"The 'brethren hunt'?" The gentleman sharing my cabin on the train looked somewhat taken aback by my tale. "Is that a thing? It sounds like a thing. Like you're some kind a ancient god or sumthin."
"Point one; I am certainly not a god. Point two; yes, I suppose it is a 'thing', in that it's the sole purpose of the brethren to weed out the weak among our line, leaving the strongest in control of the considerable influence and wealth inherent in the position. Point three; your grammar is atrocious." Folding my arms across my chest, I cast a wary eye back towards my companion. "So tell me your tale, since you find mine so incredulous."
"Ok fine, asshole. There I was, walking out a tha Tropicana, when a slot machine says to me....."
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"Hey, buddy, where you goin?"
Naturally, dis seemed a bit odd, and maybe a little disconcertin', since, ya know, slot machines ain't supposed to talk and whatnot. So's I turns to da machine and I says...
"What? "
Now dis may have earned me a few weird looks from the guys playing the machines nearby, but that didn't stop me from walkin' up and gettin' a betta look at what was goin' on.
"I asked where you was headed? I'm about to hit. Figgered I could do you a solid and let you know."
I turned and looked at the faces starin' at me, and reached for the lever.
"OK. You got me. I don't know who you are or what the gag is, but I'll bite."
I pull the lever and I'm instantly blinded and deafened by the machine's jackpot hullabaloo. The same people that was starin' at me earlier was slappin' me on the back, congratulatin' me on my good fortune.
But I wadn’t hearin’ it. Only voice I could really hear was da machine itself.
"Yeah....not bad buddy. Now how's about you do me a favor and put me outta my misery."
"Misery? You're a slot machine. What misery?" I whispered my question as I scooped up my buckets o’ ducats.
"You kidding? You think this is a good life?" The machine looked at me...like really looked at me, and I could tell it wadn't kiddin'. I backed away, more than a little freaked out by what was happenin'.
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By da way, since we skipped out on da introductions, I'm Manny Dietrich. Nice to meet yous. I been a gambler and a low-life hustler since I was a kid. Like most poor kids growing up in and around a shit-hole like Atlantic City, life on the shady side of the street came easy to me. Lot easier than sittin' in some classroom waistin' time better spent earnin' enough money to eat. But I digress....back to my story.
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I cashed out and stumbled inta th’ night and yelled fer a cab. Wuz fifteen minutes into th’ ride before I realized I was making small talk with the Ford Taurus, and not the taxi driver hisself.
Back home, and I couldn't get a bit o’ rest. All my appliances and gizmos were suddenly chatty as hell. Imagine experiencin’ the birth, life, and death of lightbulbs. It was constant torture. I had to get out of there as quickly as possible. So a week or so after it started, I went downtown, bought the tickets I needed, and decided to head for the one place dis newfound creepy-ass talent could do me some real good, Las Vegas.
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"And so, here I am, on dis train wit you."
The nerd I'm sitting with in da club car looks at me like I got twelve heads, I can tell he don't believe me.
“What about the slot machine? An itinerant illiterate degenerate you may be, however you don’t seem one to welsh on a debt.”
“Nah, before I skipped town, I made sure to pay one last visit. Accidentally-like spilled my drink into th’ damn thing’s coin slot.
‘Thanks, buddy’ was the last words it ever said.”
"If all you've said is true, are any of the surrounding electrical accoutrements currently communicating with you?"
Arms crossed over his chest, head cocked to one side, the big nerd was laughin' at me.
"Yeah, matter o' fact they are. Anythin’ with current's been chattin' my ear off ever since I got this stupid power. Most of it’s nonsense...but sometimes....it can be real useful." I'd been ignoring it up 'til now, but the train itself had been screamin' at me for ten minutes, beggin’ for me to help her. It's the first time one o' these things had really seemed scared of somethin'.
I could feel my face whiten as I turned my head to one side, listenin' to what she was tellin' me. "Says she needs help....somethin's wrong....bad wrong."
"Dear boy, what seems to be the problem?" The big guy leaned forward in his seat, actual concern on his big nerd face.
"It's the train. Says somebody's tryin' to derail 'er."
Tha's when the bomb went off.
The train screamed once, then nothin’, life snuffed out like a candle. I flew out of my seat and landed against the big guy. Once the car stopped tumblin’ end over end, I realized somehow, we was still breathin'.
"They've found me." The nerd picks me up and sets me down gentle as a baby. "Are you ok, young man?"
"Yeah, I'm alright. Who's found you?" I rub the back o' my head and stand on shaky legs. Lookin’ around through the dissipatin' smoke. The screams of lost cellphones cryin' out for their owners drownin' out the cries of the humans injured in the crash.
"Brother 7."
"Yeah, what about ‘im? You think he's the one what did this?" I look into his face, and the guy is just gone, lost in some memory I'm glad I ain't privy to.
"Not him....her." He raised his hand, pointin' over my shoulder. I turn to see what he's lookin' at, and sure enough, some dame's walkin’ through the chaos and dead bodies, pretty as you please, like she owns the joint.
"What about her? I thought you said the big, bad ‘Brother 7’ was responsible."
I turn to watch her as she struts her stuff through the wreck. Built like a brick shit-house, she was the kind o' chick big muscle-headed douchbags creamed their pants over, at least six-feet tall and probably two-ten of pure muscle. The skirt gets in real close, and for a second, I think she's gonna kiss the nerd, or hug him or somethin'. Then, outta nowhere she hauls off and knocks the shit outta the guy with an uppercut old Ali'd be jealous of on his best day. Fella goes flying through the air and lands face-first in a heap o' twisted metal.
Turnin' towards me, I felt shivers runnin' down my spine as her cold-ass eyes look right inta my soul. Ignorin’ me, like I'm less than nothin', she keeps walking towards Brother 8.
"Manny, may I introduce you to my sister, Brother 7." The Amazon-lady picks Brother 8 up like he wuz a rag doll, and tosses him back inta the air. He hits hard and slides the last couple a feet towards me.
I kneel down and help him up. "Hey, uh, dude, I don't know if you noticed or not....but your brother's a chick."
With a look most people save for dealin' with the severely mentally handicapped, he turns his head and says, "You don't say.”
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