Theta Basterd 7
‘These have been dark times; perhaps the darkest in our entire history. (shift lighting to spotlight Hannigan) Thousands of innocents have been killed and thousands more of our armed forces have laid down their lives to defend our homeland. (Make sure the guest star is set to go on stage) Our cities have been taken, our homes have been burned, and our lands have been desecrated by an utmost evil. We as a people have been pushed to the very brink of destruction and we lost hope. We lost hope…(cue band to amp up music) but during these evil times heroes emerged. Heroes emerged and fought the enemy, heroes emerged (crowd starts to cheer and applaud) and gave us back our hope, heroes emerged and saved our nation (crowd is going crazy)! Tonight, one of those heroes is here, tonight with me is the leader of the seven soldiers who single handedly (guest star is on standby) beat back our invaders, and led our armies to victory during this time of great crisis! He has been awarded the Soldier of Valor Medal, the Peoples Soldier Medal, the Victorian Cross, (guest star seems very jittery) and countless ribbons, stars, and other chevrons than I can bother to count! (crowd has reached peak enthusiasm. Guest star turns around and heads right to the fire escape, a look of complete anguish and anger on his face. He kicks the door open and rips off the large Soldier of Valor medal hanging around his neck. The door slams shut. The rest of the stage crew stares at me in shock and I am left not knowing what to do) LADIES AND GENTLEMEN IT IS MY UPMOST HONOR TO PRESENT TO YOU, A TRUE HERO AMONG US, THE THETA BASTERD 7, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN PLEASE WELCOME- (Hannigan catches my shocked face. His face of elation falls and I shrug, slowly shaking my head in disbelief) FUCK! (The crowd instantly stops clapping and stares at Hannigan in shock, as he rages about ratings, contracts, and threatening to fire all the backstage crew, while I wonder what was going on through that poor mans head to make him run away from an interview, but run straight into hell.)’
7777777
It was the couple that gave it away when I handed them their order. He had a shining, slightly glazed look over his eyes, slightly contracted in the shape eyes make when one is smiling lightly. When he said “Thank You” it was just that, real true, thankfulness. Her eyes were also shining, but not of admiration. Her eyes were still slightly red from all the crying she had done and they had narrowed slightly to form an aggressive slit. She did not say thank you at all, and grabbed her cherry vanilla milkshake from the outstretched tray. While both of them made eye contact with me, I could tell that they saw my other self, the one that everyone had seemed to have become aware of, similar to an ancient text being discovered and it’s meaning being argued over.
It was supposed to be a simple walk to the park. Technically speaking in the physical sense it was. I left my cooks hat, my apron, and my spatula at my station; I washed my hands and grabbed a medium sized Lemon-Lime soda for the road, put on my fake camouflage pattern hoodie, placed my shades tightly on the bridge of my nose and walked from point A, that is the restaurant, to point B, that is the park. It is as simple a mental and physiological task as registering a high decibel command to run right straight into hell, or receiving a message from a lover to come join them at the park.
I saw my other self’s face plastered upon the walls, alongside the other faces of my friend’s other selves, with crude imitations of our names etched onto gold plated nametags, on dress uniforms laden with shiny things that did not belong to them. A word that started with ‘H’ was emblazed in a big, gold, looming font that annoyed me, for I had forgotten what the word meant, and if there is one thing that I hate, it is being bested by language.
Language, incredibly powerful, has an energy that can move mountains that can be molded by a man who understands its complex science. Much like my friends and I have been at the mercy of the masters in ballistics, the masters in physics, the masters in biochemistry, and the masters in machinery, the science I choose to master is that of the mind, and my weapon is not built on ballistics or machinery, but on language.
The green building where I received my first kiss at the entryway was being properly demolished. There was still an ugly reddish-brown stain on the fourth floor in room 417 from where men ceased to be and where DC-50179K8-B1 kicks a door in and blows off a nameless someone’s arm, and continues to rip open another nameless someone’s chest. Two point four seconds later, IC-44781R4-B3 rushes in and creates a perfectly round circle, its radius equal on all sides, in another nameless someone’s forehead, thus ensuring that the room is safe for IC-243416S2-B4 to burst in and rifle through the desk littered with maps and other documents. I’m guarding the entrance to the door as well as a wounded comrade, which both IC-666439A2-B5 and SC-013445G7-B2 are attending to, alongside XC-070981P3-B6 when I identify three dark figures down at an intersection in the never-ending yellow-carpeted hallway to my left. Instinctively I know they are not of us and I unleash a hail of fire and metal at them, severing number one’s spinal cord in two places, exploding his heart, rupturing the left lung in three different points, breaking the second and third ribs, and perform a rudimentary tracheotomy. Number two had their left collar bone split in two, their solar plexus broken in four parts, the left knee exploded, and the right leg broken at both the shin and thigh area. Both fell, one was screaming, one was not.
