The Chronic Suicidal is Coming Soon Q3/4 2017

Hey, folks.

As some of you may have seen on Facebook or Twitter, we’re getting ready for the great coming of Bob, the Chronic Suicidal.

The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal will be on sale later this year in all formats (ebook, print, and hardcover). Price, cover, and more will be released soon.

There will be a limited batch of signed copies on hand, with a contest set to claim them. Contest specifications, rules, and such are TBA, and are subject to change on a whim.

As always, when you purchase a print copy, you’ll get the Kindle version for free.

There will also be “Bob” merchandise. More on that later.

I know, I know, that’s a lot of “later” talk… but trust me, you’re gonna love his tale.

For now, you can read the raw story, as it unfolded, here on A.B.Normal Publishing and Media Group.

Please remember, this is fiction. It’s an entertainment tale; a take on a fictitious entity. We do not support or encourage suicide. We are not doctors or professionals in the field of medicine or mental psychology or psychosis. If you’re in need of help, please contact a licensed practitioner or contact the Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-8255, or go to Suicide Lifeline Prevention.

We look forward to bringing you another exciting story to places around the world.

I invite you to stay tuned for more.

Until next time,

RJM

Revenge

Nearby, a radio seemed to call out for him. “If you’re listening… You need to dig deep… to rise up.”

War noted the familiarity one the voice that crackled over the airwaves. “Nightwalker…” he grunted.

****

Johnny stood before a video camera. One that broadcasted around the world. To all the eyes that remained behind. They all watched eagerly.

“You are scared, I know. I was too… I used to think I was alone after my best friend died. But then I found out things… horrible things. My friends, there exists an organization named the Agency. Its sole purpose is to take children, animals; lab creations, where people are given powers. Powers over animals, technology, people, and more. They abduct, destroy lives, wreck homes, and sell their creations to the highest bidder. Governments around the world use these “super soldiers” all in the name of profit.

I am one of those super soldiers. My friend was killed and made to look like a suicide. My father was one of the lead researchers… his sins are many… but he made me… to help right the wrong. He paid the ultimate sacrifice to help atone… I plan on making sure he, like so many, didn’t die in vain.

I ask you, all of you. Though you are afraid, I will guide you through the darkness—through this calamity. We will survive… but I need YOU to stand together with me.”

Johnny’s eyes dropped to the bloodied floor where so many people died at the hands of Pestilence. “We can beat them—all of them, together.”

The ground around Johnny shook. More buildings were toppling.

“I won’t go quietly, nor should you.”

****

War had reached to his feet. Slowly. He felt a certain pride within.

“Ah, did you find your balls, War?” Omega taunted.

“Just that I know you’ll be beaten is enough of a victory for me,” War smirked.

Omega laughed hysterically. “By whom? Look around you, fool. You’ve done the legwork and the wet work! That puny boy is of no concern to me.”

War grinned as he took a knee. For then, Death and Famine appeared.

“We are with you, brother,” they both said.

Death illuminated a bloody aura. The ground around him was drained of life, leaving behind only black and gray.

“You’ll pay, Omega,” Death snarled.

Omega folded his arms. “You’ve all been so gracious to come to me. This really is too sweet. I may just give you all a quick death after all.”

War focused on his thoughts and his person of interest.

Nightwalker… I’ve heard your message. I—I wish to help right the wrong I and my brothers have committed.

War looked around for the boy, but only found the hulking Omega.

“Haha… praying to your god, War? I thought you were strong. That you had no weakness.”

War dropped his gaze to the ground. And then…

“No… just buying time,” he grinned.

“I heard your call,” a voice said behind War and his brothers.

Omega grinned wickedly. “Hello… brother.”

****

Johnny stared Omega down. While the Horsemen eyed Johnny. War grabbed them both by the arm. “We were misled and pressed to do wrong. Both from the start and after our awakening. We must right our wrongs. Together, we will be strong enough to defeat him.”

Both of his brothers nodded.

Omega laughed. “This is all so cute. Another family reunion. A partnership. Oh, dear, brother… I have some bad news about your dear old adoptive parents.” He grinned and licked his lips.

Johnny’s heart sank. “What did you do?” his voice low.

