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Eeth Vs the architects part three; Stroke of genius
Topic Started: Apr 7 2009, 12:25 AM (174 Views)
Mr. Trout
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Henshin boogy
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Beneath the H-block, the sewers, the hidden veins and intestines of the winding living city. It was there that they became parasites, diseased molecules carrying their taint of cleanliness and life through the bowls of a remnant of necessity. Yet here it was that Johnny Quick and Eeth Hellsing walked, to find the men from N.O.W.H.E.R.E that had taken Eeth's little girl. Yes, a horrible thing, a horrible hunt for people that couldn't exist, escaping through a tunnel that had never been there, made by a villain who was not real to facilitate a life that could never be.

It took them a while in walking, see that is how the game is played. Bouts of nothing, to tell you there is nothing. Rather then a simple nothing appearing. As that would never work right. What is this? A card for nothing that must be filled. Hmm. If it must it must.

























"Just once I'd like this to make sense." There was a room, filled with bubbling cylinders, fog, steam, strange colors dancing under dangling hard science lights. Men in long lab coats danced in their duties. Bottled lightning danced across the faces of men and technology, the glorified new genesis of science claiming a foot hold here, a cradle of alchemy over man and life. There was science, there were men and monsters, each without distinction, and each stared at Eeth behind thick goggles as the man, the mayor dragged the angry hobo towards them.

"Nazis. Well that makes slightly more sense." So was he answered. More then answered by balloons, by confetti, by banners unfurling around. Of a jolly elation that came and went, that showed this scene for what it really us. A party, a party of hard work, of effort and a victorious wail.

"AH AHA HA! Have a cigar son you'll go far!" Came a man, a nazi to Eeth, a monster and unholy creature in the shape, in the lying visage of a man. Goggles were black, but he lifted them, revealing not but blacker holes. An empty set of nothing that tore through reality, growing ever darker and deeper as one stared. The only problem was in the end, in the end they were but eyes. Overstated objects that took much description. The man held a thick bit of tobacco out to Eeth, who took, it and allowed it to be lit. He was a heavy smoker after all.

The man vomited, rainbows and fire growing out the cigar rather then smoke. A disgusting taste of vile that would never escape his mouth. For Eeth had now been tainted with joy, with fun, with something that was not serious, one minded and forced. It really burned.

So of course Eeth socked him one. Right in the neck, he fell down. And the rest of the labcoat men seemed to get the picture. They stood to the side, parted like a grand sea with Eeth as his own personal Moses. He had come here for a reason, he knew what he wanted, and he would go for it no matter what. He would not taste their vile on his tongue, he would be no part of their victory, he simply had to walk.

The two men in suits, the men from N.O.W.H.E.R.E were gone. Yet there, beneath the largest banner of them all, beneath the fanfare, beneath the confetti and joy. There was a painting, and a cretin. The cretin for lack of a better word, was a diseased growing thing. A mass of matter and muscles. His left leg appeared to be made of guns that fired guns, and his eyes were red as blood.

Eeth approached, and the cretin spoke. "I am legend. Not a legend, THE legend. The grandest of all. I began in this world, it was not a world without me." He went on like that, telling the origin of how he arrived at the desert in Japan, about how he had been cursed by the god that lived in the volcano, but used that curse to slay it. He had a sword whose edges brought death, and a leg whose bullets brought guns. He was as he believed, the most powerful being in this world. And Eeth, Eeth gave him the finger.

"I've got shit to do. And you smell like fish. Now piss off before I have to shatter your skull in the toilet." The mad mayor said, his finger lifting towards the painting, the one object in this room that was an object of importance. He looked into it, it was a simple enough painting, a room much like this one, minus the banner, with a painting just like it. And withing the painting was a room identical with a painting. And so it went into infinity. A realm of infinite possibilities, of realities folding over onto itself, again and again. Then there was the fear, Eeth had felt like this before, he turned around to try and find the scientists, to ask them what was happening. But they were not there. He was simply in a room, a wooden floors beneath his feet, a warm window letting the sun in from the side.

"Fuck. Miss the days when I could just smash things." He slid a cigarette into his lips and looked into the painting again. Sure enough, an identical room. Another cog in the wheel. Another reality. There was a stool near by. One a simple wooden stool, he sat it down in front of the painting and stared. He felt himself moving, slowly, but he was moving.

And there our hero sat for what seemed like hours. Cigarette after cigarette smoldering into dust. He was on his last pack. And it was going to get bad. Cracking it open and removing a single thin and crooked stick of cancer, he lit up and blinked. "Fuck it." He mumbled stepping off the stool, stepping backwards a few paces. Then, he let out a cry, a shout of horrific notions and ran forward, ran straight at the painting. Jumping at a moment. He dove through the painting, dove through it's life. With that act, with the accepting and working forward. Only then did he leave.

He was free and the sun was rising to the west. There were two suits now. Sitting by the door of the tiny shack he had arrived in. An old style open air device of a special build. The empty suits were obvious, they were what the men from N.O.W.H.E.R.E had been wearing. Their clothes were still in place, ties tied, shoes laced, watches still clicking.

At least Eeth knew he was nearing the end. Though he was without those he had met before. On his own, guess that is how it had to be.
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