The Time Tank

The Time Tank

                The city of Los Angeles is a haven for the lost and the damned. A boy, no older than fourteen dares to tread the streets of downtown LA all by his lonesome. Reckless many would say but Pico would just call it a simple late night outing for he loved danger. A bit of an adrenaline jockey, he finds himself wandering these lowly streets with a shovel in one hand and the other swinging by his side. Normally this kind of thing was normal for him but tonight he was gonna get a bit of a script change.

            He continues to walk, the rats scurrying across the streets scavenging for remnants of food from bars, fast food restaurants you name it. Occasionally Pico found himself watching these creatures and wondering what was their actual purpose for existing. All rats do is dig through your trash and live in the walls of your home. Annoying little pests really, Pico followed one into a dimly lit alleyway that gave way to a mountain of garbage. “This must be where all the little dirtballs were headed to.”

            The amount of trash packed into an alleyway was appalling to say the least, Pico found the rats to be less interesting than he had hoped. His thirst for danger and violence has gone unquenched for quite a while now. Pico turned to leave the alleyway and found a can lying next to his foot. Upon further inspection he found it to be the brand of his favorite soda Synergy. Pico scoffed then kicked the can towards the giant pile of garbage. Considering the fact that the alleyway was already atrocious, Pico was actually doing the city a favor by putting some loose trash into a pile. The can knocked over some more trash and the sound frightened Pico a bit. He stared at the pile cautiously when something caught his eye. Just as the light from the strip club across the street shined, so did something else in the pile. What was it?

            Pico approached the pile of trash watching as rats scurried into the darkness with every step he took. Pico must have been disturbing their new home; he leaned in closer brushing some more trash away. It looked like some sort of golden object, but why would something like this be in the trash? What if it was valuable? This simple thought got Pico going, he used his shovel to remove any excess trash covering the object. He smiled at the sight of it, a golden tank hidden away under heaps of garbage and waste. It was magnificent, but what was it doing here? Pico continued to mull this over while wiping off the sides with the sleeve of his green turtle neck. The glow that emanated from this tank was almost otherworldly, he continued to wipe it off when his bare hand slipped and touched the tank. The tank began to shine even brighter than before; it was as if it reacted to his touch. Vibrations traveled through his arms all the way back down his spine. The last thing he saw was a flash of white light and then he vanished…

            The area was dark and a bit warm. It was a lot warmer than before; Pico took a look around him and saw no buildings. This couldn’t be downtown LA where were the buildings, the rats, the stench of failure, and the strip club across the street. Scratch that the stench might have been coming from the strip club, but where was he? It was dark; Pico stood up and walked forward. The sounds of dirt and rock crumbling under his every step could be heard throughout the endless darkness. The silence was unnerving but Pico had been in worse situations before.

“I wonder if anyone is home.” Pico walked past a formation of rocks that resembled an enormous head. The amount of detail in what must be a natural occurrence was astounding. A work of art found in nature that should be left alone and never tampered with. Well if that’s the case you got the wrong guy, Pico reached into his back pocket and retrieved his can of blue spray paint. He always had it with him so that he could physically record his progress throughout his existence. He wanted to leave a lasting mark in this place and what better place than on a rock that looks like a face. Pico shakes the can and begins spray painting letters on the surface of the rock; these letters formed the word “Anarchy,” a bit barbaric but with the place he was in it just seemed somewhat appropriate. The ground began to shake as if an earthquake was imminent. Pico raises an arm bracing himself for any sign of danger. The head lifted off of the ground revealing a giant figure with blood red eyes and a fiery personality. The creature roared in anger stared in Pico’s direction. Pico began to shake his head in as if to say no with a frightened expression painted all over his face. It expanded its wings, standing in the distance at its next meal. At the sight of this many would faint or even die, but Pico was different. Instead of running he smirked. He looked directly at the creature and raised his “middle finger.”

            In anger the creature stomped the ground hoping to crush the life out of Pico. Pico found himself locked in a death match with what seemed to be a giant monstrosity; he began to dodge the creatures stomps. The creature was big but this didn’t discourage Pico, “The bigger they are the harder they fall.” The creature continued to stomp and punch the ground until Pico found an opening. Dodging one of the creatures ground punches, Pico bolted up the side of its arm and jumping onto one of its massive horns. The creature swatted, knocking Pico off but Pico was like a cat and landed on his feet. In a furious rage the creature exhaled fire, the fiery roar shook the cavern walls. One of the stalactites that lined the ceiling began to shake, the intense vibrations being sent throughout the cavern made the ceiling unstable. The stalactite jostled out of place and fell right onto the creatures head piercing his skull. The creature’s eyes grew dark and it took two steps forward. It began to fall and Pico was under it, he braced himself for impact when his hands began to grow transparent. This was very odd because normal appendages did not react this way, “Either I’m being teleported out of here or I may have grown myself some phantom limbs.” There was a flash of white light then the creature impacted the ground.

