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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Woman's Game - 11. Part One: The Book of Genesis XII

This is the penultimate chapter of the first part. Enjoy :)

Ding dong… Ding dong… The chiming of the clock… Alarm bells…


He could hear them all in his solidarity. He was so alone and yet so content. He had the great chance to do something.


They were telling him something. They were telling him something important.


A large deep bell sounded in his mind and then the sounds, they stopped. They stopped playing and he was left with silence.


The power had been shown.


His memory of what he could do came back. He was taken into the prison gardens for his daily walk when it happened.


He felt something erupt from his hands. A blue light. A light that he had absolute control over.


He enjoyed having the ability to be in charge. He waved the light creating a beautiful rainbow of blues and swirling image of perfection.


A fellow inmate walked past him. He must have been only 13.


The Mental Patient was using his power in full daylight, where he could easily be spotted.


He cut the light off and turned towards his fellow man.


‘I will give you three seconds. If you are not gone then I’m afraid you are going to be eliminated.’


A bout of fever pitch he had never experienced before.


The boy was gone quicker than when he came.


The Mental Patient returned to forming little blue crystals in the sky.


He was absolutely content.


He was content because he knew he would be useful for the first time…


He wouldn’t be discarded like he had been previously. Instead he would become useful and would fight for a noble cause…


Destroying the one that restricted him was his only aim.


Then after that, he didn’t know where he would go, what he would do or who he would become ‘friends’ with.


A friend.


He had never had that experience.


Oh how he savoured in the desire to have someone he could talk to. Other than down that ridiculous phone of his.


The Mental Patient screamed in joy at what was coming.


He observed his own light…


From what he was creating he knew he could do it.


He knew he could create the famed Blue Dragon. It was through this he had the realisation.


He was also part of the prophecy…


He was also ‘a boy with the power…’






Too late for food. Too early for sleep. She knew what was coming. She knew it was the time and now, with her ultimate prison installed, the place.


It was time.


Lounging on her throne, she ran her scarlet painted nail along the edge of a panel on her right hand side.


This caused the ground around her to move away from her, revealing a short pathway.


This pathway was brightly light and it lead into a dark staircase down into the deeper dungeons of her tower. She would use this semi lit environment in a very short amount of time.


The day was coming when she would have to play the most dastardly of games again. But it was worth it. She stood and clicked her fingers. This was an instruction for her guards to move from the chamber to the gardens, where her secret chamber was below.


This would keep her entirely protected from aerial attacks. She remembered when her tower was attacked, once upon a time but the resistance members who created this miniature destruction were dead within four hours of the event. She was good. She was very good.


She stood, checked around her to make sure there was no one there to see her and then she auspiciously removed her shroud. Revealing her true self only to those in the Storm Cage. And even then, their prison was lead and brick so they would never see outside, ever again.


She took herself down the stairs, dragging her overly frilly dress behind her. She was in a mood for a little bit of self care. A bit of formal dress. It never hurt anybody. Apart from Hitler but that is another story for a completely different occasion.


She reached the bottom of the stairs shot a look around the room towards each of the torches and in sequence they each blazed alight. She was in a very dusty worn room with ancient furniture. The walls were marble and the floor greyed brick. This room was very out of touch with the rest of the facility but that made it even better. Somewhere no one would think to look for the most devastating of objects…


There were two pieces of archaic furniture which were particularly important to her.


She came to the first. A globe with different pinpoints written upon it. This was where she sat where she planned the original onslaught. Of course it was rough and of course it wasn’t going to work but this was where it all started. In an ancient building with an ancient concept…


She brushed past the globe and arrived at the second. An old desk. She hadn’t approached it in years. Drawing the chair back so she could sit in it she contemplated. She contemplated about her past and how everything had happened. And how she got to the point she was at now.


She was happy with her progress but she wanted to have more.


And for that to happen, she had to prepare for the worst. And she knew deep down that the worst was going to occur…


In a very short amount of time.


She opened the drawer and took out a box. She opened it with her combination and took out an old dusty deck. An ancient deck.


She had 30 cards in her regular deck and looked into the box that she took the cards from and saw she had over 70 more in her collection. One’s she had won back when there were secret duels on side streets and when she would disappear at night only to come back beaten and bruised but all for a greater good.


They were so aged. So developed. Her deck had been refined to be almost impossible to defeat.


She was now entirely ready to implement the final stages of her plan.


She took the classical telephone and rang long distance to Russia.


She spoke to The Scientist, who was scurrying around his office trying to finish up the testing on his creature.


‘Hello. This is her. I need him now. He is better. He is… perfection.’


‘It will be difficult mistress. We are only just finishing the testing and then we need to go into beta with him. We would need weeks, maybe even months.’


She became irritable. ‘You do not have a month. You have three days to get it to me. Do I make myself clear? Or say good bye to your future of a happy family.’ She slammed the phone down, cracking it down its sides. It was expensive but she didn’t care about the price. All she cared about were results.


