Post by John Rabid on Oct 2, 2016 15:45:40 GMT -6
1. Breach.
Trapped behind the glass is a snarling, grinning figure. His face as white as porcelain. His expression as rectus as the dead. Does he still think? Can he still feel? Beings of boundless knowledge have determined that the answer must never be known. He is to remain caged. Bound to a pocket universe for all time. His torment must be a prison sentence without end.
His name is Gemini Battle. He wears Joker make-up because...he is unoriginal. A pop cultural potpourri of famous iconography from the past fifty years. A dash of Bond villain here, an episode of supernatural there; he is a shameless thief of other's hard work and dedication. But this heinous misconduct isn't what banished Gemini to an off-world limbo. No, his true transgression is much more pronounced than simply being a dull retread. It is a crime that can never be forgiven.
If only Voyager II understood the gravity of the situation.
A gift from mankind to the universe, Voyager II's heart once flickered and burnt out at the edge of the milky way, it's death was certain...until Jay Omega got drunk one night and decided to fit the craft with a new nuclear isotope. He also thought it would be funny to give it advanced A.I; because Jay Omega considers Star Trek: The Motion Picture better than Wraith of Kahn. Yeah, I know. Jay Omega can be a real douche sometimes.
Just as a head's up. When Jay Omega informs you he didn't do this? Remember the part about him being drunk. He'll probably just drop his shoulders and scurry away. There might also be some running involved. He'll defiantly attempt to retcon this situation so that a doppelganger was responsible, so watch out for that.
Voyager sensors picked up movement off the starboard bow as the mirror closed in. The craft approached the reflective prison with the curiosity of a child, unaware that it was about to poke a stick into the face of a monster.
Voyager II's telescopic array activated a pulse of low level electrostatic energy across the surface of the mirror in order to garner better it's size and density.
A moment later, and a bloodshot, half mad eye blinked. The alien technology had fused with Voyager's nuclear powered core. It transmuted the event into a burst of pure energy; it's direction determined by the radio waves hard-wired into Voyager's ancient data-banks.
Like I said. Jay Omega is a douche.
2. The Cries Of The Cloister Bell.
Sorrowhill Mansion rests across the rolling banks of Reading, Pennsylvania. It is a stately home built to mirror the specifications of a traditional English Abbey. Dimensions that instantly appealed to Johnny Rabid as he searched America for a home that best suited his perfectly breed sense of good taste.
Inside a main hall of gleaming Saxon armor and first world war union jack drapes, Jonathan Rabid and Mrs Hemlock stood frozen to the spot. A cloister bell of otherworldly origin rang out across the large marble landscape they inhabited. The bell's strange harmonics reached deep inside Jonathan's guts and rearranged his organs. The bell was ancient and alien: part distress call; part call to arms. Johnny Rabid knew instantly the ramifications of the alarm: he had been chosen as champion. His past was of no concern to the forces that summoned him. He would heed their call or die.
Mrs Hemlock: Oh dear, Sir.
Johnny Rabid: Well then, I suppose we should prepare.
Mrs. Hemlock: How, how long has it been?
Johnny Rabid: Not long enough.
Emily and Dorian were out of town visiting aunt Sarah and Uncle Crow. Rabid was thankful for the isolation. This was a time when his patented ability to conceal the truth would surely fracture under the weight of his latest dilemma. Best he faced this fate alone; although he did think about calling the Guardians. But no, even they couldn't help him now.
3. Comedy/Tragedy
Gemini Battle wasn't born, he was made. So the story goes he was the son of a KKK Grand Dragon, and, in a moment of incomprehensible narrative lunacy, he decided to give up the Klan ways, paint his face to resemble the Joker, turn gay, run away with a black homosexual and join “the dark carnival”...which, come to think of it, is a massively racist metaphor; utterly defeating the object of Gemini's rebellion in the first place. What a Muppet.
