Tales of the Parodyverse

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killer shrike
Wed Jul 04, 2007 at 09:20:53 pm EDT
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Threat Level: Blood Orange *Very Adult Content Warning*
Originally
Threat Level: Grey
In Reply To

killer shrike
Tue Jul 03, 2007 at 01:43:30 pm EDT
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Threat Level: Blood Orange


Deputy District Attorney Voss had returned from work to find a stranger in her home. When she tried to reach for her panic device in her coat pocket the man... gestured. And then there was the sensation of her body tearing away from itself, as if all her muscles cramped at once. She released her grip on the alarm and then found herself shuffling over to sit on the room’s sofa. The man, satisfied that Amelia was fully incapacitated, went back to the kitchen, returning with a snack.

The intruder took the citrus fruit from the bowl atop the island in Amelia Voss’s kitchen and began peeling. It had been a long time since he had been allowed to indulge in any physical pleasure, including eating. It wasn’t until he had been given the opportunity to feed his appetites again he realized how much he missed it.

Dropping the skin into the garbage can under Amelia’s sink, he took apart the orange, slice by slice, popping each tangy wedge into his mouth as he was tearing away the next red morsel. The man walked into the living room where its owner sat, motionless, helpless; his new powers having seen to that, just as they allowed him to override the alarm systems that Miss Voss and the other residents of the Gothametropolis York’s apartment building believed had made them safe.

He was tall, easily six feet four, and muscular. Clean shaven down to the scalp, the brute wore a dark blue suit with a red tie knotted in a double windsor.

Once he finished the orange, he cleaned the juices from his callused hands with his mouth and tongue with a demeanor that bordered on the bestial. Then he reached out and dug his fingers into Amelia’s brow.

“Tell me what you know about Greg Burch,” he ordered.

There was a smell of ozone, and it felt to Amelia as if every memory in her brain was being forced to the surface. She heard herself speaking:

“Greg Burch is the Dark Knight. He worked as a reporter for the Gothametropolis Squire. He was married-“

“No,” the stranger tightened his grip, “Tell me how you contact him.”

“I- I don’t. He came to me. He said he needed someone inside the DA’s Department, and if I helped him, he would protect me. Then, there were the killings, and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Satisfied the woman could not lie, the big man pulled away, “Do you think he can protect you now?”

“No.”


“No,” he agreed, shrugging out of his jacket, “He can’t even help himself. Not against me. I killed him once. I killed them all: the dragon, the false god, the galactic herald. It was easy before. Now, it will be as nothing.”

“What? I don’t understand. Oh, no,” Amelia Voss became even more terrified as the man slipped off his shoes and pants, and then removed his tie, “Please, no.”

“Don’t beg,” he commanded as he unbuttoned his dress shirt. It was then that the woman saw the dark, jagged scar that ringed his throat, “You had your chance to help.”

That did not mean, however, that the woman stopped being useful. The man’s experience taught him exactly how much torture a human could take and still live. When he finished with Miss Voss he showered, put on his clothes, and left the building through the front lobby, quite sure his message had been sent.

The police would find Amelia Voss in her home two hours later. She forced her broken body to crawl to the panic button she had been denied the use of earlier and call for help. Before expiring she identified her attacker as one Gregory Burch and a warrant was drawn up for the suspect’s arrest.

If the Omni Competent could not find the Dark Knight, then he would give the vigilante every reason to try and find him.


Next: Threat Level Red, White, and Blue








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