It can be said that optimism is something that bubbles gently in each of us. Like a stream that refreshes us from within. And that is a very accurate image of what is happening in each person that finds hope in this world in spite of the abundantly obvious fact that it is going to hell...and laughing the whole way there.
Then there are those who see nothing but pain. The image for them is just as accurate, but nowhere near as poetic. It's like someone has socked you in the balls so hard that you puke up your hopes and dreams like undercooked pork. Afterwards those who have experienced this first hand hate not only the person and events that did this, but the putrid stain on the ground which they held so dear.
I am the latter. And I will prove to everyone just how pathetic it is to hope.
I emptied my stomach right there on the street. It was more horrific than anything I had seen in Gotham and that was not a statement made lightly.
The outside of the McDonalds was soaked in blood. Not spattered here and there, but soaked like someone taken time to squeeze the blood out of the victims like an artist painting a mural. Everything from the walls and windows all the way to the top of the arches was covered in blood. What's worst is that there was still some dripping off the restaurant like the building itself had been cut open.
And officer gave me a hazmat suit to go inside and just from his eyes I could tell that as bad as the outside was the inside must have been ten times worse. I was wrong. It was infinitely worse.
It looked like someone had decorated for Christmas in Hell. Intestines were strung from window to window and the kidneys, liver, stomach and lungs were wrapped together in bunches with what used to be the nerves. The finishing touch and what almost made me lose my lunch a second time was that each skeleton was still seated at tables as if they were enjoying their meal, but instead of burgers the remains were hunched over brains sandwiched in between muscle fibers. And that was just for starters.
The employees were all positioned as if they were still working, but like the customers leftovers all that was left was a skeleton. At the fryers the internal organs were all in the baskets cooking away in the oil, the stench would have made me pass out I'm sure of it. At the grill the brains were sizzling and popping away in the grease while at the sandwich assembly station the lettuce and other ingredients had been replaced with human hair, skin and whatever else had been leftover after the innards had been used up, the drive-thru had one skeleton with his finger pressed firmly against the drink dispenser button, but instead of soda blood was oozing out and overflowing onto the floor since the rest of what had been dispensed had long since coagulated And apparently that wasn't enough. The finishing touch was what I knew from my time in Gotham to be bile flowing from the faucet.
I'd seen enough and turned to leave when the top of my suit brushed something over head. I leaped back and assumed a defensive stance before looking up and seeing the final touch.
Using some human skin as a banner the perpetrator had scrawled in human blood this: Have a nice day! :D.
That's it. No more waiting. I'm going back and getting some answers. I don't care if I have to beat it out of him, but Lucifer will tell me what is going on!
And it was then that I marched outside shed the protective suit and raced towards the tower on my bike as fast as I could hoping that my other team members would be there to back me up.
"Ah, Robin. Always one for action. Unless it requires a great sacrifice. And that is why you can't beat me. That is why you will never beat me. You see, I don't need to have everyone dance with their demon partner. Just you. Pride after all is the root of all other sin. So the taller you stand, the more room there is to hit bottom. All because you will not sacrifice your pride."
Oh man that was invigorating! I had been wanting to do that for years, but of course killing all those pricks would have gotten me fired. Not now though. Not ever again because now I have the power to raise hell and I like it! Here I clenched my fist in resolve. And not even my brother will stop me.
But enough about that! I need to unwind! So I ambled around looking for a good car to take a drive in. It used to be a constant favorite before...SMACK. Stop it! That's over! Now concentrate on-Woah! Hold the phone! No doubt you're wondering what had grabbed my attention so forcefully. The answer was one of the most beautiful works of art ever to be wrought in steel. A 1967 Chevrolet Impala with genuine chrome and a cobalt blue paint job. Oh hell yeah. Now being this car was a classic and more importantly I didn't want my brother to be on my case again I opted to limit my change to my right index finger so as not to damage the car or get an excess of funny looks and twisted it in the key slot and heard the satisfying pop of the car unlocking.
