The mannequin-man sits
in the shadows, inconspicuous to those he is watching.
Upon his head rests a black leather fedora, complimenting his murky
white face with a kind of stark familiarity - everyone here should recognize
his kind. But no one does.
At his feet rests a large orange-colored
dog-creature. It's eyes are closed, but it's ears are
wide open, and listening. Together the odd pairing sit
and observe the swelling crowd of peoploids pouring into the bar.
Of the mannequin-man, there radiates an air of vague indifference
to their being. He is waiting for the signal. The
masses, in their ignorant and brutish sense of reality, have
not realized that they are being watched and, perhaps, it one
day may be bane to the small few who do not understand
the implications involved in being unaware outside
of their own realm.
The Diamond Dogs are hunting
in Hunger City.
The petty peoploids mix and match,
mingle and intertwine, leave arm in arm or minutes apart as
to avoid social suspicion. As they do so, the mannequin-man
stands up and, in doing so, is finally noticed by one and all simultaneously.
He has noticed one odd lad leaving quickly and quietly -
the key to his task. The crowd freezes.
Faces gaze toward the familiar stranger, always avoiding his
ominous black eyes. Someone, they realize, is about to
The feeling is in the air, and
it hangs there, like the rotting carrion of a long-dead cadaver
forgotten on the gallows.
The mannequin-man's onyx eyes
fix on the exit doorway as the hulking orange beast at his
feet climbs into a menacing stance. He steps forward, the orange
dog-creature at his side, and the crowd splits into two sections, parting,
and allowing the Diamond Dog passage. As he walks forward,
more of the nightmarish mannequin-men, seeming carbon copies
from the voids of space wherefore they had not existed up until
this point, join him, and find their way through the mass of
flesh and sweat, and into the makeshift aisle-way.
There are, it appears, fifteen
mannequin-men heading now toward the exit. Two
by two, the mannequin-men and dog-creatures file through, with a
uniformity that is frighteningly militaristic.
As they exit the building, they take notice of the sparse and
dissipating crowds surrounding the outer area of the bar.
A hush has already fallen over these people, for whispers travel
fast when carried in the throats of terrified youngsters, any one
of which might be slotted for a violent death within a moment's
One of the mannequin-men walks
to a nearby crowd and halts in front of a youth of about seventeen
years. The boy stands for a second, trembling, and begins
to slowly but hastily back away from his now-obvious pursuers.
"Stop," utters the mannequin-man,
his black eyes piercing through flesh, bone, and finally, into
that superficial energy that some might call the soul.
"You let him escape," it mutters to the teenager. "I-it wasn't
my f-fault," the boy stutters. He begins to sob, and
lets the tears trail openly down his long-painted face.
"Kill, my boys," mutters the
The mannequin-men collectively
release the chains holding the dogs in place. Fifteen
of the wretched creatures from fifteen wretched machines attack
the helpless child in an instant. The first beast closes it's massive
jaws around the boys arm, tearing and severing, filling the air
with the sounds of hungered frenzy and the horrid sound of
tooth gnawing on bone.
It swings it's immense head around
with an incredible might and throws the victim against one
of the bar's brick walls, shattering his spinal cord and both
legs simultaneously, and filling the air with a hideous crack.
Blood trails down the bricks to the now heaped body of the
boy, who is mercifully no longer conscious, but this is only
noticeable for a brief moment - before the feeding frenzy begins.
Like sharks, a swarm of orange
dog-creatures pounce on the body and tear it apart, swallowing
and gulping whatever pieces find their way to the mouth of one
of the hunters. Orange and red waves cover the surrounding
land for a period of two to three minutes, and when it is over,
there is nothing -
And the Diamond Dogs, their task
accomplished, hunt for another.