The ADVENTURES of ATLANTA KAY Chapter One By Alex Krempely
I
t begins with the telling of a story. A story told within the comfort and confines of a rundown saloon. A rundown saloon on the edge of a small, desolate town. A small, desolate town on the edge of Civilization itself. It is here, at this dirty speck on the fringe of a fringe, that our epic begins. “Atlanta Kay! He’s the one all right. The $100,000,000,000,000 man. They say that’s one dollar for every man he’s killed ... or was it one cent? Hell if I can remember! But you’ve all heard the stories I’m sure. Atlanta Kay, a lost soul, he wanders from town to town killing everyone in sight. Hell, they say the whole town is in flames by the time he leaves. Nothing’s left standing! Well, nothing but the piles of bodies, of course. And why does he do it? Why does this crazed killer cause such destruction? Well nobody knows, ya see. Maybe he’s after something. Or maybe he just wants to see the world burn… Regardless though, every bounty hunter in the land is out looking for him. Dead or alive. And for a price of $100,000,000,000,000 who could blame ‘em? But you wanna know what I think? Well here’s what I think. I think Atlanta Kay will kill every one of them poor bastards. Hell, he’ll probably enjoy it too. I swear that man has made a deal with the Devil himself, I tell ya. He probably kissed the Devil’s ugly ‘ol ass and was given the power to kill all who walk this wretched land. It’s just a damn shame the Devil didn’t keep him in Hell where he belongs!” The toothless bartender concluded his tale, and the saloon’s inhabitants murmured their agreement. Even the drunkard slouched in the corner hiccupped in response. The desert sand blew wildly beyond the swinging doors. A storm this powerful would rip the flesh off a man’s very bones if he dared step out into the open desert. Since travel was impossible, the saloon’s stranded inhabitants passed the time drinking and swapping stories. From the card players, to the piano man, to the drunkard in the corner, all listened as the talkative, toothless bartender continued: “But ya know what the worst thing about Atlanta Kay is? The thing that really keeps me up at night? Well the worst thing about Atlanta Kay is that nobody knows what the hell he looks like. They say all who see his face end up a corpse. Hell, I even heard he killed his own family so they couldn’t rat out his identity. And that’s the scariest part of it, not that he has slain armies by the million or destroyed half of all Civilization, no… The worst part is that he could be in this very town, hell, this very bar, and we wouldn’t even know the Angel of Death himself, Atlanta Goddamn Kay, has graced us with his presence.” Rather than a murmur of agreement, the bar’s inhabitants remained silent and still. Eyes darted from person to person as the saloon was paralyzed with nervousness. The tension was finally broken by the dull slam of the drunkard’s head hitting the floor. Now asleep, the bar let out a laugh of relief at his expense. But at that very moment, the door was kicked open. The saloon resumed its silent and still state as all heads turned to the silhouette of a man in the doorway. For what seemed like five frightening minutes, the man stood there, shrouded in shadow. The only visible feature was his glowing, blood-red eyes. The man slowly pushed past the swinging doors and walked into the saloon, revealing his appearance. He was a muscular giant. He wore an armor chest plate, and though his arms were left bare, this was only because no greaves could contain his exploding biceps. While his red eyes remained cold and dead, a grin grew as he looked upon his newfound prey. There was no question in anyone’s mind that this man was a killer. What gave him away you ask? Perhaps it was the broadsword he carried in his right hand and the broader-sword he carried in his left. Or perhaps it was the necklace of skulls he wore around his neck. Maybe it was the wicked way he asked, “Who’s prepared to die?” Or maybe it was the way he cut the piano man in half as he made a terrified dash to the door. Regardless, as blood splattered across his front, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that this man was a killer. And with a roar of laughter
