Post by medium on Feb 24, 2008 23:26:23 GMT -5
A torture chamber. Weapons of any kind are absent. The only weapon present? His mind. Barrage after barrage of psychic attacks. A weak-kneed P.O.W. who is uncooperative. The answer lies within the P.O.W. Strapped and tied like the expendable mutt it is for months now have been nothing but. Wasteful. Tiring. Patience can only go so far. SPEAK!!, hisses the Medium in the dwellings of his undisclosed location. A backhand meets the mutt's face, now a shaggy blonde. You've told me nothing!, he shouts angrily. A dawning. The attention span of this mutt is befitting. Perhaps, perhap... it does know nothing. The master truly kept his footprints dusted away. But with all things, he'll come for you. There is no denying this. When he does, he shall be mine. Our minds WILL clash, the epic battle I long for. The irregular harmonal echo protruding forth from his mask's mouthpiece, menacing enough. What cruel intentions lie within.
The Medium turns away from the mutt. He had this mutt's master pinpointed, the alpha brain waves a distinct flavor. Then, in much of a flash, they were gone. Death became of him? Impossible. He was out there, somewhere. The Medium recollects his last encounter with the mutt's master. After acquiring the conselation prize that was this mutt, moreso categorized as insurance, the Medium pursuited its master only to find himself outnumbered by a juggarnaut of the terrain, the manifestation of brawn much despised and its den mother. However, this was no ordinary mother. By NO means. She was the mirror. The saying. Blank. Blank. Greatest enemy. The Medium knew of the existence of such potential, but the battle was evenly matched, while the trump card of this ground juggarnaut was still in play. Flee to fight another day. It was for the best, despite the sour. What a taste. Unfortunately, the pursuiter was now the pursuited. He knew why. LOVE. The Mother knew of the capturing of this mutt. She was... is enraged. Luckily, the Medium lost the Hen in her own rage. Still, he wondered if the mirror was keen enough to master the Medium's power. It took him years upon years. No, he reassured himself. Yet, the possibility lingers at the pit of his stomach. He had to keep one eye in its corner.
Reports were sent on a day by day basis to the Contact. The Contact is adament. As is he. With a flick of the wrist, his power lifts the chin of the drooping shaggy blonde mutt. No need to mince words. Making it loud and clear. Within the mutt's mind. Hope. It is the only thing you have. Hope... he comes looking. His head or yours. The ultimatum. The Medium teleports to its side, the tip of his gas mask engulfing the mutt's ear. Heavy breathing ensues. A gloved hand chokes. Fear is one hell of a drug. Scream for me...
Darkness overcomes the scene. A pan upward. The pan crosses mounds upon mounds of dead soil. The pan quickens. Passing roots and remains alike. The final scene? A metropolis over the underground bunker of a scene past.
The Medium turns away from the mutt. He had this mutt's master pinpointed, the alpha brain waves a distinct flavor. Then, in much of a flash, they were gone. Death became of him? Impossible. He was out there, somewhere. The Medium recollects his last encounter with the mutt's master. After acquiring the conselation prize that was this mutt, moreso categorized as insurance, the Medium pursuited its master only to find himself outnumbered by a juggarnaut of the terrain, the manifestation of brawn much despised and its den mother. However, this was no ordinary mother. By NO means. She was the mirror. The saying. Blank. Blank. Greatest enemy. The Medium knew of the existence of such potential, but the battle was evenly matched, while the trump card of this ground juggarnaut was still in play. Flee to fight another day. It was for the best, despite the sour. What a taste. Unfortunately, the pursuiter was now the pursuited. He knew why. LOVE. The Mother knew of the capturing of this mutt. She was... is enraged. Luckily, the Medium lost the Hen in her own rage. Still, he wondered if the mirror was keen enough to master the Medium's power. It took him years upon years. No, he reassured himself. Yet, the possibility lingers at the pit of his stomach. He had to keep one eye in its corner.
Reports were sent on a day by day basis to the Contact. The Contact is adament. As is he. With a flick of the wrist, his power lifts the chin of the drooping shaggy blonde mutt. No need to mince words. Making it loud and clear. Within the mutt's mind. Hope. It is the only thing you have. Hope... he comes looking. His head or yours. The ultimatum. The Medium teleports to its side, the tip of his gas mask engulfing the mutt's ear. Heavy breathing ensues. A gloved hand chokes. Fear is one hell of a drug. Scream for me...
Darkness overcomes the scene. A pan upward. The pan crosses mounds upon mounds of dead soil. The pan quickens. Passing roots and remains alike. The final scene? A metropolis over the underground bunker of a scene past.