WARNING: The following statement is Awesome.
Hello my faithful readers, before I begin the long awaited seventh installment, there are a few things I wish to impart upon you. First off, I have just received undeniable proof that one of my theories, is true. Yes, yes, I have just proved beyond doubt, that I am indeed Awesome. There are some of you out there who may be wondering, why is that capitalized? For in truth, many people use the word awesome, but none in the context that I am.
For simple use of the word awesome in mundane conversation, for instance, describing something as being awesome. "Man that movie was awesome!" The people who say these things do not realize that the awesome of which they speak, is not really Awesome at all. A long time ago, I and another of my friends, StreetPoetJehosaphet thought that Awesome was too much for mere mortals to handle, so we simplified to awesome. It was after this event that we began to seriously ponder, since we indeed gave the word a simpler meaning, if in fact, we were the epitome of Awesome. And just recently we have discovered that in fact, we are this epitome, this orgasmic sensation of incredible awesometastic, amazingosity…Awesome.
I can not impart upon you the evidence that we uncovered, for I am merciful, and wish for you all to retain your sanity. And from this point on, I would wish that when referring to me, you would say, instead of Toran, The awesome. Notice the non-capitalization, this is only there to show that I am indeed knowledgeable, and realize that if any of you attempted to use the Awesome to its full extent. Your brain and innards would melt, and make a slow journey downward and out your anus, to muddle in great puddle of incredibly grotesque goop. So now that you have all been inducted into the few not ignorant of this incredible revelation, I will impart to you the incredible chapter that you have all been pining for.
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Chapter 7: Psychomania
Pounding. Blood pounding through his ears, through his chest. His heart beating, pumping over and over again. Viciously attacking his ribcage in an attempt to free itself. The blood pounding in his ears, pulsing through his veins, it blocked out everything. The man standing in front of him, holding her, hurting her, he wouldn't take her from him. No sound reached him, only the blood pumping, and the rage building.
And the animal.
The animal in its cage. Once quieter, but never dormant. Now thrashing and scraping and roaring for release. For this man, the one hurting her, he would let it out, for this man, he would release himself, let go. He did.
The cage was thrown open, the Beast was released from its bonds, and he could feel it drawing him back and away from consciousness, and then blackness. The Beast had taken control, but for now, he did not care. The Beast would protect her, and the Beast, would kill him.
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Narrowed eyes saw the prey, flaring nostrils smelt the prey, smelt the perspiration, the cloth it was wearing, and the fear. Oh the fear. A delicious more enticing scent the Beast had never found, and it lavished in its sweetness. The fear was overpowering the man, and he dropped her, the only one worthy of the Beast. It was king, it was power.
Dropped her, and ran. He ran like so many others had, in an attempt to escape the horrors that surely awaited him at the hands of the Beast, the terrible, painful fate that was sure to come if he stayed. But this did not bother the Beast, he liked the chase. Adrenaline pumping through its blood, the scent of the prey wavering and sharpening, and finally the end, at which the Beast would find and kill its prey, for it would happen, no matter how long or far its prey ran, the Beast always won in the end.
And so it began, the metal and stone forest that surrounded the two providing cover that the prey would surely need if this chase were to last long at all, and as soon as the man had disappeared, the Beast set off. Ascending, loving the feeling of his claws as they punctured the structures and carried it upward toward the sky, relishing in the feeling of the wind rushing by as it leaped from place to place, taking only seconds to retain the scent, and redirect itself, but most of all, loving the smell of fear pouring off the prey.
There were others, easier prey, but they were sparse, and revenge drove the Beast to kill him. And then the adrenaline pumped faster, the scent sharpened to incredible levels, and finally, the Beast saw his prey, and he knew the end was near. The Beast knew too, it always knew, the Beast always won.
The Beast leapt, lunged at the prey, pounced, but surprisingly, he was ready. Something smashed into the Beast, something strong and fast that drove the Beast through one of the tall structures, and sent jolts of pain through the Beasts muscles. It convulsed on the hard uncomfortable ground, muscles twitching and sending pain through the Beast's body, numbing the Beast's thoughts.
