Author Topic: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player  (Read 3819 times)

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Offline gh, King of Birbs

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #45 on: April 25, 2016, 12:02:05 PM »
Sort of. There were a few points where I sat there like, "alright, what the hell is he gonna say?" :P
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Offline Cloak

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #46 on: April 25, 2016, 04:25:11 PM »
Ah. Well, then I put my foot in my mouth. ;)

And I notice that you don't shy away from language that I usually refrain from using. I mean, sure, I use the occasional "damn" or "hell", but, usually, nothing more than that. (Realm Walker curses don't really count, because then I would be technically using "Goddamn" a lot. ;))
« Last Edit: April 25, 2016, 04:27:30 PM by CloakedFigure »


Book 162: "Dark RAFians"
Chapter 20: "Penny-Unwise"
(December 14, 2017)

RAFians Referenced Specifically: Demos and myself.

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #47 on: April 26, 2016, 03:57:45 AM »
I think that's just kind of more of a personal thing. I swear a lot in real life, so it was kinda bound to come across in my writing :P

Probably gonna be a new chapter later tonight.

:edit: New chapter



Chapter 15: Breakdown

Logan played another low, droning chord. The bass frequencies resonating in the empty building bred an absolute cacophony, much to Logan's surprise. Exactly how loud could this thing get? It already seemed to be moving some serious air.

He didn't have much time to ponder this, though, as Dimitri quickly picked up and began playing his own guitar, adding to the sonic maelstrom. Logan promptly picked up his own playing until the two were riffing at the exact same speed, harmonizing perfectly. Had either guitarist paused to consider, it would have seemed rather odd, especially taking into account that neither were consciously building off the other musically. It was almost as if the instruments were speaking to each other, as one glorious swansong. . . .

Dimitri began playing a graceful, sweeping shred lead part. All the struggles of withdrawal . . . it could stop, as long as he could get that guitar. If only he could get one more dose. . . . All the pain, all the nausea had built up for the past couple weeks. He had tried to maintain a cool facade and make it seem like nothing was wrong. And for the most part, it was convincing. But at this moment, it all spilled over, clouding his mind, impairing his judgment, to the point where all he could think of was that goddamn guitar.

With his head pointed straight at the ground, Logan played a blistering riff, working his way up the fretboard and gradually transforming the riff into an aggressive solo. It was all he could do to not simply lose control and slam his pick against the strings, as every instinct he had was screaming at him to give in to his anger. This impulse was strong, nigh irresistible, but the one lucid part of his consciousness wanted to spare Dimitri. He's an addict, this part of Logan's brain reasoned. Delusional. He can't even think straight. But . . . how could Logan forgive him!? He had lied to, and even worse, used him! And with every note, every minute vibration of the guitar's strings, it became harder to resist his primal, violent urges.

Astoundingly, the building was holding up, in spite of the massive air displacement within. The years of neglect seemed to have no effect on the structural integrity of the abandoned Gerow's. It may have been due to the empty doorway allowing the pressure to remain somewhat even, or even some other unknown force. Regardless, this was of no concern to the dueling guitarists – particularly Logan, who seemed to be giving in to his rage. His playing grew more frantic with each passing second, and though Dimitri tried to keep up, Logan's playing was on another level completely. All that kept him grounded to his morals had abandoned him, leaving only bitter hatred.

It was clear that Dimitri couldn't win this battle. But there was no way he could stop playing; the wall of sound radiating from his guitar was the only thing protecting him from Logan's onslaught. The only way he could stop the madness was to wait until Logan could play no more and collapsed from exhaustion.

For a moment, it appeared that this was going to happen. Logan's breathing slowed, his knees starting to buckle and pupils rolling upward behind his eyelids. A crimson substance flowed unfettered from his nostrils. But still, his playing intensified, fueled by pure hatred and force of will. His mind grew more clouded, until his mind was no longer in the abandoned store. . . .

* * *

Logan stood in a white void, completely surrounded by nothingness. Confused, he glanced around, only to find that there was absolutely nothing in this realm. “What the hell,” he said – although, with nothing to reflect the sound of his voice, it simply carried into the infinite expanse of the place he was standing in.

Ah, Logan. It's nice to finally speak to you. This sound . . . was it even a sound? This thought, this idea, filled Logan's entire being, shaking him to his very core.

“Who was that!?” he demanded.

A spirit, perhaps? A part of you? It all depends on how you interpret things.

This answer did nothing to assuage Logan's confusion. Instead, it only seemed to annoy him. “Great, I'm going crazy. You mind explaining what's going on here?”

You think you can simply demand answers, Logan? You have no power over me. None at all.

