TMNT/SPAWN
HARBINGERS
PROLOGUE: THE DREAM
The teenage mutant ninja turtles, Aprail O'Neil and Casey Jones are TM of Mirage Studios.
Spawn, Maliabolgial and Violator are TM of Todd McFarlane.
Black heart and Typhoid Mary are TM of marvel comics.
Neuron is TM of Dc comics.
I'm using both these culture icons ( and the bad guys) without any sort of legal permission, and will probably end up with the biggest law suit since the OJ Simpson trail...but hey, don't hate me for living my dream. From the Shadow-Guy, sitting by the fire, a glass of fine malt whiskey in one hand, a beautiful woman in the other.
Special thanks to Mica, Varthra, The last hero.
Theirs was a war that should have ended in ancient Japan, as the last of the ancient masters lay his head down and waited for eternal sleep.
Theirs was a war that should have ended as a lone figure toppled from a blood stained rooftop, consumed by the hellfire like light of an exploding grenade.
But it hadn't.
It lasted fifteen years.
Inside the raging, tempest tost mind of this lone warrior, it felt as if it would never end...
It had been the first time he'd stepped in to a church, that beautiful and fateful day.
That day so many years ago, as dust moats glinted like diamonds in the light of the stain glass arches, had been the day he'd taken comfort in the light of day and tried to forever leave the all consuming darkness that shrouded his life.
He'd stood their in the rented tux itching in places he didn't even know existed, thinking what a pain in the ass this was, when she had entered .
The beauty had come of her in waves and he'd been their lost in a sea of ecstasy as the choir had chanted their song. He could hear them now, almost lost in the recesses of his mind: "Oh happy day!
(Oh happy day)!
When Jesus walked!
(OH when he walked!)
Oh Happy day..."
And he'd thought he could escape the hell of blood and death and carnage.
But he had been damned.
Damned to that very hell, damned to an eternal sleep had he not made a deal to see the beauty of his bride one last time. Now, as hellish dreams churned in a maelstrom of chaos, he wondered if he'd ever see any beauty again...
All around was death and fire.
The chill night air and the pounding rain bit at the flesh of the mutant known as Leonardo, Stinging and drenching him as he ploughed on, facing the enemy he had prepared all his life to defeat in the way of combat and ninjitsu.
Oroku Saki.
The shredder.
But Shredder was dead...beheaded by Leonardo himself.
"YeS YoU MiSrEbAlE FrEaK!"
The muscular figure in the silver, multi bladed samurai armour spoke with a leering, almost hypnotic echo in its familiar deep rich and deadly voice.
"YeS," It stated again, as though reading Leo's very mind ",YeS, YoU DiShOnUrEd Me, DeAfEaTeD Me , BaNiShEd Me To HeLl ! BuT HeLl Is OnLy So BiG, LeOnArDo, AnD MuTaNtS Do MaKe ThE MoSt InTeReStInG ThInGs To PrAcTiCe ToRmEnTiNg On."
Leo continued to glare into the blank, dead eyes of his enemy, and then looked around for his brothers.
The New York streets were ablaze, buildings collapsing like explosive dominos, citizens screaming and running around like headless chickens looking for any kind of shelter from the raging war happening around them.
A sea of black and grey flooded the city as Saki's personal army, the foot, ransacked, raped, and mutilated everyone they could lay their hands on.
Leonardo's brothers, also humanoid turtles, were fighting their way through the chaos of the streets, doing all they could to prevent more death and destruction, and then some. Of course.
Leo and the shredder clashed together, like two representations of the storm around them, slashing and pounding each other as each one sought a way of defeating the other.
The reptile like ninja's body had many fresh cuts and scars traced across his leathery hide.
Shredder on the other hand, apart from the many scratches across his purple tunic and silver armour from Leo's earlier attempts, stood tall and apparently uninjured.
"DiD YoU ReAlLy ThInK It CoUlD EnD ThAt EaSiLy?" The warrior hissed.
Then Raphael was riseing out of the maelstrom of foot ninja, red bandana almost blending with the blood that had caked onto his body.
A flash of steel and the sound of tearing flesh, all too familiar to Leo. Chucks of dead matter and excrement spurted from the wound, filling the air with the smell of blood and decay.
