Contest entry: natural selection

Contest entry: the island toon id 11504

A doorway, frozen in time sits. Unadultered and untouched now for years. Dust having gathered and settled thick. Through the build up of dirt can be read the words "death is only a horizon. And what is a horizon save for the limit of our sight?" Beyond the door lies a laboratory. Dark and unkempt, unseen computer monitors. Halls unwalked now for some time. The little light provided by various pieces of machinery reflect off a massive cylinder centered in the room. Any number of wiring and hoses steming from it extending into the ground. The whirling and ticking of life support systems, the only sound breaching the silence of a chamber forgotten.

A chronometer counts by the seconds of a calculated sleep. Seconds that have rattled off for many years scream towards their ending. Zeroes across the board until the last digits... 5...4...3...2...1...0.......

The sound of machinery abuzz echoes through the room. Lights begin to flicker and come to life in sequential order. From the core to the outer edges of the room. In moment the room is lit and the cylinder begins to decompress letting out a loud hiss. A system of pulleys and levers trip and the cylinder begins to spin from horizontal to vertical. Vital systems checks begin to rattle off on a nearby monitor as lights within reveal the face of an inhabitant. The doors jar and then hydraulically expand, opening the occupant to his new world. After several moments of systems checking for readiness, a robotic arm reaches out from the AI controlled chamber and injects the inhabitant with adrenaline... Suddenly and with an explosive intensity... His purple eyes open.

An hour has passed. The initial shock of awaking from hibernation has come and gone. The menacing figure sits alone in a metal throne like chair, somewhere between sulking and furious, surrounded by an empty hall of statues to heroes and villains of old. life sized silver icons to ziggy stardust, indoe master of sound, emperor madoras, fiero, laymonite, peace, infernal martial god, crossbones, abbadon, hoo lee chit, superbeast and pono line the walk way to his feet. A biohazard emblem emblazons the archway above the throne. Slowly he lifts hs head from his palms and inquires to AI...

Stranger: Who am I? Who am I now? Where have we all gone? Why cant I speak to us?

AI: you are whole. The others have left this place.

Stranger: where have they gone? Loose cannon, loveless, blood legion, wyld chyld, phobetor? Where have we gone?!

AI: They were not needed any longer. They have left this place. They no longer contribute to the collective. You adapt to the world you exist in. You always have. In this world, the whole is stronger than the parts. The cease to be, so that you may survive this world. You may survive your enemies. Who are many.

Stranger: what of aegis?

AI: gone

Stranger: wmd? Delta 7?

AI: gone

Stranger: Hoi? G&A?

AI: gone

Stranger: this world has become weak. A power vacuum exists. It waits for someone with the will to grasp for it. Someone with the conviction to do what must be done for the good of all instead of the few. Someone to ensure history does not repeat itself. That the fate that befell the city of our past does not rear its ugly head in the present. We shall be this strength. We shall avenge the memory of our fallen comrades.  Who wields power in this place?

AI: a collective of entities has arisen thus far. Some familiar, some unknown. They are known as avengers...

(A half smile crosses the strangers face at this piece of information)

Stranger: that is not irony... That is natural selection. Ready contact with these avengers. Who of their number do we share history with?

AI: super rakly, fiero, phantom among phantoms are among their number.

Stranger: a strong core for us to round out indeed.

AI: they also have fuma hanzo...

Stranger: well... Nobodies perfect.

(The stranger breaths heavily for a moment and lulls backward, the full effects of breaching suspended animation still taking a minor toll.)

Stranger: i must rest. Ready mechanical appendages, drone scouts and chemical strength and agility boosters. We begin our campaign against this new city post haste. We will explode upon the scene with a fury and anger not yet witnessed. Respect has no value in this new world. They must be taught fear. It is the only currency that carries weight now. Let their legions come. They will fall upon our sword. Personally, i would rather see them die on their feet than see them live on their knees.

(As the stranger lays back into the backrest of the throne and closes his eyes. A computer monitor in the hibernation chamber continues to flicker with static. Showing a series of  images breaking up in a repeating cycle. The words "dream recordings" is written below the monitor. In the image, a child perhaps 10 years of age can be seen on a playground at a school. It appears to be late fall. Suddenly and without warning, several other boys begin to attack him. They call him names. Call him crazy. Pushing him down, kicking at him. Punching him. He falls to the ground yet they do not relent. They kick him while he curls into the fetal position. For several moments they beat upon him. And then they break apart into dust and blow into the wind fragments of his memories. Another boy comes over to help the beaten boy off the ground. He offers his hand. To which the beaten boy rejects his offer for help. Slapping his hand away. He picks himself up off the ground and looks down at all his cuts and bruises. He looks the other boy in the eyes and speaks)

"We do not need your help. We do not need anyones help.  And when we smite these cowards down. It will be done with a calculated measure brought to us personally by time, space and circumstance. To such a degree that they will wish they had never been born. Everything we need. We provide.  We... Are an island.


 

Thank you for entering the contest. Good work.