“What are you even talking about? Where even AM I?”

The entity addressing Logan clearly had no interest in answering Logan's questions. Don't worry. Soon, I'll let you go. But just remember, this power of yours is both a gift and a curse. It is only limited only by your own conscious actions. Use it how you will, but be aware of the consequences. And remember: if anything comes of this that you will regret, you only have yourself to blame. . . .

With that, Logan's vision began to dim. Suddenly, he felt exhausted. And as he began to slip out of the void, questions filled his mind. What was this? A dream? A vision? And who was that voice? Of course, these questions would not be answered, as this encounter would only remain as a cloudy, unclear fragment of an all too vivid memory. . . .
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Offline Cloak

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #48 on: April 26, 2016, 11:26:56 AM »
"Logan of Earth, you have great rage in your heart. You belong to the Red Lantern Corps."

Seriously, though, I'm curious. How many chapters have you outlined for this, GH? You're not obligated to answer, of course.


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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #49 on: April 26, 2016, 11:32:54 AM »
I have I believe 21 outlined, but I've already condensed it quite a bit. Probably gonna end up somewhere around 18 by the time I'm done.
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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #50 on: April 26, 2016, 11:35:21 AM »
Ah, 'kay.


Book 162: "Dark RAFians"
Chapter 20: "Penny-Unwise"
(December 14, 2017)

RAFians Referenced Specifically: Demos and myself.

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #51 on: April 27, 2016, 10:00:52 PM »
New chapter



Chapter 16: Swansong

It was dark outside before Logan finally regained consciousness. When he finally did, everything was a complete blur to him. Where was he? Why was this building completely destroyed? And possibly most important, why were his hands a bloody mess? Still somewhat dazed, Logan pulled out his cell phone and booted up his flashlight app. The now-decimated building filled with light, revealing its state to be even worse than he could see with just the light of the moon. “What the hell. . . .”

Then, he saw it. Dimitri's motionless, lifeless body. As if this sight managed to tap into his mind, the memories came flooding back. And it was at that moment that Logan had realized just what he'd done.

“Oh, god,” he muttered in disbelief, running over to Dimitri's dead body. “Oh god, ****, NO!” He didn't bother screaming or pleading for Dimitri to wake up. Didn't bother reasoning. He knew it would be futile. Instead, he just stood in silence, contemplating what had happened. And Logan knew that no matter how much he would rationalize, it was entirely his fault.

I can't stand here forever. I have to do something. . . . Slowly, Logan's gaze turned to Dimitri's guitar, which somehow ended up on the opposite wall, still in one piece. In Logan's mind, there was only one thing to do to the instrument while paying respect to its owner. There was no way he could use it . . . not with the memory so fresh in his mind.

Logan fished in Dimitri's pants pocket until he found what he needed – a sky-blue Bic lighter. He held the flame to Dimitri's guitar, and it caught flame surprisingly easily, possibly due to the satin finish. Logan sat and watched the instrument burn, the flames illuminating the desecrated store. The guitar burned for quite a while, and when the fire subsided, Logan finally stood up. Without a word, he left the abandoned store, and Dimitri's body with it.

* * *

Logan walked back to his house in complete silence, eyes dry from the heat of the burning guitar and pure exhaustion. He couldn't rest just yet, though.

Logan silently opened the door to his house. He looked at the digital clock above his stove and only just realized that it was two in the morning. Still early for him, but everything leading up to that night had drained him. Thankfully, his father and stepmother were relatively heavy sleepers, and it was normal for Logan to enter and leave the house at strange hours.

Logan stuffed a backpack full of things he would need – clothes, spare sneakers, a laptop, a phone charger, and a few cans of soda. He packed his guitar in its case, as it would be hard to keep it strapped on with the backpack. He grabbed what remained of his money and a few more things of sentimental value to him. His Game Boy Advance. Guitar effects pedals. An old flash drive that he used throughout high school. His favorite CD's. He didn't expect to use these very often, but he figured he should bring something to remember his old life by.

Leaving his house just as silently as he entered, Logan began his journey. He walked all night, in no particular direction. It wasn't until well after the sun had come up that he stopped in the next town over. He checked his phone battery – twenty-eight percent. More than enough. He made the call that he had been quietly dreading ever since he left home for the final time.

“Hello?”
“Hey, dad? It's me.”

“Hey, where are you? I saw you weren't home this morning.”

“Yeah . . .” Logan took a deep breath, still unsure of whether to go through with what he planned. “Look, this isn't easy for me to say. Like, at all. But something happened last night. I can't go into details, but . . . I can't come back home now.”

“Logan? Is everything alright?”

