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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:04:39 GMT -5
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:08:32 GMT -5
The Question Quarterly
Issue 3: "Desolation Row"
Written by House Of Mystery
Cover by Ramon Villalobos
Edited by David Charlton |
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:09:40 GMT -5
Chapter One: Juxtaposition
She had news, and as he enters the room, soaking wet from the rain, he knows it without her saying a word. She clutches the test in her hand, tears in her eyes, a smile on her face, and as she looks up, it nearly kills him. “Big news, Lyle, I’m pregnant!”
And it feels right this time
On his crash course with the big time!
Pays no mind to the distant thunder,
New day fills his head with wonder, boy…
Says it feels right this time
Turned it 'round and found the right line
“Good day to be alive, Sir
Good day to be alive” he said.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:10:03 GMT -5
“We’re making progress. Steady progress.” Travis Clevenger jots something down on his clipboard and smiles. “How are you feeling?” he scribbles something else down and looks up at the bearded man in front of him.
“I feel like hell.” The man scratches his red beard and looks around. “Where are we?” He rubs his eyes and coughs, watching as Travis writes down more.
“Arkham Asylum. Like you have been for the last… Six months. You don’t remember? Who am I talking to?”
“Who else? Victor. Why do you ask?” Vic runs his dirty hands through his long hair and smiles.
“Because I haven’t seen you for the past half a year.” Travis rubs his bottom lip with his pen, and then looks on. “Why do you think you’re here?”
Vic laughs loudly, unsure of the true meaning of the question. “I’m insane?”
“Maybe…”
“Wait… Clev, if I’ve not been here for the past six months, who has?” He rubs his ear and then looks up at the psychiatrist.
“Many interesting people.” Clevenger checks his watch and nods to himself. “Time. I’ll be back same time tomorrow. Try and stick around this time, Victor.”
Vic scratches his ear again and nods slowly, uncomfortable. “Whatever…”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:10:31 GMT -5
An Interlude from the past:
The small warehouse is home to a small operation at the hands of one of the underworlds most feared operatives, a man going by the name of The Crime Doctor, a consultant and specialist in the medical branch known as crime, sinner for hire and always looking for a bit of sadism to get himself excited about. His latest piece of evil slides open the large metal door, and steps into the dark warehouse, an uncomfortable look on his face. Matt Thorne shakes his head, not amused by his patient’s lateness.
“Where have you been?” He pushes his star-shaped glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiles. “Hope nothing’s up?”
“Can we just get on with this? Put them in. Cut me open and put those damn things in.”
“When you chose to murder your family, rape your sister and torture your brother, and then cripple fifteen police officers with your telekinetic powers you became fair game, Ambrose. So be patient, take your pills, or papa will spank.”
Ambrose Fletcher looks up and shrugs, remembering the details of his crimes with relish. He sits down, takes his pills and sighs, leaning back on his bunk.
“Good boy, now relax. Let the tests begin.” The doctor smiles beneath his dark glasses and pulls a lever, and electricity shoots into Fletcher’s body, causing him to convulse as the power courses through his limbs. “The marker is in his body as we speak, and you can see how the electricity is stimulating his nerve centres.”
“Look, doc, I don’t really care… I just want the perfect prison… So none of these bastards ever gets out again, get me? And if this guy is able to contain them… Then we have our deal.”
“I get you.” The Crime Doctor smiles, and looks over to his comrade, a large man in a trench coat, a dark blue mask covering his features. “We’ll have the operative in place in the prison and he’ll be there when the time is right…”
“Oh the time is nigh, my amigo…”
End of an Interlude from the past.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:10:52 GMT -5
Someone has been planning an escape. Someone neither in nor out of the asylum, but a prison break none the less. People have been paid off, guard duty changed, and everything planned to perfection. They are the unholy, so who are those whom the unholy kidnap from their cots? The devils, the demons and the fallen; one such we concentrate on for now and for always, for he needs the answers. He sleeps with dreams accompanying him, small dreams that build into a large tapestry of nightmare, men who steal children’s eyes and place them in jars, floating from one place to the next, never stopping, never stalling, never hesitating. Once more, fish out of water, in the air, birds without wings, in water, not air. Things that should never be, things that couldn’t be, things that this man dreams of every night, tortuous membrane of memory that shifts and turns until… Until… Morning. Where he awakens to relive another day in hell, not knowing who he will be today.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:12:02 GMT -5
“We reach a crisis point in my study of Charles Szasz, AKA Vic Sage. His personalities are coalescing, but all these different personas cannot inhabit one mind, it’s impossible for me to allow him to return to society. He has moments of sheer clarity that would put people who claim themselves sane to shame, but other moments…” Travis Clevenger shakes his head. “I met Walter again, a couple of nights ago, before Victor once more assumed control… Walter, whom I never expected to hear from again. Walter whom I think could be a murderer who has committed no sin, or no sin that I know of. Evidence suggests he suffers from an acute case of Disassosiative Identity Disorder, his multiple personalities all unaware of each other unless a trigger occurs. Pain being one, anger, sadness…” Travis turns off the recorder and takes out the tape, labels it, and places it in a paper envelope, sealing it and putting in the post tray. Another volume that is complete, the saga of Vic Sage’s mind being completed by another piece being sent to the puzzle pile. “Why do I do this to myself?”
“I don’t know, chief, but you must have some reason, eh?”
Travis turns at the familiar voice and smiles.
“Hey Lyle. Everyone locked up safe and soundly?” Lyle Bolton is a large man, imposing and with short blonde hair on his head.
“Ha, the revolving door policy has been revoked, mon frere. I’m back and I’m in charge once more.” He pats his baton, smiling. “What are you working on?”
“Another case, you know, the usual.”
“Exactly the usual, Travis. That’s Charlie, isn’t it? Charlie Szasz? You’re always on his case.”
“Because he’s my patient!” Travis laughs at his words, and then turns from his desk.
“Want me to take your tray up to reception? I’m on my way up there anyway…”
Travis looks over to his post and then looks back to Lyle. “Sure.”
Lyle takes the tray and removes the post from it, then passes it back to the psychiatrist. “I’ll see you later, chief.”
“No problem, Lyle. We going bowling Thursday?”
“Sure as hell we are. My lady wants to meet yours!”
