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Here it is...... 'Pieces of the Mirror' Part three........ Tuesday, 13-Jun-2000 07:48:06
The rain comes down in droves..... Splattering over the canvas of the city...... A wet day for all....... ...... Right? Well, one man doesn’t feel the rain on his back..... He only feels pain. Messenger skittered over building tops in an anxiety induced attack on all his senses. He is hyperventilating and trembling. Sticky sweat and ice cold rain cling to his skin and merge into one as they drip down his face. Messenger stumbles and skids across a roof ledge as he lands. Gasping for breathe, he quickly gets back up and runs across the building and leaps off to land on to another. The Postman needs help. And badly, before the walls completely close in. The real trouble began around two months ago when Messenger went through perhaps one of the most traumatic experiences of his career. He was imprisoned in a Super-hero Death Camp, where old holocaust tactics from World War II were used to eliminate them one by one. And the ring leader behind this was none other then Adolf Hitler, a twice dead monster.... Fighting off his own torment and self doubt, Messenger escaped and caught up to this undead serial murderer of millions. To make a long story short, the Postman then found that the one who brought Hitler back was none other than Mr.Lucifer. After Hitler was destroyed for the final time, Messenger made a deal with the devil. The details are now irrelevant, but the fact remains that the Postman’s Armageddon factor had now returned....... The Armageddon factor which dictated that ...... With the death of Messenger..... Comes the death of the universe. After that the Messenger went into hiding for two months becoming a recluse..... Praying he didn’t die, because the fate of all life depended on him. But the call of the costume was far too great for him to resist, and he donned it once again, just in time for him to finally crack and start seeing hallucinations...... Of dead people, living people, and things which cannot even be classified as people. He has shaved his head, made a more brutal type of Razor Letter and has flirted with the idea of shooting Heroin into his veins. All he wants is to bury the pain.... But he can’t. He can’t. .....Suddenly he stops dead in his tracks as he bumps into something solid...... Messenger falls to the ground and curses himself for being sloppy. He looks up to see what he collided into.... “Ohmigod....” He whispers under his breath. “No.....” It is a man. Wearing a dark blue shirt and yet draped in a brilliant bright red trench coat. And dark red hair that goes down past his eyes..... The man looks like Messenger did a year ago, except with a different color scheme. The man grins... “Cr- Crimson Courier....?!? You’re alive....?!!” Messenger whelps. “Am I?” He whispers in a hoarse voice. He outreaches his hand. Messenger grabs it and lifts himself up with it’s help. “Don’t give up, Messy....” He utters in a dry voice. “You never gave up before... The best of times.... The worst of times.... You always saw them through to the end. I know this because I’m your clone... Because.... I’m ... I’m essentially you....” A tear drips down Messenger’s cheek. “Crimson...... Is that you?... Are you alive..?” Crimson Courier continues to speak. “.... For the memory of Poisyn..... I-... I was sorry to hear about her. But there’s so much I’ve missed..... For her sake.... Seek help. Go to a psychiatrist. You can get through this. You have a guardian angel now.... Remember that. I’ll always look after my brother....” Messenger scoffs. “No, I won’t let these hallucinations cloud my mind. You’re dead, Crimson Courier. What I’m seeing now is only a figment of my imagination.... I know that now. You’re dead. You’re only a hallucination.” The vision of Crimson pauses, and then he turns around and walks away. “Yes.... Ofcourse. The real Crimson Courier is long gone..... And I’m.... I’m just a figment of your imagination......” There is a flash of blinding lightning which Messenger shields away from. When he looks back, “Crimson Courier” is gone..... “You- You’re dead.... You’re dead..... Aren’t you?” Messenger softly mumbles to himself. “Ofcourse you’re dead. I saw you die...... I saw you die....” ‘Pieces of the Mirror’ Part three: ‘Analyse This....... if you dare.’ A wearied tired Messenger sits cradled on a window still and presses his hand against a window pane..... He is looking at the inside of an apartment..... The lights are on and a Freudian like professor sits in a chair right next to a leather couch. He is browsing through a selection of notes and nibbles on the end of his pen. Suddenly he hears a soft voice, and a light haunting tapping on the window. He looks to his side, and there is a raggedy image of a man. Torn clothes, shaved head, eye-patch and the wears of battles past.... It is the Postman. He creaks open the window and the insane vigilante steps in without uttering one word.... He just gives the Doctor a pained look... And all the Doctor does is point him to his couch..... There is no need for words. ---------------------------------------------- Smoke and mirrors...... “What is the point of this exercise, Mr. McConners..... I grow weary of this. I just want to go out, have a night on the town, and maybe kill a certain Postman....” Smoke somersaults through the mirrored hallway.... He had been placed into a Mirror fun house and set forth on a practice mission to test the sharpness of his eyes, his reactions and his reflexes. Suddenly a deep voice rings out on the speakers. “Do not question the validity of this exercise. You may think you’re the best out there. You may be sure that Messenger is a laughable basket case now. But there is something you don’t know, that only I know. Messenger at his best, IS the best. At his worst, he’s still damn good. According to the Parodiopolis Fatality records he is believed to of killed almost a thousand people...... In the last year alone. He is not an enemy to be taken lightly. That is something you must learn. I have see-..... heard of him sending skilled professionals just like you to the grave before..... Now, find the assassins I have placed in here and take care of them.....” *BzZzkT* “Jerk...” Smoke whispers under his breath. His ears perk at a sound and he smiles. His new kill is near.... The first of the assassins. A man in a white suit suddenly jumps behind Smoke. While he casts over a dozen different reflections on the walls, Smoke’s first strike with the sword rings true and fillets the man. There is a shrill death cry and Smoke licks his lips beneath his mask as blood spurts everywhere. As he wipes his sword clean of blood he sighs. “*Tsk* *Tsk*..... Amateurs....” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Messenger lays on a sofa, and bites his lip, he looks to his side to see his newly introduced shrink scribbling on his pad..... “So, Dr. Eckman....... Why, take me in?..... I’m a wanted vigilante. The PPD wants me on Death Row, I’m sure. I’m..... I kill people. Why....?” Dr.Eckman clears his throat and strokes his goatee. “Because I want to help you. Because I believe two wrongs don’t make a right. If I turned you away what kind of a person would I be.....? You’re a patient now, and my job is not to judge people, but instead to make sure they get back up on their feet.” ‘Besides.....’ Dr.Eckman thinks to himself. ‘ A person like yourself has probably led a very intriguing life and I’m interested in the secrets you hold.’ “You’re a good guy, ya know that Eckman? The world needs more good guys......” Messenger starts to trail off. “Instead there are only...... Bad guys like me......” “If you’re a “bad guy”, Messenger...... Then what about the people you kill, what are they?” Messenger pauses as he lays on the couch. He places his hands to his lips, and sighs. “There are bad guys...... And then there are evil guys...... I kill the evil guys.” “How do you know they’re evil? Maybe they’re just people who got the short end of the stick. Maybe they’re people just like you....” “No.... I’m better than they are. That’s why I kill them. They don’t deserve to live. They murder people.....” “But, so do you.” “............” “I’m sorry Messenger. Let’s start from the beginning..... Most killers are ordinary men who become trapped in a life-style. Most killers could have been normal tax paying citizens, but they took one bad turn and one bad turn after that which just took them further down the rabbit hole. Where do you think your first bad turn was? Where do you think it all went wrong for you?” Messenger lets out a weak chuckle. And then frowns. The constant ticking of the clock is the only sound for a few seconds...... “.... I-....I-..... Every single day I try to forget I guess. I just don’t want to think about that-...... those early days when I was like an honest to goodness hero..... But one day, almost six years ago...... Before all the deaths...... I was. Not a vigilante.....a hero..... Not a man with guns and a trench-coat..... No.... A man who wore a cheap spandex suit and fought crime with his fists and cunning.... But it’s almost funny how bad.... One turn can take you. And you’re right. Since then, it has been one bad turn after another.....” “Did you ever try to turn back to the ways things used to be? Have you ever tried to go straight again?” “..... Yeah..... I did. Once. It.... It didn’t work out.... My girlfriend.... She-..... why?” “Why what? What happened Messenger? What.....?” Silence. “........ Nothing. Except that due to my weakness, the one woman I truly loved named Poisyn....... Died. And the evil guys won once again......And that is why they all must die. Every single mother f---er.....They all have to die, Doc...... The world has to be a safe place again. The Lair Legion can’t stop them. Only I can in the end...... Only I can. And everyone hates me for that....” Dr.Eckman scribbles something on his pad of paper. “People usually hate what they can’t understand..... But tell me why you considered trying to go straight again? Was a subconscious part of you trying to get back to the glory days..... When you were a hero? When there was no doubt about what side you were on?” “Perhaps..... Does it matter? “Please, tell me about that first time. Tell me about that first bad turn, and maybe we’ll find a way to bring you back ..... To your glory days.....” Messenger can faintly hear honking from cars on the streets below. He stares at the ticking clock. The clock suddenly stops, and the second hand freezes.... Messenger sighs and then starts to speak “This story starts in mid ’94, Doctor...... Better bring out that little hypnotizing pocket watch of yours, and call up the asylum. What you’re about to hear, you won’t forget anytime soon......” ------------------------------------------------------------------- Outside..... another person could use some psychotherapy himself. “Mess-e-e-enger....... Oh, Mess-e-e-enger........ Whe-e-e-re are you?” The man points his shotgun at a ‘Stop sign’....... “Mess-e-e-enger....... All us Armageddon killers are waiting for yo-o-o-o-ou.......” The man dressed in a kimono and holding a shotgun, waves his hand in the direction of twenty others just like him. All armed to the teeth and with wild blood lust in their eyes..... “ COME OUT AND PLAY!!!!” ...... Sheesh, speaking of Psychotherepy, Right? ------------------------------------------------------ Somewhere else in a Mirror fun house........ Someone is having way too much fun..... “DIE, DIE, DIE!!!” Slice. Swipe. Crunch. Swak. Smoke swings his Onyx swords above his head and rains them down on his chosen opponents again and again, killing each and every one of them..... The white clad professionals all lay on the ground drenched in their own blood. Their reflections sparkle in the mirror. They stare at themselves dying, as they try to peel their eyes away from those mirrors. Those haunting mirrors. Smoke stands victoriously, a dozen bodies laying at his feet. “Messenger better pose a better challenge than this, or I am going to demand a refund..... What is it with you people? You’re the ‘Sect’, a group of highly trained Parodiopolis Assassins??! You fight like a group of school girls. I am disappointed.” One of the assassins groans as he lays on the floor. He clutches the bloody wound on his stomach. One of the assassins is still alive it would seem. “..... puh-please help me......” Smoke smiles. He lifts his sword, and then brings it down on the assassin’s neck. *Thwark* The assassin’s head goes rolling into a corner. Smoke wipes the blood off his sword with his hand and then puts it back in it’s case. He starts to walk away..... “Like I said gentlemen, I am disappointed. Sorely disappointed....” -------------------------------------------------------------- Tears give way to memories....... And a lost life that might have been..... Messenger cradles his head in his arms and sits up on the couch.... “ Six years ago..... Doctor..... Almost six........ You really want to know what happened?... Well listen up, because that is exactly what I’m about to tell you...... Before I discovered I was a fallen angel.... Back when my past was still a riddle to me. Yes, back in the days when I thought I was just an amnesiac. An amnesiac who had escaped the horrors of ‘Prophetic Genesis’. An amnesiac who had an encounter with a homeless man who supplied me with a strange box. It would turn out that homeless bum was another messenger, and he wanted to help me realize my destiny.... Ofcourse, I didn’t find out that I was an angel exiled from Heaven until I was in the Himalayas trying to rescue Yo a year and a half ago*. However I was interested and I brought the box back to my rented apartment in South Central Los Angeles. When I opened it, I was blinded by a bright light with vibrant blue and yellow rays..... Forget ‘Pokemon’, if you want to have a nice long seizure, just stare at that s--- in the box..... I collapsed from that burst, and yet when I got back to my feet I felt a lot stronger.... That little light show unlocked the few extraordinary powers I have, as a result I became stronger, I received the ability to leap in twenty foot bounds, superb marksmanship, the ability to see better in the dark, and heightened agility and stamina. The box also contained something else as it turned out, one neatly folded black trench-coat, five sharp razor-lined envelopes, and an explosive box....... And a small paper note which read ‘Become the Messenger’.......... I would become the Messenger...... Sure...... You may think it’s a giant decision becoming a masked crime fighter, but when something like this falls into your lap like that it’s kinda hard to resist. Even if your reason for doing it was just for kicks. So yeah, what the hell. I would be the Messenger..... But I would do it my way. I didn’t need weapons that killed people. I didn’t want a trench-coat or the appearance of a dark broken man.... Not yet. Not at that time. I remember glancing at a newspaper next to me, and seeing the Lair Legion on the front page once again...... Jarvis looked so heroic. The colorful outfit. The pose. The flash of cameras around him. Like the Hollywood star of Super heroes. That’s what I wanted..... That’s who I wanted to be.... Over the next week I put together a bright blue and yellow spandex suit, with some white gloves thrown in for good measure. ...... And over the next two or three months I was a hero. I hadn’t had any serious encounters yet. I was still too inexperienced to tackle a Super Villain, but every single night I would go out and stop muggings, mobsters or bank holdups..... I would stop the common punk and make him see the error of his ways..... Using my fists and my wits. I would outsmart the ones I couldn’t take on directly..... And I would never dream of beating a person up, let alone killing them. I would just throw a couple of punches to put the opposition off-balance. I.... Heh.... Really wasn’t a violent person, believe it or not...... Anyway, life is no walk in the park for anyone, and it’s almost funny how quickly fate can catch up to you....... I.... Heh..... Hope you don’t mind if I fall into flashback mode..... It was six years ago, and I was trying to establish a new life in California... Just another day for my new job as a crime-fighter...... Stop the bad guys and live to see another day. I was in a bank stopping a hold-up and that would be the week when I would meet a man who opened up my eyes to the wonders of the World, and with his inevitable death...... The tragedies..... So, I was in the ‘Life Business Bank’ in sunny California stopping a potential armed robbery. I had dashed between two holdup guards, and sweeped kicked the one to my left, making him collapse to the ground...... I then backhanded the guard to my right and kicked the gun out of his hands as he fell to the floor as well..... God, I was so quick and agile back then...... I-...... They hardly had time to register the fact I had entered the bank.... Six years ago..... “Looks like you jerks are layed up..... Have a nice nap, boys. And when you kiddies wake up you’ll be in a nice cozy Jail-cell with a friendly prison bruiser named Bubba. Better go rack up on the Soap-on-a-rope if you know what I mean...” Messenger in his bright spandex suit and cape walked to the bank teller while softly chuckling. “Hey babe, you can come out from under the desk. Beavis and Butthead have both been detained.” A raven haired beauty stood up from the confines of her desk. The Postman was immediately struck by her beauty. Gentle locks of hair and red pouty lips. If there is such a thing as instant love, than the Postman was hit by it right there and then. She flipped her hair back. “Nice going, “Hero”. And what might your name be....?” Messenger grinned. “I wish I knew my name..... Call me Messenger, babe. And you might be.....?” The woman giggled and put out her hand to shake the hero’s. “Listen, my name is Missy Possins, but unfortunately for me some of my friends like to call me....... ‘Poisyn’.” “Rrrrowl...... Poisyn..... Crazy name. But why.....? Is it a play on your last name..... Or?” “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mr.Messenger.... Speaking of which, how did you land in this odd line of work?” Messenger smirks. