Tales of the Parodyverse

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Messenger
Sat Apr 16, 2005 at 07:25:05 pm EDT
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Messenger: Reloaded... a short prologue
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Messenger: Reloaded

Prologue:



His eyelids burned. He opened them to see chrome walls reflecting the sterile white glow of the LED lights. Wires and cables were covering his body like stripes on a zebra. Blood rushed through his veins, like hot, molten lava flowing down the crevasses of a volcano. He tried to move, but his muscles were too busy being manipulated... contracting and expanding and he could do nothing about it. The cables were pulling him apart with their waves of electric current and bursts of cold air. His whole body jolted and spasmed. It felt painful.

It felt like being born...

He screamed and flailed around on that cold operating table, until the men in white suits rushed in with their needles and their guns and their clown masks and they beat him and prodded him and held him down.

His father... the melted face man who wore the black suit and spoke gibberish.... he watched from behind the glass and smiled.

"Pater..." the boy yelled in Latin. "... PATER!"


He smiled and waved. The boy was shivering now, having been injected with a solution that made his burning muscles relax and melt into puddles. The man in the black suit came into the room and tied a red balloon to one of the boy's cables. He brushed his hand through the boy's hair and gave him a small kiss on his forehead and then spoke more gibberish. And then the men in white made the boy go back to sleep.

Several Decades Later...


The man walked the dark streets alone, taking in the cries of the innocent with his hyper sensitive ears and glancing in every direction with his yellow animalistic eyes. He was grunting as he leaped from a canopy to a mailbox, and his raggedy coat flapped in every direction as he flew with the wind. As the shadowy man emerged from the steam of a sewer grate, he grinded to a halt, skittering across the cement as he saw a woman bloodied lying perfectly still on the sidewalk. Next to her, was what appeared to be a man of some kind dressed in a black cape and sombrero... resembling a modern-day "Zorro".

"What's going on here?" the man demanded in broken English, as he looked down at the twitching woman. "Are you responsible for this?" his mouth was clad in a dirty bandana that covered his mouth. His voice sounded muffled under the cover of this cloth.


"Uncute being..." Zorro whipped around, speaking in a cold dialect that sounded as if it came from a machine, "Woman does not need help. She is fine," the figure starred down the man in the raggedy coat. "I already asked. She is fine. She likes lying in gutter. It is, what I suppose, what dirty Earth women like to do on Friday nights."

"Who are you?"

"I am from a being of D-Yos... Who are you?"

"I..." the man clutched his hair and pulled it in pain. "My name is... is-.... I don't know. I am not from this Earth though... not from anywhere you've been... Someone once called me a Messenger... told me I was supposed to bring a message to anyone who would listen..."

"What kind of message...?" D-Yo inquired as s/he circled around this Messenger. The woman in the corner groaned.

"I don't know... but, my, aren't you full of questions?" the Messenger laughed and whipped open his shredded coat to reveal a gun that gleamed under the full moon.

"D-Yo is also not from Earth..." the being dressed as Zorro starred up into the stars. "Perhaps we can help each other find--..."

"I'm not helping you find anything, woman-beater," the Messenger's cat eyes widened and glowed an even brighter yellow. "I am to be killing you..." he lifted his silver gun and pointed it at the D-Yo's head.

"My father told me I could not rest until I delivered a message. Every night I wonder what that message is. Perhaps this is it..."

*BLAM*


To Be Continued...



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