Travis laughs. “Tell her I’ll see what I can do!”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:14:10 GMT -5
“You got what I want?” He smiles slightly, and looks at the man standing opposite him.
“Sure, sure, everything’s here, you know what to do?”
“Of course, the crew is hired, the targets identified… And what will you be doing?”
“I’ll be in my office, and we’ll talk at the scheduled time. Don’t deviate from the plan, because if you do… Then it’ll all go to hell.”
“Precision, my friend, it’s all precision. Temple gave me the information needed, and he mapped everything out so… precisely.”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:14:29 GMT -5
The security footage spoke for itself. The Question was a murderer with amped up strength, invulnerability, and with a bad case of aggression. That’s where it all starts to fall apart. The Question is none of those things, yet here it is, the footage, the witness statements, and Clevenger’s own eyewitness account. The scars from the fall on his back still visible. Travis turns off the television set and shakes his head. He’s had Vic Sage in custody for months, and yes, the Question hasn’t been spotted for that long, but before then, he hadn’t either… And he doesn’t believe it one bit. Whoever attacked the police station in Hub City, whoever murdered Aristotle Rodor, it wasn’t Vic Sage. If he had any real feeling that it could be Vic, he would have gone public with his alternate identity, that of the faceless vigilante, but until he can prove Sage’s innocence, the best place for him is in Arkham Asylum. He looks out over his apartment, food wrappers everywhere, dirty clothes piled in a corner. He wasn’t settled in this place. He wasn’t settled in Gotham. He felt an itch, the same itch that he had when living in Keystone. He can’t stay in one place for too long, it’s against his nature.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:15:06 GMT -5
Jack Ryder sits behind the reinforced plastic screen, a fake smile plastered across his face. His hair is sleeked back, his skin clear and his teeth sparkling. Vic sidles up to his seat and looks through his eyebrows at the reporter.
“Hello, Vic, I’m Jack Ryder-”
“I know who you are, and I know what you want, thing is, why is that?” He sits up slightly, and scratches his beard.
“You’re very direct, aren’t you Mr Sage..?”
“And you can think on your feet, but I’m not pointing out your qualities and failures as a person. Tell me why before I leave and you don’t have your interview.”
Jack’s façade of calm shatters slightly, a crack running along his face as his eyebrow twitches. “You’re a famous journalist, Sage, yet you’ve ended up in Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Any comment why?”
“Detox. Next question.”
“Uh… Right…” With half his replies ruined by Sage’s, Jack looks up slowly, a dark glint in his eyes. “What is your view on Aristotle Rodor’s death at the hands of the Hub City vigilante known as ‘the Question’?”
Vic twitches this time. The blood drains from his face and he goes deathly pale. “I…I…I… I…”
Travis Clevenger walks by the two men, and pauses, looking down at Vic, whose hands are trembling, and beads of sweat falling down his face.
“Vic? Vic are you - - are you - - Where’s LEVIN?!” He looks around, and a man walks through the toilet door, pulling up his trousers, whistling. Travis goes red, and explodes with rage. “Ryder, this interview is OVER. I gave you a strict list of things you couldn’t discuss and you blew it! Get out of this asylum NOW, you are never coming back unless it’s in a STRAIGHTJACKET.” Ryder smiles and gathers his notebook. He had his story now. Travis and the two guards usher Sage into a side room, and Travis kneels down in front of him. “Can you hear me, Victor? Charles?” He looks around, and grabs Tom Levin. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO MONITOR THE CONVERSATION! YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO TAKE A LEAK BEFORE IT HAD EVEN STARTED!” He pushes the man away, whose face turns red.
“Where the hell were you then, Clevenger? He’s your case, I was just babysitting, where the bloody hell were you?!”
“I was taking a break, something I rarely do, and something you do too many goddam times! GET OUT OF HERE! You’re lucky I don’t get you FIRED!” Levin stumbles out of the room, his face scarlet, his hands trembling. Travis grabs Vic’s face. “Can you hear me? Vic? Vic?”
Lyle hurries into the room and places his hand on Clevenger’s shoulder. “I heard the hubbub, what’s happening… What’s up with Charles?”
“I’m losing him again. HELL! I didn’t want him to confront the death of his father figure, because I knew it would cause him deep trauma, especially due to the circumstances of the death… and that bastard Ryder just comes out with it!” Travis clenches his fist. “Something’s happening in his head, I just don’t know…”
“We’re… busy…. Can’t… talk…”
Travis arches his eyebrow as Vic speaks.
Lyle looks at Clevenger, confused. “What the hell?”
“Oh lord. We need to get him to a secure unit… I think his personalities are coming together… That bastard Ryder has just pushed forward my treatment schedule two years…” He looks at Lyle. “Help me get him to SB1, ok?”
“That’s the closest secure block, sure… Come on…”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:15:57 GMT -5
Chapter Two: Celebrity
And the mercy seat is waiting,
And I think my head is burning,
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this weighing of the truth...
An eye for an eye,
And a tooth for a tooth,
And anyway I told the truth,
And I'm not afraid to die.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:16:23 GMT -5
“What the hell are those damn noises?!” Clevenger turns and looks at Lyle, who shrugs.
“Extreme Case wing is getting rowdy. Hard enough having Nigma piping all his riddle nonsense, Amygdala ranting about his medicine, but if people are getting uppity…”
Travis’ eyes widen. “Riot.”
“Indeed, mes ami. Can you handle him alone?” He motions to the catatonic man they carry.
“Sure enough. Go! Rally the troops!” Bolton sprints away from Clevenger, and turns a corner. “Dammit, Vic, you choose a good enough time to turn veggie on me, eh?”
Vic looks up, his eyes blurry. “…Queeestions…”
Travis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah… We’re nearly there.” Travis hears a rustle behind him, and then a massive explosion rattled his fillings. Footsteps fill the corridors, and he readies himself. He could hear the mutterings, the screams, everything. The inmates were loose, and they were coming this way. He props Vic against a wall, and in one swift movement he takes off his black jacket that has been with him for so many years, and folds it neatly, placing it next to Vic, and then he stands, silent, fists clenched, ready. Men and women in pale green uniforms turn the corner and see the giant of a man. They pause, the men at the front being pushed forward by those not knowing at the back.