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Ms.Poisyn. It’s just something to do I suppose, and you feel good about yourself when you’re out saving lives.” “Hmmn...... You sound like someone I know..... Anyway, thanks for the save. I really appreciate it.” Poisyn’s eyes sparkled emerald green and the sun seemed to gleam off of her hair. “Um..... yeah. No problem. I wouldn’t be much of a hero if I let you die, now would I....?” “Guess not.” “So yeah, Poisyn.... Missy.... I’m kinda new around here, and I still don’t know that many people, so.....I was wondering.....” Poisyn laughs. “Are you asking me out, hero?” “I.... I-..... Guess I am.” Mess bites down on his thumb. “I would love to.....” She replies softly. “Really?” Messenger says enthusiastically. “..... But I’m engaged.” Poisyn lifts her middle finger to show off a gold ring. “Ouch.” Messenger says slapping his forehead. “Alright.... No problem....” “I’m sorry....” Poisyn says still giggling. “That was kinda rude. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. Listen maybe you would like to have lunch with me and my fiancee. It’s not a date, but with time I could get you hooked up with one of my friends. Super Heroes have a tendency to be one of the most desired type of bachelors. Just don’t come in the spandex, hero. Oh, and you’ll like this guy. You may find you have A LOT in common.....” Poisyn takes out a pen and scribbles a series of numbers on a yellow post-it note. She hands it to Messenger. He smiles. “There. My phone number. How’s Thursday at 12:30 sound? ‘Cafe LaBerte’ near ‘Sunset’ blvd?” “Tres excellent, pretty lady. I’ll see you there.....” ‘ And that, Doc, would not only be my first meeting with a wonderful woman named Poisyn but also the first in a line of mistakes which would land me in hell..... I eagerly awaited our luncheon and over the next couple days I wondered how I was going to.... heh... steal her away from her boyfriend... Never even considering the fact that I might actually like the guy....... Anyway the day finally came when I would meet up with her at ‘Cafe LaBerte’....... ------------------------------------------------------------ ‘Cafe LaBerte’...... Noon time......Thursday... A tall man whipped his sunglasses off his eyes and ran his fingers through his floppy brown hair as he made his way towards a small Cafe table which was hidden in the shade by a giant umbrella...... Birds chirped in the air and it was another sunny California day...... “Hi..... um..... Missy?” Messenger uttered as he reached a table holding two people. Poisyn was wearing a flowered hat and had on a pink suit. The man next to her gave Messenger a raised eyebrow. He had blonde hair and a face which just seemed to study other people. He smoked lightly on a pipe. “Oh, heya Mess. Take a seat......” Poisyn smiled and waved. Messenger takes a deep breath and then sits down in one of the metal chairs. It makes an awkward screech as he pulls it towards the table. “Um.... Honey, this is.... *cough*... Messenger. He’s a- .... a..... Postman I guess you could say.... Messy, this is my fiancee, Daniel.” Messenger uneasily fingers open a menu. “Uh... Hey, how are you?” “Would you like anything when the waiter comes?” “Uh, sure. Just a short black.... No sugar.” Messenger glances to his side to see Poisyn’s fiancee staring at him. “So....Mr.Messenger....” Dan smiles and puts his pipe out. “I hear you dabble in Super heroics. I would like to hear about it.....” Messenger is flustered. “Pois-.... Missy told you that?” Dan grins. “No, she told me you’re a Postman. I figured out you’re a Super-hero by my own deductive logic and the fact that I read the newspaper occasionally........ Messenger.” Messenger clasps the menu shut. “Well, I don’t know what in God’s name to say, so yeah. I guess I can’t lie. I do fight crime.....” Dan winks. “No need to be embarrassed.... Have you ever heard of an old vet named ‘Prize fighter’? A decade old Super-hero who once declined an invitation from the Lair Legion to join them? That would be me..... Even Missy over there is a one-time SPUD agent who seems to of gotten tagged by her code name during her days there. ‘Poisyn’. Don’t be alarmed.... We’re all friends here.....” Poisyn sighs. “Oh god, Danny..... Why can’t you learn to keep your mouth shut?” “I’m sorry..... But---” Suddenly Dan is interrupted by a giant crash and around half a dozen screams. He springs to his feet. “What the hell....?” Across the street from him, is a wild crazed man with a machine gun shooting wildly into the air. “You.... All of you are responsible for my fall.... All of you bastards are to pay for what happened to me!! MY WIFE HATES ME!!! MY SON WISHES I WAS DEAD!!! AND SO ALL OF YOU, YOU GREEDY MONEY GRUBBING BUREAUCRATS, YOU ALL MUST DIE!!!” “Dammit!!” Danny whispers. “What a time for someone to go postal.... Honey, I have to stop him before he hurts... Or kills someone....” Daniel Godfrey, AKA ‘Prize Fighter’ runs off to a secluded alley...... “Shit. Messenger, what is--” Poisyn glances to her side only to see that her mysterious guest is also gone. “*Sigh*..... Super-heroes will be Super-heroes I guess....” ------------------------------------------------------------------- Moments later..... The crazed gunman points his weapon at a teenager’s head. “You...... You remind me of the son I have.... The son I hate and the son that hates me..... Now, in the name of the father..... You must die!!” Suddenly a red punching glove shoots out of nowhere and into the maniac’s jaw sending him to the ground.... It is ‘Prize Fighter’. Dressed as a traditional boxer and yet wearing black spandex leg wear and body wear. “Better take it easy, buddy. Unless you really want me to put you out for the count!!” “Sonuvabitch..... I am the lamb of God!! Behold me and know that this is your last day on Mother Earth.....” The gunman leaps to his feat and then lunges at Prize fighter. His hand clutches the crime-fighter’s neck, but before he can do anything a flying kick intercepts him and sends him skidding on the hot granite road. “Sent you down on your ass. Unless you want a repeat stay down this time.” It is Messenger, in his bright yellow and blue spandex suit who may or may not of saved ‘Prize fighter’s life with that kick. The truth is that Prize fighter would have stopped the gunman anyway, but he doesn’t let this fact on and instead shows his appreciation towards Messenger and gives him the sense that he’s impressed. The gunman is carted away by police eventually and Prize fighter and Messenger become embroiled in a deep conversation. After a while shooting the breeze Prize fighter asks him for a favor... Prize fighter puts his arm around Messy as he walks. “I have a proposition for you..... From what I saw you’re good, but your move could have been executed better and more efficiently. I want to make you one of the best. I want to train you and place you under my wing. I’ve been playing this game for a while and I want to retire soon, but you’re new. You’re fresh. You’ve just exploded on to the scene..... And I would like to leave a legacy. What do you say to being my apprentice over the next few months......?” Messenger is slack-jawed. “Wha- What can I say except....... Sure!! I would love to.” ‘ And so, Doctor, this guy guided me over the next few weeks. Showing me new maneuvers. Giving me homework as practice. Helping me sharp-shoot. Doing regular gymnastic courses. And ofcourse making the rounds by stopping your local street scum at night....... I still hadn’t encountered my first full-fledged villain yet.... But I was getting to the point when I would be very ready very soon.... And with my new best friend to guide me, everything would be alright. I had also grown quite close to Poisyn in that time. Not the kind of relationship you’re thinking of though..... We were just really good friends. After getting to know this guy I would never betray his trust by cheating on his fiancee. We would stop at Cafes together though.... Go to the beach, a pizzeria or even the odd Garden show believe it or not? Heh..... How weak is that? Me at a friggin’ Garden show. Back in the crazy days, right Doc?...... Right?....... Messenger walked arm and arm with Poisyn. “Ohmigod.... Check out the Lilacs, Messy!!” She exclaimed squeezing his arm tight. “Hmmn..... Flowers. Very..... Interesting. I’m sorry Pois-- Missy. I just can’t get into this....” They walked down a stony path and fragrances