Post by jordan on Jul 9, 2014 1:21:30 GMT -5
All Star Marvel Proudly Presents
Lucifer, the Hood, & Michael Morbius
In
Dark City
Chapter I
Protectors
*
The dim light of the moon breaks the solid black of darkness covering the small room like a stream cuts a mighty wood, divides it, and forces the separate sides to draw boundaries. The dim light falls across the face of an infant, his eyes closed; his bare chest exposed; his arms unmoving—only his heart beating. His chest moves slowly, up and down, up and down—rhythmic. Just above his small crib and his unmoving body is a jagged face, a face torn by horror and a hard life—a face absent of the love of a mother’s or a father’s, but instead with glee and with hope. His eyes yellow and his iris’s a deep, dark black. A smile of pearly white plays across his face. He holds in his hand a jewel of black, seemingly in a state somewhere between solid and liquid.
“Finally, after many years of searching, I have found a child.” He reaches down and draws a line across the child’s small face in black dust. The child’s eyes flutter open and he sees the unfamiliar face for the first time. A small whimper falls from his mouth, but nothing more. “And what is your name, child?” A tear escapes from the child’s left eye and courses down his cheek, disrupting the perfect black line. “I shall name you Parker—Parker Robbins. From today, you shall bare a power unlike any other, my child. You shall be the protector of an item that will, in time, be the key to survival for your kind—a kind that I have fought long and hard for.” Without another word, the man takes the black jewel in his hand and, without hesitation, smashes it against the small child’s body.
In an instant, a black fog appears around the child. As the child opens his mouth to screams, he inadvertently inhales the fog, but not before he can release a sharp cry. The man hears a large body tumble out of the bed and begin towards the scream. “I am sorry, Parker, for we must take leave. It is, as they say, now or never. And never is not an option.” From the man’s back emerge two massive, muscular black wings with feathers shinning in the dim moonlight. He picks the baby up and cradles him, looking out into the misty night.
“Who are you?!” A man screams from the hallway just outside the room. He picks up a baseball bat next to the door and moves towards the angelic figure before stopping in his tracks. “No…no…mama warned me about you. An angel with black wings coming for my baby. No. No! NO! I’m not lettin’ you take my baby, devil!” The man charges at the angelic figure, only to be knocked away by his powerful wings.
“I am truly sorry for your loss, sir. But, if it is any consolation, you shall not feel your pain for long. Your child is destined to be a hero, a savior, a protector of the human race. This is not an opportunity that I can pass up. I shall see you in another life.” With a wave of his hand and a flap of his wings, the angelic figure disappears into the night as the house catches fire from the baby’s old crib. The man screams and tells his wife to run. But all is lost as Lucifer and Parker Robbins escape into the unknown.
*
Twenty-Six Years Later, New York City
Four bodies fill a large, glass-paneled conference room. At one end of the massive glass table in the center of the room sits three figures. One of these figures looks old and weathered, his face torn down from his long and hampered life, his silver hair and his light blue eyes befitting of his name, “Silvermaine.” The next of the three is markedly younger; his head is shaped like a brick, his eyes are a solid red with a blue ring on the very edges—his name, “Hammerhead.” Finally, sitting at the head of the table and between the two oddities sits an old man in a business suit, hit black-and-pink stripped tie extenuating his salmon shirt. He wears a monocle over his right eye—an eye that is clouded in mystery—no color, just wonder. They call him “Count Nafaria.”
And at the other end of the long table sits a lone figure, his pale white face shrouded by his tight red hood pulled up over his head. His torso, in contrast to the other three figures, is bare, with only the open red hoodi on his back covering his upper body. Drawn across his chest is a black, jagged spiral, spiraling out across his entire body. He wears blue, stonewash jeans with a belt. Across his left cheek is a broken black line, just barely visible.
“Well, Robbins? You’ve called us here today and in the past four minutes you’ve said not a single word. What is the reason for this?” The Count speaks, his American-Italian accent sounded garbled and littered, as though he’s attempting to hide his true roots.
“Will you hush it, Nafaria, he’s come this far as to get us all in a room together, might as well give him the benefit of the doubt!” The loud Hammerhead calls out, trying to hush his rival.
“It is a waste of our time to sit here and wait for him to speak.” Nafaria says, retaliating to the brutish Hammerhead.
“Not like he’s a mute or anything, give him a chance to speak!”
