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Chapter Eleven Sunday, 04-Jul-1999 15:25:21
Chapter Eleven The sky is bleeding. And as its life’s blood effuses across your dampened skin, you turn your face upward to watch it. To watch it die. A crimson haze marks the horizon line. The dark abyss pouring forth from the heavens is marked with the scarring of chaotic fulgurations through which torrents of rain escape. The cloudburst seems to ignite in mid-air. To hiss in pain as it escapes with the fervor of an entrapped beast. It becomes one with the atmosphere, the scarlet visage of each drop merging completely with the crimson haze of the sky. Until you can’t even tell one from the other. They are one in the same. It is then that you realize that the sky stopped bleeding long ago. The sky is merely being drained of all that it has left to give. It is already dead. Hal Vanderbilt had never felt more alive. He stands on the great escarpment atop his building, overlooking the city below. It juts out from his office floor like an eagle’s perch. Mathematics would dictate that it should have violently snapped and plummeted to the ground long ago. But Hal Vanderbilt has never been one for following the rules. Or for acknowledging them. The parapet appears to be but typical stone, for sure, but Hal Vanderbilt knows better. The balcony banister is solid, strong. The short columns which bear it’s mass are modeled after the Corinthian style column of classical times. With Vanderbilt’s own stylistic additions, of course. Vanderbilt closes his eyes, allowing the water to pelt his body, to run down his youthful face and blonde hair, to soak his body to the bone. He is calmed by the thunderclaps that reverberate about him, the lightning that laces out of the sky above. Almost everyone has at some moment wished that the rains would let up, that the sky would clear for just a moment. That the sun which has remained hidden from them for a decade would return if only to assure them that it still yet exists. Hal Vanderbilt has no such wish. He revels in the chaos. For this is HIS world. And he is the King. When Jarvis and Lisa reached the chief executive operator’s office floor of Vanderbilt’s Tower, they had expected a greeting. A hello, a gunshot, a missile for that matter, but a greeting nonetheless. They received none. The polished ebon doors slid soundlessly into the walls to open the portal before the two heroes and their cadre of armed Canadian freedom fighters, each garbed in red and black battle-gear, brandishing arm length laser rifles. “For some bizarre reason,” Jarvis whispered nervously, waving his hand into the air to create a psychokinetic ball of light to illuminate the room, “this isn’t what I had expected.” He cast the ball forward, it’s eerie and unnatural light filtering into every crevice of Vanderbilt’s massive office, gleaming off of the display cases and causing the surfaces of his paintings and tapestries to shimmer as if they were lit afire from within. Lisa stepped tentatively forward, and Jarvis followed. She stared open-mouthed in amazement at the room about her. There were wonders contained in Vanderbilt’s tower which few, if any, had ever seen, she had known that. But to see the works of Da Vinci, De Sautola, and Picasso lining the walls, the sculptures of Phidias and Buonarotti atop massive marble pedestals, the imposing statue of the Pharoah Khafre seated before her…it was as if time had sought shelter in this one place. As if only one man had been deemed worthy to become its watcher. Jarvis tugged on her arm, and she was distracted. “We have a job, to do Lis. Vanderbilt is here…somewhere. We need to get down to the bottom of this.” Jarvis extinguished his mental fireball, and the room was plunged into darkness once more. “We better handle this stealthfully. I’ve told the troops to hang back. It’s all up to us.” Lisa nodded. She turned her gaze back to the wonders before her one final time. Straining for many seconds, she found that her eyes simply couldn’t adjust quickly enough. She was, for all intents and purposes, blind. She followed Jarvis’ silhouette across the room, attempting to steal once last glance at her surroundings. She kicked a pencil which lay on the ground by accident, and it wrapped across the tiles. Lisa thought rather uncomfortably that it sound more like a skull rolling across the floor of a tomb than a pencil. By the time they had crossed the room, and Lisa could finally discern her surroundings, the distraction was far too great for her to care... Lisa wondered, when had the room acquired such a rank odour? Hal Vanderbilt inhaled a deep breath of moist air, filling his lungs. It was supposed to be a relaxing breath, an intake of the air of a world he created. HIS world. But its taste was horrid. It was stifling, dry and rancid. Vanderbilt was caught off guard, and coughed into his cupped hand. He shook his head in confusion and frowned. Jarvis and Lisa stepped out on to the parapet, careful of their footing on the slick surface. They could see Vanderbilt on the other side of the sheet of rain that waged war on the two, leaning against a railing. Stealthily, they crossed the narrow expanse, Jarvis telekinetically shielding their faces from nature’s wrath. Lisa was oblivious to the strength with which the weather assaulted them, but Jarvis could swear that with every step they took, it grew that much more powerful. By the time they were an arm’s reach away from Vanderbilt, he was deathly afraid that it would knock him from his feet and to a horrible death were his shield to falter for just one second. Vanderbilt stood tall, clasping his hand behind his back. He didn’t bother to turn around, rather, he continued to stare across the