of exotic colorful flowers filled their lungs. She smiled. “You would rather be busting heads wouldn’t you?” Messenger shrugged his shoulders. “He-e-e-e-ey..... I never said that. Besides, I’m having a good time. I’m with a pretty lady....” Poisyn gave a wry smirk. “If I didn’t know better--...... Y’know Messy, if I wasn’t engaged I would hook up with you in a second.” Messenger pauses. “But you are engaged. To a very good man. And that’s that. I’m not going to jeopardize your happiness. We’re friends and that’s as far as it goes....” Poisyn coughs. “Of- Ofcourse..... Friends......” Messenger clutches Poisyn’s hand and they continue to walk. ‘ I guess..... At times there were sparks..... Serious sparks..... But if Danny hadn’t bitten the big one eventually then I never would have layed a finger on her no matter how much she tried to come on to me or how bad the temptation was.... I promise..... I never would have done anything with her. Why are you looking at me like that? Anyway, the training sessions continued with Dan. They were becoming more intensive and.... Well, I was struggling a bit. I had been under him for around a month and he wanted to accelerate my progression..... “Very soon, Postman. You will blossom into the one to be reckoned with. This I promise....” Daniel shouted out to him as he watched the practice session. Messenger sweated heavily as he leaped frantically from rooftop to rooftop, kicking wooden targets down as he went on his way. “Are you round the twist?! I could die jumping between building tops!! This is insane!!” Dan laughs. “No. Your mind tells you there’s a long drop and so you think you can die. But the truth is that’s almost impossible for someone with your jumping powers. The span between two buildings on the same block for you is like skipping over a stair for someone else. If you don’t push yourself you will never discover your true potential. In the end it is try or die..... Like a little boy who is scared to ride anything but the Merry-go-round. He is pressured and he finally goes on the roller coaster. And then he wants to go on it again and again. You just need to overcome your fears. You just need to be pushed. That’s it. Just a push.” Messenger kicks down another wooden target as he lands. “It’s just every time I jump I wonder what would happen if I slipped or messed up.....” “If you think like that, one day that might actually happen. Just treat it like you would crossing the street.Yes, there’s always a hint of danger, but it should come naturally. It should just be instinct. Something that is a regular part of your life.” Prize fighter hits his watch as a beeping sound erupts. “All right, return to me and then that’s it for today.....” Messenger lands back on the building top he started at and then wipes his forehead. “Phew.....” “You’ll get the hang of it eventually. And from there it will become second nature. I guarantee it.” “If you say so, Bud....” Messenger wipes himself down with a gym towel and squirts a water bottle in his mouth. “Go have a shower, kid. You reek. Remember you’re meeting Poisyn and I for dinner at 5:30 sharp. Don’t forget now.....” “Oh.... I won’t, Danny kid. I’ll see you folks there....” ‘So yeah..... Even with the intensive exercises we were really good friends. All of us. Maybe they felt sorry for me and decided to take me in, or maybe it really was just that all three of us connected really well. But I had been living at their place for a little more than a month ...... When...... when it happened.....’ Messenger scratches his fork against his plate. “So, lady, what’s with the new crazy hair? Bright green, I mean really.....” “Hey, it’s something new and different. I’m a free spirit and I do what I like. Besides, it’s the inner punk in me screaming out!” “Ha! Inner punk...” Messenger rubs his eyes. “I’m sorry, Poisyn. I’m being a dick. The hair’s fine. It’ll just take some getting used to, that’s all....” Messenger slides his dish to the side. A waiter slaps a check down on the table as he walks by. “That was a good breakfast, Miss-.... Poisyn.” Messenger said softly dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “Well, this is the newest hot spot in town. And it’s also quite healthy believe it or not. Now not to bring up a sore subject, but have you thought about the idea of being Dan’s best man at the wedding.....?” Messenger shrugs his shoulders. “I guess.... What the hell. Sure. I just feel like he’s giving me this place