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This message 'The Return of Evil' Part Four.... was posted by Messenger on Saturday, April 27, 2002 at 19:40.
It all comes crashing down.....
Messenger has just been told he isn’t Messenger.
His very identity has come in to question.
And for the first time in his life he has no response.
No quips to hide his pain. No brutal beatings.
Just awkward silence.
Now, in his trembling hands he holds a gun aimed at a SPUD agent who just informed of the truth.
“You had to know the truth. You couldn’t be a pawn to the conspiracy anymore....”
Messenger chokes on his words at first.
“.... You.... you lie.....” He whispers in a hoarse voice. “LIAR!!” He screams, before speaking once again in a shallow whisper. “.... Liar....”
“I assure you, I am not. You have been the victim of a cruel game. You’re not ‘Messenger’. The real ‘Messenger’ has been dead and buried for over a year now.”
“Y-You’re messing with my head....” Messenger responds dryly. “.... I know who I am....”
“You’re living under a delusion. The real Messenger is long gone.” Agent Travis takes a drag on his cigarette.
“...... Oh yeah.... O- Oh yeah, asshole....? Then- Then what am I?! Because I sure as hell look and act like Messenger....”
“I’m afraid I cannot tell you. Not here in the open, at least.” Agent Travis looks around at the warehouses and slums which surround him. A seagull squawks above him. “The pigeons have ears. Secrets may be compromised.”
“THIS IS MY LIFE!!” The Postman screams as he shakes his gun.
“Technically, no it’s not....” Agent Travis flicks his cigarette butt in to the water which sloshes beneath the boardwalk.
“... Fuck you!! FUCK YOU!!! You’re lying!! When I came back, I encountered a man who called himself the Grand Master. He told me everything. He told me how he brought me back. What he did to me. He never mentioned anything about me being an impostor.”
Travis chuckles and then shakes his head. “And no one has ever told an elaborate lie before....?”
“.... How do I know you’re not?”
Agent Travis shrugs his shoulders. “You don’t.” He lights another cigarette and then adds. “But I’m not.”
“..... I don’t believe you.”
“Fact is, “Messenger”... You don’t want to believe. That is perfectly understandable as I’ve just stripped you of your very identity. Excuse me if I sound harsh. It’s best you find out now, then remain the oblivious pawn like your nemesis, the Mailman has. ‘BlackSun’ will use him to achieve their own goals and then dispose of him. You’re probably not too worried about that. Only problem is, Mailman isn’t the only one ‘BlackSun’ is manipulating. They’re fucking with your mind too, kid. They have their hands in everything that has been happening in your life lately. Don’t take anything at face value.”
“... I don’t believe this..... Why would these fuckers care about Mailman and myself enough to bring us back? What do they hope to achieve?!”
Agent Travis stares back at ‘Messenger’ with cold, unflinching eyes.
“You don’t want to know. Trust me. It is beyond comprehension. When you are ready for the answer, it will come to you....”
“Give me good one reason why I should believe anything you have told me today.”
Agent Travis sighs. “Beneath your shirt, a red light flashes through your flesh. The Grand Master told you it’s a highly advanced battery system, aimed at replacing the functions of the organs you lost when you ‘died’. He also told you that the life-span of the battery only lasts for about a year, which leaves you with seven or eight months as we speak. He didn’t tell you everything....” He says in a menacing voice.
“What?!?”
“..... You will find out. In due time.”
Suddenly a black van with tinted windows screeches to a halt right next to the warehouse. The engine is running and a horn is honked. Agent Travis arches his head back and then looks back at the postman. He smothers his cigarette.
“I have given you a small sampling of the truth, today. If you would like to find out more, come with me. If you would prefer to flounder around, believing what you want to and hunting the Mailman on your own, you’re free to leave. It could be like we never even met....”
Messenger squints his eyes and lowers his gun.
“I don’t trust you.” He says bluntly.
“Soon....” Agent Travis smiles as he walks towards the van. The Postman hesitantly follows. “.... You’ll have no choice.”
‘The Return of Evil’
Part Five: What Makes a Man.....?
The Coming of the Black Sun....
Off the shore of Parodiopolis.....
The seagulls cry as they circle fish in the water. Men lower lines off the wooden docks.
It’s a normal lazy evening....
.... which makes what happens next, that much stranger.
A black helmeted head pops out of the water. It bobs up and down for a few seconds and then more of the body emerges.
It is a man in a black armored suit carrying a machine gun.