cityscape. “Welcome to my palace, Jarvis, Lisa. I hope you like what you see.” Lisa was taken aback with surprise. So much for stealth, she supposed. Jarvis breathed in deeply and puffed his chest. “We want answers, V.” Vanderbilt laughed. “You’ve come to the right person then, butler.” Vanderbilt pivoted about slowly, the cape of his cloak unfurling, dashing water across the surface of the parapet. “But I get the idea you already have them, hmm?” “But why?” Lisa inserted. “We’ve always believed you were a benevolent force, that the PCE was a corporation striving for a better world for all of us!” Vanderbilt grinned. “Oh, but I am. We just have a different ideal, Lisa.” Vanderbilt waved his arm over the balcony edge, gesturing towards the ghostly apparition of the city below. “This is my dream, my paradise. The Parodyverse you knew of has transmogrified into my Kingdom. It’s beautiful.” Jarvis stepped forward in anger, his fist clenched before him and gritting his teeth. “You bastard! Do you realize how many people had to die to create your ‘perfect’ world? Do you?! Maybe it’s all well and good up in your ‘aerie of the gods’, but people are miserable down on planet Earth! Have you ever thought of that you narcissistic asshole?!” Vanderbilt didn’t laugh this time. He didn’t smile. His brow tightened in anger and he pursed his lips. But no response was forthcoming. A bolt of plasma shrieked through the air in a fraction of a second and hit one of Vanderbilt’s nemeses from behind. Jarvis let out a dreadful scream and collapsed on the ground. Lisa spun about to cradle his fallen body, and turned to face his attacker. The Departed grinned openly in satisfaction and casually hefted his mighty laser rifle on to his shoulder. It did not go unnoticed that it was of the same issue as a member of the Canadian Rebellion. “So…is this a private party, or can anyone join in the fun?” Lisa put her ear to Jarvis’ chest. His breathing was strong, the blast only stunned him. But he wouldn’t be mobile for a few more minutes at the least. Vanderbilt scowled. “Not very sporting, Departed. Their cause was already lost, but there is a spirit of defiance in these two which I admire. What fun will crushing it be now, when the realize that NONE can defeat me?” The words were fresh out of Vanderbilt’s mouth when a blue ball of fire ripped through the fabric of reality itself right where the Departed stood. The man who was once Evil spiffy shrieked in pain and attempted to escape the inferno which had claimed him. He hurled himself right off of the escarpment. Vanderbilt watched him fall. He wondered which would come first, burning to death or hitting the street 200 floors down. Lisa helped Jarvis slowly ascend to his feet once more. Vanderbilt watched the globe of fire coalesce into a form, a massive creature of solid flame. It wore body armor that appeared to be formed of light and wielded a spear of pure darkness. It stood easily at 20 feet. Each of the three recognized its face. It was The Man Who Wasn’t There. Or at least it once was. The Creature leaned forward, and stared at the trio individually. His massive eyes held when he captured Vanderbilt dead in his sites. Vanderbilt had never seen anything more terrifying. He had never seen a foe whom he could already tell he would not survive in a battle. He had never feared for his life this much before. As quickly as its head descended, it swept upwards once more. The Creature spread to its full height. Vanderbilt could swear that it was at least 10 feet taller now. It opened its mouth to speak. “Humans,” it boomed. The balcony rumbled as the base voice echoed off its face. “By order of Those Who Sit Above In Shadow, your kind has been deemed UNWORTHY to lay claim to this planet. It is my charge to dispose of your race, beginning with those who would stand the greatest chance of stopping me. Prepare to die.” Jarvis assured Lisa he was strong enough to stand alone. “He has a way with words, doesn’t he…” Vanderbilt recalled what he himself had said just before the Departed was set aflame. He gave the Creature another look-over, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all. Jarvis turned to look at Vanderbilt. “Wha? Is he laughing? Idiot…looks like it’s up to me to finish the job. Just like old times…” Lisa put her arm on his shoulder. “You mean us, it’s up to US.” Jarvis replied with a brief smile, and the two Legionnaires did that which they had done so well for so long. They fought for the very survival of mankind. Lisa attempted to take the beast down with brute force, throwing her physically enhanced shoulder into ankle. If it felt her attack, it didn’t show. Jarvis summoned the Jarvis Cosmic, channeling its vast energies into the maw of the Creature. It was blinded at the very least, neither hero could tell, but Lisa used the opportunity to scale his massive armored form. She climbed to the base of his neck and pounded away viciously at his skull. Jarvis saw an opening, what was very well his best and only chance. And he would take full advantage. He took to the air, arcing out of the beast’s reach and waiting for Lisa to give him the chance he needed…to pry open is jaw so that he could unleash the full fury of his power down its throat. He only needed an opening… Vanderbilt did not move. He watched the battle unfold before him. He did not honestly think Jarvis and Lisa could win. For that matter, he doubted that he himself could. He glanced once more towards his city below, but the storm was so enraged that even that had disappeared from sight. And so he closed his eyes. He strained himself as much as possible to hear, to put aside the rain, the blasts, the screaming behind and about him…but he could hear nothing. It was as if all he had built…was dead… Jarvis saw his opening and unleashed the blast. It was unfortunate that the Creature had seen his plan all along, at ducked quickly, flinging Lisa directly into its path. Jarvis cried in warning, but it was for naught. She could not escape. The bolt of energy launched her backward and through the plate glass window which fronted Vanderbilt’s office. Her momentum had been stopped by one of his artifacts…she felt the impact…but what it was she did not know. She couldn’t feel any rubble beneath her…she couldn’t feel much of anything. She tried to open her eyes to gauge her surroundings, but blood flooded in when she opened her eyelids. Lisa thought of moving, of rejoining Jarvis and the battle, but try as she might her limbs refused to move. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to move anymore, the blackness was comforting…it was inviting. Lisa felt comforted…and her thoughts and cares slowly bled away. She thought briefly of Jarvis and Vanderbilt once more…of the Creature…and of Vanderbilt’s room of wonders. It’s scent was welcoming once more…refreshed. Lisa smiled with contentment…and her heart stopped… “Lisa! No!!!” Jarvis flew with frenzy after her. He was careless. But he didn’t care. Lisa was hurt, maybe even dead, and it was all his fault. His fault! He had to make sure she was all right. Time was of the essence. Cut down on wind resistance, and you can fly all the faster, he had thought. And so he neglected to throw up a telekinetic shield. It was the opening the Creature needed. It breathed a shower of liquid blue flame in the direction of the distraught hero. Jarvis didn’t see it until it was already too late. Racked with pain, he crashed to the floor upon which Lisa had been flung. His skin burning from his body, his bones turning to ash, his mind driven insane with agony, he reached with what little strength he possessed out towards Lisa…If only to be assured that she was all right… He would never gain that assurance. The Creature who was once The Man Who Wasn’t There was proud with itself. It’s first objective had already been achieved. The heroes, the only decent opposition he would face, had already fallen. The plague of humanity would soon be cleansed- “You didn’t forget about me, did you?!” The Creature turned in time merely fast enough to see Vanderbilt’s billowing cloak soaring towards him. The bolts of lightning which lanced from his fingertips struck the Creature in the eyes, burning away at his retinas, blinding it. Vanderbilt landed at the base of its skull and plunged his hands the base of it’s neck, turning them to solid steel. Flailing its body back and forth, the beast could not dislodge him. Vanderbilt began to channel more of the lightning into the Creature. It screamed in pain, and began to hurl itself into the side of Vanderbilt Towers. Whether in rage, in anguish, or in anger, Vanderbilt did not know. Vanderbilt was conscious of his waning strength he could already see its effect on his body. He was perspiring profusely, his muscles burned with the fire of exhaustion. He could feel his heart racing, but with each of the beats, he was sure that just a little less blood was circulating. He began to cough, his lungs be denied the oxygen he so badly needed to survive. His grip was also failing. He concentrated as best he could…if any one faculty of his body could not fail him… But Vanderbilt knew that failure was inevitable. The signs were all there… He hands grew old and frail, his hair began to turn white, and a lengthy, snowy beard began to grow from his chin. He had been nearly 40 when he entered this battle. He was reasonably sure that his was twice that age now. The beast crushed through the wall of the tower, sending steel siding and glass all about. But Vanderbilt held fast. His time was running short…he needed a new plan. He looked once more to his frail, metallic hands. That was it! He had transformed his hands to metal…why not do the same for the beast? Entrap it in a form of steel forever… Vanderbilt reached deep within himself to draw out the power necessary and steeled himself for one final assault on the Creature. He could feel his life force drain from him as he convulsed with the effort. The Creature began to slow it’s movements, but it fought furiously, rolling over, slamming its body into walls, whatever was necessary to kill the being which threatened to do the impossible. Kill it. Vanderbilt began to lose consciousness. He could hardly believe he was alive as it was. Though he had already gone blind, he pressed on, waiting until the Creature stopped moving altogether. Or until he could give no more… Hal Vanderbilt fell softly to the water soaked facing of the parapet. He wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten there. He thought to ask if the monster still lived, but quickly remembered that no one was alive to answer the question. He chuckled. If he had won, no one would be alive to tell him otherwise, anyway… Hal struggled to muster any measure of strength with which to pull himself to his feet. Struggled, and ultimately failed. Hal had expended too much of his energy. He knew he was dying… Hal Vanderbilt let his muscles go lax, and fell limp on the ground. His mind began to grow blurred, less focused. He struggled to remain awake. But he had won. That was all that mattered in the end. And as the man who would be hero slowly fell into a final, deep sleep, he could swear that the rain around him began to dissipate…began to slow, even stop. Rain… He couldn’t recall when, but it seemed…it had not always been raining… THE END by Hollywood V |
| Just for the hell of it... a repost of Return to the Parodyverse. (n/t) (spiffy) (04-Jul-1999 15:17:35) |
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