“Not really.” Logan's voice began to crack. “Look, I'll be fine, don't worry. And I'll try to keep in contact.”

“Alright. It's gonna be lonely here without you, you know.”

“You have Jess. I think you'll be fine.”

“Yeah. Well, take care of yourself, alright, buddy?”

“You know I will. I love you, old man.”
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Offline Cloak

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #52 on: April 27, 2016, 10:11:30 PM »
So, GH has killed Dimitri.

Cloak has killed Cataclysm.

No wonder GH decided to tell this to Cloak specifically.


Book 162: "Dark RAFians"
Chapter 20: "Penny-Unwise"
(December 14, 2017)

RAFians Referenced Specifically: Demos and myself.

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #53 on: April 29, 2016, 02:08:23 AM »
;)

New chapter. Last normal chapter, although, there is going to be an epilogue.



Chapter 17: Loose Ends

After the phone call, Logan had no choice but to continue walking. He found it hard to continue, both physically exhausted and emotionally burdened, but something compelled him to keep going. He felt something poking at him through his coat, which he identified as Dimitri's half-finished pack of cigarettes. He took them with him as some sort of a memento. “Screw it,” he mumbled to himself, pulling a white cylinder out of the box. “Why the hell not.”

He lit the cigarette, and upon inhaling, realized exactly how Dimitri started the habit in the first place. The smoke helped calm his frayed nerves, and despite knowing just how detrimental to his health the tobacco was, Logan smoked it down to the filter, riding the subsequent head rush. “I could get used to this. . . .”

Logan passed by a particularly grungy man with long, greasy hair. “Hey, buddy, got an extra one of those?”

“Sorry?”

“A cig, man.”

“Oh! Yeah.” Logan fished in his pocket for another cigarette and handed it to the man.

“Thanks, kid. You're a real hero.”

Logan scoffed at this statement, even though he knew it was hyperbole. “Trust me, I'm anything but.”

“O-kay . . .” The man walked away.

Not long after this, Logan saw a familiar face walking his direction on the sidewalk. It took him a moment to recognize the figure, dressed in a black hoodie, with shoulder-length brown hair and a small but noticeable facial piercing.

“Brynna?” he said when the two converged, almost unable to believe that he had ran into her.

“Oh, hey!” Brynna said cheerfully. “Logan, right?”

“Yeah. What's up?”

“Not much, I guess. You seen Dimitri lately? I haven't talked to him in forever.”

Logan sighed, having anticipated this question. Feeling a sense of obligation, he relayed what had happened to Brynna, who listened patiently.

“Damn,” she said once Logan finished. “I knew D had problems, but . . .” She trailed off, not entirely sure how to react.

“Yeah,” Logan said solemnly, gaze transfixed to the sidewalk. “So if you can't tell, I'm in a bit of a bad place.”

“No joke.”

“Look, I've been doing some thinking, and I don't know if I want this thing anymore.” Logan gestured toward the guitar case that he was carrying. “Enchanted or not, it's way too powerful for someone like me. If this whole . . . debacle taught me anything, I'm not responsible enough for it.”

Brynna raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Wait, you do know that it's not just the guitar itself, right?”

“What?”

“The guitar doesn't have any power itself, Logan. I mean, it does, but it's only for unlocking the potential of the user.”

“Look, I'm not in the mood for some drawn-out explanation.”

Brynna brushed her hair out of her eyes. “What I'm saying is that not just anyone can use that guitar like you did. From the way things sound, Dimitri couldn't even handle his as well as you do. Like it or not, this is your calling.”

This didn't seem to comfort Logan at all. “Great. So I'm stuck with a ****ing murder weapon.”

“Don't think of it like that. Use it how you want. There's a lot of good that needs to be done in this world.” Brynna started to walk away before turning back to Logan. “You ever hear of RAF?”

Logan appeared to think for a moment. “Yeah, I think I saw something about it before. Some sort of vigilante group or something?”

"Sort of. I only ask because I happen to sort of know someone from there.”

“Yeah, I don't think it's for me,” Logan said, shaking his head. “I've got a lot of soul-searching to do here, and fighting crime or whatever isn't exactly on my agenda at the moment.”

“Your choice. By the way, that guitar can do other things as well, but I'll leave you to figure it out. Be safe out there.” And with that, Brynna left.

* * *

Logan spent the better part of the next year wandering the country. He took up odd jobs whenever he needed the money and spent most nights either in homeless shelters or on the couch of any stranger kind enough to take him in. Throughout his travels, he never used his real name – most of the initial cash that he had was spent on fake identification with multiple different names, to protect himself from prosecution should any details of Dimitri's death reach the authorities.