Number three pivots to the right, and bolts down the other hall. As I sprint after number three, I shut number two up so number three can hear me scream at the top of my lungs the words ‘I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU’, my voice, unrecognizable, hoarse and baritone moves through number three’s body like sand moves through a wire screen. Three feels it in every bone in his body, the individual phonemes and morphemes being registered by his brain; the ‘I’, harsh sounding, brief, and personal, the introduction to the treaty we are about to make and lets three know that I am the more powerful party at this rendezvous. Next three’s mind identifies ‘WILL’; the confirmation that action shall follow, swift and unforgiving, hence, why it is also a homophone describing ones inner force, the long ‘L’ lingering in the air longer than it should be. My favorite, ‘FUCKING’, a vulgar and arcane adverb for the scenario, but an instinctive way to channel all the pure hate in my gut, rolls gracefully off of my tongue with a buildup in the ‘fff’, the prolonged scream of anger in the ‘uuuuhhhh’ and the abrupt explosion in the hard ‘ck’ sound, and it gracefully eases away just as it entered with the ‘eeeng’ sound, flows nicely into the softer ‘mmmmm’ that also acts as a dramatic buildup for the long ‘uuurrrr’ with anger being detected as the ‘rrr’ sound becomes gravely leading up to the sudden and simple ‘dd’ as though one is hitting a brick wall, to be then scraped off and rolled into an anticlimaxing ‘eerr’. Then the finale ‘YOU’, just as short and abrupt as it started, concludes the declaration and three knows that he has seconds at most to live.
I finish my tasty lemon lime soda, thankful that no one has recognized my similarity to my other self so as to not create a scene. I deviate slightly from my original course in search of a recycling-can, both wishing to dispose of waste properly and ensure a slightly greener place, and in an attempt to fulfill the false idea that small good deeds can outweigh colossal bad deeds.
I spotted the lovely blue shaded recycling-can across the street and wove in between the light midday traffic to reach it. There was a grizzly looking man in a plaid hoodie and checkered scarf with worn jeans and boots that I instantly knew were not his, for they were the type worn by those who had recently invaded us. A brief urge to run up to him and blow his throat out came over me and I saw the flimsy cardboard sign with ‘house bombed the fuck out, wife dead, please help/fuck the Rockies’. He smoked a cigarette with a stench that repulsed equally distraught pasersbys who were still kind enough even in this time to offer him brief words of reassurance that he ignored and give him various bits of change. I tossed my empty cup into the can and pushed my shades up a little higher when I turned around to find my vision shrouded in gray squares of varying shades. ‘It’s you annit?! It’s fahkin you with yohr fahkin fas all plastuhd ovuh the fahkin wallz!’ he bellowed, towering over me as I realized I was on the pavement. The cigarette dripped little bits of ash on me and a little mad rope of saliva dribbled from his mouth onto my stomach. ‘You’re thah bastahd who made shure we wuhr thah last to be saved! You abanduhnd your own people! You left your home to be eatehn by thah wolfes you fuhkin cuhnt!’ His figure completely fills my vision, but I can sense that a small crowd has begun to form in an attempt to register my identity and take sides in this small conflict.
‘While you were afff fighten over an already dead and saffee citie, you leave those dieeeing and suffreeng and being murdered tuh be held captive by thah enehmy!’
I felt my face flush red and my fists clench but before I can respond to his only-half correct accusation when a bystander in the crowd shouts ‘Hey man leave that guy alone! He aint Theta Basterd 7 he’s way too short and too light skinned’ And another voice ‘Yeah, and don’t disrespect Theta 7 like that mister, the man is a hero.’ I started helping myself up when a pale finger was thrust at my nose making me cross-eyed beneath my sunglasses ‘Itzz him! Itzz him I tell you, the Feta Bastard my ass, it izz him! He could haff saved us, but NO! NNNOOO! Him and hizz Feta Bastards go off to liberate some offah citee! Did you know that the Feta Bastard 7 is from this city? That he is from the very streets that he was birthed in and-‘
‘Ok that’s enough man, stop dissing Theta Bastard 7! If it wasn’t for him, we’d all be dead alright?’
