Bloody Sabotage

Dusk blankets the city, black clouds smother any sliver of light that is this dying sun. Towers of smoke bellow out from these grey obelisks. These breaths of the industry come from the factory grounds, where horns blare and soot-covered workers march into. This could have been just another average day for these labourers, but little did they know that those towers to who they feed will see it crumble.

A fine carriage comes trotting along through the cobbled roads towards this industrious building. Some of the workers watch this luxurious carriage pass them to a more presentable part of the factory grounds.

“Who do you think those folks are?” asks an old man in soot-stained overalls.

“Probably just the nobles, came for business or some shady dealings,” grumbles another disgruntled worker.

“Well, hopefully as long it doesn’t break our backs. They can do whatever they wish.” responds another carrying a sack behind them.

A young man, dirty but not as filthy as the rest, looks to the rest with a cheerful smile.

“Who knows they might be a-” before this could finish, a large figure pushes him by causing him to trip, landing face-first to the ground.

“Oi! What was that for?” shouts the young man.

The looming figure turns their head and simply glares at the fallen man. The young man’s angry bravado blows out like a candle in the wind, as he looks down and mumbles an apology. This intimidating figure, dressed in a stained dark blue jumpsuit, his lower face covered by a bandana. What can be seen is his smoky hair that ends with dreadlocks, dark tanned skin and eyes like fire. He marches on uncaring of the workers in his way.

The old man helps him up, gives him a pat on the back.

“Be careful, you’re only a month in, we don’t want to be losing you so soon,” the old man comforts the young spooked worker

“Ye-yes. Let’s keep going,” young worker takes a shaky breath and walks along.

“You know the big guy, haven’t seen him before.” The prickly worker whispers to the old man, as he looks suspiciously at the large figure walking ahead.

“Probably a new transfer, with his size a heavy lifter. Let’s not bother the details and get on with it,” whispers the old man back as he moves along with the rest.

The carriage doors open up revealing two finely dressed people and a strange figure in black ceremonial garbs. They are greeted at the doors with two guards and a chubby senior figure in a fancy business suit as he exclaims out in a jolly voice.

“What a pleasure to have you both, Ms Dalmore and Mr Rowan! It’s good to have you and your… ‘associate’ with us!”

“And a pleasure to be here! Please call me, Brandon Mr Clermont,” laughs the gentleman of the trio that has just arrived as he goes to shake Clermont’s hand.

Brandon Rowan, is a lean and tall figure, with black combed back hair, pale skin with sharp facial features and a beak-like nose. His smile wide, his stance straight and proper with a friendly demeanour. He wears a clean, pristine and tame suit compared to Clermont’s outlandish outfit.

“Ms Dalmore and I are quite intrigued to talk further business, our associate here, Hex. She will participate as a neutral party to our dealings here.” Brandon smiles his tone polite as he turns his head like that of an intrigued crow.

“How about you tell us more of your business Mr Clermont as you show us the facilities?” with a courteous smile Ms Dalmore motions to the path ahead of them.

“Yes! Let us begin!” exclaims Mr Clermont as he takes the lead of the group.

This group of fine people are led through the finer parts of this great industrial establishment. In loud clean offices where the clerks, secretaries and attendants record and collect the finances of the factory. They pass by these hectic offices, far from these furious accountants gathering the details of the riches from the back-breaking work of their labourers.

Within the factory floor, where great gears turn and roll in the toiling machines of the factory. The workers feed the mouths of these machine with bellies fuming with fire. Scooping up great shovel loads like great spoonfuls of coal into these hungry machines. The workers go by as they are showered by sparks, made filthy by the coal dust and beaten down by the heat of the furnaces of the factory.

The young man, along with his two compatriots and two other workers, begins their shifts shovelling coal and maintaining the great iron organs of the factory. The terrifying giant is set to the heavy labour in carrying great loads of steel and iron. He carries them with such ease like it were his morning groceries. However, strangely he looks up most of the time, to the blackened iron ceiling and exposed rafters that hold this establishment together. Searching for something skulking up there in the iron rafts of the factory.

Up there is a figure crawling, swinging and climbing across in a stealthy grace. He plants strange little inventions that tick like clocks. He hides them on great metallic machines that keep the factory alive and working. Dressed in fitting black clothes with peculiar goggles to cover his eyes, he gets to work in placing these little devices onto the unknowing working populace.

Another strange worker also begins to set up these strange ticking devices into the machines. A mousy figure, their skin pale with short brown hair, but their eyes are an abyssal black. Their eyes similar to a demon, but they keep them hidden with a workers cap hung low. They are set with their small size into working on the mechanisms of the factory.

As these three suspicious figures are set to work, in the intense working grounds of the factory, a pristine and gaudy office looks over them. Like the nest of an eagle, it’s perched ever watchful and vigilant on the working grounds.

Mr Clermont opens up to his office leading his new guests in as he takes his seat behind a majestic wooden desk.

“Please take a seat, what dealings are you hoping to discuss with?” he asks as he leans back on his fine chair.

