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Aaron's Spawn Comic
Revelation

There was a boy who lived in the Bronx who cut out his own heart. Then awoke to find the heart replaced while holding the previous rotting organ in his hand. This was the third time he tried this, but unfortunately (or fortunately depending how you view it) it was to no avail. Knives, bullets, even small explosives were useless.

He had a black eye. For some reason that didn't go away. But some things did. One time he was playing in Strawberry Fields when some one's dog struggled loose from it's leash. For some reason it chose him as its victim. The beast pounced on him and began to tear delicately at his flesh. The pain was searing, burning, and then it was gone, but that wasn't the only thing gone. The dog was gone to. But it didn't go to another place, it was simply gone.

One day he was walking to school when he was stopped by a pack of skin heads. One pulled out a chain, another pulled out a knife, the last one pulled out a gun. The boy knew he could easily prevent this but he didn't want to. He was hit in the head with the chain. He still didn't want to. He was stabbed with the knife. He still didn't want to. He was shot with gun. He did. Soon they stopped moving. Then like empty balloons. They collapsed and fell into neat little piles of flesh. Then the boy spoke in a voice that was not his own. A voice born of darkness, a voice born of violence, a voice born of Hell.

"How dare you strike me, how dare you stand up to me, how dare you even breath my air, and walk my Earth, you wh*res, you excrement, you are nothing, you are dust, you deserved what you got. Did you really think you had a chance, did you?," he hollered this, and then chuckled," and I'm not sorry, I'm glad I did it, and if given the chance I'd do it again. I am..., I am...," he paused as if trying to remember his name, not his birth name but his true name, the name he was destined to bear, "I am the End! I am End!"

This is something he tries to forget. He hates what he is. He hates what he will become. But he knows he will grow to enjoy it, to find passion for it, to love it. And that is what he hates most.

* * *

"It has begun Spawn," said Cog

"Yes, I know, I can feel it," replied Spawn.

"You know you could have stopped this if it wasn't for your miserable heroics. This whole situation could have been avoided."

"That was in the past Cog, don't dwell on it, there is nothing you can do about it."

Cog mutters some inaudible curses in an old forgotten language. Then there was a pause.

"Tell me Spawn, when we first encountered this problem you said we would find a solution."

"Yes I did."

"Well did you?"

Spawn did not answer back.

"I was wrong," said Cog, "Those weren't heroics, they were cowardice."

"Cowardice, cowardice!," screamed Spawn, " All your thinking about is yourself you didn't even care about her."

"She would have died too Spawn. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or did you forget that too. If given the chance I would have killed her myself."

"Then why didn't you?"

There was another pause.

"Because I'm a coward like you."

* * *

In his previous life Spawn could paint. Using cosmetics, blood, and various secretions Spawn would paint on the red brick alley walls. He would start with her hair, then her eyes, and then her lips, especially her lips. When he was done he would simply stare at the picture for hours. He would then he would tear it to pieces and smash the pieces into dust.

"They took her from me," he would whisper meekly, "THEY TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!," he would screech.

This was all part of Spawn's little tantrum. He would throw a few dumpsters, break a few skulls, after a while he would finally get tired and go to sleep. When he woke up, he woke up feeling sick. This pattern of events became routine for Spawn.
* * *

It was early in the morning when Detective Twitch was called into the morgue. Sam was called in at the same time but Twitch knew he would be late. He hated the morgue, everyone did. It smelt like a place cold lifelessness. The worst part was the horrible truth that each cell contained a body, a person, a soul. A soul savagely cut down before it's time.

The subjects that he was meant to examine were three skinheads whose "bodies" were found four hours ago. They actually weren't bodies. Bodies have bones, organs, and blood. These were hollow shells, these were just piles of skin.

"It's perfection, it's beautiful, it's art," said Mortimer, "no cut marks, no bruises, no anything. There organs were removed without any sign of abuse, no sign of damage, not even a prick of agony."

"You're being awfully light-hearted Mortimer," said Twitch, "You seem to be forgetting the severity of the situation."

"Yes, of course, "severity.""

The "bodies" were laid flat on the metal table. Their clothes looked bigger, mainly because they were not meant for "bodies" this small.

Twitch was in the middle of deep thought when Sam burst in.

"It's okay I'm here," he said.

Twitch shook his head in disapprovement.

"Sam may I speak to you," whispered Twitch.

"Yeah okay."

Once they found privacy in a room full of jarred organs Twitch told Sam what he thought of the situation. He told him he thought there was no way a human could have done this and he told him they needed Spawn's help.

"No way," said Sam, "No f*cking way, am I gonna accept help from that lunatic."

"We have no choice," said Twitch regrettably, "It is the only way."

"Fine, but it's not like you can call this guy on a cell phone. How are we supposed to reach him."

Twitch thought for a moment.

"I have an idea," he said.

* * *

"Twitch you really don't think they'd carry this kind of book in the library."

"Where there's a will, there's a way," replied Twitch holding a book entitled Summoning the Dead and Other Supernatural Beings.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," whispered Sam in disbelief.
* * *

In a deserted alleyway Detectives Sam and Twitch drew a pentagram. Once all the appropriate markings were written on the perimeter of the circle surround the pentagram the dark ritual was set to begin.

"I'm not doing it Twitch."

"Come on, just slap Gods name with the whip and recite the words."

"I'm a Catholic Twitch and I don't do what's wrong."

"No your a cop who does what's necessary to get the job done."

Sam sucked it up and began to chant.

"Oh Lucifer, the dark lord and master. And Mephestopheles so cunning and ruthless. I call upon you to deliver to me your faithful servant the hellspawn Al Simmons."

* * *

That hellspawn was currently working on the same case had entered the room of the same culprit. Time to correct my mistake, he thought, but this was not a mission of thought, it was a mission of action. And Spawn knew what to do. He took out a sword, the same sword he used to kill this boy's father and began the downward motion.

Before Spawn could strike he appeared in an alleyway in the middle of a pentagram.

"Dammit!," he screamed.

"We summoned you to ask you some questions Spawn not to hear your emotional outbursts," said Twitch calmly.

"You fools," shouted Spawn, "I need to go I need to go back."

"Hey your not going anywhere," yelled Sam," not after what we went through."

But Spawn did go, he kicked off the ground, metamophosized into a storm of bats and headed back towards the Bronx with Sam and Twitch following close behind in their squad car.

When Spawn arrived it was too late, the boy had already woken up and was looking pretty pissed.

"You try and take my life," he hissed, "I'll kill you."

"Stop," said Spawn firmly "We know your powerful, you've already proven that, but first think about what your doing. Oblivion is the worst possible thing that could happen to this world and to you. If you won't think about them think about yourself."

Spawn was afraid for the first time in his life. He knew what was at stake and he knew he was risking it all.

"You don't know what I've been through," said the boy, "I've been treated like sh*t since I can remember. I even started believing that I was nothing. But now I know that's not true now. Now I can make them all pay for what they did to me. Because it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair you hear me. I didn't do sh*t to them."

"Those people, the people that hurt you, will get what's coming to them, I'll see to that myself. But you still have a chance to be happy. Die now and end it before it can begin."

"Perhaps your right," he said, "perhaps my time is up."

With that he bowed his head to Spawn and Spawn (feeling very relieved) grabbed the sword and prepared to deliver the final blow. But before he could a word was spat out of the boy's mouth.

"Fool," he screamed.

And with that all of existence disappeared.

The End?