Omega cracked his neck. “Honestly, I’m more of a show and tell kind of guy. So…” he pulled out a hologram projector. On it the makeshift screen, it played the last few moments of Johnny’s parents. Though they weren’t his real parents, they had been there for him. Saved him. Guided him. They were beaten senseless. Blood flowed from their grievous wounds.

Omega then motioned in the hologram to a pair of dogs that laid motionless on the ground. “Let’s do a switcheroo! Whaddya say, Johnny? Sound good?”

Then, his parents were implemented into the dogs. Where they screamed one agony. Their human bodies flailed on the ground and then died.

“Hoo hoo! Look at them. LOOK AT THEM, JOHNNY!”

His parents begged to be put out of their misery.

“Well, you know… I’m a fan of euthanasia, so…”

Omega then jumped furiously atop the dogs. Crushing their bodies… their skulls.

“It’s just like playing in the water!” Omega cackled.

Then he did a close up of the dead dogs. “They could have been saved, Johnny. But no, you had to play hardball. Well, I’ma real hitter, babe.”

Then the hologram stopped.

Nobody moved. Omega laughed and shook his head. “That’s probably some of my finest work there.”

JOHNNY “NIGHTWALKER” IS AN ONGOING A.B.NORMAL PUBLISHING EXCLUSIVE STORY BY ROBERT J. S. T. MCCARTNEY. CHECK HERE FOR MORE POSTS.
Previously

Announcing “Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle” Free July 21 — July 24th

Hey, folks.

Next week [July 21 — July 24] you can get the urban fantasy novel, Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle for free in the Kindle store.

In the USA? Free. UK? Free! Mexico? Italy? Germany? FREE. It’s free for all to enjoy (or even hate! …but you can reach that decision on your own).

If you’re a Kindle Unlimited subscriber, then great news, everyone! You can already grab a Kindle copy for free.

Don’t miss out on an enjoyable reading experience.


“All life is a gamble . . . We go to sleep every night comfortably betting that the next day we’ll wake up.”

Deluxe cover for "Lilah's Guide to Hoyle."
“All life is a gamble… We go to sleep every night comfortably betting that the next day we’ll wake up.”

Demons. Sorcery. Magical playing cards. It’s anything but a fairy tale. Armed with her choice deck, her beloved book, Hoyle’s Guide to Poker and Parlor Tricks, and the skill that led her to throw away her college fund, Lilah gambles with her life—and with the lives of those around her.

Elsewhere, other players have a different idea of the rules of the game. And investigating the bizarre chain of events is Middleton PD’s finest, Detectives Dana Deupree and Walter Conway.

It’s anyone’s game. The cards have been shuffled and the stakes are high. The call has gone around the table. Others may fold, but not Lilah. She plays for keeps.

What will you wager? Will you call? Stand? Or will you fold?


Be sure to get in on the action… for a limited time!

July 21 — July 24, 2017

Until next time,

RJM

The Middleton Files: Spanish Ladies

The Middleton Files: Spanish Ladies

by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

An excerpt
[Formerly a short story]

 

 

 

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Various timers went off, telling the kitchen staff to tend to the assorted foods in the kitchen. The warm smell of sauteed onions, the fresh hint of mustard and the sweet smell of ketchup wafted through the air. The tantalizing scent of newly fried french fries (lightly salted), with the aroma of freshly cooked chicken intermingled with the allure of piping hot cooked hamburgers.

The staff would bark orders to one another, while a manager would supervise and give aid when needed. Sometimes placing items in brown paper bags and handing them off to drive-through customers.

It was a quaint little shack, offering the release of the food blues. Various tables and chairs laid in unison – groups of four chairs per table in rows of two, sometimes three. The place was warm in color; a fleshy tone – nearly resembling the inner portion of a medium cooked steak or burger.

A few more people came in from the cool and sunny summer afternoon. It was lunchtime, which meant rush hour part two.

“Hey! Do you mind already?!” A rather red-faced, tall, pudgy, bald man in professional business attire behind another few people hollered.

There at the front of the line stood one man (for several minutes now). His eyes were scanning over the entire menu, debating with himself just what exactly to order.

“C’mon man, you’re making them all angry,” the young youth in excessive baggy clothing leaned inward towards the contemplative gentlemen; the brim of his hat so cockeyed and flat – the man only disregarded his knowledgeable interjection.