You know who's the loser in that whole situation? Gemini's boyfriend. He's probably hanging from a noose somewhere in the bayou. Forgotten. Because, hey....let's focus on what's important, like building a criminal empire with no money and suddenly owning a submarine. The whole gay thing gets swept up and forgotten, but it happened. But then, if too many questions get asked? You can always suddenly switch back to being straight, family man Grayson Pierce. That way Bates can love you for what you are, rather than hate you for who you REALLY are.
Are you beginning to remember which tree your boyfriend is hanging from, Gem? I'm sure his family would like to know so they don't have to keep paying the milk company to plaster his eight by ten across their cartons. Or have you done a Mel Gibson and simply just turned into your father over time and murdered him yourself? I'm guessing the latter, because for all the angst and the rebel posturing you do, you're still Bates's boy and you always fucking will be.
Gemini Battle is a discount Creeping death, he's a split personality picked up from a Target bin. A sack-boy stitched together from a catalogue of betters that Battle has the bloody cheek to consider his equals. He is not an equal, he's a tribute act. He's Joey Flush. He's Scarechoo. He's a Taiwanese Logan. A Filipino Jayson Price. Gemini is “Mongoloids got Talent”. When he cries over “WCF's second best dead son” you make an earnest face as you applaud his bravery, but deep down inside, you hate him for forcing you to have to do so. Think about that, he's found a way for you to hate grieving over s dead child. That's some skill he has.
And where did Battle learn such emotional gymnastics? Why, could it be from a certain Thomas Uriel Bates? The same Bates that formed the DRG: that conveyor belt of rapists and Sickos with all the moral compass of a Serbian film? Don't you find it funny how Bates saw a Juggalo homosexual named Isiah Chavis I mean erm...Gemini Battle and thought to himself, “Yup, another crazy for the gang” Think about that for a second. Your best friend thinks of you so highly that he puts up in a team with a criminal, a rapist and a psychopath. That's Thomas Urial Bates by the way...leader of the society for the prevention of the truth in the WCF.
That tag match...I know why I lost. I lost because I wanted it too much. And I wanted Kyle to crawl back some of his pride that was eroded away while being the whipping boy to the sentinels. We went after you when we should have just destroyed you. But I wasn't the loser that night, the tag belts were. Kyle and myself had built up those titles to be meaningful again. To matter again. Not since the days of The Poondock Saints verses the Vapour Kings had the belts mattered so much. They were edging back towards main event status, just as I had promised Seth at the beginning of our run. We were the team to beat. The cornerstone of the #beachkrew offensive. The star match at ONE as we retained against all the odds. And then, you won.
And those belts?
They died. They welted in your clumsy arms because beating us was the goal, not building up those belts. Not bringing prestige to them. You just wanted to kill what we had, and replace it with nothing. You Gemini, are no better than the disease that killed your fake straight other half's son, the life Bates forced you to re-adopt because he's a homophobe and a bigot.
And you, Gemini are no better. You're a fraud and a coward. You snuggle up with sex offenders and racists in order to get your own way. I fucking despise you in every conceivable way. Your sub-atomic makeup is dogshit. Your DNA consists of a white flag and a dishonourable discharge. Superhero, Gemini...that's the kind of delusion a Bates would conjurer up. Manning the battlements against those dastardly invaders.
Let's just suppose for a second that Gemini could somehow get me on a lollipop stick and shoved into a sick wench's vagina. That would be closer to a vagina then he's ever been, but I'd still be miles away from being as near to a cunt as he is. He's a clown that inhales Bates's ass smoke at the click of the Mountain's fingers. Gemini breaths in deep because he's leaned everything from the masta. How to kiss ass. How to manipulate situations. How to get ahead without any discernible talent. You're not just a follower of Bates, Gemini...you are Bates. Just like how you wanted to be Scarecrow all those years ago. And before that it was Livewire Corey Black. Or was it Grayson Price? Driftwood... dreaming of being a yacht, snagged on a shoreline called the DRG, made a hero by accident rather than design. The savour of Asesinato De Mayo because Seth wanted to stick it to Bobby Cairo and you, Battle, just so happened to fit the bill. A classic case of wrong talent, at the wrong time. Lex express 2016.