to stay, all this money and food, and now he’s letting me be his best man. I just feel like it’s all out of pity for me. By the way, where is the big guy?” Poisyn fiddles with her fingers. “I don’t know..... He was supposed to meet me for breakfast...... I guess something came up......” Suddenly there’s a loud crash and Prize fighter comes flying through the front window of the Coffee house with a mysterious assailant with a blue uniform in tow..... “MY GOD..... WHAT IS IT WITH CAFES IN THIS TOWN?!!?!!” a patron at the other side of the restuarant screams. Prize fighter and the mysterious attacker roll on the ground covered in shattered glass. “No!!” Poisyn shouts. “What the hell is going on??” Messenger stares at the man in the blue uniform. “So..... So familiar..... Where do I know that guy....... Where?!?” He mutters as he observes the two combatants wrestle. He can overhear Prize Fighter’s comments to the man in blue as he watches them. “..... Who are you?! Why are you doing this...?!?.... I don’t even know you!!” Prize Fighter rasps as a hand wraps around his neck. “I told you, you give me the boy, and I’ll spare your life. I have tracked him down and his trail has led to you and Missy Possin’s apartment. All I want is the boy..... I have no quarrel with you....” The mystery man punches Prize Fighter again and again as he has him pinned against the floor. “NO!!” Poisyn shrieks as she stumbles over to the two fighters. “Shut up, cow!” The man slaps Poisyn sending her into a pile of stacked chairs. She is knocked out cold. “STOP IT!!” Prize Fighter yells out as he struggles with the mystery man. “What do you WANT?!?” The mystery man lifts Prize Fighter up by his neck and holds him there. “Can I make myself any more clear?...... I want the Postman. I want Messenger. He is here in the ‘Cafe’.... And he shall be mine to KILL!!!” Suddenly there is a series of hushed whispers. “You wanted the Messenger?...... Well congratulations. You have him!!” The Postman stands there in plain clothes. Not being bothered to even change into his spandex. Not when his friends lives were at stake. The wind rustles through the open shop window and brushes open his jacket to reveal a gun tucked into his belt..... “Beautiful....” The mystery man whispers. “Do you remember me, boy?” He asks still holding Prize Fighter by his neck. Customers start to file out of the Cafe. Messenger pounces at the his new opponent and lashes out at his jaw with his hard fist. The man skids across the Cafe floor and hits the already broken window. He slumps there. “I don’t know who you are...... And I don’t care. You were attacking my friends and that’s enough justification for me to destroy you.” The man wipes a blotch of blood from his lip as he lays there. “You mean kill me?” He chuckles. “Maybe.” “Then let’s get it on, boy. Let’s fight. And know that you will rue this day forever. For today is the day when you become a man, and are reborn through a torrent of blood. Today is the day that you face MAILMAN!!!” ‘ Well, Doc, what Mailman did to me during that first battle would launch me into a state of Hell that I never fully recovered from. He showed me how weak “Heroes” were and he brought out the real killer in me.... Oh yes, if you really want to know why I became a murderer I would suggest that you ask Mailman. But you can’t. He’s dead. I eventually killed him.......’ TO BE CONTINUED...... NEXT: I know I promised to chronicle Messenger and Mailman’s first battle this chapter but I ran out of space..... I promise their first fight and the ramifications of it will be held in the next chapter. After that, more stories of Messenger are told to the shrink and a diagnosis is eventually set in stone for him. Following that, it’s a fight against a cutthroat group of Armageddon killers waiting outside for him in the rain.... Smoke plays a new cat and mouse game with the Postman, while the Postman himself finds a way to shut down the Razor Letter production line. Plus..... Is Crimson Courier really alive?! How could he possibly be still alive though? Mailman seemed to of killed him very thoroughly over a year ago..... Will Messenger regain a brother...... Or be forced to finally deal with the pain of moving on from the past.....? Messenger--- King of Razor Letters...... |
| Here it is...... 'Pieces of the Mirror' Part three........ (Messenger--- King of Razor Letters......) (13-Jun-2000 07:48:06) |
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