“Will you two cease your bickering?” Robbins, the lone figure at the end of the table calls out, his voice reverberating throughout the room, shaking the two arguing souls down to their bones. Their argument ends and all eyes turn towards the man known as the Hood.
“Please, Robbins, enlighten us as to why we have come out of our way to speak with you.” The quiet old man, Silvermaine, speaks up.
“You are all here today because I have something that I know you all seek.” Robbins leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, interlocking his fingers and laying his chin to rest on his hands.
“And what is it that we all seek, the three most powerful men in the world, which we need your help to find?”
“The Kingpin.” A small smile creeps across The Hood’s face, and his bright green eyes show out from within the shadows of his hood.
“I’m sorry, son, but if the Kingpin were anywhere to be found, we would’ve found him by now.” The Count calls out, dismissing the entire conversation.
“As much as I hate to agree with him, the Count’s right. No one in their right mind is going to stick around after we tell ‘em to leave.” Hammerhead lets out, his eyes still focused on Robbins, refusing to look the other way.
“Why don’t you tell us the end with which you hoped this lie would be a means?” Silvermaine, who has remained calm throughout the short ordeal, now a small sliver of annoyance creeps into his words.
“Lying, I am not, but if you choose not to believe me, then I still am here to request official admittance into the Maggia Families proper.” The room goes silent for a moment as the Hood’s words resound in everyone’s ears. Then, suddenly, the silence is broken by the laughter of Hammerhead. The raging, pounding noise vibrates the room, forcing Silvermaine to cover his ears to save his aging eardrums.
“This is ridiculous. I have other business to attend to. Farewell.” Count Nafaria stands to exit the room, turning away from Parker Robbins. And in the blink of an eye, a gunshot sounds, Nafaria falls and Hammerhead’s laughing ceases. All eyes turn to Nafaria as he kneels down, clutching his right leg. “You bastard, what was that for?!” Nafaria screams, starring down the barrel of a long, powerful gun in the hands of a madman with a hood.
“Can’t say ya didn’t deserve it, Count.” Hammerhead adds, letting out a little laugh at his fallen rival.
“You call me a liar and laugh at my power and my bid to enter the Maggia? You turn your back and walk away from me? I am the Hood, the king of New York City!” The edges of his hoodi flare up and shred. His eyes turn from a light green to a daunting black. Hammerhead and Silvermaine stand, the latter pulls his own gun.
“Listen, son, it’s all fun and games to be a crime-king and rich criminal; it’s even fine to gather us all up and ask to join our little group—but you drew the line when you shot one of us, even if the one is this jackass.” Hammerhead points down at Nafaria. “You ain’t the King of nothing, hear me? So we’re gonna make you make good on your promise—you got one week to bring us the Kingpin or you and your whole operation are dead, got me?” Silence encapsulates the room once more as Nafaria uses all his might to stand.
“I’ll bring you the Kingpin, but when I do, you let me in.”
“That’s reasonable enough, wouldn’t you say, brothers?” Silvermaine speaks.
“Sure, why not? You got one week.” Robbins holsters his gun and strides out the room, his hoodi returning to normal.
“Why didn’t you kill the bastard?” Nafaria calls out, resting his weight against the table.
“Cause he’s fuckin’ crazy. I kinda like him.” Hammerhead lets out another laugh before pushing Nafaria off the table and back onto the ground, then proceeds to walk out the room.
*
A Few Miles Away
It’s a bright day outside, the sun shining down on one of the hottest days of the year. As the temperatures begin to hit the triple digits, each and every workers sweat and tears go into their jobs. From the office grunts to the interns, all the way to the construction workers—especially the construction workers on the largest site in New York, the site of the New City Hall.
But on this day the construction has stopped, and it is not for the heat that it has stopped, but instead for a discovery. As a team of nine men led by Billy Russo dug into the Earth today to begin laying the foundation on the New City Hall, they came across something. Something dark. Something black. Something evil. Now, with his eight men behind him, Billy Russo stands look up at the sky as the massive black helicopter lands just yards away. From the helicopter fall seven men, fully armed and ready for war. The circle the black jewel, taking aim in case anything happens. Moments later, another man emerges; his skin an olive tan; his hair beautiful blonde; his eyes a shining blue; and, despite the ridiculous temperatures, he is adorn in a long, black trenchcoat covering his suit.