"Always knew that guy was fulla shit!" Raph yelled, turning to face Leo.
Leo remained silent as their enemy rose up slowly, his...no, it's...arm hanging limply at its side.
"YoU ShAlL SuFfEr An EtErNiTy FoR ThIs InDiGnItY!" Bellowed the creature, as it began to charge towards them.
"Yeah right Darth! What is this? Episode 2?"
The youngest, nunchuch wielding turtle pounced onto shredders back and flipped off, to land next to Leo.
"Mike."
"Miss me?"
"No." His brothers replied in unison.
The creature struggled closer, blood mixing with the rain and flowing off its armour in droplets, mixing with the stinking liquid that was its blood.
"I WiLl TeAr..."
A Bo staff hurtled through the air and collided with the side of the creatures head and sending it to the ground.
The staff whipped boomerang like back to a green three fingered hand. "Is this a bad time?" Donatello asked, eyes glinting behind his mask.
Leo didn't answer.
He was too busy charging the monster impersonating Oroku Saki, and ramming his katana blades right into its chest. The armours chest plate gave way, shattering as Leo's katana tore through the weak material of the tunic beneath.
The creature's eyes bulged beneath the samurai helmets all concealing mouth piece. Its body stiffened and then began to dissolve away on the breeze, leaving behind the armour and tunic and the faint smell of excrement.
"Well that went well." Raph commented as the foot soldiers around them also dissolved away with the dead body of their master.
Leo remained silent for a while then smiled. "Hey Mike now you've got all the more reason to take a shower."
Michelangelo made a mock pouting face and whined. "But I don't wanna."
It was true though. They all stank of sweat and excrement and the sooner they got back under ground to the showers in the den the better.
Leo suddenly noticed something.
The streets were deserted.
The fires were gone and wind whistled hollowly through rebuilt and abandoned structures.
The sky that had been hurling down bitter rain mere moments ago was now pitch black with a tint of scarlet around its edges.
The sound of slow footsteps echoed across the empty street and all four turtles turned, looking for the source of the sound.
Casey Jones and April O'Neil were walking slowly towards the group. But something was wrong. They walked slowly, jerkily, like puppets with cut strings and their eyes were blank and dead as the Shredder creatures had been.
"Guys! Guys what's wrong?!"
Raphael began to run towards the couple.
April spoke first, her voice low and quiet ...yet loud and booming and it filled Leos head.
"You must choose Leonardo. Choose well."
Then April and Casey exploded in a mass of green flame as two giant slits opened in the dark sky above glaring down at the group with a green malevolent gaze.
Raph never stood a chance. He was consumed the moment the fire ball erupted.
He didn't even have time to scream.
Mikey did however and it was long and drawn out as he was slowly vaporised.
Leo suddenly felt himself being lifted upwards as the ground beneath him began to rise. "Don!" he cried to his last remaining brother, "Don, grab on hurry!"
He held out a hand, desperate to lift Donatello to safety as the rock levitated skywards...but the effort was in vain.
Don lifted his hand towards Leo's ...only to have a sea of green fire smash down on him, his body vanishing in the blinding green haze.
Leo stared at the boiling earth where his family and friends had been mere moments ago. Waves of green fire hurtled towards him.
But not just that.
A white radiance was hurtling towards the small asphalt island the turtle crouched on. Behind it was... nothing. Just a trail of that same blinding light.
At the same time so was a grey comet leaving behind faint and unrecognizable shapes.
To the west a gold and scarlet streak tore across the air and finally a black tidal wave came crashing towards the same location as the others: the rock Leo was perched on.
And all the while April's voice echoed through his mind. "CHOOSE, CHOOSE, CHOOSE..." Then all five waves crashed down on the lone and terrified ninja.
2 feet beneath the city men call New York, the teenage mutant ninja turtle known as Leonardo (Leo to his friends and brothers) awoke from the one of most gruesome and terrifying nightmares he would ever have, sobbing quietly to himself.
After the tears came the vomiting, right onto the floor of his room. When his master came in and asked him what was wrong Leo gave the only answer he could. "I don't know sensei," He whispered, the dream still fresh in his mind, "I just don't know."