I managed to haul myself up, and the plaid man had turned on my supposed ‘good Samaritan’. He had a completely boring appearance about him, and he could no better defend the fabled ‘Theta Basterd 7’ no more than he could defend himself if he actually stayed in the city when the fighting started. The plaid man started up again on the boring man. ‘Whattcha know about it? By the looka youu, I bet you eeva-q-ated your lilly ass outa here as soon as they hit the coasts! You don’t know nuffin ovvv loss man, nuffin at all! You don’t know the feelin of seeing your wiffus dead and gone body, nor that off youur child. You don’t know thah feelen of bein told that you gonna be stooped fohr thah resta your liehf cuz of a high velossitee peeaca metal got lodged in your head. You don-‘
Seeing that I had a window of opportunity to escape unnoticed I swiftly crossed the street again, glancing at the boring mans face, noticing the small arrogant lines embedded in his face, his genetically dictated aristocratic face and eyes, the kind of face that deserves to have a round put right through it and shoved in a blender.
I began nearing the rally point. The sun was starting to cast its rays down harsher on everyone and causing the lake at my two o’clock to become blindingly white. Two small children running around by a tree playing a game of tag, silhouetted by the lakes reflection of light, and I smiled slightly seeing that things can start to return to being childish and innocent again. As I got closer to them, I saw that they both had two little plastic pistols and bits of their chatter made it to my ears.
‘Bang bang bang, now you’re dead!’
‘No I’m not, no I’m not, you missed me!’
‘Did not! I’m Theta Basterd 3 and he’s the best shot in the entire Army!’
‘No you’re not, you’re one of the evil Blackies! I’m Theta Basterd 7, the hero of the Rockies and the Army!’
‘The Rockies and the Army are the same thing dumbo! And you’re not Theta Basterd 7, I am!’
‘No you can’t be Theta Basterd 7, you said you were Theta Basterd 3!’
‘No I didn’t you liar! I said I was Theta Basterd 7 from the beginning you dumbo liar!’
‘No you just said you were Theta Basterd 3 stupid!’
‘Since when?!’
‘Since like two seconds ago, god!’
‘Well since I’m older than you, I know more, so what I say is right, and I say that you are a liar! I am Theta Basterd 7!
‘Well you still can’t be Theta Basterd 7, cuz you’re a girl, and Theta Basterd 7 is a guy!’
‘So? I can preteendd to be Theta Basterd 7, that’s why its called ‘pretened’ stupid face.’
‘Stop calling me names!’
‘Oh yeah? Or what?’
‘Or I’ll shoot you! Bang bang bang, you’re dead!’
‘No, you can’t kill Theta Basterd 7 becau-‘
The articulate debate became fainter as I thankfully managed to get out of range of their shouting, rabidly wishing both kids would explode into bloody masses of nothingness and I spotted the nice and bright playground in the high sunlight. The kids who were not pretending to be the godfuckingdamn Theta Basterds were gaily clambering on the assortment of slides, poles, and platforms, not noticing that the grey fireman’s pole was actually a severed tank barrel. I wondered if kids would have so willingly played on it if it were still attached to its original structure.
A little girl with a blue skirt ran down the slide, a boy with a white polo jumped off of a swing, and a woman in a soft olive colored dress, cradling a bundle of grey digital style camouflaged blankets, sat on an old rickety bench staring somewhere in between the blinding lake and her child’s face is was brought me back to the green building where I had my first kiss in the entryway that was being properly demolished.