Water drips down his sleek metallic gear. A black visor hides his face. He walks through the currents by his waist as if he were marching on land. A small red light on his gun flashes every few seconds. Everything else on his attire is black.
Another armored man follows suit, his body rising from the softly lapping waves.
Two more. Three more. Ten more.
An entire army of men equipped with cutting edge suits and weaponry march towards the docks.
“H-Hey... HEY!!” An old man screams in shock as he desperately pulls his fishing line in and attempts to scramble away.
*BRAAAAAP*
The man is torn apart by one of their guns. The marching army barely acknowledge his death and continue to approach the wooden planks in formation.
The first wave of men reach the wooden docks and hoist themselves on to the planks.
Terrified men and women scatter in all directions as they notice these sinister figures.
Those that stick around are shot on sight.
On the street corner, several white vans screech to a halt.
The armored men head towards the vans.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Interlude: Lair Island.....
*BEEEP*
*BEEEP*
*BEEEP*
(*click*)
“--- This is Hatman. I’m not answering my LL Comm-link right now, probably because I’m involved in a life or death struggle..... or I’m with Whit. Please leave your name and comm-link number after the beep and I’ll get back to you.”
“Hmmn...” Nats scratches his chin as he turns off his comm-link. “Answering machine again.”
“This really isn’t good, guys.... Hatty hasn’t been seen in nearly a week and he isn’t answering his comm link either.”
“He seemed quite mad when we last saw him...” Andrew Dean chimes in. “.... He just stormed off in search of ‘Messenger’.... Someone who until recently, we all believed to be dead. It’s possible that he’s still fumed I suppose.”
“But highly unlikely...” Goldeneyed interrupts. “He wouldn’t be missing. Not for this long! Something is up! And while we’re fiddling our thumbs, Hats can very well be captured at someone’s mercy or even worse--..... He could be.... y’know....”
“.... He’s not dead. Don’t talk crazy, GE.”
“How is it crazy, Trickshot?!” Goldeneyed points his finger in Tricky’s face. “.... I hope he’s not ... y’know.... but I don’t think any of us have realized the severity of this situation. We haven’t heard from one of our team-mates--- no, our LEADER--- in almost a week!! That doesn’t strike you as worrisome?!?”
“Very worrisome. But he’s not dead....” Tricky shakes his head. “There’s something we’re not seeing here. Some part of the puzzle that’s missing....”
“Then I’m going to find that piece!”
Before anyone can stop him, Goldeneyed is gone with a bright flash.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first thing he hears is a soft dripping....
Shane Jackson moans as feeling returns to his limbs.
He is awakened from the blissful darkness that he had been immersed in for the last several hours.
With the return of feeling, also comes the return of pain. The return of intense, agonizing pain that is beyond words.
He opens his eyes. His world comes in to focus.
He is on a wooden stage. Empty red chairs are lined up in aisles facing the stage. Lush grass and clusters of trees surround him. He is outside. It is evening. The sky has a pink glow to it.
He tries to move around. He cannot. He is tied against a post. As he looks down, he realizes what that dripping sound was. Blood is running down his legs and splattering on the stage beneath him.
“.... Where am I....?” He mutters through a swollen jaw.
A man in a blue uniform approaches the boy. He places his fingers under the boy’s chin and raises his head so they’re eye level.
“Off-Central Park”. Mailman’s beady eyes sear Shane Jackson’s soul. “.... Our production is about to take place. You are right now on a stage... Be prepared to play your part.”
“MY PART?!?” Shane’s voice cracks.
“Shhh.... Quiet now. You need to conserve your strength, kid....”
“For-... For what...?” He asks reluctantly.
“For the showdown....” Mailman looks towards the sky. “He’ll be here soon....”
“M-Messenger?”
Mailman doesn’t respond. “If that’s what you wish to call him....”
“I-.... I don’t get it.”
“You will.”
..................
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Truth....
Messenger examines the interior of the van that he now sits in. Consoles are placed against each side. Lights flash on the computer boards and small electronic sounds ring out every now and then.
“What is this place...?” He asks in a cynical tone.
“It’s called a van.” Agent Travis mutters over his shoulder as he makes his way to the front.
The Postman shakes his head. “Geez..... That’s not even trying. Sorry, spook, but your sense of humor isn’t charming me.”
“Fine. It’s a Mobile Operations Unit. It keeps us from having to return to HQ, since we can do our work on the road. It also helps us keep tabs on those nearby. Like you. We have been following you for months now in this van and others like it ever since you seemingly returned from the grave.”
“Why?”