Clevenger shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be out your rooms. Please return there, we don’t want any trouble.” A few men turn and push through the crowd, heading back to the cells, disappointed at the turn of events, but the rest snarl and grit their teeth, then run at the massively muscled psychiatrist. “Fun.”
They come at him like a pack of wolves after the lamb. Mistake. Travis grabs the first one he can and swings him into the others, sending a half dozen stumbling into reinforced glass, and then causing them to fly through the weakened panes when he throws another inmate at them… And then he goes about doing his work. He punches one man with his outstretched palm, blood spraying outward, causing the riot of inmates hesitate for a moment. That’s all he needs. He kicks forward, sending a couple flying, and then plows into them, pushing them back, their nails digging into his flesh, their teeth biting into his skin. He grimaces and flexes, causing them to fly off his limbs.
“You’re bit part players!” He looks at his skin and shakes his head, the adrenaline rushing throughout his body. “You WILL go back to your cells NOW. YOU CAN’T STOP ME.” He flicks a man back, into the crowd, and then roars with anger, his features red with rage. His scar tingles uncomfortably, and he wipes the sweat off his face, and then kicks an inmate into the crowd. The escaped prisoners stand silently, awaiting Travis Clevenger’s next move.
Mexican stand off.
Chicken.
Travis clenches his fist, his skin glowing from the sweat; his eyes narrow, taking in everyone’s position and movement. He takes everything into consideration, goes through countless scenarios in his head, and then smiles. “COME ON!”
The masses swell and engulf him, and he feels the hands clawing at his back. Not good. He spasms, tries to throws the inmates off but it doesn’t work, they hold on tight, weighing him down, making every movement heavy, lucid. He can’t get any one, the bodies of his patients cover his fists, and they’re angry, free and angry. He slams his hand into the wall, cracking the ribs of one guy, and then swings forwards, the man on his back flying off into the crowd.
Then he feels it, beneath his armpit, a burning pain like nothing before. He runs into the crowd, barging through everyone, then stumbles into the wall at the end of the corridor, propping himself up with his free hand. He feels underneath his arm and his eyes widen, blood covering his white shirt. He looked up at the inmates who were circling like a pack of hyena, giggling and laughing, taking in the man’s pain and confusion. He looks at each mad house patient, seeing that some of the men and women do indeed have shivs and knives, probably stolen from the kitchen downstairs. He looks at each glistening blade, each screwdriver, and then sees what he’s looking for. He sees the red glow of his own blood and then he slowly smiles, raising his hand from his wound and pointing to the man holding the weapon that gouged into his side. His smile widens and then he sprints into the crowd, his foot rising off the floor and his body flying with unimaginable force into his attacker’s face, breaking his jaw and nose, and sending them both flying backwards into the rest of the crowd. He rolls into those behind his target and is immediately engulfed, the same burning pain entering his body again and again, sharp pains striking through his being, and then nothingness, the darkness engulfs him, and then he’s gone, lost in the black.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:17:07 GMT -5
I see everything that is happening, but can’t react to it. Everything is happening in my head. Bright lights and darkness, all at once, people floating in and out of my thoughts, people whom I’ve come to know intimately over my life span. My personalities. The ones who have come to inhabit my body when I’m away. I understand what’s happening. I comprehend it all too well. I see fragments and facets of myself break off, pieces of the others snap off and orbit a sphere of light in the centre of all the events. I’m losing myself in this place. Losing pieces of myself… And all this, all that is happening… All I can think of … Are butterflies… And the parts of me that are being broken up for spare parts in my head? We’re in the chrysalis. And when that chrysalis breaks open, what will emerge? I feel my physical body being dragged downwards, through hidden doors and loose walls, thrown into a cell and locked inside. Where was I being taken? Going down…
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:17:55 GMT -5
Chapter Three: Fall apart
I want to crawl inside your soul…
Nestle in your brain.
Stand you on your head.
Crouch you on all fours.
Oh I will walk among your dreams,
When you think you are asleep…
The invitation of your mind
Beckons me to your sin…
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:18:25 GMT -5
“I am your warden, I am your jailer. You can call me LOCK UP. And from now till I say, you are in MY asylum, hidden from the eyes of those who would seek to release you back onto the world… Ready to hurt more innocents.” The man looks down at the assorted men and women in the dark cells below him. “You aren’t going to be leaving this place, because you have been deemed unworthy of being on society’s streets. You are the disease, the cancer, which feeds upon the goodness of Gotham City. You are the cancer. I am the cure.” There is an assortment of small cells, each containing men or women. Everything is dirty and dusty, the only light coming from a spotlight that surrounds the burly man in the mask.
“Excuse me… Lock Up was it?” The man calling himself Lock Up turns to the small man in the cell closest to him, and nods slowly. “There is no cure for cancer… I thought you should know…” He giggles to himself and sits on his bunk.
“Kripke, Jeremiah. Convicted murderer… Has a talent for torture if I remember? A fan of the classic methods of sadism and mutilation.” He leaps over the metal railings and lands in front of Kripke’s cell, and then opens the door. The other inmates try and see what Lock Up is doing, and gasp as he walks into the cell with the madman known on the outside as The Surgeon. There’s a loud cracking noise, and a series of wet thumps, and the men and women can see blood slowly trail out of the small room. Lock Up walks out of the room, and leaves the door open, then turns to the other prisoners. “I will not tolerate bad behaviour. Those of you with Meta power capabilities, or enhanced abilities, are wearing dampening devices. You are all equal. Equal to dirt. Arkham and Blackgate can’t hold you, so we’ve taken it upon ourselves to rehabilitate you.”
“Who are we?” A man with a black beard peers from out between the bars of his cell, his knuckles covered in scar tissue, his wrists bound tightly with bandages, a collar wrapped around his neck.
“Kirk, Paul. Third degree murder. You didn’t mean to kill that man, did you? Punched him through the brain if I remember rightly from your file. Bar brawl?”
“He was hassling the owner.” Kirk smiles slightly, and then scratches his beard. Anyway, it’s a justified question. Who are we? And why are we here?”
“We. I have a friend in a facility down the hall that will seek to fix you.”
“Fix? I don’t know about the rest of these people, but I’m not broken.”
“You’re broken inside, Kirk. And we aim to please, and of course, you’ll be thanking us in the long run.”
Kirk grips the bars of his cell, his face flushed red with anger. “Like hell!”