During his time without a home, Logan also found himself lacking any sort of purpose. The only thing that gave him any sense of fulfillment prior to the incident was playing in bands, and he dared not do this to avoid bringing unnecessary attention to himself. Perhaps a bit paranoid, but Logan was not going to take any chances. To compliment this sense of unimportance, Logan fell hard into depression, which compounded with multiple failed attempts to kick his nicotine addiction that he developed.

This all compounded one night when he found himself sitting on the shoulder of a highway overpass, staring down at the traffic. How easy it would have been to just shift his weight forward slightly, sending him plummeting to the road below. All the depression, all the paranoia, would be gone in an instant. . . .

His thoughts shifted to what the grungy man said to him his first day as a wanderer. That day seemed so long ago, but Logan's response still rang in his head as if he had just said it seconds ago. Then, it hit him. Logan was right in saying that he wasn't a hero. But he could change that.

He then remembered what Brynna had told him about RAF, the “vigilante group,” as Logan had called it. Suddenly, Logan realized just how he could give his life purpose. How he could make himself great.

How he could become a hero.

At that moment, suicide became a ridiculous notion to Logan. Foolish. Swinging his legs over the rail, he picked up his guitar that sat on the other side and continued his journey. Although, he now had a purpose for his wandering. He had to find RAF. He had to become a hero. A guitar hero? No, that was way too cheesy. He would be something else.

gh.
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Offline gh, King of Birbs

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #54 on: April 29, 2016, 03:44:44 AM »
Final chapter



Epilogue

gh sighed, as if a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders. “I think that about wraps it up,” he said, fatigue evident in his voice. “There was some other stuff that happened, before I decided to join RAF, but it's not really important. I guess that's all I needed to get out.”

Cloak simply nodded, still processing all that gh had told him. Leatherhead, meanwhile, was fast asleep in his bed. He had dozed off quite early in gh's story – probably for the better, gh thought, as he was most certainly too young to have heard much of it.

“It's a weakness, I know,” gh concluded.

“What is?” Cloak asked, not quite following.

“The anger, or whatever you want to call it. It led me to kill Dimitri. I thought I had it under control. But then, well, that thing with Harrison happened.” gh looked Cloak in his eyes. “That's why I try to hide it, you know? I try not to let the others see that side of me. Not just because they think of me as some coffee-guzzling, happy-go-lucky goofball – not that I mind that role – but because I thought that if I kept it beneath the surface, it would just go away. You know what I'm saying?”

“I do. But you can't keep your anger bottled up. It can't lead to any good.”

“I know!” gh quickly lowered his voice, not wanting to disturb Leatherhead's rest. “I know. But what else can I do?” Cloak remained silent, not quite sure of how to answer this. “Look,” gh said eventually, “it's getting late here, and I really should try to get some sleep. Thanks for listening for so long.”

“It's no problem at all,” Cloak replied. “It takes courage to revisit those memories.”

“Thanks.” gh stood up, moving to open the door for Cloak. “Oh yeah, one more thing.”

“What's that?”

“Can I have my cigarettes back now?”

Cloak simply walked through the open door. “Good night, gh.”
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Offline Cloak

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #55 on: April 29, 2016, 07:18:40 AM »
Oh, I did not realize how close we were to the end.

That last bit. ;)


Book 162: "Dark RAFians"
Chapter 20: "Penny-Unwise"
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Offline Saffa

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #56 on: May 25, 2016, 06:12:00 AM »
Wow, you went ahead and finished it. Damn, that was brilliant.

That last bit of the penultimate chapter sounded like the intro paragraph to Arrow. :P

Huh, funny, I had a spirit encounter in mind for an origin story, too. Maybe this same bored-ass spirit visits several RAFians? We'll never know. ;)

Also, a present for you.
« Last Edit: May 26, 2016, 07:56:05 AM by Saffa »

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #57 on: May 29, 2016, 01:47:49 AM »
Da hell? How did I not notice that you commented until now?  :huh:

And thanks :D I thought when I wrote that bit that it was fairly clear that it was supposed to represent my character's anger communicating with the rational mind, but upon reflection, I think I might have sorta botched it. Oh well, I don't think it really ruins anything. :P

And thanks for the PDF!
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Offline Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)

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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #58 on: July 03, 2016, 05:27:11 PM »
A guitar-based superhero eh?  And some heavy stuff in there too.  I enjoyed reading it. ^^
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Re: Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
« Reply #59 on: July 06, 2016, 09:46:51 PM »
Thanks :D just making it clear that I didn't come up with the character; that was all Cloaky :P
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