The two nobles, Ms Dalmore and Brandon take their seats facing Mr Clermont as they look out towards the factory working behind him. As for their mystical ally, they simply wait by the door in the room, their face was hidden under their dark hood.

“Our intentions are quite simple, Mr Clermont, we would discuss your business workings,” Brandon begins with a coy smile.

“Well please do go on, my good man! What do you seek?” Mr Clermont leans closer eager to hear more.

“We want you to shut your factory down and hand everything to our employer, would that be possible?” Ms Dalmore chimes with her honeyed threat.

Mr Clermont looks at Ms Dalmore quite shocked, but bursts out laughing, not taking at all what she said seriously.

“My oh my, Ms Dalmore! You certainly do know how to sweep a person off their feet!” guffaws Mr Clermont.

“Honestly Elizabeth, why must you be so blunt.” Brandon sighs as he whispers over to her with a tired look as Mr Clermont continues to laugh loudly.

Brandon just waits for Mr Clermont to calm down, but looks out through the window at factory inner workings. Most of the soot-covered workers trudge along with their duties. The strange workers go along keeping up the ruse of their disguises. Nobody the wiser or suspicious of what’s truly happening.

“What a lovely jest Ms Dalmore, don’t you think Brandon?” asks Mr Clermont as he wipes a tear away from his eye as he takes a breath.

Brandon just smiles. That friendly magnetism he once had, has simply vanished. Leaving but a cold serious look in his eyes, with that smile to keep up appearances. Mr Clermont begins to notice, that this isn’t a joke, but incredibly serious.

“What is the meaning of this sir? Must be joking like I’ll give up my business to anyone!” growls Mr Clermont as he glares at them.

“We didn’t come just asking you to do so, Mr Clermont. We are telling you to do so, and if you don’t things will become certainly unpleasant.” Elizabeth Dalmore smiles her tone sharp and direct.

Mr Clermont slams his fists and roars out.

“Guards removes these halfwits from my office!”

The same two guards that escorted them through enters the office. Before they could lay their hands on Brandon and Elizabeth, they are flung hard on the wall. Shadowy claws cling to their necks, as it chokes them to the wall. The claws like wisps of a dark smoke snake from the hooded figure at the back of the room. They remove their hood to reveal a terrifying porcelain mask of a demonic face. The two guards struggle as they gasp for air till a sudden snap brings them still. The claws let go with the two bodies slumped on the floor.

Mr Clermont’s face once red with fury, has been flushed away as it is now pale with fright. He tries to open his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

“Well Mr Clermont I believe it is recommended you do it, or should we exert our capabilities in making sure you do as you are told?” Brandon asks, his tone calm but malicious.

Mr Clermont complies as he begins rummaging through his desk and start compiling a document for them. After a few minutes, he completes whatever paperwork is needed and hands a pristine folder of documents for them. He hands it all directly to them, Elizabeth snatches it from him and read through it, she looks at it quite pleased and satisfied with it.

“This will do perfectly for our employer Brandon, perhaps a bit of reconstruction from top to bottom?” she wonders as she looks to the factory floor.

Mr Clermont feeling the sweat on his brow, the cold tingling shiver of death that has happened before his eyes. He sees one of the letter openers he has on his desk. Shaped to that of a dagger. He stares at it, and what seems like just a flash of survival taking control, he grabs it and is about to stab down on Elizabeth. But in a fast movement, she turns and takes said dagger from his hand and plunges it into his throat.

“Oh Mr Clermont,” tuts Elizabeth disapprovingly as she twists the blade and pushes it deeper into him.

He gurgles out a few words, but nothing coherent as he slumps down onto floor the dagger letter opener protruding from his throat.

Brandon stands and looks out to the unknowing factory floor, of the murders and the frightening transition. He sees the lumbering figure who has stopped to stare up at him as if awaiting a command. Brandon simply slides his finger across his own throat, with a disgustful sneer at the workers below. The giant nods.

“Well guess I should tell those accountants that they are to have a day off,” Brandon fixes his tie and heads toward the door of the office.

“Yes let’s just head back and get on with it, we’ve got what is needed officially. Let them handle the wreckage,” Elizabeth gives a coy smile as she moves with a thumb to the workers below.

The masked figure pulls their hood up and walks along, uncaring of the deaths in the room. The three head down, coercing the accountants, secretaries and clerks to head back home. The lot although some looked confused as to why one simply just packed their bag and left. The others simply followed along, finishing up gossip and planning of what else to do for their day. The two nobles and their mystical ally get on their carriage.

“You know where to get next, we’ll meet with our compatriots thereafter they are done,” Brandon calls out to the driver as he gets comfortable in his seat.

The driver does as he is told and rocks the horses to action. Carrying them away to an unknown destination. However in the factory, the trio there have been given the signal to finish their side of the job.

The giant grabs an iron bar from a pile he’s supposed to carry and heads to the main entrance where all the workers have entered. He takes this iron bar through the loops of the door, and bends them into a knot, as if like clay. One of the larger workers sees this shocked by this strength, but motions his friends to accompany alongside him against this strange man.