“Your second question, I believe I answered. Each of you has committed a crime. Each of you have someone escaped a higher punishment. Let’s take you for instance, Kirk, Paul. You killed half a dozen men under the influence of alcohol. And this isn’t the first time you’ve been charged with such offences, and it seems you have friends in high places, because according to your record, witnesses who testified on your behalf include… Bruce Wayne, who it seems, employed you as a bodyguard for a year… Superman…” Lock Up pauses momentarily. And then looks back up. “Superman?”
Kirk nods and smiles.
“Well that’s interesting. Superman also testified when you were sued for damages after you broke one man’s nose, caused permanent eye damage to another, and broke another’s knee.” Lock Up looks at Kirk and shakes his head. “Impressive. You have ties into the highest echelons of human and super human society. Really impressive. You havesome friends in such high places. You’ll be the first I guess.” Kirk shakes his head, confused.
“First for what?”
“Electro shock therapy.” Lock Up smiles beneath his mask. “And then… Ah, our resident celebrity. Then our Mr Sage.” He turns to another cell, where a man sits silently, locked in his own little world, things coming together in his mind, confronting events and facts that he didn’t know he could.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:19:11 GMT -5
“I was fine in Blackgate. People wouldn’t touch me.” Paul Kirk paces his cell, angry. “But noooo. These freaks have to break me out of there. Have to bring me here. My sentence is gonna’ get extended. I’m now officially a damned super villain. Damn it damn it DAMN IT!” He punches a wall, and cracks shoot out from beneath the brick. “Well… Whadayaknow. Works on technologically enhanced someones, works on born metas, but not people like me…” He looks down at his fist and smiles, and then feels the collar around his neck. “It’s not working.” He punches the wall again, and the bricks shake and shudder, and then he repeats the action, again and again, until the brick breaks into pieces, and a hole is formed between the cells. “Hey… Sage?” He reaches through the hole and nudges the sitting man, who gently rocks with the push. “You alive?”
“…Things coming together…”
Kirk shakes his head. “Hrm. Nice, but things’ll be falling apart if you don’t snap out of whatever voodoo trance you’re in. Didn’t you hear him? Electro shock therapy! I can surely deal with anything like that, but look at you…” Vic flinches, and grabs Kirk’s arm.
“I can look after myself, see? So calm down, all right? We’ll get out of here. But I need time. Stall for time.”
Kirk nods slowly. “Sure then, boss man. I’ll do that for you.” He shakes his head and moves his bunk over to where the hole in the wall lies, and then falls onto the mattress, relaxing. He hadn’t been electrocuted since that accident in Tibet with his toaster. This was going to be interesting.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:19:47 GMT -5
Bit and pieces, bits and pieces and then nothing. A void. A darkness that cannot be illuminated. I awake to hear the gritty deep voice of Paul Kirk in the next cell, the booming vocals of Lock Up, and then a scratchy noise beneath that, of all the inmates rustling and chatting, thinking up plans… Manhunter is talking about his powers, something about how the collars don’t affect them, and I smile because I know what’s going to happen. We’re all going to die. But before all that… I want answers.
“Kirk.” I stumble off my bunk, and push the brick out into his cell. I wait a moment, and then his eye appears, curious.
“What’s up, Sage? You ready to talk to lil’ ol’ me now?” he laughs slightly.
“You want out, I want out and you’re the only guy who I actually know in… Wherever this place is. You used to be a hero, am I right?”
Paul Kirk mumbles something beneath his breath and then nods. “Like to think I still am, thank you very much, reporter boy. And I’ve only seen you on TV, how do you know who I am?”
I smile slightly. I met Paul Kirk in a bar brawl way back, but I was wearing a different kind of mask, and he didn’t have all that facial hair. ‘The Shadow knows.’” He looks at me, confused. “God damn, you don’t know the classics. Here’s the plan…”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:20:22 GMT -5
Lights flicker in front of his eyes, and he sees flashes of light and darkness. He’s light-headed, surely from the blood loss, and as the events before him unravel, he can hear the screams of terror from the inmates. He pulls himself up, a sticky noise being emitted from beneath his back as the blood on the cold floor is pulled up by his flesh. The creeps had dragged him somewhere… And Travis didn’t know where. He looks up and sees the bars, and grimaces. His wounds were cold, and he could feel the buzzing between his flesh. Outside his cell the screams were growing louder, and as he peered out of the small cell he’d been thrown into he saw it. A black blur, moving from inmate to inmate, punching, kicking, knocking out the ones who’d tried to escape. As the blur reaches Travis he’s become a man, and Clevenger knows who it is. And the man knows who he is too.
“Mr Clevenger, good to see you again.”
Travis smiles slightly, then collapses into the vigilante’s arms.
“Lost too much blood for my body to cope, Nightwing.” He coughs slightly, blood spitting out of his mouth.
“No problem, sir… Let me help you up… The breakout hasn’t been contained yet but we’re working on it as we speak…”
Travis looks up, his legs weak and shaking like jelly. “Batman here too?”
“He’s in the Closed Wing, dealing with the ones who escaped in the chaos.” Nightwing looks up and smiles slightly. “I was sent in for you.”
“Let’s get moving.” Travis asserts his willpower over his legs and stands on his own, his wounds still dribbling with blood. “We need to get out of here before Commissioner Loeb sends in the SWAT and we get gassed…”
“I’m all for that.” Nightwing supports the psychiatrist as they make their way forward, Nightwing propping him against walls as he deals with the odd inmate who escaped his first sweep, then they press on until the duo make their way to the corridor, away from the cells, and Travis takes a moment’s break, his wounds slowly beginning to heal. Nightwing looks at him, his eyes darting over Clevenger’s body, curious to what is happening to him. “You’re a meta?”
Clevenger looks up. “Can be. Sometimes.”
Nightwing arches an eyebrow. Travis smiles slightly, remembering that Batman used to do that when he told the Dark Knight his theories on Gotham psychotics. “What’s that mean?”
“They kick in an out. So… Sometimes they work sometimes they don’t. If my healing ability was able to stick around I probably wouldn’t have this…” He points to the scar over his nose, and cringes. Nightwing looks at him, confused. “This was deep. Sever your nose deep. Cutting into your skull deep. It’s healing, sure, but slowly. Looks like a normal wound nowadays but… Wasn’t like that a while ago.” He looks at his hands, and at up at the young hero “It’s why my wife left me.”
