by s.c. virtes
The unarmed, redsuited duo stepped through the crowd, looking for a
man named Struct. They
found him juggling five bright globes in a small park near the town square. Casting an air through his
display brought them his angered attention, and a hiss from his few observers.
They asked him for his name and he didn't give it.
They asked him for his pin and he claimed not to have one. They found this quite hard to believe.
They formed a fog next to him and whirled corrugated blades around in
it, and he screamed. Struct
jumped up and down, digging his hands into his chest, tearing out huge masses of blood and feathers.
They cursed him to cease, so he pulled himself together, gathered his globes, and walked away to
find a new crowd.
They turned away, for he was only a projection of the one they sought,
and his sourcelines told them
all they needed to know.
They went to the appropriate home and were unelated at its affluence.
"Another illusion," grumbled
the heavier man.
"No. This Struct is an architect, a designer. he can afford everything
you see." The affixer rapped on
A servant responded and was captured. The redsuits pushed him inside
as they entered the abode of
Struct, for they had been charged with an affixation which they had to carry out. The Lorword had
sent them this task, and they were sworn to it by their very existence. When nobody responded to
the servant's dissipation, they prolonged his screams until a man appeared, eager to be of assistance.
"Could I build something for you sirs?" asked the man.
"Don't Con me, Struct," they replied, sternly. They bounded across the
room to grab the man by the
neck. One of them formed an airblade and stared evilly along its lustside, while the other commented
on how Struct choked so nicely. Struct said nothing, until they withdrew their Certificate. When told
that there was to be an affixation, Struct screamed, then laughed. A moment later, he vanished. His
voice filled the room.
"I'm not in right now, but if you'd care to leave a message, please
do so at the sound of the
"Damned holos," mumbled the affixer named Maim, as the dog grabbed his
ankle. Split, his comrade, picked up the offensive canine and pulled back
on its arms. It decided not to struggle, wisely. Its big
eyes simply waited for freedom.
"Enough!" bellowed Struct from three stories above them, where he had
been reading horror stories
in the gallery. "What sort of affix will I bear?"
"DE-," said Split, throwing the dog onto the sofa. It bounced to its feet and scurried away.
"Complete reversal, huh? Wonderful. I'll be right down," called Struct.
He then wandered off into
another plane and lived out the rest of his life. Seconds later, he was grey, bent, and cancer-ridden.
He then stood before his doomtellers. They would manipulate his name, and transform him into
They asked him for any last requests as the being named Struct, and
he had none. "A cigarette?" he
joked. "No, too archaic."
With the usual boredom, they affixed him, and the explosion blasted
the walls of the place to the far
side of the garden. There was nothing left of the foolish affixers, but Destruct stood there and burned
some craters to test his new abilities. A twisted smile grew upon his youthful face.
The Lorword read of this in the morning Paper and laughed into his tea.