A doorway, frozen in time sits. Unadultered and untouched now for
years. Dust having gathered and settled thick. Through the build up
of dirt can be read the words "death is only a horizon. And what
is a horizon save for the limit of our sight?" Beyond the door
lies a laboratory. Dark and unkempt, unseen computer monitors. Halls
unwalked now for some time. The little light provided by various
pieces of machinery reflect off a massive cylinder centered in the
room. Any number of wiring and hoses steming from it extending into
the ground. The whirling and ticking of life support systems, the
only sound breaching the silence of a chamber forgotten.
A chronometer counts
by the seconds of a calculated sleep. Seconds that have rattled off
for many years scream towards their ending. Zeroes across the board
until the last digits... 5...4...3...2...1...0.......
The sound of
machinery abuzz echoes through the room. Lights begin to flicker and
come to life in sequential order. From the core to the outer edges of
the room. In moment the room is lit and the cylinder begins to
decompress letting out a loud hiss. A system of pulleys and levers
trip and the cylinder begins to spin from horizontal to vertical.
Vital systems checks begin to rattle off on a nearby monitor as
lights within reveal the face of an inhabitant. The doors jar and
then hydraulically expand, opening the occupant to his new world.
After several moments of systems checking for readiness, a robotic
arm reaches out from the AI controlled chamber and injects the
inhabitant with adrenaline... Suddenly and with an explosive
intensity... His purple eyes open.
An hour has passed.
The initial shock of awaking from hibernation has come and gone. The
menacing figure sits alone in a metal throne like chair, somewhere
between sulking and furious, surrounded by an empty hall of statues
to heroes and villains of old. life sized silver icons to ziggy
stardust, indoe master of sound, emperor madoras, fiero, laymonite,
peace, infernal martial god, crossbones, abbadon, hoo lee chit,
superbeast and pono line the walk way to his feet. A biohazard emblem
emblazons the archway above the throne. Slowly he lifts hs head from
his palms and inquires to AI...
Stranger: Who am I?
Who am I now? Where have we all gone? Why cant I speak to us?
AI: you are whole.
The others have left this place.
Stranger: where have
they gone? Loose cannon, loveless, blood legion, wyld chyld,
phobetor? Where have we gone?!
AI: They were not
needed any longer. They have left this place. They no longer
contribute to the collective. You adapt to the world you exist in.
You always have. In this world, the whole is stronger than the parts.
The cease to be, so that you may survive this world. You may survive
your enemies. Who are many.
Stranger: what of
aegis?
AI: gone
Stranger: wmd? Delta
7?
AI: gone
Stranger: Hoi? G&A?
AI: gone
Stranger: this world
has become weak. A power vacuum exists. It waits for someone with the
will to grasp for it. Someone with the conviction to do what must be
done for the good of all instead of the few. Someone to ensure
history does not repeat itself. That the fate that befell the city of
our past does not rear its ugly head in the present. We shall be this
strength. We shall avenge the memory of our fallen comrades. Who
wields power in this place?
AI: a collective of
entities has arisen thus far. Some familiar, some unknown. They are
known as avengers...
(A half smile
crosses the strangers face at this piece of information)
Stranger: that is
not irony... That is natural selection. Ready contact with these
avengers. Who of their number do we share history with?
AI: super rakly,
fiero, phantom among phantoms are among their number.
Stranger: a strong
core for us to round out indeed.
AI: they also have
fuma hanzo...
Stranger: well...
Nobodies perfect.
(The stranger
breaths heavily for a moment and lulls backward, the full effects of
breaching suspended animation still taking a minor toll.)
Stranger: i must
rest. Ready mechanical appendages, drone scouts and chemical strength
and agility boosters. We begin our campaign against this new city
post haste. We will explode upon the scene with a fury and anger not
yet witnessed. Respect has no value in this new world. They must be
taught fear. It is the only currency that carries weight now. Let
their legions come. They will fall upon our sword. Personally, i
would rather see them die on their feet than see them live on their
knees.
(As the stranger
lays back into the backrest of the throne and closes his eyes. A
computer monitor in the hibernation chamber continues to flicker with
static. Showing a series of images breaking up in a repeating cycle.
The words "dream recordings" is written below the monitor.
In the image, a child perhaps 10 years of age can be seen on a
playground at a school. It appears to be late fall. Suddenly and
without warning, several other boys begin to attack him. They call
him names. Call him crazy. Pushing him down, kicking at him. Punching
him. He falls to the ground yet they do not relent. They kick him
while he curls into the fetal position. For several moments they beat
upon him. And then they break apart into dust and blow into the wind
fragments of his memories. Another boy comes over to help the beaten
boy off the ground. He offers his hand. To which the beaten boy
rejects his offer for help. Slapping his hand away. He picks himself
up off the ground and looks down at all his cuts and bruises. He
looks the other boy in the eyes and speaks)
"We do not need
your help. We do not need anyones help. And when we smite these
cowards down. It will be done with a calculated measure brought to us
personally by time, space and circumstance. To such a degree that
they will wish they had never been born. Everything we need. We
provide. We... Are an island.
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