Nightwing shakes his head.
“Come on, we’ll be soon out and then we’ll be sorted, alright?”
Travis looks up and smiles. “Sure. Let’s get rocking…” He pushes himself off the wall and begins to move forward, not knowing that the threat hasn’t left them, and that they are on their way to the centre of this evil… and then suddenly, they stumble over, a weird shaking noise emerging from out beneath them… The asylum was shaking, and dust and brick comes loose above their heads, falling to the floor below. “What was that..?”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:20:52 GMT -5
Chapter Four: Truth.
I’m ever so lost,
I can’t find my way,
Been searching, but I have never seen,
A turning, a turning point from deceit.
‘Cause the child roses like,
Try to reveal what I could feel,
I can’t understand myself anymore,
‘Cause I’m still feeling lonely,
Feeling so unholy.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:21:18 GMT -5
“Hey, Lock Up!” Paul Kirk pulls on the bars, knocking against the metal, trying to gain the warden’s attention. “Yeah, you, with the stupid mask!” He points up where the villain stands, and smiles. “I wanna’ word!” Lock Up smiles beneath his mask and takes out his nightstick, then slowly walks down the old stair well to Manhunter’s cell.
“What’s your problem, Kirk?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a problem. You. You’re just a “#$%ing $#%^ with a \*$%^ing God complex. Come on, come in here and try and take me like a man, or are you a #$%^ing $#%^&*%$?”
“Big man now, are you? Sure, let’s dance.” Lock Up smiles and taps his nightstick on the cell door, and as he does a spark of blue light races up to the tip of it. He shakes it in midair, spins it around his finger and then opens up the door, and then Manhunter gets to work. He dives for his captor and gets hit straight to the back by the electrified nightstick. With a gasp Paul grabs at Lock Up’s belt, tears it away and then throws it at his wall, and through the hole he had punched into Sage’s cell. He’s done his bit, now it’s time to get serious. He picks up the villainous warden and throws him into the stonewall, only to get a mouth full of boot as his enemy kicks back. Lock Up strikes down the stick onto Kirk’s head, causing electricity to flow into his head. The other captors scream and shriek as they see what’s happening, and Lock Up just laughs, until he sees what’s happening to his victim. The burly man’s skin may be peeling and burning, his jaw may be locked together, but he’s smiling. Through gritted teeth he’s smiling. Paul grabs Lock Up’s mask and tears it off.
“Get off me!” Lyle Bolton, warden of Arkham Asylum and the man known as Lock Up stumbles back, and then presses a button on his nightstick, and dives for Manhunter. Kirk laughs to himself and rolls with the attack, then kicks up into Bolton’s chest, causing him to gasp for breath.
“You’re in my space.” Kirk grabs the man’s shoulders and throws him into the ceiling, then onto the floor, and looks at his cell door to see Vic Sage, keys off Bolton’s belt in his hand. “Took your time, didn’t you?”
“I was enjoying the fight. Come on, he couldn’t have done this alone…” Vic begins to move out of the cell when he sees something in the corner of his eyes, and picks it up without anyone seeing. He hides the sharpness in his pocket, and grimaces.
The duo run out of the cells and as they reach the stair well Vic spasms, and falls to the floor with a bang. Paul crouches down, seeing what’s wrong with his new friend. “Hell’s wrong with you Sage?”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:21:58 GMT -5
Oh for the love of God, this is not the time for this kind of attack. Vic Sage is struck from all sides, his mind on fire, his brain on fire and his body wracked with pain. He was having another break, for some unknown reason he was getting worse…
“It’s ready, Vic… Everything’s ready for you to leave…” Charles smiles in Vic’s mindscape, and then nods to himself. “Bits and pieces come and gone, and the new model ready…”
“New m-model… What?” Vic struggles to get up, but is pushed down by Walter, who talks through gritted teeth, spitting in Vic’s ear.
“New model you, dumb ass. The end is coming, you know that? And with the end coming rebirth is the only possible answer.”
Vic’s eyes widen, realisation washing over him. All this, all that was happening, the only reason he was struggling with his sanity… Was because the men in his head were building something new, something that would wipe him out?
“N-No… Get off me!” He jerks up, but Walter smiles, shoving his face into cold floor of this nowhere place.
“You’re not strong enough anymore, idiot… You’ve wasted your time with plans of escape and schemes of release but we’re going to recycle your soul, you know that?”
Charles walks up to the struggling man and smiles. “We’re going to grant you escape. We’re going to use you up and spit you out and you’ll love us for it because five don’t work in one head. Only one. Butterflies, my friend. Of all the ugliness, for all the wrongness, you spin a chrysalis and you escape with wings. Rebirth, Vic. Rebirth.”
“You… Idiots…” Charlie steps out of the shadows, holding a small teddy bear, a dark look across his face. “You don’t understand what you’re doing, do you?”
Vic looks up as the small child grabs Charlie and throws him into non-existence, and then turns his eyes to him. “What the hell is this? What the hell is wrong with me?” Vic shakes his head, still struggling underneath Walter.
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you. You’re an extreme.” he pulls Walter off him, and throws him in the opposite direction as Charles. “And what is life without extremes?” He helps Vic up, and smiles. “You saved me Vic. I was an innocent, and you saved me.”
“What… What do you mean?”
“First thing you did when you emerged from my psyche… You whisked me away from the orphanage, saved my life. Walter may have been formed from the anger that I experienced… But did he save me? No. He kept pent, building up like a bottle rocket ready to explode and shoot up. You did something for me.” The child smiles and hands Vic the teddy bear. “You see… What everyone has seemed to forget… I’m not a fragment of you, not a fragment of this place… I AM this place. I came first but couldn’t handle life… Remember? I hid away in the darkness, and I was content. But when all my fragments united in dragging you down to the depths of insanity… And may I say I have the worse multiple personalities EVER… When they dragged you down, I was torn from my happy place, torn from the good and dragged here.” He motions all around him, to the darkness. “I spent my worst days here, you know?”
Vic looks down at the teddy bear, and then at the child in front of him. “Here? Where is here?”