The ugly reddish-brown stain was fresh in room 417, Theta Basterds 1,3 and 4 are clearing the room but are becoming aware of something going wrong, because Theta Basterd 6 is yelling at me to come back. Coincidentally, Theta Basterd 5 and 2 start moving the friendly chest injury into room 417 since it is now clear, and they both spot the two black nameless someone’s in the hallway intersection and alongside Theta Basterd 6 yell at me to ‘not do anything stupid’. Number three loses his footing slightly as he starts to take a corner to quickly, which only makes it easier to connect with him, and I start to feel us go against gravity’s pull. For a brief moment I feel an intake of breathe flood his lungs, causing his chest to rise and his heart to accelerate, but both his rising chest and racing heart momentarily stop due to the sudden change in momentum. His chest and heart soon resume their clumsy and panicky movements, and number three’s helmeted head protects from the initial impact against the glass, it does not protect his face from opening into a series of angry flowing red scratches. Small raindrop like orbs of rainbow fill my vision, as large shards of sharpness throw light carelessly around my eyes and my eye is occasionally reflected off of its surface. I feel more red begin to flow out of my face, exposed fingers, and tear open new wounds along my body, mixing with the already dry blood that covers me. We pass through the field of rainbows and light and blood and for a moment are suspended in the spring air of a dying city.
I saw a figure in a pink shirt lying face down in the gutter and thought ‘Why would anyone fall asleep there? Oh wait, they’re dead…’In my peripheral vision I could see the smoke rising up like hungry snakes, uncoiling from their baskets in search of food, and the my bottom field of vision was filled with green. A muffled and monotonous tone rang through the air but I could not identify what it was, other than it being very very close to me. A plane was flying overhead leaving a lovely cotton candy like trail in its wake and the sky was oddly blue despite the bombs and the blood. It was a serenely beautiful moment, so I decided to try and close my eyes to meditate.
And then, gravity kicked in.
The sound became incredibly clear and real in my mind, as we fell to the asphalt, the color green still dominating the bottom half of my vision. I become slightly bored with this arbitrary decision of physics, so I pull myself upward so I can look number three right in the eyes and shout ‘I TOLD YOU!’, thus completing our treaty. The noise stops, and number three looks at me, his face all red and white with two shocking bits of green, completely horrified. His panicked eyes looking right into my monstrous ones, his open silently screaming mouth in envy of my tight lipped resolved. And then hammers hit every millimeter of my body and I am thrown up into the air and land with a thud on top of number three. I close my eyes and cry out in pain, as I can feel every organ in my body protest my action.
I open my eyes and look into number threes face. Some funny chunky pinkish liquid not unlike the left over ice cream from a cherry vanilla milkshake was coming out of his head. His jaw had shifted to a rather extreme angle and I could see part of his half severed tongue lolling out of his mouth. Cherry syrup was coming out of his nose, mouth, and the corners of his eyes, which still had that terribly frightened look etched into their greenness that was so much like mine, only more European than Mediterranean. I hear something violently opened behind me, and a force just as powerful as gravity yanked me off of number three and Theta Basterd 6 started berating me about both being ok and being an idiot. The rest of them took up standard Medical Recovery Formation D4 and Theta Basterd 5 gave me a general checkup, which was also about the time I decided it would be a good idea to pass out.
I woke up in a ditch with a dead person right next to me, craving a cheeseburger. Her chest was exploded outward and I could see the dirt through the small hole where her heart should have been. Her eyes were staring down sightlessly at my empty, bleeding right hand. I stared at her expecting her to jump up and choke the life out of me.
As usual nothing spectacular happened.
Theta Basterd 6 walked up to me and handed me my rifle. I took my instrument and his offered hand to pull me up and we walked off to join the rest of the squad. They offered me words of backhand comfort and awaited my orders. I looked at them all and softly said ‘Lets kill stuff.’
A refreshing gust of chilling wind blew into my face as I removed my sunglasses and hood, and crashed down on the bench next to her. I buried my head deep into her shoulder and wrapped my arms around her and the child, inhaling her scent of unnamable feminosity similar to that of unlit cigarettes, strawberries, and vanilla. I felt my eyes close and her face brush against mine as she rotated herself so I could better embrace her and tighten my grip, desperate for a miracle.
I felt liquid gush out of my eyes and small drips fall on my head, as the child wondered why Daddy and Mommy were doing such a babyish thing.
‘To all you self proclaimed Holy Men, I offer you a challenge! I am about to commit atrocity upon atrocity in order to do something that may end up being considered an act of good, even martyrdom! I challenge you to try and save my soul! I challenge you to convince your Holy Higher Power that I am still worthy of salvation and more importantly I challenge you to convince me that I do not deserve to be hung!’