Deep in the shadows of the network of alleys, in the most god forsaken part of the Bronx, known to its many homeless inhabitants as "rat city", the creature that had once been Lt Al Simmons awoke screaming.
As he screamed the bizarre costume he wore seemed to explode to life, the large crimson cloak on its wearers back thrashing around like a caged tiger, demolishing rusted garbage cans, hacking head sized chunks of mortar out of the surrounding walls .
Long silver chains attached to a silver skull belt at Simmon's navel whirled around the ally, sending trash and dust flying high into the air.
After about an hour of this, (which scared the hell out of a drug dealer two blocks away) the chains lowered and the cape...didn't stop moving.
It wasn't as fast or as wild as it had been mere moments ago, but it twitched occasionally on its wearers back, fluttering slightly even though there was no breeze, giving off a slightly lethal aura. After breathing heavily for a while, Simmons glanced around at the wrecked alley where he had been sleeping, the decapitated walls and the settling dust.
SHIT.
A voice that, quite literally, sounded like death warmed up.
Once again an emerald gaze swept the alley, tacking in the damage.
Another sleepless night beckoned.
Whenever the visions happened this was usually the case, and to the now awakened hell spawn the idea of sitting on his ass for the rest of the night was, quite frankly, unbearable.
With a faint slithering sound, tentacles of the black material clinging to Simmons's body wormed their way up his neck, wrapping around his corpse like face and forming the deaths head mask of Spawn.
With incredible agility, he leaped the full 15 floors of the decaying building, landing on its roof. Maybe he'd get lucky and find some rapists or something to waste.
Somewhere in Switzerland
0.00 local time
20 feet below ground.
Everything was in readiness.
The soft humming of the brethren echoed around the chamber, rising and falling at various intervals, but more or less staying true to the low hiss, like a knife being drawn.
The candles flared illuminating the crimson of blood that formed small pools on the floor of the sparse chamber.
The humming changed to chanting, drowning out the pleading of the drug obsessed Swedish whore, chained to the main altar in front of the 5 or so different slabs, acting as tonight's main sacrifice.
The candles flared and a chill wind started to echo around the chamber, whipping the candle light this way and that.
The woman screamed as the blood that already covered the floor began to bubble and hiss, rising off the floor and even seeping out of the already dead bodies of the slaughtered corpses littering the chamber's various slabs.
The chanting grew to roars of welcome and triumph, as all but one of the grey garbed figures fell on all fours, their faces inches from the floor.
The crimson fluid formed a giant puddle in the middle of an occult pentagram painted in something yellow and fowl smelling.
The tallest of the hundreds that filled the chamber stepped forward, raised the knife and...
(( You bring me...this? ))
It could only be called a voice because there wasn't much else you could call it.
It went through you and into you and around you. It burned you and tore you and cut you...then did it all over again.
The apparent leader turned to the blood filled center of the pentagram.
A smile lifted one side of his mouth. More like a knife being pulled from a sheath.
"Black heart. Son of Mephisto. I see the eons have yet to curb your arrogant tongue.
A quiver of rage in the shadows.
((NEVER...mention my... "Fathers" name. You have a request old one...state it.))
A "tut tuting" sound from lips that appeared to be of flesh that seemed merely 30 years old.
"It is Lucifasa. I take it you're bloated back stabber of a father never mentioned me. And I shall not make my request until your superiors are here."
Crimson orbs narrowed to slits in the skull of the mass of black, with an equally obsidian mane behind it.
(( I have no superiors...))
Lucifasa smiled again. "You don't even know who my other guests are."
A nail breaking tiger snarl from the monstrosity in the shadows. ((I do not...nor do I care.))
"Ah but you shall," countered Lucifasa "And while I am ...not what I used to be I'm sure both they, and even you, will be interested. And the mortals were mearly the lock to the gateway. They on the other hand..."
A muscular arm indicated the mass of grey, like an ocean in the middle of the chamber.
A pause.
((Ah...))
"Yes."
More throbbing and pulsing from the blood on the floor. Two more shapes burst upward, similar to the way Black heart had entered this dimension and world.
Similar...but different.
One was more human looking. In the mortal world he would have been believed to be hansom, with his long blond hair, muscular physical frame and perfect face. But it would have been his eyes that would have sent men and women alike running. They were blank, completely white, containing all of the cold and dreaded infinity of the afterlife's darker side.