“The cupboard. We never left this place. But I realised something… I need to do this. I need to allow you to live… Because you’re a hero…”
“This is your life… I… I don’t understand what all this is… But if this is your life, what am I doing here?”
“Vic, look.” Charles places his hand in the journalist, the vigilante, the hero’s hand. “I can’t cope with the outside. Everything becomes too much and I leave. My body turns to nothing and I go to the happy place… YOU are a hero. You saved me when I was young and you kept forgetting why you existed. It made your life fall apart all those years ago… With Peter and the crisis of faith you suffered… You forgot that you live to save lives. To find the answers to the world's woes and then to administer the cure… You are here to learn, and to search and to be yourself.”
Vic smiles slightly, and then turns to Charles, who has turned into a reflection of himself. He gasps, and then nods. “All that’s happening, all that is and all that will be… It’s all for you. You are you and I am me and I am content in keeping you safe.”
Charlie nods and smiles “You’re finally getting it.” He turns and looks at the darkness, and the two watch as the doors to the cupboard open… and light shines in. “Go then. You’ve got an ass to kick and I don’t want to hold you up. I’m going back to where I want to be, and no one will trouble you here again. Peace brother, peace.”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:22:31 GMT -5
“Peace…” Vic looks up and sees Paul Kirk shaking him. “Whoa there, Kirk, I’m alright, I’m alright… Well… At least I am now…”
“What the hell is your problem, Sage? You keep going spastic on me and I don’t like it one bit…”
“Oh ye of little faith. Holy… Are you alright?”
“My skin seems to be melting, Sage. I’m gonna’ need a long nap after this to deal with the injuries… But I’ll be fine in the mean time.” Paul is about to smile when he’s struck by something and thrown down the stairwell and sent crashing down to the stone floor below.
“PAUL!”
“He can’t hear you, boy…” A man steps out of the shadows, wearing a black suit and with his hair sleeked back. “I’m back up plan number two, pleased to meet you.” Vic shakes his head, confused.
Sage shakes his head, and clenches his fist. “What’s back up plan number one?”
The man smiles slightly, and presses a finger to his head. “I thought you’d never ask. Papa spank.” The stair well erupts and Vic is flung forward, hitting the stone wall hard. “The name’s Ambrose Fletcher.” He takes out a black mask from his pocket and pulls it on, then raises his hand. “We is gonna’ have some fun, pretty boy.”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:23:11 GMT -5
Chapter Five: All Fall Down.
I only get to live one life
I won’t pretend you’re only mine
Where will you go, where will you find the way?
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:23:53 GMT -5
Pieces of metal fly through the air, nearly tearing Vic to shreds. He’s a fast learner, he can dodge a pylon of speeding iron, but fifteen at once? Even he has his doubts. Ambrose has a pattern though… He sends them in the same direction each time, leaving a… Let’s say seven-second gap to get to him. Vic dodges, ducks and weaves, his shirt torn by all the near misses, his arm missing a chunk of flesh and bleeding profusely. This was manic. His best bet of dealing with this guy was unconscious at the base of this little complex and…
What was that? The building rumbles and quakes, and Vic stumbles, being hit in the ribs by a speeding pylon. He stumbles over, a metre away from his adversary, and is picked up by some invisible force, and thrown against the bars a cell, a wet pop filling his ears as his shoulder dislocates, and then an scream that he discovers is own. Vic gasps for air, terrified, not knowing what to do, what to say.
“First I’m going to kill you. I might kill you quick… Stop the blood flow to your brain… Or I might to do it nice and slow. Savour it. That could mean any number of things, you should know. Horrible, nasty, dirty things that your mommy tried to hide from you… But my Mom… She told me those things. Showed me them. And I think that it’s my job to do the same for you. Anyways, first things first…” He motions with his arm, a grin showing from beneath the tight mask. “Then second… I’m gonna’ find your family. You strike me as the kind of man who values a family, am I right?”
“You… Couldn’t be… More wrong…” Vic smiles, spitting blood as he’s pressed hard against the bars. He hears another snap, and grimaces, feeling his dodgy rib go once more. He gasps in pain, blood dribbling down his jaw.
“Oh… A soft spot? I’m betting mommy didn’t love you… Did she? Left you out in the cold to be picked up by the state, am I right?”
“You seem so in sync with everything, why don’t you guess!” Vic laughs loudly, and the man spasms his hand, and Vic falls forward.
“Second of all, I’m gonna find your mom and I’m gonna skin her alive and wear her as a raincoat, you hear me? I’m gonna find your whore mommy and torture her!”
“Mommy loved you, didn’t she, Ambrose?” Vic stumbles up, bleeding heavily, but a smile on his bloody lips. “Loved you so much she turned you into a twisted little spoilt brat….” He’s smacked in the face by an unseen hand, and blood splatters across the floor. “Yeah, I see where this is all going… Mommy had some issues with your daddy and took it all out on you, and now look at you, a little boy trapped in the body of a freak… and all this time, you’ve become intertwined to become a black little piece of mould on a sliver of soul… You know how I know all this?” Ambrose roars in anger, and Vic is pushed back by invisible winds, but he stands his ground, and pushes on. “Because… I’ve been through a change like that… But I… Overcame it!” He slips to the floor, and coughs loudly, blood pouring from his mouth, his wounds open and trickling red liquid.
“Hh. Hh. Hh. You finished yet, baby?” Vic looks up at Fletcher and grimaces. His black mask was buzzing with energy. This guy was a telekinetic… and he’d been trained… But for a guy to have this much power… He’d been amped up. Vic can see the surgical scar on the guy’s neck, and he knows that this guy has been upgraded.
Vic spits blood and smiles. “Finished? Hell, I’ve only just--” He leaps up off the floor and slams his fist into the guys gut, causing the pylons to drop from the air. “--Yeah, I’ve only just begun. Where’s you power now, idiot?” He follows through with a punch to the nose, and then grabs the mask, tearing it off. “You like this piece of spandex don’t you? Think it’ll protect you pretty little features, do you?” He slams his elbow into the man’s face, causing blood to spray from his nose, and then pauses, digging his fingers into his neck. “The mask… Hrn…” Vic feels his hair stick up. This guy was playing with static electricity, probably trying to shock him off him. Not going to work. “Probably helps you control your power, am I right? Your little upgrades… Hrrt…” Vic digs his fingers deep into the man’s neck, and hears a crack, and he smiles. “Your little neck implants probably help you amp up your strength. Guess what happens when they break?”