And she was damn going to get them, no matter what the cost of human life was…




It was two days later, early. The package arrived. It was crated up and it was quite tall. Taller than she expected but worth it.


She ordered her men to shimmy open the crate and it revealed a container. It was metal with a glass cover. Much like the screens you see in space age capsules where bodies are kept.


And inside this capsule was a body. A body of perfection. Exact to every detail that she ordered.


She would reward The Scientist. She would allow him to live… That should be a big enough reward for doing her a service. He wasn’t expecting payment. At least in her opinion, he shouldn’t have been.


There was only one difference between The Shrouded One and her new ‘Clone’. He didn’t feel. He didn’t feel any emotion or compassion whatsoever and that was what made him so perfect.


He was the ultimate soldier. He could be disposable but she loved him. It was her perfect match forever. She would keep him safe. Away from all the armies that would want copies of him. No. He was hers and she was his.


He was to be kept in the Storm Cage. She would move The Father to a lower security prison. Her perfect beauty needed somewhere viler to stay than her other deep prisons. A pretty little prison for the greatest creature to ever ‘live’.


This was the ultimate fighting machine and it was one that she could control and manipulate. She finally could make man do her bidding without defense or argument. She was completely enjoying the excess of power that came with the possibility of finally controlling the world to herself…


Controlling the clone was so much better than controlling her soldier minions…


She relished in her thoughts.


She would finally be able. She would have the ability to defeat The Light Bringer with this beast.


She affectionately nicknamed him ‘The Bringer of Darkness’. Something that could bring pestilence, fear, plague and poison all within one look. She laughed in pleasure.


She looked into her clone’s eyes and she could sense that there was a shroud of great darkness behind his eyes which only emphasised her desire for him.


But she had to resist him for he was ready for war. Ready for a great battle.


She held his left hand and gave him a box. A box filled to the brim with cards.


A most dangerous collection of cards and she was passing them onto him.


Now, finally her side of the war was ready. Ready behind that delicate pair of brutal eyes.


God help the resistance.




The Mental Patient had made his decision. He was going to leave and never come back. It was a big decision but he knew it was time.


The hunt had to start and he was going to lead it. And he was going to have to do it on his own but he was brave enough. But he was only young. No one that age should have to go through all of that…


He packed a few things into backpack and walked towards the front door. The staff members just stood there and watched him. They didn’t try to stop him or lock him away.


I think each of them knew it was time. It was the time when everything had to change and the revolution had to be lead by The Mental Patient. It was amusing. He never came with a name. He didn’t even know him. He never had any identity. Not ever. But life goes on…


With most of his memories intact he headed straight for The Shrouded One’s headquarters.


After travelling he arrived but the street it was on was bare. He was scared that it was too simple.


They let him out from the prison in such a quick gesture and now there were no guards. Something was wrong.


He wanted to test something. He grabbed a rock from beside him and threw it towards the building. It hit the building and broke apart. Nothing strange.


There had to be something wrong. There just had to be.


He moved towards the front door and pushed it open. It revealed a grand entrance hall with a receptionist at the very end. It was a long corridor and anything could happen.


But he had spent far too long resisting throwing himself into the action. He got out of prison easily so this would be a walk in the park.


He moved swiftly towards the receptionist but as he got closer he saw everything fade around him and all he could see was darkness and a throne at the end which replaced the holographic image of the sweet receptionist.


It was all a trap.


He had been lured to where he needed to be and he was now trapped. A collection of guards took him away down deeper into the dungeons.


Of course, the image of the throne was another holographic image. The Shrouded One wanted to use some dastardly techniques to lure him into hell. All it simply was, was a transformed room into a projection theatre where anything was possible.


She then, once she captured him had The Mental Patient dragged through the dungeons and into her chamber.


She tortured him with her whip and then had him locked in The Storm Cage.


When he was taken into The Storm Cage, he was under the impression that the torture was finally over.


He cannot believe that he had fallen for it. Now he would struggle to use his ability in the war.


Little did he know that in The Storm Cage with him was someone that he would have to fight and defeat in order to win his part of the war…


The Mental Patient surveyed his surroundings and made sure it was safe to sit down. He sat down and laid on the bed, unaware of the danger he was putting himself in.


For you see, in the corner of the room was the brutish clone. It was sat in the corner and it was rocking out of feigned psychosis.


He was playing the innocent card and it was working on The Mental Patient.


Confuse them, emotionally cripple them and then kick them while they are down was what The Shrouded One wanted to do.


If she allowed him to continue, the power of Blue and Fire would be unleashed and she wouldn’t have the slightest chance of becoming the greatest world leader that ever lived.


The Clone was sat there, playing his part, as he was ordered to when he was created.


He was to attack when he had the correct feeling. He would also attack when it was least expected. Most probably in the night but no-one was entirely sure. Not even The Shrouded One. The Clone wasn’t even sure of himself.


This spontaneity in the way that he handled the situation that he was in was good.


He truly hoped that he would be able to impress his master puppeteer because that was all he lived for…

Copyright © 2013 Johnathan Colourfield; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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