“Hey mate! What are you doing that for? How we going to remove that now?” shouts the worker, as he grabs a hammer and waves it threateningly towards him.

The giant pulls down his bandana and turns to them. Revealing what’s under it, simply a smile, the giant had a nice big simple smile on him. Yet the teeth look like that of a shark, triangular and sharp. The workers see this large and monstrous smile before another word can be spoken, he descends upon them like a tornado of fury.

The factory floor bursts into screams of horror and pain. Before a further panic begins to spread through, great explosions erupt from their gears and inner workings. The workers try to find exits to escape from the chaos, but each one has either been locked or blocked by debris. Huge clouds of smoke and dust blind the workers within the factory. Choking them as they are ripped away into death by either explosive fires or the sharp teeth of the monster that is in there with them.

However, through this chaos, one man manages to create an exit of his own, allowing him and four others to escape. These five workers, these five surviving men, have escaped from the madness and destruction of their former working grounds. Cut, bruised, wounded from the chaos of the unexpected demolition. Outside they try to take deep breaths of fresh air, the air cold as a night blanket the city, with a full moon providing illumination to the lowly city beneath its gaze.

“Oh god… what… what happened!” shouts one of the younger men out of the group.

“That man, he just tore into everyone like they were just cloth. He tore Gary with his teeth like it was some slice of bread!” screams out another.

“It doesn't matter now, we got out of there and all we have to do is just live!” shouts another within the group.

Yet as the group argues over trying to make sense of the wreckage that happened. Each of them shouting, trying to figure out what to do. Until the old working man looks up to see a swarm of ravens perched on ledges, watching over them.

“What is going on?” he asks in shock at this truly macabre situation they are in. Before anything else happens the sound of a whip cracks in the air, and a leathery coil grabs at the senior’s leg.

He has pulled away too quickly for the others to save as he was swallowed into darkness. The next thing that followed was a loud bang and a flash, and the faintest colour of crimson was seen under the haunting light of the moon.

The remaining four immediately run, trying to find their route of escape through alleys and streets of their city. One of the workers is ahead of the group, running fast so that he won’t be caught off guard like the old man. He looks back and sees his group getting further away from him, he is faster than them, and he smiles only caring for his survival, after for so long working tirelessly in that factory. He couldn’t believe he was going to live once again.

Only until he was tackled by three of the biggest dogs he has ever seen. Their fur is as black as the coal he flings into the fires, their eyes blood red, and their teeth viciously sharp. Their barks were loud and thunderous, and their bite was painful. They tore the second man apart, limb by limb. They bit hard into the flesh, pulling at the limb to tear free, as for one tore upon the gut of the second man. His screams echoed alongside the ferocious growls and barks of the hounds.

There were only three workers left alive they took a quick turn to get away from these nightmarish hounds and the screams of their fallen co-worker. They continue running further through the city when the third man is strangely caught by a trap. He is suddenly splashed by a strange smelling liquid.

“Oh good lord, what is this? Why does it smell like lamp oil?” he worryingly asks aloud, looking at the muck stuck to him.

Yet with a shock of realisation, before he could do anything to escape this fate, a match is lit. As someone from the darkness flicks this match to him and is set in flames. He wails in pain as he is burned alive. The last two survivors saw their third compatriot burning, screaming in pain, trying to roll around the cold cobbled floor to remove the fire. But to no avail. The final two fled from this atrocious scene.

The last two keep going on, running for dear life. One is the young man, that took notice of the giant and the other, just a teenager, forced to provide for his family. It was only then just as they feel that they are safe, a blur of movement comes, and what the poor teenager sees is the flash of a smile. Not even a scream escapes from his throat as it is already ripped from him. He is torn apart with such ease, that his remains will never identify of who this person was. Just a mess of blood and bone.

The last survivor continues running, he couldn’t look back he just couldn’t.

After what feels like an hour of running, he continues, as much as he wanted to stop, he couldn’t. However, all that Brandon needed to is the aim and pull the trigger. That one simple action was all it took to put a piece of lead through his spine. He screams, he falls and lays their limp. He tries to crawl with his arms, but he was too slow. Brandon puts his boot on his back to stop him from slithering away. The rest of his crew crowds around the whimpering worker. Brandon cocks his gun, reloads once more and rests the barrel carefully on to the back of his dirty head.

“We don’t like loose ends do we everyone?” asks Brandon, towards his crew of savage scoundrels.

“I don’t believe so, how about you lot?” giggles Elizabeth as she looks to the rest.

The masked figure simply shrug.

The small mousey figure with eyes like the night just spits down at the cowering worker.

The one with the goggles that leapt gracefully across the rafts just cross his arms and gives a tired uncaring sigh.

The giant, still dripping with blood from his latest kills simply smiles down at this pitiful survivor.

With that, a loud bang echoes through the area. They all walk back to their carriage, parked patiently waiting for them. Their mission a success. Leaving the last known survivor of their sabotage, dead like a mugging gone wrong with the factory they demolished out in the distance as a burning wreck of iron and smoke.

#horror #shortstory #fiction #creativity #inspiration