Once in the car I settled into the genuine leather interior and looked over the music selection. Man this guy is behind the times. All he has is cassette tapes! I mean-Oh wait. This will do it. Whoever owned this car saved themselves a premature trip to Hell by having one of the best artists ever to spread Satan's message to the world. So I popped the cassette into the tape deck and fired up the car. The engine was awesome with a rumble that would shame a Hell Hound, but the music was so much better. It started up on my favorite song of all time Bark at the Moon. So with a grin on my face and the engine purring away I headed east. "Time to see how the food is on the east side" Anyone who listened carefully could hear my insane laughter as I passed a sign which read "Steel City 600 miles."
After what seemed like forever but was only an hour of sweeping all the sand was at last off the gym floor. He'll be back any second now. Getting his butt handed to him and then seeing his teammates hospitalized set him off and now he's seen what my brother is like in a playful mood. I heaved a sigh in anticipation of Robin's temper-tantrum and dashed up the stairs to the level with the med bay to meet him. Well, this should be fun.
I blasted into the garage only briefly bothering to set the kick stand before flying into the elevator and hitting the button to take me to the med bay. He's killing at an exponentially faster rate with each day. I'm not waiting another second to get the answers I need out of Lucifer!
The doors opened and I busted through them ready to start busting heads. "Where is he Beast Boy!?" Beast Boy who had been resting peacefully shot wide awake before feeling the tug of the seutcher holding his hamstrings together.
"Ow! Take it easy Robin! As far as I know he's still in the gym!" I softened my stance just a little knowing that it was doing more harm than good to be playing bad cop when Lucifer wasn't even here. "Sorry Beast Boy, but it looks like Cruor is just as sick as the Joker and even more powerful." Beast Boy's eyes involuntarily morphed into those of a squid in his surprise. It would have been funny if it wasn't for the grave nature of the situation. "I want to take him down before he can make every city as hopeless as Gotham."
"It would take even my brother a monumental amount of time to achieve that." My head whipped around and I saw red. It was pure reflexes that thrust my right fist at Lucifer's face and it was a split second later that I was caught squarely in his palm. "It doesn't matter how good you are Robin, if you allow anger to cloud your judgment you will always lose." I knew he was right. I mean Batman drilled that into me everyday! But that didn't stop me from wanting to beat the truth out of him.
"Tell me what's going on right now!" He looked at me without emotion. None. And then he blew everything apart. "Death has come for you Robin and if you don't join me you will experience horrors not even the Joker would laugh at."
I felt my blood run cold. The Joker would laugh at anything. Even what he feared the most. No mind on this Earth could ever be more twisted than his. But Cruor wasn't of this Earth...was he?
"Your brother can't convince me with blood so you try to convince me with threats?" You'll need to do better than that." I expected more smug speech. But I saw his eyes glisten ever so slightly with unshed tears.
"You really want to know how he came to be like this don't you?" I nodded slowly and he closed his eyes hard his brow bunching so much that he looked like a Bajoran male. I've got to stop watching the Sci-Fi channel with Beast Boy.
A sharp exhale of breath signaled the beginning. "We both lost our parents in a car crash when we were young. I was only eight at the time while my brother was only slightly older at ten. My brother was able to pull me free from the wreckage a minute before the car was engulfed in flames." His chest and head both shook in unison with pain, but he did not cry. "We would have gone with our grandparents, but they didn't have what it took to support two growing boys so we went into the foster system." He spoke his next question lowly. "Have you seen the movie Oliver Twist, Beast Boy?" Beast Boy looked like he was seeing a dead loved one when he answered Lucifer. "Yeah, my step mom made sure I knew classic films and theater. It was my favorite since it showed how an orphan could find happiness."
"If only we were so fortunate. Oliver found friends even when he was in the orphanage. But we had no such success..."
I huddle on the ground in shabby clothes clutching my dirty blond hair to my head in a vain attempt to shield myself from being assaulted from all sides by bullies with heavy cushions. They keep pounding me with no room for retaliation and no mercy. The only defense is to curl up into a ball and hope that they tire of the cruel game which seems to bring them so much pleasure.
