Brian David Gilbert stood, foot atop the shoulder of his late boss Tara Long. It had been a long and brutal battle, the bloodshed had been immense - the days? Ruined. But he'd done it. He'd decapitated his former master - risen to powers he previously thought beyond his meager mortal comprehension. He'd finally done it. He was the lead. No more days, wringing his hands in the wastes - watching time and time again as opportunities passed him by: he made the opportunities now.
Sure, he was grateful for what she'd done! How she'd rescued him and his sister from that scrappy group of mole rats - but he always knew. Knew she'd been watching. If she'd gotten to doing instead of looking - his brother, wouldn't've...
Brian swallowed, and blinked toward the faded sky. He wouldn't make the same mistake as Long. "To act, or be acted upon," he whispered, fist clenched - as his sister, Laura Katheryn Gilbert, placed her hand upon his shoulder, a mutual understanding. Were it not for her, he wouldn't be where he was today. He knew it. The way she'd secretly been slipping Long those stims to up her tolerance.
"Get Up Guys," Brian cawed like an overcooked rooster as he booted Long into a nearby ditch.
The band rose. From the rubble, ash, shrapnel and tin.
"We've got a memoriam to sing."
Half-blind!Simone scowled as she hopped onto percussion; her good eye nearly slicing Brian in two with its intentions. Armed with 67 guns, she was relatively harmless as it was impossible for her maneuver with any iota of success, especially when she felt the pull in her soulless surface vessel to: SKA.
Jenna rolled three times across the pollutant filled ash before standing and unveiling an undisclosed brass instrument from 'neath her renaissance costume period-piece sleeve.
Karen Han didn't blink. She never had. Honestly, I'm worried for her.
Patrick skanked poorly as he adjusted his equipment after emerging from an acid filled barrel. It had left the lower half of his body feeling, prickly.
From where he sat, veiled by shadow and structure, Clayton began to feel the rhythm sinking into his flesh-folds from the fine body of a piano; untouched by war. It seemed like where-ever he went he managed to find a perfectly tuned piano - waiting for him, whispering to him. The two gravitated towards each other in a way unbound by time.
"Oh, GAW- Somebody help Jeff!" Brian squawked fowlishly as the inane guttural utterances of a man on the verge of peril could be heard.
"Oh!" Said Simone, slyly and spitefully, "So now that you're lead, your 'too good' to help Jeff?"
"Do You want to help Jeff?!" Brain retorted with the wave of his wrist, his nail-polished glistened with the fervor of an underdeveloped disco ball.
"No!" Simone bickered as Jeff howled and grunted as if overcome by an animalistc sensation. There was a loud BANKG followed by five crashes and a splash of what was either paint or blood.
"JEFF!" everybody cried-out in mild annoyance.
"Wh- guys I'm here, I'm here," Jeff clarified, walking in from the opposite direction the noise had originated, "Hey, I sorta found this thing back th-"
"Quiet Jeff! Are we gonna throw this funeral or what?" Simone threw her trilby designated for throwing to the ground in exasperation as the band got together.
They preformed Shanty Town and poured one out for the boss. Clayton hastily scrawled F onto the wooden grave marker.
As the others set up camp, Brian knelt once more over Tara's corpse and gently moved a strand of hair behind her ear so she'd better hear his whisper:
YOU ARE READING
BDG's Descent Into Madness
FanfictionBrain David Gilbert lives, as any young man of the apocalypse: among his friends and colleagues as the leader of a SKA band called polyGON. His life and the lives of the feral pack of adults he has been hand-selected by fate to lead are about to ge...