The other was immense towering over everything in the room. Mismatched teeth squatted and huddled together in the gums of a fowl smelling crocodile like maw. Like the one of human appearance, this apparition had eyes that could stab a blade of fear into any human heart. But these burned away any human soul. The bloated belly supported by spindly, muscular legs with talons matching the razor claws on the equally powerfully frail arms would have been comical if not for the creatures face. A cronomagnam brow contrasted with the malevolent intelligence of the cold hellfire eyes, cut into the middle of an alligator like countenance, the colour of something unspeakable. The reptile like appearance was only spoiled by the unkempt lion like mane of uncoloured hair clinging to the back of its skull.
Neuron and Maliaboliga.
The rulers of Hell.
Even though it wasn't the same Hell.
# ThIs BeTtEr Be GoOd. I wAs In ThE mIdDlE oF sOmEtHiNg #
The behemoth picked something small, meaty and pathetic out of sulphurous gums.
"Like devouring another of those disgusting canine trolls on your 3rd level?"
Neurons voice had ice too.
Then he turned.
"Brother."
The two monsters in humanoid form nodded curtly to each other, as if one were beneath the others notice.
Lucifasa drew back the hood of his robe, uncoiling a mass of platinum blond.
# AwWw...A fAmilY rEuNiOn. I'v CoRuPtEd SoMe Of My BeSt HeLlSpAwN At SoMe Of ThOsE.#
(( These are my "Superiors"? A pale, vain imitation of my family's glory and a bloated doppelganger of my father?))
Three unholy heads turned.
Lucifasa waved a perfectly manicured hand irritably.
"Youth. We all know what that was like."
# YeS. sO mUcH pOwEr In ThE hAnDs Of ThE uNdEsErViNg. We ShOuLd AlL hAvE sNeAkEd Up On HiM. #
Leathery bulges of flesh rose into the air, the unholy spikes at each end glistening in the poor light of the chamber.
LeT's SeE hIm CaSt AlL tHaT bLoOdY lIgHtNiNg...WiTh ThEsE iN hIs ThRoAt.#
"You have to admit the disciple was a success." Again Neurons lips cut a neat sneer into his face. "30 pieces of silver...my idea .Naturally."
# BiG wOrDs...FrOm A lItTlE mAn...#
"Enough."
Lucifasa hadn't raised his voice. But there was enough of a whip like crack to cause the two to turn from each other to face him.
"Enough talk. I imagine you are all hungry."
Again a gesture to the mass of grey robes.
"These...creatures have served their purpose. But there is still one to fulfil."
# YuM.#
One of the brethren rose a fraction, uncertainty, fear and a primal survival instinct clashing together in his head. Another purpose to fulfil? Yum?
There had been promises of power, women, insane wealth...
Then there was the wet sound of flesh being pierced and the snap of a fist punching through muscle, bone and tissue.
By he time the man was dead, a hundred others had joined him. More blood discoloured the floor.
"Satisfying?"
"Hmm.."
((acceptable.))
# TaStEd BeTtEr.#
Lucifasa stepped onto the flight of stairs leading to a raised golden throne.
He filled the chair, a man clearly used to power.
"After dinner mint?"
Reality shifted and a rock wall beside the throne ceased to be. A woman in a hooded, yet revealing grey robe stepped forward, a tray supporting full golden chalices and a bowl full of something twitching, posed on her splayed fingers.
# JuSt OnE fOr ThE rOaD.#
Maliaboliga reached out, immense thin bloated spindly fingers snatching a writhing hand full of scorpions. Neuron eyed him in disgust.
"Really. And after we just ate. You're spoiling us former brother."
And for the briefest Pico second... Lucifasa's eyes held the same cold inferno of his brother's.
Then he was smiling again.
"So you remember. Hard to forget I suppose. You," He turned to Black heart ",described it as a "request". It is not. More a...proposition."
And he explained it to them.
He explained to them the millennia long plan he had formed. He explained the reason. He told them of the individuals that he required. He told them of the 5 particular individuals involved. He told them what was in it for him and ...them.
Silence.
Silence, as eon old minds digested the information, like an antique, looking for any flaws, any accidents that may happen, and any consequences that may return to haunt them.
