MEDLEY OF MELEE: A ROCK OPERA FOR ROUTING MARAUDERS
By Quillon42
SOMETIME IN 1986 IN NEW YORK STATE
All crumpled up on the ground was what appeared to be the coarsening corpse of one young, weird woman who appeared to most as a personable, psychedelic piece of paper.
Now, again, she seemed to be trashed, as those mutant-murderers known as the Marauders stood smugly over the lost figure of looseleafed ligaments. The prime suspect preened with his sharp electrified spear, while another reloaded another magazine into his rifle, ready for more prey to pursue.
It was just as the latter's lady, herself quite the shocker with her own seismic abilities, had quipped about the quickness of the kill just now…
…that another, even more feminine inflection began to waft through the underground air…
…causing all the killers to about-face at the sound simmering up from behind them, from back at the gossamer body they just abandoned.
…See me…
…Feeeeeelll me…
…Touch me…
…Heeeeeaaalll meeeee…
…See me…
…Feeeeeelll me…
…Touch me…
…Heeeeeaaalll meeeee…
Michael Baer, that burly, bawdy Blockbuster who was bringing up the crowd's rear, was now taking point as the group reversed itself. The brutal giant galumphed over, his massive form bending as he peered down at the paper maiden, her once-frightened features now peeling into the most pernicious of grins as the mouth continued to issue forth the anthem.
…SEE ME…
And of a sudden, all was black in that tunnel.
…FEEEEEELLL ME…
Wisps of what felt like droves of delicate paper assailed the assassins from all sides, the deluge harrying them more than hurting…but doing the trick of unsettling them most effectively.
…TOUCH ME…
Then, in another instant, the paper projectiles all about
[SHHHNNNNNTTTTT]
locking together, forming screen walls like those seen in traditional Japanese homes…
…only these serving to arrest the inhabitants rather than adorn the environs, the material now menacing and standing stronger than adamantium against these monstrous maniacs.
And the voice completed its chorus, all the more chillingly to finish.
…HEEEEEAAALLL MEEEEE…
Within the mincing of instants, then, it dawned upon the diabolical doing-inners that they might have just gone from Marauders to Marauded.
Each of the papier-mache prison cells now contained one or two of these trackers of the genetically talented…each sheeted cell a chance for one would-be Morlock victim to avenge herself in as inventive a way as possible against those mothers who would have massacred her.
That same burly Baer from before, he was the first of the fray whom the merciless Morlock chose to torment. The bulky badly bustled around his own flush of fibers, nary a hand nor a foot able to make the steadfast sheafs around him start.
[DUM, DUM, D-DA-DA DUM, D-DA-DA-DUM, DUM, DUM…]
[DUM, DUM, D-DA-DA DUM, D-DA-DA-DUM, DUM, DUM…]
Crapton Baer didn't come home,
His uncouth chums will nevermore knooow him,
[DUM, DUM, D-DA-DA DUM, D-DA-DA-DUM, DUM, DUM…]
The effing elephantine circus animal of an enforcer that was Blockbuster was utterly bewildered by the notes nettling at him from all around, sounds that he could not slug away with the fiercest of fists.
Believe him missing with a number of slimes,
Don't expect to see him another tiiime.
[DUM, DUM, D-DA-DA DUM, D-DA-DA-DUM, DUM, DUM…]
Flustered with the strains sounding all around him, the bully decided to try and bull his way through in the most brutish manner.
"RRRRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHH…"
Charging full force, the sierra of a slugger shot forward, his entire mass making to crush through the paper palisade before him…
[SLAMMMMMM]
…only for the same surface to slap back against him, shunting him backward as if the material were vibranium from the Vault.
And above the mussed man's head, as he saw stars that Dazzler could dish out in actuality, another songstress, from not too far away…
It's a Boor, Mister Sin'ster, it's a Boor (not a Baer…)
It's a Bore, Mister Sin'ster, it's a Bore (not a Baaaeerrrrr…)
He's done…
As the eyelids of a surmounted Michael draped down upon the dilated pupils of the most massive of Marauders…
HE'S DONE…
Then finally into oblivion as the oversized oaf los consciousness.
HE'S DONE…!
In this way the Blockbuster in this crummy corner of the Morlock sewers closed down most unceremoniously.
…
It was Scrambler whom the lady chose next at random. Kim Sung was indeed a Kim Jong (Il or Un, take your pick) when it came to mutant ruthlessness. (And this author prays that he not be hacked, doxed, or otherwise for that reference just now). The snappily-dressed assassin always looked more decked out for meat-market nightclub playa action than a mission involving predation…it was all just a way of disarming the mark, to make his target unassuming as his actual abilities and intentions…until it was far, pitifully far too late.
But now the warfaring weasel wound around his tiny, tight paper prison, he almost out of his mind with no one in sight upon whose head he could place his pandemonious palm, no minds he could manipulate and mutilate ever so manually.
[Daa, daaaaa…]
[Daa, DAAAA…]
[Daa, Daaaaa…]
[Daa, Daaaaa…]
[Daa, daaaaa…]
[Daa, DAAAA…]
[Daa, Daaaaa…]
[Daa, Daaaaa…]
The infiltrating intonation of this strange, sudden melody had now made Kim ever kookier. He didn't know it, but as with a similarly sewer-trapped ermine-hued mistress, who in another story of this author's was going most unladylike gaga in her own gutter gulag at the bawling chorus of Bieber…here too Scrambs was in his own personal Hell.
Especially considering the clamping cardboard hand which closed upon the sucka's own skullcap a second later.
Deaf dumb and doped douche,
His brain's in a hellish commotionland,
Strange as it seems, his mutes-slaughter dreams,
Ain't quite so bad.
This last phrase quite sarcastic, coming from the paper maiden, as she pondered for a fleeting second turning the tide of homicide against this Korean killer…just as she gave him a taste of his own scrambling medicine a second ago.
Then the multicolored mistress nixed the notion, she figuring it would be more fun to traumatize the man than take him out of the game entirely.
So, reaching the chorus instead of carnage, the same lady, screwing up the Scramb even more with every beat of her hand upon his brain:
Sickness will surely take the mind,
Where minds can't usually go,
Come on the uncanny journey,
Unlearn all you've so known.
Then rubbing her hands upon his scalp, causing a dandruff of dementia to kick up within the man:
A sheer rage of delirium
Seeps through his mind,
Dying brain cells all so rob his wits blind,
Let my colors be your leaders, just go and let them be your guides,
On the uncanny journey, your brain will fully FRY…
Waveringly the musical accompaniment of Piper and Beautiful Dreamer faded as did the consciousness of Kim Il Sung a moment following.
TO BE CONTINUED