Brian Hunter The Man The Myth The Jesus Part IV
Title: Brian Hunter The Man The Myth The Jesus Part IV
Author: Sam "AgentSD" Diamond
Date: Jan 6, 2002
Rating: 4.0
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Cards:
‘DISCLAIMER
This article is not intended to insult Brian Hunter. It is the 4th part in a ficticous story about Hunter. Read the other parts before you read this. I realize that this has nothing to do with strategy but I don’t care. If you are looking at articles only to improve your game, this is not for you. Otherwise, read on.
P.S. Sorry for the delay on this @#$%. I’m mad lazy and it didn’t help that I went on vacation and when I came back articles weren’t working.
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Brian Hunter The Man, The Myth, The Jesus
Part IV Renegade
There was a time when I imagined Brian Hunter as a clean-cut guy who happened to be amazing at Star Wars. I used to think they called him Jesus simply because his SWCCG ability was God-like. These days of ignorance are long over. From the first time I actually saw him, I knew that there was something terribly wrong. However, I couldn’t have imagined what things this man was capable of.
Move forward a couple days from my first encounter with him. I’m picking pieces of Santa’s brain and the concrete foundation of a mall out of my hair.
Hunter just pulled his car off the road and down a path in the woods. We must be close to home.
We pull up to a shack hidden between trees. I probably wouldn’t have noticed it, had it not have been for his car parked there.
Behind deep snow-covered trees was a shack withering away from years and years of seclusion. We haven’t seen sight of civilization for miles.
“This must be the place,” I say.
“What now?” asks Tyler.
I had been pondering this for a good while. If Hunter really was posessed, how could he be stopped? I’m no exorcist.
“I guess we have to kill him.”
“I’m not killing anyone,” declares Tyler. “Lets let the cops handle this.”
“….I guess you’re right. How the hell can we kill a demon anyway?”
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So we found the police station after a bit of searching. Inside the station was a single desk with a TV on it. The TV was tuned to TBS. Death Wish III was on and at the desk lay a little fat man.
“Is he dead?” asked Tyler.
“WHO???” the fat man shouted as shot up from the desk. “Who the hell are you guys?”
“I’m Sam and this is Tyler. We have something to report to you that requires immediate attention, officer…”
“Bronson. Sergeant Chuck Bronson, Denver PD.”
“So, your name is Charles Bronson???”
“Nevermind that. What seems to be the problem boys?”
It hadn’t occurred to me how extremely odd this would sound until now. In my seconds of pondering an alternative explanation, Tyler spoke.
“Well you see Sergeant, there’s this guy Brian Hunter. He lives up in the woods and we think he’s posessed.”
“….You have GOT to be kidding me boys. Even if someone was able to live in those woods, there’s no law against being posessed. Sorry gentlemen.”
“You’ll have to excuse my friend here. He gets a littel excited sometimes. What hemeant was, we think this guy is running a crackhouse out of a shack in the woods,” I chimed in.
“Son, there’s no law against selling crack in the great state of Colorado.”
“NOW THIS IS SOME FCKIN BULLSHlT CHUCK BRONSON, MY @SS, I’LL BET YOU AREN’T EVEN A REAL COP”
“Thats about enough son. I’ll have you know that I didn’t go through years of training at the Academy to have to listen to little punks like you sht all over my good name. Now get the god damn hell out of here before I arrest your @sses for posession of marijuana.”
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Back at Hunter’s shack, we decide to get a closer look at the dwelling. As we approached, a feeling of cold tension crept over us much like at the hotel, with each room I walked by presenting more and more fear and curiosity for the unknown.
And if anything has ever been unknown in time, Brian Hunter makes it seem like an easily solvable math equation.
After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the single shattered window on the outside of the shack. Upon looking inside, I saw something that I can only attempt to describe. No description however, can truly illustrate the horror that presented itself.
Imagine Jesus Christ sitting on a stool, wearing a flannel shirt, with his hair hanging past his elbows. Jesus is sweating profusely despite the subzero temperature. On his forehead are large, clearly visible lumps. The only furniture in the room other than the stool beneath the beast is a table. On top of the table is an empty bottle of Black Label Johnny Walker and some randomly scattered shotgun slugs. The shotgun is in Christ’s hands. His head is shaking furiously left to right over and over as if he’s keeping look out for an enemy that isn’t there. Can you see it?
Now imagine he tilts his head up as high as anyone can and lets out a screech as high as anyone can, and imagine those lumps on his head burst, spraying blood everywhere. All the while, the man is shaking violently. The shotgun has dropped to the ground.
Imagine the man’s skin begin to slowly peel from the lumpy areas. Little by little, it peels away as blood continues to spray.
Now you see a shiny little object where some skin used to be. You see more and more as the skin peels and the blood flows. It’s silvery and metallic. His skin has peeled off completely now and where there was once Human flesh there is only metal. Where there was once a human head there is now a bloody cyborg cranium.
“That can’t be,” you may say.
“You must have seen wrong,” you may say.
These thoughts, I assure you, rushed through my head thousands upon thousands of times as I watched the horrfic events unfold. I winked over and over praying as my eyes closed that when they again opened, this vision would no longer be. But every time I opened my eyes it was still there.
This was really happening.
“We’re gonna need a bigger boat,” Tyler said.
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Stay tuned for the conclusion in Part V of Brian Hunter The Man, The Myth, The Jesus. (That will be out…sometime) ‘
Strategy: ‘
You better not give this a low rating just because it’s not a deck. The article section is not working and I’m sure plenty of people wanted to see the story progress beyond chapter 3. ‘