The man was a tall, athletic (although, the only visible remark was his toned arms due to the thin red and black checkered flannel shirt he wore). He wore a black baseball cap, sheltering his shoulder-length long dark ruffled hair. His face was rugged and worn. Both face and arms were slightly reddened, comparable to the more tanned blotches, telling the tail of his extensive time outdoors. The attendant stared patiently into the man’s bright green eyes that wandered about.

Finally, the man’s eyes stopped and fixated upon the menu. He licked his lips and with an invisible tug, his gaze fell to the restaurant attendee.

“I’ll take a…” the man started but was interrupted.

“I’ve had it with you, you, retarded fuck! You’re wasting all our goddamn time! I could have eaten and been on my way back to the goddamn office! You know, some people have to work for a living, instead of being some yuppy who leeches off the fucking government and all of our tax dollars! YOU are the reason why there’s a decline in society nowadays! People. Like. You,” the bald man lashed out.

The man closed his eyes, sighing aloud.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Did I offend you? DID I UPSET YOU?! Good! Now you can see where we all are! You thick-skulled fuck!”

“Sir, I need you to please, calm down or leave,” the attendant calmly replied.

“I am calm! Don’t tell me what the fuck to do!” the bald man snapped back. “I don’t even know why I bother coming here—”

“Look,” the silent giant began, still eying the menu, his voice deep, “All I want to do is just get my food, eat and then be on my way, exactly like you. You though—you are a spiteful person; one who’s always got to be right. Picking on others, being rude and swindling your way on everything. You, sir, are the lowest of the chain. Even maggots work harder than you. You aren’t worthy to be under my boots.”

There soon followed a brief moment of silence, to which the giant placed his order, and the attendant smiled in compliance.

“You son of a bitch,” the bald man roared. “Just you wait when you’re alone somewhere at night. You’ll get what’s coming to you,” the man finally snapped back.

“We all get what we deserve, some just get it sooner than others. You may want to stop wishing…” the lone man replied, others’ eyes looked to one another in awe.

Soon enough, the patient man’s order was ready; placed on a brown plastic tray, atop some decorative sheet of paper advertising a new quad-patty burger. The man frowned, then looked up and at all the other people that waited in line (even the angry little bald man) and at those who were already eating.

Such nonsense… that we ingest.

“What are you staring at?” the cue-ball man inquired.

The man carried his tray with his order: a spicy chicken sandwich, sweet potato fries, and a bottle of water. “Hmm,” the man stared at the beet red, wannabe goat-man, “absolutely nothing.”

He was enraged further beyond reasoning now. The angry man swatted the tray out of the giant’s hands. “How’s that for nothing, you asshole!”

The silent giant stared at the ground in dismay, sighing.

“What’s the matter?! Are you gonna cry about it, you big fucking baby!?” the man raged further into the sizable man’s eyes.

He closed his eyes; whether it was to suppress any emotion or find a way to shrug off the attacks. Something just didn’t feel right at that moment.

Without warning, the giant grabbed the scrawny bald man by the throat and lifted him off the ground. The giant’s eyes were red with an absolute fiery rage. “Little man, you dared wish for death? Allow me to grant you such a wish!”

The cue-ball flailed about and cried for help, all in vain. No one dared to challenge the colossus, except the young youth.

“Hey! Let him go!”

The giant’s wrathful glare fell upon the young man and with his free hand, grabbed him by the skull and tossed him out through the cafe window, only to be run over by a car via the drive-through. His hat crumpled underneath the tires, along with his popped skull; unlaced sneakers underneath the driver’s side of the car. A small grin scrawled across his face. He turned his anger back upon the bald weasel.

People began to flee in terror, but he wouldn’t be having that. No, there will be no survivors today.

“There will be none!” the man bellowed as he began to flail around the scrawny man, swatting people left and right. Smashing them together: men, women, children, young, old; it didn’t matter who—only whoever was in his range of wrath.

“Do you see what you have brought upon everyone, by speaking for everyone?! Everyone shares the same fate!” he screamed as he smashed the man repetitively against the floor, to the wall, and atop the counter-top.