Vic is thrown off Ambrose and over the ledge, and Ambrose staggers up, his eyes bleeding as his powers turn on his own brain.
“Holy… What did that… Kill him… Kill him… Crime… Doctor… Gotta get out!” He stumbles towards a corridor, and cringes, blood now trickling from his ears.
Vic holds onto the ledge, his left arm useless, blood pouring from it. “Get myself… Into the stupidest situations…” He feels his fingers slip, blood pouring from beneath his nails, his skin worn and red, and with a glance down to the floor, he knows he can’t survive a fall from this height. “STUPIDEST.”
“You’re a fool, Sage!” He looks up at the voice and grimaces again, only to have his slipping arm grabbed by a massive hand. Paul Kirk smiles, his skin still sizzling, his hair nearly all burnt off, but alive none the less. “Getting’ yourself into FOOLISH situations, not stupid ones… Come on… Ht…” He pulls him up, and smiles slightly.
“How’d you get back up here? He threw you down to the bottom of this place and then…” Vic shakes his head, holding onto his bleeding arm.
“Let me help.” Kirk tears off a strip of his uniform and ties it tightly around Sage’s wound, and then looks around. “I lived in the jungles for seven yars of my life. You don’t survive like that without learning how to climb.” He motions to the wall, where massive gouges have been made by hands. Vic looks at Kirk’s hands, and sees them black and bruised.
“Man… Come on. Lock Up is in your cell, and we can still stop that guy who threw you to your death…” Vic smiles and then the duo run down the corridor, where they come to a branch in the passage. “How… Clichéd.”
“I’ll take left, you take right?” Kirk smiles and hurries off, leaving Vic standing still.
“Huh. Sure.”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:24:15 GMT -5
“What do you think, Clevenger? What’s the big idea?” Nightwing follows Travis as he sprints down another corridor, past the major case wing and into a dark passage with a black wall at the end. “You thought you’d lead us to a dead end? Oh, we’re getting gassed for sure…”
“Oh, come on… You think I’m an idiot? Those rumblings… The building was shaking… And this place is built like a fortress, yes?”
Nightwing examines the solid wall he’s been lead to and nods slowly. “Yes..?”
“And this place was built by someone who was so obsessed by rehabilitation, who knows what kind of methods he’d use? Remember… The original director of this place, the first Arkham of Arkham Asylum… his family was murdered by one of his patients, and he became a resident himself…”
“Yes, yes… Come on, gas, remember?”
“… His brother became Director after that, and he wasn’t the kind of guy to let the freaks run free… In fact, half of the patients vanished mysteriously one night long ago, and the whole of Gotham was searched, and you know why they were never found?”
“No, why?”
“They never left the Asylum.” Travis moves his hand over the top corner of the black wall and presses as hard as he can and the large barrier moves allowing the duo to enter a secret passage. “Gotham History Lesson 101. No crime, no matter how well planned or straight forward is as well planned or as straightforward as it seems. You think that these guys broke OUT of the Asylum? Too easy… They broke IN…” Travis smiles at his words.
“Hh.” Nightwing takes out a small flashlight from his belt and smiles.
“What? Not impressed?” Clevenger raises his arms, the pain in his body all but gone now.
“Oh, I’m impressed… But you just reminded me of Batman…”
Travis stops walking for a moment and takes a breath. “And that is not a good thing?”
“Depends. Come on, let’s move!”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:24:38 GMT -5
Chapter Six: The Below Place
Ambrose is a danger to himself and others, but mostly others. Vic doesn’t care if he boils his own eyeballs out of the sockets, but he does care if the guy boils the eyeballs out of innocent people…It’s all subjective you see. He doesn’t care if people who harm others harm themselves, all the joy to them, but when a man who’s harming others doesn’t harm himself… Well then Vic has to bring the pain himself.
He hears scurrying ahead of him, and silently picks up the pace. He sees the looming figure of a tall man and leaps at him, only to be spin kicked out of the air by a man in the shadows.
“Kid Bat!”
Nightwing slowly lowers his leg, and rolls his eyes, then helps Vic up.
“It’s Nightwing. You know that, Sage. I didn’t recognise you with all that facial hair… And that face…”
“Knowing who you are doesn’t stop me from enjoying calling you it.” He laughs loudly. “Travis!”
Clevenger smiles and shakes Sage’s hand. “Sorry we took so long, amigo… Nightwing here had to listen to one of my history lessons…”
Vic turns to the young hero and puts his hand on his shoulder, grinning. “I am SO sorry.”
“HEY!”
The trio spin around as the seen Paul Kirk stumble towards them, a bloody wound open on his chest. “Holy hell, Kirk, what happened to you?”
“Lock Up… Rushed me… Got out!” Kirk shakes his head, and Vic’s face drains of colour. Travis looks to Nightwing and shakes his head too, not knowing who this Lock Up character was.
“Let’s head to the surface. Where are the inmates?” Nightwing turns to Vic, who smiles.
“In their cells down there. One dead, maybe some cuts and bruises… Crime Doctor is unconscious down there and Ambrose…”
Travis arches an eyebrow. “Ambrose?”
Vic shakes his head. “Fltcher. Ambrose Fletcher. He’s down here too…” Vic shakes his head, and grunts quietly. “Can’t let him get away.”
“Hell, I’ll keep a look out, but you get out of here. I’m staying, I’ll take care of the clean up… Gordon’s sending down some men to move the prisoners to a more secure unit.”
Kirk pats Sage on the back and the three men jog back into the main building, then out the front door, where they see quite a scene.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:25:09 GMT -5
Chapter Seven: For Whom The Bell Tolls… Time Marches On!
Batman stands, his cape flapping in the wind, his fist still, the man lying at his feet. He’d finished clearing up the major ward and had made his way out when this guy jumped in. He was big, but all brawn, no brains, and was no challenge to the experienced vigilante. He smiles smugly, and vanishes into the shadows.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:25:44 GMT -5
Lock Up is rolling on the floor, officers atop him, trying to hold him down. He lashes out, his fists like lightning, trying desperately to free himself of the officer’s grips. His mask is torn off, his eyes frantic, spitting everywhere, until he’s dragged to the floor, held down with truncheons and gun barrels, held down before he can hurt anyone else. Travis runs over to the scene, and looks down at the man whom he considered a friend, and shakes his head.