            Pico looked up into the night sky and stared at the moon, he was back in the over world but this was not his home. The moon was full; the city was quiet for all but a few moments when suddenly the sounds of howling wolves could be heard from the rooftops. Pico pulled down his shades and watched as a pack of werewolves emerged from every nook and cranny that the city possessed. He flapped the ends of his black jacket and he crossed his arms and revealed a pair of Tech-9s loaded with silver bullets. “I bet you wolves are hungry, no worries I got a few clips with your species written all over it.” Pico began to unload on these unnatural beings. Bullets destroyed glass and vehicles as he pivoted in place. Releasing a stream of endless silver he killed about five or six of them. Pico blew on the barrel to cool down his two new friends, satisfied at the carnage he had unleashed Pico smirked. He stood relaxed for a bit but sounds of growling could be heard in great number behind him. Pico turned to view thousands of werewolves waiting to feed on his flesh and bones.

            These dogs of war salivated at the sight of their new prey, “I’m glad you guys are hungry cause you’re gonna have to work for it.” Pico reloaded his guns and began to unload once more, these creatures limbs were cut from there very bodies at the speed and velocity these bullets were moving. Pico ran further down the street running into a female dressed in pink. Feeling like a hero he reaches over grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in closer. Pico kisses her then throws her to the side to continue fighting the werewolf scourge. “Every badass needs a kiss before they go into battle.” The werewolves chased Pico into a dead end, instead of stopping Pico continued to run lifting a leg knee high and running up the wall. Pico stopped running two-thirds up the wall and flipped. The werewolves leaped at him, Pico denied the werewolves their dinner and fed them a nutritious meal of silver; the bullets penetrating their skulls and killing them on contact. Pico dropped one of the Tech-9s and reloaded another, “I think I’m starting to get the hang of this.” Pico shot through the night sky like a star leaving this place behind for a new one.

            The wind smelled of fish and sea salt. Pico plummeted toward what seemed to be a ship; a sailor looked out at sea admiring the vastness. Pico lands on top of him crushing the sailor under his weight. The ship’s captain glares at Pico from across the deck. “Give it up Pico!!!” the captain exclaims while pointing a gloved finger in his direction. Defiantly, Pico steps on the wooden railing and points a sword at the captain. “Over my dead body,” Pico jumps and grabs a rope hanging from the mast. He swings down and slashes the ship’s crew, slicing off ears, arms, and heads. Each crewmate challenged Pico but none were able to get the better of him in swordsmanship. Pico was secretly a master in hand to hand combat, parrying an attack Pico slices off the arm of a sailor. A sailor comes from behind but Pico was not that easy to sneak attack. The sailor thrust his sword and in response Pico elbowed him in the nose and then proceeded to knee then kick him in the face. This knocked the sailor’s eyeballs out of their respective sockets.

            A bald muscular sailor approached Pico, ‘I’ll run ye’ through,” he said as he clenched his fists. Pico gave a twisted smile of joy and sliced off the man’s head. Blood plastered the faces of the sailors as Pico went on a killing spree littering the deck with body parts and swords that still had hands clenching the hilt. A dimwitted deckhand scrubbed the deck but blood soon overtook the soap and water that once filled the bristles of the brush. Pico fought two sailors as he was backed up the stairs right to the captain. “These seas are mine,” the captain points his sword at Pico and Pico spins his sword accepting the challenge. The two swords clashed, youth versus experience. The captain slashed and Pico parried, punching the captain in the face. Quickly the captain pulls out his flintlock pistol aiming it at Pico. Pico smiles and dodges the shot, kicking the pistol out of his hands and backing him to the edge of the ship. The captain yields in defeat but the crewmates quickly envelop the deck of the ship completely surrounding Pico. Pico points his sword at the crewmates to keep them at bay but there are too many to fight, too many to fight fair anyway. Quickly Pico reaches into his pocket revealing a single grenade; he pulls the pin letting it hit the deck. Pico tosses the live grenade to the captain, “Yaaarrgghhh,” the captain says in surprise. Just as the grenade explodes Pico jumps overboard, the explosion claims everyone on the ship. Pico can feel himself getting lighter as he fades away from this dimension.

            Pico opens his eyes to see a familiar flashing red light; it was the light of the strip club across the street. He had finally found his way home but surely no one would believe him about his entire journey. The whole thing seemed like one big dream, yet it all seemed so real. He looked into the alleyway and saw as the tank went from a bright gold to a dull bronze, Pico walked back onto the streets of downtown LA. That was enough death and carnage for one day so he headed home, the tank let out one last glow before dimming back to its original bull bronze. The tank remained in the alleyway it was the only proof that Pico had of all his exploits. Maybe he’d go for another round on another day.