An alarm blurred, moans and screams. Blood sprayed and dripped everywhere; what was once a white and vibrant tile – was soaked with the lives of numerous victims. The giant discarded the now bloodied pulp of a man to the floor. He walked over and picked up his chicken sandwich, a bottle of water and sweet potato fries; slowly walking out the window towards the alleyway that laid behind the fast food diner: whistling and humming to himself, “Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish Ladies…”

*  *  *

Shortly after, the police had arrived at the burger joint. The only survivors were the female attendant who had waited on the man and a majority of the kitchen staff. The man nearly eradicated the entire restaurant. The driver of the car, who ran over the young man, had also come back; save for probably being identified and hunted down by police. He had claimed that was the fastest he’d ever run from anything in his life.

New Boston Police Department scoured the scene, having been short lately due to cutbacks; the police chief requested the aid of some close colleagues down in Middleton. Namely, two detectives whom the chief considered to be the best in all of New England.

“Where the hell are Detectives Dana Deupree and Walter Conway?” the captain inquired over the dispatch radio.

[Title is from the short story when it was originally penned. Release title will differ.]

Announcing a New Limited Mini-series Project: Teaser

A new limited miniseries in the form of blog posts following Detectives Dana Deupree and Walter Conway from the urban fantasy novel, “Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle” as they investigate a series of bizarre murders and events at the Massachusettes State Maximum Security Prison at the request of the Warden; seeing as the duo was responsible for leading to William “Wild Bill” Moseley’s capture.

Hey, folks.

It’s the start of something new and I wanted to share it with you all. What is it? Why, it’s a new, very limited mini-series project based in the same universe where Lilah, Dana, Walter, Lynaly and others all dwell within.

While this might not follow the details of demons and the supernatural, this particular tale will follow one man’s demons that dwell within.

Starting off, Dana has a confrontation with a man who has committed many atrocities against society. Dismemberment, killing, raping, savagely beating people; men, women, children, and a slew of other violent crimes. William “Wild Bill” Moseley is perceived as pure evil incarnate.

Bill is kept in a state maximum prison outside of New Boston, MA. With the man being captured and having been brought to justice, it seems the public can rest easy. His death sentence made, all the evidence in order… what could go wrong?

Detectives Dana Deupree and Walter Conway are called in to investigate the strange mishaps that have befallen the prison as a favor by the Warden. All the signs point to Bill being responsible for the oddities that have taken place: dead inmates who have hung themselves with their insides, eyes gouged out and replaced with their testicles, and many other heinous acts.

Will the detectives solve the case of the strange and bizarre, or will they wind up as just another statistic?

Here’s a small teaser…


Start Teaser

“They say I am the way I am because of some tumor… some natural defect. I am not defective. I was engineered by nature to kill. I brought balance; I was the Equalizer.” Bill cracked a grin.

“Ah… They all looked so wonderful when the light went out in their eyes. Have you ever seen that, detective? The light fade in someone’s eyes?” His grin became a malicious, salivating all out ice cream smile, drool running down the right corner of his mouth and chin.

Dana swallowed a number of words he wanted to say in regards to the man’s acts. He cleared his throat, “Do you have anything to do with the random killings and events that have transpired here, Bill?”

Bill sat there with that stupid grin and drool on his face, his gaze lost in his sweet, sweet memories.

Dana snapped his fingers in front of Bill’s face. “Did you kill those inmates and guards, Bill?”

Bill slowly cocked his head to the side and then jerked his head hard, a loud snap could be heard within the room, sending a shiver up and down Dana’s spine. “How long do you think you’ll be staying at my hotel, detective?”

Dana raised an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

“I wager you won’t last here a night,” Bill grinned. “Though, I suppose I wouldn’t want to k—” he stopped himself from finishing.

“Wouldn’t want to what, Bill?” asked Dana.

“Why, I wouldn’t want to let my biggest fan die off in the first episode, detective…” he grinned that toothy grin again and gave a wheezing laugh. Then all emotion had left. He became blank faced. “I can’t say much for your friend, though. Are you sure you should have let him wander off on his own… Dana?”

End Teaser


Don’t worry, folks! There will be more to come!

Until next time,

RJM

And Now For Something New: An Excerpt of a New Project

Superheros. They’re in comics, movies, and all that jazz. However, there aren’t any in a religious sense, or many that touch upon the supernatural/paranormal aspect. So, what if? Well, that’s what I am doing.

