them. Extending out from his right shoulder was a large centipede, as big around as a weightlifter's arm. Unlike it's owner, the centipede didn't seem to be worried in the slightest - in fact, it looked pissed off, if a bug's face could convey that sort of emotion. It coiled in place to stare down the monster, as if daring it to try and touch the car.

"Gggggggrrrrrrrh!" Comes an angry growl from beneath the mask of the demonic driver, as white-knuckled, she digs her lethal claws into the cover of the steering wheel. "Fuck'n Piece of Shit!" Vivisexxx presses harder on the gas already to the floor, as the Red Shark is as juiced with BLACK as she and redlining at 140 mph.

Chopshop thinks Yellowjacket's comment about balls is funny, especially since he has a few trophy pairs in his display case at home. But he doesn't have the strength to laugh, what with his knuckles white from death-gripping the briefcase in the face of a tornado-like headwind.

The walkie-talkie bounces like a projectile around the seat and threatens to bonk the driver or Donday in the head at any moment. And how the hell was the damn thing crackling with static if the batteries were missing?

"Aw what the fuck. I gotta see what all is in here."

Crouching low as he can after a quick threatening glare at the centipede appendage as if to say, better him than me, he cracks open the briefcase just a smidge. It wouldn't be good to let whatever was in there blow away...

Fire and smoke gout from the Red Shark's tailpipe, its engine screams in violent obscenities that only Yellojacket's twisted mind could possibly comprehend--for what is an engine but a defanged chainsaw?

With a grinding jolt, the accelerator gives another burst and pushes the Shark past the gauge, the thin piece of plastic snapping off in the speedometer. The THING begins to slowly fall behind, its flailing limbs grasping in fruitless rage as the Shark pulls outside its grip. A gurgling liquid scream bursts from the THING as a twisted maw opens and a spray of burning blood jettisons from it.Meanwhile, Charlie, as though called by fate, cracks open their package and takes a peak...HIS EYES ROLLBACK AND BLOOD FLOWS FROM HIS NOSTRILS, THE DESERT WIND RAISES TO A SCREAMING PITCH AS THE RED RED SUN BOILS

"What in the Sam fuckin' hell i .... AGH!" That last word gargles out of his mouth as the blood from his nose streams onto his lips and down his throat.

The demon girl rips the steering wheel hard to the left in an attempt of evasive action with the auto, before jerking it back on its original course.

With precision that you'd almost think was planned, three of the miscreant four took action against the THING barreling down the road. YJ's chainsaw delves deep into the pavement, sending red-hot chunks of concrete flying into the path of the creature--each sizzling rock pelting into its distorted maw. Between Donday's shield and Vivisexx's driving, the only damage they managed to sustain was a broken splattered door--though the smoking holes in the door were a sure sign that it could have gone much much worse.

Speaking of much worse-- Charlie writhes and moans, his hands white knuckled on the suitcase. The wind continues to pickup, sand whipping madly around the car, screaming as the THING screams its frustration and pain. Charlie's lips move as the blood pours down his chin, but the voice booms from the trunk of the car.

𒀭𒃲𒋫𒆠𒃲𒂠𒄑𒌆𒉿𒂵𒉌𒈾𒀭𒁺

Charlie is missing the show because all his eyeballs see is RED. Red stars, red streaks, red whirly gigs. The tangy, rusty, taste of blood floods his mouth and nose as he gurgles,

"Whath the fwuck ith in tha thrunk?"

At least his ears work, for now.