“Why’d you do it Lyle? Why’d you kill all these guys?”
Lyle Bolton, Lock Up, looks up and shakes his head.
“My honey, Clarita, she’s pregnant, Trav! PREGNANT, and we live in Gotham City…” He shakes his head. “I’m sick of the freak’s and weirdos who think themselves the power in my home… Who think they can run around on the rooftops with their explosive grins and larger than life criminal antics? Someone had to make a stand, someone had to show them that we don’t take their crap…”
Travis shakes his head. “You became what you hated the most, Lyle… A villain. Every city has its criminals, and you just became one…”
Lyle’s eyes darken and he stares at the man condemning him. “You must become what you hate if your are to become the cure…” He’s dragged up, handcuffed, and moved into the back of a police car, along with the inmates who survived. Travis shakes his head, and turns to the look at the Asylum, where smoke rises from the windows. Two men stand in front of the dark building, and he nods slowly.
Arkham Asylum has some of the most beautiful grounds in Gotham, a strange juxtaposition from the gloomy medieval like compound that contains some of the worse that this part of America has to offer. The woods behind the gothic complex stretch out until you reach the Cliffside over looking the city below, and that’s where we end up now.
“Don’t you realise it? You’ve always tried escape. Never had… The strength to confront things head on. You created new nuances of yourself. Personalities to hide in. But no more. All the things you’ve faced in the past year, all the events that you haven’t been able to hide from, they’ve strengthened you. What you lacked has been given to you. In spades!” Clevenger shakes his head. “Everything has been united. All your fractured personalities, all your different personalities… They’re now one. You are you, no two ways around it.”
“I know this. I know… Now… Everything. Everything I need to know about myself.” Vic turns and looks at his psychiatrist. “But there’s so much out there, out in the world… I need to get back out there.”
Clevenger looks at the horizon and then turns to his patient in surprise. “What?”
“I need to get out of here. If I stay in Arkham… I’ll go insane. But if I go out, search for answers… Answers to my questions, answers to all my questions… I can be whole…” He looks down at his hands, shaking his head.
“What about Hub City?”
He spins around and grabs Clevenger’s arms. “No. Never going back there. Too many bad things happened there… Tot… Oh lord, Tot…”
“That wasn’t you… We don’t actually know… Who did that to him…”
“But I have an idea. I have an idea who. It’s all interlinked you see. Intergang. Steel Hand. The weapons he was developing from an unknown source… All linked together. A conspiracy.”
Travis laughs loudly, and then looks down at the grass beneath his feet, chuckling. “So now you’re a conspiracy nut?” Clevenger thinks back to Metropolis, to the alien who was beaten to death that Faraday has such an obsession with. “This does not bode well.”
“We’ll see. Are you letting me go then?”
“I was only keeping you in Arkham for your own safety. Soon as I was sure you were healed… You would be free. Go forth. Find the answers.”
“Find the questions…”
“What?”
Vic looks up and smiles. “Nothing, sorry. Thanks man. What you gonna’ do now?”
“Well, Arkham was a temporary job…”
“You’ve been here for seven months, Travis…”
“And now you’re safe! I have my priorities. And to be honest… I just wanted to prove myself better than that lunatic Hugo Strange… The one who took my job out from under me…”
“What?”
“Never mind! I have a friend who I’ll be meeting for drinks in the next couple of weeks.”
“Weeks? May I ask who?”
“He’s my old partner from the firm. Bill. Never mind! Heh.” He drifts off in thought, and then turns to Vic. “Before you go, I want you to promise me something.”
“What’s that, Travis?”
“Annual check up. Every six months. On the house.” He scribbles something on a piece of paper, and hands it to Vic. “My cell number. I’ll be travelling, and by the sound of it, so will you. But I need you to check up with me every six months. I need to make sure this whole new sanity gimmick you’ve got going sticks, you know?”
“Sure, Travis, sure.”
Travis puts his hands in his pockets and rocks forward, whistling something to himself. Abruptly he stops, and looks out across the landscape. “So.” The two stand and watch as the sun begins to rise over the dark city. “It’s a new day.”
“And not to sound cliché, but a new start along with it.”
“Where do you think you’ll head first?”
“Hmm. I’ve always wanted to visit Las Vegas…”
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:26:28 GMT -5
Epilogue:
My name is The Question. And I want answers.
You see me, faceless, surrounded by that perpetual mist, and you ask: “What drives this man? What makes this man do what he does?” Truth is, I think I finally know.
I want answers.
I use to wander the streets, take in the sights, and wonder… What awaits me? What terrors and horrors await me in the darkest recesses of the human mind? I saw it all, and it made me kind of crazy.
My name is The Question. And I want answers.
I was locked up for so long in my own mind that things avoided me, the perpetual questions that haunt, the questions that require the answer, and all in all… The truth was out of my reach.
Until now.
My name is Vic Sage, and you’ve saved me. Redeemed me. Made me whole.
Yeah, you. You and all your kind, always watching, judging. Like me. You observe. Don’t think I can’t see you through my featureless face and gaunt body. You can’t see my eyes but I can see yours. You watch and you pray and everything came together, every little detail came together and I know that when everything is done… You will always be there, always watching.
My name is The Question. And I want answers.
Like I was saying, I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen the puzzle that is humanity. Some pieces don’t fit. Some do. That’s life. That’s how you live it. You feel pulled down, dragged under. Everyone has it at one time. Some times it takes a toll. The loving husband, an argument too many, snaps, kills his true love. That is life, my friends. That is life. But you can overcome it… How? You learn, you listen, and you help each other.
My name is Vic Sage. And after all that has happened… I know that that is the truth.
I’ve seen wondrous sights. I’ve seen the highest star in the sky, the lowest recesses of the city below. Everything and nothing, all through my featureless face. You want to know why I wear that mask? I hide my face to hide my identity, no two ways about it.
My name is The Question. And the search is on.
What search?
For the truth.
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Post by Admin on Jun 6, 2006 21:27:08 GMT -5
To be continued in the new ongoing entitled
THE QUESTION, debuting January 07!
Look out for The Question Issue One, coming out soon! |
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