“... You really want to know?”
“You basically told me I’m not me. What else could go wrong?”
“Messenger--- You are the equivalent of a living bomb.”
“....... What?!”
“That is as much as I can divulge. Telling you anything else would compromise national secrets.”
“WHAT?!?”
“I am sorry.”
“You’re sorry?! You start off by telling me that I’m not even me... And then you tell me I’m going to blow up one day?!?”
“No. I said the equivalent of a bomb. The equivalent of something disastrous happening when a clock runs out. You are not going to explode. Something far worse will result.”
Messenger clenches his fists. “I’ve been holding back until now, J. Edgar.... But you better start spilling your guts to me now, or I’ll spill them for you.”
“You can’t attack me, Messenger. It’s against your programming.”
........
“.... Programming.....? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?”
“I can never reveal everything to you. Even if I wanted to there are certain secrets that are locked up within the confines of ‘BlackSun’. However, I can shed a fair amount of light on the truth....”
“Then do so.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy...” Agent Travis chuckles. “.... Information within my agency can only be shared with others in my agency. Leaks, no matter who’s asking, are unacceptable.”
“You won’t tell me jack because of national security? You won’t reveal secrets about MY own life, because no one outside of your club-house can know?!? You government boys are a fucked up bunch, and this...... This just isn’t fair.” Messenger bows his head in to his hands.
“I agree.” Travis places his hand on the Postman’s shoulder. “That is why.... I’m offering to enlighten you. I’m offering to open your eyes.... I’m offering you the truth.”
Messenger looks up at the agent. “Wh- What are you saying....?”
“Messenger..... Will you join M.E.S.S.I.A.H?”
There is a long pause.
And then....
“You have to be joking.... You want me to join SPUD, basically....? You want me to join the ranks of your crazy super mercenary types and two-faced spies?”
“If that’s how you choose to put it....”
“Hey, buddy....” The Postman swats away the agent’s hand. “In case you haven’t heard, I’m freelance. I work for myself. I’m not some pawn of a shadow government. Comprende?”
“.... Not even at the expense.....” Agent Travis picks up a remote control and presses a button. A dozen small television sets flicker on at once showing pictures of the Messenger in action, odd government labs and pictures of men and super-humans that he doesn’t know. “.... of the truth? These images you’re seeing now show how close we’ve been able to get--- Both to you and to ‘BlackSun’ and those that work for them. We can show you the complete video feed from all of these tapes and so much more if you decide to work for us. Your answer?”
“....... No. Fuck you and SPUD. I will find the truth. But I’ll do it on my own....” Messenger turns around and heads for the back doors.
“Wait!” Agent Travis calls out. The Postman stops.
“.... There is one other thing, Messenger. You have been searching for the one you know as ‘Mailman’ lately. We know where he is. We can give you his exact coordinates. ONLY if you join us.”
Agent Travis taps his remote control once more. The last remaining television suddenly brings up live feed of a man in a blue suit standing on a grassy plot. In front of him is a wooden stage and a battered Shane Jackson hangs from a post which reaches out from the stage.
Messenger’s eyes widen. “.... No.....” He whispers as he watches the grainy footage in shock.
“.... You can try to work out where this is happening.... But for all you know your companion could be dead by that time, or Mailman could have fled once again to a new hiding spot.
..... The truth.... And Mailman’s location. This, plus a twenty thousand dollar check. And that is only the advance payment.”
Messenger grimaces and veins protrude from his forehead. He wants to rip Agent Travis’s head off. For now, he has to play his game.
“You bastard...” He says in a gritty voice. “I want you to know something, Travis. I am not doing this for the money. I’m not even doing this for the truth. Whatever I am, the only thing that matters right now is saving that kid....”
“Well said.” Travis smirks. “Sign here...” He hands Messenger a white sheet with small print on it. Messenger signs at the bottom with ‘Jordan Post’, his rarely used alias.
.............................
“Happy? Now.... Tell me everything!!” He screams.
“Let’s make this official, first....” Agent Travis swings open a small compartment and pulls out a neatly folded black uniform. “Agents of SPUD and it’s affiliates wear SPUD regulated uniforms.”
“...... You have to be joking. You want me to ditch the trench-coat...?”
“You act as if that’s a problem.”
“..... *sigh*..... Give me the damn clothes.” He snatches the black uniform and unfolds it.
“We are also going to demand you hand over any crude weaponry you have. Agents of SPUD carry only top-of-the-line weaponry and technology.”
Messenger swallows hard as he pulls out a Razor Letter.
