Post a Story

Leaner: The Entrance To Hell

1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (No Ratings Yet)



18+ Graphic Scenes


Location: Somewhere in Persistence.

Date: Monday, 9.19.16

Time: Afternoon.



Right Now.

It all started with Leaner lying down across a Booth Table, at The Inn.

Waking up unsure of just how he’d gotten there?

And The Why? The How? The What for?

For once he hadn’t drunken a Keg of Beer! Or partied till all hours

Or taken on a job, during those hours? Hit Job? Random Kidnapping? Interrogation?

Leaner’s head was smarmy, his gait wasn’t steady, and his limbs felt as twisted as his contorted dialects. Bad Date Material? He’d searched for track marks across his skin, but nothing was indelible across the surface. 

He doesn’t shoot up drugs. His Veins Are Clean. No issue there, so

It all started, this morning, after he’d woken up at that booth table, at the Inn. 

Which begs the other question? Where had he been the night before?

Most of which, was a cloud of what the fuck had happened? Where was Tess? The only person in Persistence that’s, (His Anchor): that keeps him solid to this surface. In mind. And…Other places. Dare He Say, His Heart?

It was scary how much Tess was getting to him.

The Little Survivor with a tactical brawn all her own.

Even with his head in such a mess? His Vision/Focus, is: maybe, somewhat straight?

The blistering headache doesn’t help. Nor was the exhaustion assisting matters. Maybe that was the other role of the chemicals? Drugs were never his bag. What the hell had Dr. Vogel given him? Upon closer inspection of his skin, (from his head to his toes): he’d found zero injection marks. Nothing. During this, Leaner eventually thought to contact Tess, (His Anchor), via cell phone. He’d left his cell phone, back with Jerry, at the Inn.


His Head was Screwy.  

The Buttons were Screwy.

So that meant a Screwed up text.


Start. Text.

‘…NOT Sodnteeely surrrre …BACK tonigHT’,



End. Text


All of which brought him to this seedy location outside of Persistence. Because an abandoned building is the perfect location to get Murdered in. Stabbed in. Tortured in. Among other things, that’ll play out…

Just outside of the building, Leaner secured the kick-stand into position. With the kick-stand now secured, Leaner stood away from the motorcycle, amid the quiet of this desolate place. He wasn’t armed. Why? Well his weapons had been removed back at the Inn, by the thugs within the white van. Those same guys, apparently, dropped him off back at the Inn. Jerry hadn’t intervened. Still, uneasy. Still, not at his best. He proceeded towards what remained of the front entrance. Obviously, it was an opening into the building. Light. This place was filled with so much light: and maybe there was another reason for it? He stumbled over some shards, leaned towards the side wall, and tried to keep his bearings. Empty: A forgotten station? Isn’t. That. Great!!


The Doctors Returned Text was Key to his arrival at this forbidden location, “You’ll die in less than an hour‘, go to such and such location. Which was why he got here so fast! Was that Dr. Vogels written prescription for the day? Short. Sweet. Brutal. Leaner stood, (as instructed), in the middle of this station, where the light was most strong. He was anticipating intense pain. Tortured? Shot? Flayed Alive? How. Fucking. Great.

He walked in with his vision in tatters, his palms wide-open, his hands at hip level, and away from his body. Soon enough, four armed men came out of the semi-darkness, carrying their pistols, in their intended hands. Or was it six men? He couldn’t tell: his head was so cloudy. Blinking, trying to stand up straight, and his breathing was trickier now. Slow Inhale. Even Slower Exhale. “The Doctor”, Leaner spoke, “…Where is she?”

Two of the men patted him down, checking for weapons. Nothing. Not a Weapon on Him. 

One of the men spoke up, “…Follow me”, gesturing with their weapons for him to move forward.

In response, Leaner stumbled again, straightened himself out and kept his hands as far away from his body as possible. So Thirsty. He couldn’t think. So foggy. Worse than a Migraine. What was it? 

It wasn’t long before Leaner came face to face with the doctor. The bitch.

She stood proudly in blue jeans, crap-colored-blouse, sneakers and a hair made out of shit.

In return: Leaner couldn’t help but smile at her. Maybe it was the drugs? 