The dirt and debris rose in front of it, obscuring its vision, and screening him away from the prey. This didn't bother the Beast, he could smell the prey, feel the movements. He was jittery, nervous, he had a good reason. The Beast brought his twitching, convulsing muscles back under his control, and beat down the pain, pushing it to the back of its minds. It ignored everything but the prey on the other side of the dust, preparing to launch itself for the kill.
The dust settled, and the Beast waited. Waited for the naivety of the prey, his stupidity would his downfall. And sure enough, the prey came closer, peering into the pitch black of the building, not noticing the Beast. Muscles in its hind legs coiled and tightened, preparing for the attack. The urge came. The Beast lunged forward at the unsuspecting prey, almost too quickly for the eye to follow. Something shot from the man's hands, blasting upward into the clear blue sky. The Beast didn't care though, the prey was near.
The prey rolled and bounced to the other side of the hard path that they were battling on. He looked up, and the Beast began to prowl around him predatorily, feeling its victory coming close. It charged forward and rammed the man with its head sending him into another structure. He smashed into the thing, a satisfactory crunch accompanying the impact. A sharp hiss of hair escaped from the man, it was the Beast was sure was pain.
The Beast moved to the side, waiting until the prey was no longer stunned to strike. The prey got up with obvious struggle and looked around not able to see the Beast. Elation crept into the prey's scent. Time to change that. Viciously sharp claws lashed out and tore into the man's side, sending him bouncing and rolling down the path, leaving splashes of blood in his wake.
The Beast walked to the downed and defeated man, and wrapped a paw around his throat, lifting him clear of the ground. Normally the Beast would have just torn him to pieces with his teeth. But he had no need for innards to burst and send their insides over the rest of the good meat. Precision was better in its current situation. Positioning claws at places where they would inflict minimal damage to important innards, but would still deliver a fatal blow. The Beast plunged the claws in and out with lightning speed. The prey fell dead, the feast began.
Delicious red meat tore from the body and it gulped the meat down hungrily, eager to complete its vengeance in the most complete way possible. Wet blood dripped from the fresh meat, streaming down the Beast's muzzle, splattering over its face, drying and caking over in the dry heat. It rent the meat, swallowing and chewing, feasting, and if at all possible, smiling. It was awhile before two more showed up, but to the Beast's surprise, one of them was her. This was quite a dilemma.
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Darkness. The cold unforgiving darkness. It was everywhere, surrounding him, trapping him and silencing him. It was suffocating. The deep, cold blackness choked him and rendered him helpless. He didn't know how long he lay there, aware that the Beast was doing its work, but unable to do anything.
Powerful emotions would occasionally penetrate the omnipresent blackness, but only for fractions of seconds, and none of them made him feel better. Pleasure, sadistic joy, eagerness, it only served to deepen the void. The darkness that now seemed to be building up to cut him off from his body forever. He didn't even try to close the gap, to bridge the abyss, to reach himself, for there was no use. The darkness would only swallow him. It would continue to render him unable of anything, to destroy him.
Suddenly, something pierced the darkness. A shock, a surprise so sharp and sudden that it brought him to full awareness. The darkness was there, and he realized despairingly that it would keep him away from whatever had happened.
Time elapsed, he never could tell how much, and then, something broke through the darkness again. It wasn't bright, but it was strong, and warm. A comfort you never felt in the darkness. It called to him, and he looked up to see what it was. Before anything was discernible, he was gripped forcefully and carried through the darkness, across the abyss, back to himself, back to consciousness.
He stumbled and fell over. Back again in his body, conscious once more. The darkness that had smothered him so completely was no longer there, he was free again. But he felt that a price had come with the freedom. Something didn't feel right. Something was terribly, terribly wrong, with him, and with the situation, the world. He looked up to see Cyborg, and her. His eyes caught hers for but a second, and then suddenly they darted to a point behind him. Afraid of what had drawn her attention, he turned tentatively toward the scene behind him.
A bloody mess. Pearl white bones sticking up from the innards, the red liquid pooling in great amounts around the center. He could barely pick up that the mess was a mangled corpse, and suddenly the drying, caked matter around his mouth made sense. The stickiness around his mouth, the coppery taste filling his mouth, the fullness of his stomach. He retched, once twice, and it came up.
