Zelaron Gaming Forum - Since no one seems to read the arts forum

The Dream

It always starts out the same. I'm riding a tricked out chopper with some steel armor put in the front so I can ram into other choppers and people. There's a machine gun mounted on either side of me with the trigger in the shape of a button at the handles so I can fire upon anyone deranged enough to be in my way. I have longer hair, hair that flows down past my shoulders and whips back and forth in the wind. It looks rather majestic given the way the sunbeams down against me in the orange and crimson skies during sunset.

I'm always riding into this deserted town buried mostly in sand and rubble. A few houses stand, but most of them are destroyed or hollowed out from some sort of nuclear fallout. In a dark, twisted way, it's rather pretty. I pull into the side of a stone building that was obviously a primitive church at one point. Inside it's filled with bar patrons passed out in various positions, the barkeep shining and cleaning the glasses. He looks at me apprehensively, knowing the reason I'm there.

"Barkeep," I mutter as I approach slowly, pulling out an old revolver with my aim dead between his eyes, "I hear ya been murderin' innocents in their drunken stupor."

The barkeep, an ugly man with a receding hairline and many missing teeth, shakes his head aggressively, trying to voice his denial of the accusations. I particularly don't care about any excuses and would rather he not waste my time. I change my aim while he's shaking his head and fire off a shot, putting a nice big hole in his cheek. He grips his cheek and starts to yelp in pain, paying no attention to my second shot planting the bullet in his thick skull and into his brain. He simply falls over dead.

Before anyone can say or do anything, I just leave the stone building and hop back onto my chopper, riding off into the sunset, at which point I wake up.