1 When the Glock Cometh

Andrew Dropped to his knees. Blood spilled from the man in front of him. The man stretched his hand forward. He unclenched his fist and said, "There's a hell waiting for you and me." The arm dropped, falling limp. No power. No strength. No life. How can a young man keep his way pure, when death stares with a bitter grin.

Andrew stayed on his knees. He muttered to himself, "Dad… Dad… d-d… ha!"

Tears streamed down his face.

Maniacal laughter started as he lifted his arms into the air and said, "I hate this world!"

Then, a string of text appeared on what seemed to be a holographic panel. Andrew didn't care.

The text said in Helvetica Neue font, "Welcome to the Different Dimension System. Please select a font."

Andrew stared at the corpse of his father. He bit his lip causing blood to drip from his mouth. He scraped the concrete floor of parking garage. He heard the sound of sirens. He cared not for the consequences. He cared not about the police. He didn't care about his impending doom: the emotion dominating his heart contorted his face into a grimace then a scowl, and finally, a grin. He grinned at the ground: he grinned at himself, and he grinned at the holographic text.

He selected Times New Roman font: he regretted nothing.

The string of text changed to "please select a mood."

Andrew chose hate.

The string of text changed once more, "Now transporting both individuals to different dimensional Poland.

"Both?"

Andrew looked at his Dad.

He saw his Dad flickering as sparks flew from his body. He saw sparks fly from his own body. He saw two weapons spark as well.

"Weapons and knife assigned."

"Knife to Father"

"Glock to son."

"Welcome to: Different Dimensional Poland.

Topic: hatred"

He grinned and grinned again.

The two bodies disappeared as police cars rushed up the parking garage to a silhouette in blood.