Hey, everyone.

So, I am actively doing other projects, while still doing the other main dishes. I know some people don’t know the scope of exactly what it is that I have going on. Life has me busy. It’s fine and dandy, but I really like to keep up with cranking out the jams…er, the stories.

Anyway, I wanted to share the start of a new project I am doing. It is finished, however, this is not the final representation of it. Also, I don’t have an exact title of it, thus, I decided to do its name as an in-house assignment: Sinclair Gets His Rolex.

What’s it about? Superheros. Not just the typical route though. You know, lab accident, or an alien. Nope, we’re going a different route. However, with a supernatural/paranormal twist.

I hope you enjoy it. If not, well, too bad. 😉


A WIP Excerpt: At the Moment In-house Titled — Sinclair Gets His Rolex

By Robert McCartney

I can’t die here. Not like this. I. . .I just. . .can’t.

All life had begun to leave the man as he gasped his last breath; his long pale face at first contorted in the most agonized expression, faded to the most peaceful. Crimson poured through the short-sleeved white button-down shirt, from his neck and chest (once profusely and profound, now drew to a standstill), giving a crude silhouette of the thin, already burnt out Mark. His short curly black hair was ruffled; definitely from the day’s nonsense and from the scuffle some moments ago. A woman, at least it was the silhouette of one, propped his head under her sandy leather handbag; designer really, but whatever it was, was surely ruined by his bloodstains. More people rushed to his side, but it was all for naught; he had already started to embark to the other side. Those sons of bitches even stole his shoes too, but at least he still had his black dress socks. His black dress slacks now further stained by only God knows what on a subway platform, blood and his own bodily waste. His brown eyes slowly gave way; the light gradually faded to black. His ears picked up the notes of a song that slowly died along with him.

There was no magic film reel that played out his life. All that there was, was darkness and the naked frigid touch of death—for it was total and absolute. He reached out to the vast void, only to find nothingness. . .and loneliness.

“Hello?!” he shouted, “Can anyone hear me?!”

He was alone, and here he sobbed heavily into his invisible hands. He shed invisible tears, took invisible breaths, maybe it was all in his imagination. He yelled profoundly to the dark hysterical obscenities. Before long, he was praying to an imaginary god, back to the root of his faith. Nobody and nothing answered. The thought then occurred to him—maybe I am not completely gone. He clung to this small glimmer of hope, as tight as his invisible hands could muster.

A brief warm sensation coursed throughout his person, one of which he knew well—the warmth of life!

A soft, gentle and reassuring voice then spoke to him from within the abysmal sea of black. “I know you, my son. For you are but lost in a sea in-between everlasting life, and damnation. You reside, here, in the void of the nether; where you exist, but do not.”

“But why? Who. . .who are you?” Mark inquired.

“You are neither living nor dead. In the mortal world, your body did die, however, your consciousness and will to live; to serve those whom you love, to gain vengeance on those who did you wrong, to be. . .something more in life. What you felt, my dear son, is your will, and the raw emotional power, the ties to Earth – this is what is keeping you afloat; lose it and you shall sink. . .sink to damnation.” the voice continued to propagate.

Mark’s imaginary heart fluttered with fear and anxiety with these words. His eyes still searching for this invisible majestic being, albeit, he felt he knew whom he spoke to.

The invisible host spoke soothingly, “Ah, do not be afraid, my son. I know you seek answers; for your questions, I can see are jumbling, vast, blurred at the speed and span of eons. Know this, you are safe—for now.” The voice then turned stern and censure. “You’ve fallen quite the fall in life, my son. You denounced your faith, believing it to be a child’s fairytale, making a mockery of those whom would practice in private. Yes, yes, I know; prior you used to wave your beliefs around like a big stick, and forced it upon others.”

“I was young and but a fool! Had I known then what I know now. . .” Mark pleaded.

A hearty chuckle escaped from within the void, “My son, do not take me for a fool; for I am not one. For countless millennia I have heard that remark.” Mark then heard what he believed to be a sigh escape from the voice’s imaginary lips. “I suppose, however, that being born into sin has that. . .problem.” Imaginary eyes fell upon Mark’s imaginary person. “It is in death, yes, in death, in which you shall rise and become the herald—my herald, dear Mark.”