Oh God, how could I-retch-I should have been able to stop it, it's all my fault-retch-This…terrible-splat. I ate-splat-Oh fuck, Sparx, oh…-splat-This, how could I-retch
A small, cool hand, her hand. It rested on his back among the tattered cloth of his uniform. It was, reassuring. But it did not stop the horrible feeling that filled him. He had eaten someone else, not something else, but someone, a human, another sentient being. He did not know how long it came up, only that when it ended, her hand was still there, resting against his back. Turning his head toward her, he choked what seemed the first words he had spoken in years, "Raven, what happens now?"
"I don't know Garfield, I don't know." The tears came.
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Caged. Caged like an animal. Trapped like the animal that still prowled inside him. He wouldn't let that out again, at least, not on purpose. His hands shook as he held his head in them, staring through his fingers at the monotonous gray floor. The cot he sat on hard an uncomfortable, nothing more than exactly what he deserved. The feel the taste, it was still there.
He could feel the dried and caked blood still plastered on his face, feel the wet stickiness in his mouth, and taste the copper. No matter what he did it was always there, it kept his thoughts occupied during the day, and haunted his dreams at night. Food was tasteless and stale, drink seemed contaminated. Life was just, empty.
He didn't really know how long he had been in the cage, but he would stay down here as long as he needed to. Or, as long as they wanted him to. This whole thing, the investigation, the suits, all of the things happening, it was all his fault. If only he hadn't given in, if only he hadn't…The thoughts were too detailed, he rushed to the trash can in the corner, bending over and heaving into it. Only, he forgot that he had to wear a muzzle. Thankfully Cyborg was making his rounds and checked in on him, day one, down.
A week, it must've been that long by now, and he was still trapped in the dull colors and atmosphere of his cage. Muzzled and bound. He didn't fall asleep anymore, it was too much of a risk, the Beast might take over again, and it only need a bare few seconds. He now rested bound hands between his knees, afraid that he might scar himself if he lost control for only a little while. Nothing entered his mind, his mind was a page filled completely with disgust, remorse, and more than a little anxiety. Muffled noises and feelings, a voice, maybe a touch, but none of it mattered right now, it was just-
CRACK!
-Something fast and hard smashed into the side of his face and sent him sprawling on to the floor. A stinging sensation erupted on his cheek, and the skin felt raw and red. He looked up and saw Raven, it was her. Why in the hell was she standing there, and why the fuck did she slap him! He tried to yell at her, but once again, he forgot that he was wearing a muzzle, and the device muffled his voice. She snorted at his predicament, and he her hand reached out, severing the bonds of his muzzle.
He had a panic attack. "Raven what are you doing?! That supposed to stay on at all times!" Filled with fear at what might happen if someone found out that she had taken it off. Something bad could happen.
"Relax, Gar." He was shocked, she didn't seem to care that it was against the current regulations. He would have kept on talking, but her voice had carried more demand that request. So instead of launching into a series of complaints, he tried to find out what was happening.
"So what's up Rae?" Of course, she corrected his usage of her nickname. And began to explain that Dick had asked her to help him. Confused, he questioned the sort of help that she would be giving. She explained the entering of his mind, and the second attempt to trap the Beast. He questioned her again, wondering why they would try this again when the last time had given such…unexpected consequences. She pressed her case, trying to get him to let her in.
Now he was angry. She wouldn't go in, he wouldn't let her, not when the Beast was in their. Granted, the Beast was caged, but only with the strongest mental barriers he could muster, like paper to the Beast's strength. She kept coming at him, persuading him to let her in, giving her reasons. Finally after several long minutes of heated discussion he gave in, sat down on the cot, and waited. She stood in front of him, and placed her small hands on wither side of his head. He looked up to see a small smiled twitching her rosy red lips. Heat flushed in his face, and then, everything went black.
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So, no plot advancement, but lots of people told me to get inside Gar's head, so decided to do that, hope you all liked it.
Sorry, it's a bit short.
-ToR