Doctor Vogel spoke, “You don’t look all that well, Smart-Ass”


Leaner smiled at her, taking whatever breaths he could at this point, “…You look like shit”


At this point the armed men started to progress to where Leaner was currently standing, swaying: trying to stand on his own two feet. But they don’t go any further, due to the doctor gesturing for them to stay back! “I know you don’t like drugs Leaner”, The Doctor replied, “Which is why I gave you a speedball drug. Uppers. Lowers. More lowers. The heart can’t take it. Which is why you’re sluggish, ready to lose that battle. Having trouble?”, (

(drug) ), “You should be thankful that I didn’t give you the bathsalt’s. Wouldn’t want you chomping your woman’s face off: Now would we?”, she pauses for effect, “Thank me For Saving Your Life”, she repeats, “Say it until I decide to save your Worthless, Gorean ass”


Maybe it’s his Worthless Gorean Blood/Ass, that’s kept him alive this long? The remaining stimulants in his blood are being thoroughly utilized. Leaner barely heard the guy behind him move, when the guy to his right let out a breath. The other two were off to their right, assembling silencers to their pistols. Not good. Not good at all. Leaner asked, “You’re sure that you…”, so thirsty, “That you brought it?”, Mr. Disobedient Gorean Ass.


The Doctor grinned, like something out of a horror movie. Professionalism Is Everything To Dr. Vogel. “…If I didn’t? Then I’d lose all of my professional credibility. Of course I brought it!”, glancing to the men with their pistols and she cracked a smile. “…Are you scared, Leaner? Do you think that you’re going to die tonight?”


Before The Doctor could finish her sentence? Leaner started to slide down one of the men, towards the ground: as if he was fainting? Down further, grabbing onto the guys arm to his right. All the while preparing for a big fist to hit his face! Smash! Came the first hit! Then something of a kick towards his lower leg (calf) area! Knee Jerk! All while they started to close in on Leaner! And with the thugs having their guns out, Leaner reached for the first gun within reach into his own grasp! Thew! First shots fired! Sent the guy in front of him to the ground with a hole in his chest! Leaner was still falling to the ground, already aiming for the guys head that he’d just slid down on! Thew! Pop! His head is blown to something like bits into the air! Spraying everyone with the ghastly membranes! That meant another gun, into Leaner’s free hand! Both arms out and like the luckiest son of a bitch around: Leaner fires off two more rounds from each of the guns! Thew! Thew! More body parts flying across the area. Something of a mess to clean up. Till Leaner spied the doctor out in the open, trying to make her little get away, “…Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!”, looking like shit, Leaner scrambled to sit up on that floor, with his silenced pistols focused onto the good doctor. “….Turn Around. Walk back nice and slow”, 


The Doctor was clearly unsure how the Worthless Gorean could have turned this around: To His Favor? Carefully, she faced him and just as slowly walked back to Leaner. Her Patient. Her Hidden Contractor. Without even being asked: she removed some plastic gloves from within her trusty purse, slipped them onto her hands, then removed the syringe with the chemicals used to counteract the uppers/downers in his system: into a normal heart rhythm. “You did well”, and prepared his skin for the necessities, “…Those were my elite guards. Formerly Elite Guards. Well, some of them”, it’s hard for the doctor to admit things, “Now They’re Dead”


Stone Features. Leaner kept his arm out, preparing for the insertion of the elixir. It would save him? He’d be healed? Coming from a Psychotic Sociopathological Psychoanalyst. His focus remains locked onto the doctor: while he waited for her to end this piece of Hell. Once the needle went under the skin, the chemicals were introduced into his bloodstream: little bits of himself were returning into the fold. Minutes? Had it been ten minutes? Why was she still here, he thought? Maybe he should have said thank you? Truth is: He doesn’t give a fuck. “…I could give you a present?” With the pistol so close to her right ankle, the muzzle on the ground nearer to her feet: it was natural for the gun to go off and send shards of her ankle where they sat together. 

When the good doctor screamed!

When she crashed to the ground, surrounded in dirt!

When her body recoiled, after that first shot! Spasms Erupted!

Blood Loss: Ebbed and Flowed, Out of her Wound and into the dirt; filling it with Maroon ArtWork.

Leaner shot his balled up fist into her solar plexus, slamming his hand into her chest, as if he were bringing what was left of a train, into her gut: to knock out her air supply! When he started to stand up, onto the knees: he fired off two more shots, and blew off both of her kneecaps! More blood to the face. More blood to clean up.

By now Leaner was standing, staring down at the doctor upon the floor. Sniffing his nose. Bloodied. Deciding whether to let her live or die? She was going to kill him, she said? Wasn’t that an old Pick-up line from Earth? I’ll Kill You. Who knew anymore? “Don’t Threaten Me”, pacing around her form, so much blood, “Don’t Threaten My Girl”, he said, “..Think about your patients”, he says, “…I Control You Now: Dr. Vogel


Onto the motorcycle, heading for something called: Home? Had he found it? Where in his other world it would be called: His Home-Stone. Had he found That Stone, here, in Persistence: with Tess? His Anchor is Waiting…

© RolePages / PebbleArt Inc. 2020

Log in with your credentials


Forgot your details?

Create Account

Skip to toolbar