And that's your victory, your true shining moment. A case of bitter revenge with you as the instrument. You take the plaudits and spit upon the opposition when you have no right to do either. You cal me a failure? Let me remind you of one match that sticks in your crawl and will never go away.
Explosion 2016. The night Johnny Rabid beat Dune. The result you could never grasp in a thousand years. The one match I conquered in the first time of asking. While you, Battle, you tried so very hard and failed so very miserably. I remember it now, that glorious moment when I pinned Dune as you, Grayson the Lie, stood off stage; grinding your teeth, knowing I had one upped you. Beaten you in thirty minutes against the most dominant force this industry has ever seen. Others would have congratulated me, but not you. Because you were too busy being a sour bitch on twitter.
And by God, how I loved seeing you cry.
This Sunday I get to watch you simultaneously lose to me at Nightmare and watch you lose WAR. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to deal with such a concentrated burst of joy. Take up singing lessons? Amateur dramatics with Jeff Purse? Maybe I'll help Thorndyke in the garden. Or just make love to my wife. Telling her how much I love her as I caress her soft shoulders. And meaning it. While the love of your life, Gemini, lies dead in an Onion field...murdered because he was an inconvenient truth in a land of cotton, Biker gangs, and lies.
Good day.
Bitch.
3. Jack Nicholson And You.
Jack Nicholson faced a confused Johnny Rabid as the ancient Flash Gordon style viewscreen crackled and whistled to life, an apparatus hidden deep within the bowels of the Mansion's wine cellar. Nicholson looks tired and upset.
Jack Nicholson: They said, they said you could help me...the Tribunal. These so-called keepers of the multiverse. Justice they promised me. They owed me for what went down in sixty eight. I first encountered one of their constables while working on Easy Rider. Tall, thin. A Nordic I believe. Crazy fucker smoked all my gawd damn stash in a day.
Johnny Rabid: The UFO scene. Of course. That was your first contact?
Jack Nicholson: We made a pact, I helped the Nordic recover the Roswell files and screwed over the government. Years later the Feds tried to stitch me up with the Polanski case. But I was always one step ahead. Fuck em'
Johnny Rabid: So sir, who's the target?
Jack Nicholson: Battle is his name. Gemini Battle. He's escaped from the time prison. This Battle bitch was supposed to eat shit for an eternity but that little cock whistle escaped. He escaped and he's on his way to this Earth. To infect it with his shit. To ruin my good name. To sully my greatest performance.
Johnny Rabid: Greatest performance? What about The Last detail? Or One flew Over? How about the Shin--
Jack Nicholson: You don't get it? Can't you handle the truth? The Joker is a mantle! A responsibility! The Joker is the personification of chaos. It serves an integral role in the balance of the universe and this fuck up has ruined it. Battle thinks he sees Heath Ledger in the mirror...but I know the truth. I know exactly what kind of Joker he is. When you peel back the lie? The truth's as plain as day friend. God help us all...it's as plain as day...
Jack Nicholson: Battle cannot be allowed to exist in this universe, by the powers invested in me by the universal tribunal. I, Jack Nicholson, charge you, Jonathan Rabid with the task to exterminating Gemini Battle off the face of this blue and bountiful earth. You hear me, Brit? YOU HEAR ME?
Johnny Rabid: Yes sir. Crystal. And....in exchange?
That patented eyebrow was raised.
Jack Nicholson: What?
Johnny Rabid: In exchange...I would like to be introduced to Hollywood.
That razor sharp smile of Rabid appearing.
Johnny Rabid: I'm ready for my close up, Mister Nicholson. I want to be a star.
The Beginning.