Vast feelings and emotions began to surge through Mark—of bewilderment, joy, excitement, life, sadness, uncertainty. . .fear. His eyes darted back and forth in the darkness before rising upwards, to where he believed the voice came from. “What would you have me do?”

An eerie chill ran down Mark’s imaginary spine as he floated in the sea of nothingness. It was far worse than the icy touch of death he had already become accustomed to; for this one felt of pure divine. . .and of absolute wrath. For a moment, he thought as if he could see a giant magnificent grin in the ‘heavens’, something that warranted his hesitation.

“My son, I shall bestow upon you the blessing of everlasting life; for you shall be raised from the dark, frigid fingers of Death and bless you with the assets and aspects, in which, you, deem sole worthy.”

Mark’s mind ran rampant with a childish glee, rummaging through the old childish thoughts of superheroes. Strength – the strength to be as bold and righteous, to avert harm to my family and friends; to defend those in need. The power of healing, that no matter how severe my wounds, I can be the righteous beacon of light; to be able to save myself, so that I may save those dearest and near. Speed and flight! That I may be quick to respond and be there, always, for the ones I love and hold true.

The voice continued on strong, bold and sound while Mark continued with his ‘wish list’. “Ah, you seek to be virtuous, and the reckoning force of righteousness. I can give you these boons, however, the given mantle, and tasks you will perform—will not be of ease. Time will come; for it shall pass and henceforth, carry out its circle—you will mourn. Let the good deeds you do here, now, carry on in your name for tomorrow. For tomorrow is here today, and it shall never, ever go away. For when you grow weak and weary of the given duties, you shall reside in everlasting paradise.” The imaginary voice paused, poising for its deliverance and judgment. For even in the darkness, Mark could almost feel the wrath of the high heavens, the magic of creation and destruction course throughout the abyss as the voice spoke. “If you should ever break the covenant, you shall be stripped of your mantle and the boons I have granted upon you; that your life will be forfeit and shall be left to my choice of punishment for all of eternity. Do not ever think me for a simpleton, that I can just as quickly extinguish your life’s essence then you can possibly imagine.”

Mark was in awe. He was presented with a second chance and knew of the consequences. The words had already formed and escaped his imaginary lips, “I accept, full knowingly and aware.”

A magnificent and beautiful pure golden light appeared high above him. It was so warm and inviting; Mark felt as if he was being picked up and cradled. The feelings and thoughts that ran explicitly wild in his mind – he couldn’t grasp a single one. The abyss had become enveloped in a white-gold. The frigid sensation had been rid from his being and was replaced with such warmth he was familiar sharing with his wife. Everything was about to change; everything, he believed for the better.

“Close your eyes and receive this blessing.” the voice spoke as the light slowly aligned itself within arms reach from Mark; completing the request of the specter. From the glorious emanating light that bathed the darkness anew, there stretched a red right hand that fell upon Mark’s forehead. The voice spoke again, more hoarse and chillingly chaotic, “Return to the World of the Living, and rise. . .” a surge of pure evil slightly escaped, but Mark thought nothing of it. Probably because he was now on the fast track to being alive again.

— End Excerpt–

So, there you have it, folks. This story is completed. However, I am still honing it and I still have to get it ready for its debut. I hope you enjoyed this first glance at this story and what it will shape up to be.

Until next time,

RJM

Johnny Nightwalker: Trillion Dollar Baby

Johnny has a dream that offers more to the puzzle of his origins…and then some.

The trio walked the busy streets back to Johnny’s home.

“I remember Ramirez, from somewhere. I just can’t quite place where, though,” said Johnny.

“From what I know, he’s been a part of the Agency for years. Yes, there’s not a whole lot of the lot left over, but there’s a significant force that could make the world a living hell. If your visions are anything, they show just that.” Chico added.

Red agreed as he went tree to tree, adding, “The important thing is that we keep yer power use low to make ‘em believe yer still just some regular youngin’. That means no goin’ apeshit on folks.”

The three returned to Johnny’s home and resumed the day to be normal like any other. His parents were appreciative of his help around the home and admired his newfound high spirits.