“This... symbolizes what a Messenger is all about.”
“But you’re not Messenger.” Agent Travis coldly reminds him.
The Postman pathetically nods his head and then sighs as he swings his gun holster around. His 9mm handgun clangs as it drops to the van floor.
The explosive packages are deactivated and placed carefully on the desk.
“The Razor Letters too.....”
One by one, every rectangular sheet of deadly metal is emptied out of his pockets and letter satchel in to a huge pile on the floor.
Messenger does not say anything as he somberly slides off his trench-coat and tosses it to Agent Travis’s feet. He unstraps his army boots. The gray jeans are next to come off and then the dark blue shirt with the white ‘M’ splashed across it is thrown to the side.
He stands there, exposed, in his boxers. Battle scars decorate his worn body. On his stomach is a soft flashing light.
“Are you happy? Is it going as you hoped?” He asks in a gritty voice.
“Is what going as I hoped?”
“Stripping me of my identity in every aspect you could? Completely taking away my sense of self?”
“I’m not stripping you of anything. I’m helping you to see the lies and rebuild yourself from scratch.”
Messenger slides on a skintight black spandex shirt, followed by equally generic black spandex pants. He puts on lightweight black boots.
The next thing to be equipped is two camouflaged artillery belts which are slung around each shoulder and strapped across his chest.
Agent Travis hands the Messenger a gun.
“.... You won’t find any smackhead carrying a piece like this....” He tells the Postman as he hands him a silver plated hand gun with multiple barrels and a laser sight. He examines where the clip would go in. “No bullets...” Agent Travis informs him. “... This gun shoots plasma bursts. This way they are untraceable. As well as this, they also tear the target to shreds.”
“Hmmn....” Messenger gives a weak smirk as he handles the gun and gets a feel for it. “Well.... I could get used to this.” He twirls it on his finger and puts it in his new shoulder holster.
Agent Travis gives the Postman a pair of goggles.
“Put these on...”
Messenger complies and straps on the goggles. He pushes a red button on the side and suddenly his vision is enhanced by several degrees. “Whoa...”
“Wear these at all times. You won’t know when it can come in handy. Night vision, Infrared and Telescopic lens. You can rotate through all three just by pressing the red button on the side.”
The Postman looks down and opens his artillery belts. Inside he finds small black beads, coiled up wire and other assorted weapons and gadgets..
“.... In each compartment you’ll find something new. Smoke bombs, grappling hooks, freon spray, tranqs and so forth.”
“...... I don’t get it. Why me?” The Messenger asks as he stands there in his new spandex uniform, looking more like a super-spy than a vigilante.
“.... The coordinates for Mailman.....” Agent Travis begins, ignoring his guest’s question “.... Is a section of Off-Central Park that has been closed off pending renovations since last summer’s Armageddon crisis. He has your friend Shane Jackson, who I should add is in dire need of medical attention, captive in a small clearing near Crystal Lake.”
“I’m out of here!!” Messenger shouts as he swings open the doors of the van.
“Hold on....” Agent Travis hands him a headset equipped with a miniature microphone and receiver. “We will need to contact you while you engage Mailman. Keep this on at all times....”
Messenger adjusts the headset. “...After this is over I’m going to make sure you give me the answers. All of them.”
The Postman exits out of the back of the van. He slams the doors behind him.
He opens his mouth in awe as a whupping black helicopter waits in front of him.
“We’re air-support!!” A pilot calls out from inside the chopper. “We’ll be taking you in to battle....”
“.... My god.” The stunned Postman mutters as a smile creeps across his lips. “.... You have to be kidding. Mailman’s gonna piss himself.”
........................
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Elsewhere....
With a flash of blue light, Goldeneyed appears on the docks of Parodiopolis.
“Goddammit, Jay, where are you.....?” He whispers as he scours the area around him.
“...... Where are you.....?”
Only the howl of the cold winds reply.
------------------------------------------------------------
SPUD HQ...
A sterile hallway.
A room at the end of the hallway has a reinforced steel door with the simple title at the top of it: ‘Testing Room’.
The only sounds are the echo of distant footsteps....
.... And one man’s desperate screams.
No one hears.
No one listens.
To Be Continued
NEXT: It’s the rematch that never should have been!! One dead foe faces another as Mailman and Messenger battle again for the first time in three years!! And with the revelations that are on the horizon, Messenger’s new look, hardened attitudes and warring spy agencies on both sides, this looks to be their most epic match yet!! Say a prayer for those that are about to die....
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