Finally Maliaboliga spoke.
# So...I gEt My ErRaNt ...AsSeT. aNd ThEy ReCiVe...#
"..Two of 4 exceptional fighters." Neuron rubbed a statuesque chin.
(( How "exceptional" are these fighters?))
"They defeated Savanti Romeo. Twice."
((A mere trickster wizard? Still for mere mortals, freaks or not, that is...impressive.))
# Im In. ItS bEeN dUlL dOwN tHeRe LaTlEy.#
(( I agree. We two accept.))
Lucifasa's eyes didn't flicker, his face muscles didn't twitch. Any sign of anticipation, excitement or apprehension could ruin everything. Millennia spent waiting would be wasted. If he wasn't careful.
"And you ...brother?"
For a time, the two brothers stared at each other, one infinitely cold stare matching the other. It lasted for two minutes and an eternity. Then Neuron shook his head.
"I do not accept your terms..."
Lucifasa felt his heart (If that's what it could be called) sink. A significant part of his scheme lay in his sibling's cooperation...
"...nor do I refuse to take part."
The twins bobbed their heads, one in affirmation, the other I acceptance.
"I am held by no rules or restrictions. And I name my reward for my part in this little game of yours. Understood?"
"Perfectly."
And then they were gone. With nothing but the blood and death left in their wake.
Lucifasa allowed himself a small smile.
"Bring me the photos."
The tray in the robed woman's hand ...ceased to function as a tray. In this reality.
She now held 5 photographs. A well manicured hand griped them, slid them into its own iron grasp.
The first was blurred at best. Shapeless shades of grey clashed against each other, the only thing less well developed in the photo besides them being the three faint images of the single rooftop they hovered around. However that was not what the cold gaze sought. The prey was sighted right there, in the centre, like a wild buck in the mechanical gaze of a rifles cross hairs. Green. With red. Almost reptilian one would imagine...if one didn't know that they were.
The second was a photocopy from one of those cheapskate news papers that always print in black and white. Again this was not a good one: shadows crowded the image almost covering the figure dead in the centre, if not for the illumination of the glow around its open, clawed hand. A long cloak writhed behind it; the glow of its hand glinting off the airborne chains from it's naval. Above the photo was the largest waste of ink the tabloid was likely to produce. The headline read: WHO IS ...THE SPAWN?
Photo number three was impressive and unimpressive, a basic birds eye view of New York from a CIA satellite. The fourth came again from the CIA, a physiatrist's report this time. The photo displayed a young woman. A woman who worshipped the death and insanity that necessitated her appearance in this report. Her hair stood up in an unkempt mass, one strand trying, and failing, to hide her face. One side was covered in white makeup, contrasting with the black of her eyes and the insanity within. This was Typhoid Mary.
The fifth was again shrouded in darkness, but what could be seen would have caused brave (and foolish) men to piss themselves in terror. The Violator, one of hells more earth bound offspring. 500 lbs of insectiod bloodlust. A useful tool.
Lucifasa held the photos at arms length, scrutinising them. These 7 would play a vital role in his plan to take back what was his. What would be his. And then...
He couldn't help it. The laughter came. It was insane, unstable and above all unnecessary and melodramatic. But it came. The photographs were tossed to the wind, igniting with the foul stench of brimstone before gravity could claim them.
Lucifasa stopped howling with delight and turned to the woman.
"Now my dear Samoana... a little entertainment for your new master."
This was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself to enjoy in this body. Without a word the woman reached for the clasp that held her hood and robe to her frame...and undid it. She stood before Lucifasa, the dim light shining off her naked skin...then climbed into his lap. Within seconds the large mans robes were on the floor and he was violating a woman...who looked exactly liked the slaughtered female atop the chambers main slab. Lucifasa would have laughed again; had not Samona's though been in his mouth. Within a few short days he would rule a legion of souls male and female alike, just as he now ruled her. His day would come...and nothing the rouge spawn or mortal freaks could do would stop him.
Enjoy yourselves? This is my first fic so let me know how I did. And don't worry ...the guys and Al will meet up. Whether they join to stop Lucifasa or just rip each others hearts out is up to me but hey I'm a freedom lover... say which one ya want.
Read, review and may your asses stop itching soon.