The blows become less frequent and a cry of anguish follows the sound of a breaking bone. Soon all the blows are assailing someone else, but it ends quickly. The sound s of pain tell of someone who knows no mercy for those who love others' misery.
"Looks like I have to save your butt again Malachi." He hoists me up with a smile. He enjoys this now. He considers it a good work out.
I look at the fallen forms of my assailants and note the boy who is still conscious and cradling his broken arm. I note with pleasure that it's the one he was using to hit me. "Excellent work as usual." He pulled me up and we did an enthusiastic high five. "Too bad I can't ever fend them off." He laughed heartily. "It's like I keep telling you bro you have to sweep broad and low to get them off balance and then go in for the kill. Or you can use a diversion to draw their fire and then finish them off at your leisure. Either way you have to use your head more."
I punched him playfully in the shoulder. "I wouldn't have to if you would just show up earlier!" We both had a good laugh before the headmaster showed up and gave us his usual glare. He was a wicked man who enjoyed the suffering of others. His sharp nose and gangly appearance gave him the label Scarecrow and he reveled in the fear that name was spoken with. He was always bringing us into the office for "causing trouble" but there was something else in his eyes besides the usual disapproval and arrogance this time. There was a finality that set both of us on edge.
No words escaped his lips. He simply grabbed us both by the arm and dragged us to his office. Children poked their heads out of their rooms as we passed by. We all referred to this place as Death Row. We heard some adults discussing it outside the walls of the orphanage and even though we didn't know what it meant the label stuck.
At the end there was the fanciest room in the whole building. A fine oak desk and book cases all decorated to make the occupant look important and worthwhile were inside as well as a fine leather chair where the headmaster sat to pass his judgment on the commoners who dared to ruin his day. And two decent chairs where the accused quaked in dread of the sound lashings and grueling chores that would be received were placed before the desk perfectly placed so as to make the experience that much more unbearable for the unlucky souls caught in the gaze of the headmaster.
This time was different. This time there were two men in black suits with faces carved of granite facing the door. The sunglasses they were wearing hid their eyes, but I could feel they were cold. As cold and unfeeling as the floor we slept on at night.
"These are the boys?" The one on the left spoke. He was thinner than some of the boys at the orphanage, but his muscles were tensed and ready to kill. Enough time around bullies will train you to see that bloodthirsty desire burning in someone's soul.
"Yes, they've been nothing by trouble since they got here." He failed to add that his squandering money on himself rather than providing for our needs led to most of the fighting. For food, for the floor space next to the only working heater and for survival.
He knelt down to examine me and seemed to find what he was looking for. A cruel smirk broke his face that made me shudder visibly, but the next words out of his mouth made me fear for my life. "This one is full of fear, but we can still use him."
The other man who had been silent until now kneeled down to look at my brother. His arms and legs looked like they had been taken from a King Kong and snapped on like legos. My brother wasn't a quiet observer. He socked the man square in the face. It connected solidly with the man's nose and there was a distinct CRACK as the bone broke just below the base. But the man didn't clutch his nose even as blood trickled out. Instead he put his index fingers on either side and snapped it back into place. Now my brother had trained himself never to show fear, but I could tell that he was afraid of this man.
He grabbed a tissue from the headmaster's desk and plugged his nose with it. "This one is full of anger. He will be of great use to us." The headmaster of course was delighted and accepted a suitcase full of filthy lucre for our souls.
We are both afraid of what will happen, but we don't cry out, we don't run and we don't cry. We simply look at each other and make a silent vow to make it out alive.
"Looking back on it now we should have run. We should have screamed louder than a woman giving birth, but we went as lambs to the slaughter. That was when we entered through the gates of Hell..."
The next chapter will be more gritty and up close. For those of you who are still following. Read and review. Ideas are welcome and will be used if my creative juices get flowing again.