***

The night would come, and with it, Johnny wanted to see if he could converse with Jerry again. As he tumbled into the dreaming world, images became distorted and abnormal. These faces and this setting…it was all unfamiliar to him and yet, it was very familiar.

“Where am I?” he asked aloud.

A man walked into the room where Johnny was housed. “Ah, B129-OP, you’re awake. Having sleep difficulties again are we?”

Johnny inspected the man’s face. “Mr. Ramirez?”

“Forgive me. I suppose I should give you a proper name instead of all this lab talk. Management orders, you know,” the man then laughed. “Pray tell me, child. What name would you desire?”

Johnny looked around his cell, seeing a younger version of himself rocking in the corner.

“Hmm, unresponsive I see. Very well, I can have your “parents” assign you a name in the coming days. Until then, we have a test to carry out…” Ramirez went to the computer console and entered a brief entry, then issued a few keyboard commands. A robotic arm in a nearby case retrieved several vials from the cryogenics vault labeled “Animal DNA.”

He fit the vials in an injector and then walked over to the young memory of Johnny. “This is going to hurt you more than it’s going to hurt me. I won’t feel a thing,” he said with a smirk.

One by one, the vials drained and entered the young boy’s bloodstream. Young Johnny cried out in pain and seized on the floor. Ramirez rolled the boy onto his side, then was sent flying across the cell. The boy pounded on the concrete floor, smashing it, causing it to crack and crumble.

Ramirez reached to his feet, grunting. “My, my, such fast results. That’s my boy!”

Young Johnny snapped his gaze up to the man, his eyes red with rage.

Ramirez sighed. “Ah, perhaps I may have miscalculated…no matter.”

The boy charged the man and was sent crashing to the ground in an induced coma. Ramirez placed the inducer back in his lab coat pocket.

“That should be enough to keep you out for a while. We need to let the DNA assimilation run its course.” Ramirez picked the boy up and looked him over. He took him to the bed in the cell and set him down and tucked him in.

He stood up, giving the boy a proud smile.

The lab doors opened and in entered a group of men and a woman with bright red hair.

“Ah, Dr. Ramirez, I trust you’re not bonding too much with your project? I want him in perfect condition for the upcoming test,” said the woman.

Ramirez rolled his eyes then turned his attention to the group. “Ah, Dr. Widow, what a pleasant surprise…” He then cleared his throat, “No, not bonding. I just injected the last batch of DNA. He packs quite the wallop and already has shown significant progress.”

The woman smirked, “You must be so proud of your creation.”

Ramirez struggled to keep composure behind the remark, “he is much more than some creation, Ms. Widow. He is the key to the future, a better world, a better tomorrow.”

The woman walked over and looked the boy over, “Hmm, yes, yes he is.” She turned her attention back to Ramirez. “I have news for you. Emmerich has decided to promote you, based on your new Omega Protocol exercise and wants additional subjects created. If this child has as much potential as you say, then there should be no problem having other units made.”

“They’re not meant to be mass produced, they’re more like a handcraft and must be done with extreme care. Not something that can be replicated by robotic means!” Dr. Ramirez raised his voice.

“Make it happen, or you will find yourself out of more than just a job. I suggest you make it happen or else,” said Dr. Widow. She turned her attention back to the boy, “we have such magnificent plans for you, child.”

“Good night, doctor, and remember…we’re watching,” said the woman as she exited the cell.

The good Doctor gritted his teeth as they motioned to leave the lab.

He wiped his glasses and talked to the unconscious young Johnny. “Seriously, the nerve of that woman. I bet she’s not even a real doctor…probably got her degree online or out of a cereal box.” He knelt down and gave a pat on the boy’s head before turning and leaving the lab himself.

Johnny sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the younger version of himself. He was confused, but the signs all pointed to the possibility.

“Jerry, I could really use your help in all this,” he said.

The lab disappeared, and darkness greeted him instead. Jerry’s voice spoke back to him. “You saw with your eyes, now question with your heart. Time will reveal things as they happen. I am always with you, my friend. Do not worry.”

JOHNNY “NIGHTWALKER” IS AN ONGOING A.B.NORMAL PUBLISHING EXCLUSIVE STORY BY ROBERT J. S. T. MCCARTNEY. CHECK HERE FOR MORE POSTS.