We'll finally get to see The Professor here (as in, the grown-up version). This grim little scene will also probably start to give you an idea about why I rated this story PG-13 ;)
After this, on with Act II.
Zoe Rose: Thought I'd throw in Ace's first appearance at the end of the act to get the readers excited. I assure you he does have a solid role from here on in.
Hairy Gregory: Yes, all of the Gangreen Gang are teenagers. As for Buttercup, that little tidbit about Ms. Bellum's warning was post-amnesia. If that didn't make sense I promise you'll start to understand in the next few chapters (I feel like I'm jumping ahead of myself here!)
The man had grown languid and pale with inactivity, a body that was once healthy and robust now sickly and malnourished from both a physical and emotional starvation. His hair, once a flaxen mane gelled neatly out of his eyes had grown out in greasy matted tangles that hung haphazardly over his face, obscuring his vision. His skin was blotched, he had developed any number of nervous tics from months of unrest, and mangy, untrimmed whiskers grew on his jaw. Indeed the only recognisable feature on this shadow of a man was his ice blue eyes. But instead of being perceptive and penetrating, kind and warm, they had hardened like the frozen matter they resembled, now manic and untrusting of all. He was like a feral dog that had been kicked too many times, conditioned to know naught but anger.
A convicted murderer dubbed mentally unsettled, he had been locked away
here for three months now. Though to him, three decades might as well have
passed. According to him, this penance for taking life was nothing
compared to the life that had been sucked out of him by that ruthless
shit-hole of a city known as Townsville. The person he had so guiltlessly
killed was just another of its pack of uncaring denizens who had sucked
the man dry without a second thought of the pain that they had caused-not
only to himself, but the three babies they had wrenched from his arms, the
innocent children so precious to him, yet a mere commodity to the rest of
the town.
Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. His little angels had been
taken away, their family torn and destroyed by the selfishness of the
town, torn and destroyed, torn and destroyed, torn and…
He could feel someone else's presence in the cell.
"Good evening,
Professor…" purred a mockingly silken tone, "how have things been on the
inside?"
"Come to gawk?" Utonium asked bitterly, his eyes now making
out the rakish silouhette of Him drifting in the shadows. He sadly
reflected that even in a maximum security prison for the criminally
insane, he was never safe from the ceaseless exploitations of the
townspeople, even if this one was a little more aware of it.
"Me? Gawk?" Him pouted charmingly at Utonium, projecting a halo of
transparently phony innocence. "I just want to have a chat." Both knew, of
course, that the demon was lying through his teeth. Professor Utonium had
always been one of his favourite mortal toys to torment, and now in this
state of such extreme instability his reactions would be more entertaining
than ever. Him was eager to see just how far he could make the destroyed
man bend to his will.
He slinked into the dim light and reclined
provocatively on the bed, next to the now sitting Utonium, defensively
cross-legged and cross-armed. With his claw he disdainfully picked at the
frayed blanket beneath him.
"Must be a terrible bore to hang about in
this dump," he sniffed, "why don't you ever take the time to do it up a
little?"
Utonium didn't speak or move, but silently narrowed his eyes
at his unwanted companion.
"Still, it's amazing what you can do to a
room with a little knowhow. May I?" Him didn't wait for a response, and
with a flick of his claw took to redesigning the drab cell.
In a melting shower of black magic, the dark walls washed away,
replaced by a soft white interior, bordered by plush navy carpet and sleek
paintings framed on the flawless walls. In amongst tastefully harmonious
décor were strewn a careless mess of children's toys and games, evident of
the happy, cosy and communal atmosphere. The family room of Utonium's
former family.
The man's eyes opened wide as he saw Blossom and
Buttercup gleefully stumble about the floor involved in a game of tag. To
complete the illusion, Him added in Utonium himself as he had once been,
watching the game from the kitchen with a frenetically joyful Bubbles
sitting on his shoulders, bouncing up and down. "Nice, huh?"
"Are you
quite done?"
There was a choke of agony in Utonium's voice for having
to sit through Him's cruelty, but he was not drawn in for a second by the
demon's tactless mind game. He must have thought Utonium was a moron to
fall for such an obvious temptation.
With an insouciant shrug, Him flicked his claw again, the nostalgic
scene disappearing in a cloud of dust. "Clever boy," he remarked. "But you
do know that I could bring it all back in less than the bat of an eyelid…"
he stated matter-of-factly, "and want it or not, the offer's always open
for you."
"So I can become a servant to your sick little pastimes?"
Utonium responded, scoffing. "I've been a slave for long enough without
now becoming one to you."
For some reason, Him reacted to this statement in a disgruntled,
disturbingly sensitive manner. "Slave?" He spat. "What would you know
about being a slave?" Utonium let out a violent sigh. "More than you, I'll
bet. I've had to put up with the demands of those people-those people out
there-" he pointed out of the barred cell window "since before I can
remember. They looked upon my graces as a resource to exploit… just like
my own children."
Him listened to this with an unusual understanding.
"Selfish bastards, aren't they?" Then he added with a characteristically
impish grin, "that's what makes wreaking vengeance on them so much fun… if
you were ever to do so yourself, I could-"
With the suddenness of a Doberman turning on a disobedient kitten,
Utonium's temper erupted. He growled and yanked the lightweight pixie up
by the neck, rising from his position on the bed to ram him roughly up
against the wall.
The man was resolute. The devil trembled, an honest
fear glowed in his green catlike eyes. It wasn't just Utonium's brute
physical strength that had startled him.
"Listen, you mangy little
faggot. You may be able to make snot-nosed toddlers cower in fear with your puppet shows, but I am not some sort of skivvy here to play
Dominatrix with you. Your illusions don't scare me, your verbal
machinations don't fool me. Now piss off before I take all my anger for
the rest of Townsville out on you."
He let him down again, the tension
in the room remaining unsettlingly high. After a mindful silence, Him
looked up at the man.
"Very well," he said, "I see you're not one to
be trifled with."
Another silence as the two stood there.
"You
know…" Him ventured, "it's actually refreshing to find someone so…
challenging." Here he smirked and winked saucily at Utonium.
Incensed
by his continued taunting, Utonium roared and went to pounce on the
creature, but he landed instead on a poof of pink smoke as Him made a
swift (and wise) escape.
The demon began to make his way back to his lair, eager to rest.
That… exchange with the former Professor had been unusually tiring.
Ordinarily, humans were such stupid, pliable beings. But that once gentle
man, supposedly withering in his cell, was different. Him noted that the
tragedy he had suffered so many months ago had affected him irreversibly,
awoken a spark of something that had made him determined not to be
dominated. Him still desired to be able to find a way to look inside that
muddled and complex soul, if not for his usual malevolence, then for
simple human fascination-- Utonium had always been an interesting creature
to him. Could it have been that this traumatised man happened to be the
strongest mortal Him had ever come across?
Anger, he mused, was a
powerful force indeed.
To Be Continued. . .