The man walks slowly towards Russo, surveying the site for any possible injuries or dangers related to the jewel. He comes within inches of Russo before coming to a halt and starring into Russo’s frightened eyes. There’s been a lot happening in New York lately, and things like this get a lot of people scared. The man extends his hand to shake Russo’s, and, despite how shaky it is, Russo manages to return the gesture.
“My name is Michael Morbius, Agent of SHIELD. I received your call about the disturbance and I am here to investigate.”
“Y-yeah man, its right there if you didn’t see it.” Russo stumbles out, pointing down at the jewel.
“Thank you, I and my men will take it from here.” Morbius turns away from Russo and walks past his men to the jewel, pulling on a white glove over his hand. “Well, if I haven’t finally found it. I’ve only ever heard stories of such a jewel.” Morbius mumbles to himself before reaching down and grasping the jewel. He slips it into a small plastic bag and places it in his trenchcoat. He makes a motion to his men, and together they all parade back into the helicopter and lift off into the sky, leaving Russo stunned and starring at where the black abyss had been. Something was off in his eyes.
*
Parker Robbins storms out of the tall office building and onto the crowded streets of New York City. His hoodi halfway zips itself up, leaving the spiral markings on his chest barely visible. Despite the unnerving heat, Robbins does not sweat. As he storms down the street, an odd gust of wind blows down his hood, exposing his dirty, messy black hair and the long scar running diagonal down his face. “This isn’t the time, father.”
By his side appears a man, seemingly no older, unblemished skin and dirty blonde hair. His lips are twisted up in a sort of half smile and his eyes are golden with deep black irises. He wears a sleek, black shirt with dark blue jeans. A small golden chain hangs from his neck. “I see we’ve encountered a small problem, Parker?”
“We haven’t encountered a problem, father. I just need to find the Kingpin, and I need to kill him.” Parker pulls his hood over his face, once more concealing the scar.
“Now, now, Parker, these are things we probably shouldn’t be saying too loud.”
“And why not?”
“Big men like Fisk have big ears, and big ears hear a lot of small things. And what you’re saying isn’t exactly a small thing, child.”
“Well, I figure you’ll know eventually, so I might as well tell you here. I have one week—I get him, I’m in; I don’t, I’m dead.”
“Surely you understand that, even if they wanted to, they cannot kill you. You are stronger than the three of them combined.”
“Yeah, you’ve made that perfectly clear to me father—but this is an operation that will eliminate many, many of my enemies. So it needs to happen.”
“So be it, son. You know where you can find me if you need help. And just like I’ve told you your whole life, call me Lucifer.”
“As you say, Lucifer.” And in another odd gust of wind, Lucifer disappears.
*
The clock strikes one as its barely visible hand moves forward in the dim moonlit night. The bell sounds across New York City as the drunkards and the criminals move about. And alone in his study stands a tall, tanned figure, his eyes fixed through a microscope. He mutters strange words to himself as he slowly moves around the black jewel found earlier in the scorching day turned freezing night.
“Finally, finally—after all these years of searching I’ve finally found it. The black jewel of Amatsu, the primordial evil. I’d thought these only legends but…the power…the sheer power I can feel from within the jewel…if only I can learn its secrets…” Michael Morbius’ thoughts are cut short as an odd gust of wind catches him by surprise. He turns to look in the direction from which the gust came when he notices the open window. “Could’ve sworn I’d closed these.” He moves to the window and slams it shut, being sure to lock it in place. He turns to return to his study when he sees an odd man standing over the jewel. The man wears a navy blue suit with pink pinstripes running down every side. “Can I help you, sir?” Morbius calls out, but there is no reply. Now furious, Morbius lunges forward and slams his on the man’s shoulder, only to phase through him and slam into his desk, knocking the jewel off the desk. Morbius shoots himself over to catch the jewel and narrowly makes the save. He looks around and the strange man is nowhere to be seen.
“The fourth jewel has been found.” A shallow, dark voice resounds throughout the room, prompting Morbius to look around in fear. What has the jewel done?
“W-who’s here?” Morbius calls out, shaking in fear. What has he unearthed? This time a shaky old man appears before Morbius in a wheelchair, his head hung low, covered by a small, blue-and-pink pinstriped fedora.
“C-c-can you help me, young man? I seem to have lost my w-w-way.” His voice calls out, bitter and cold, on the verge of death.
“Sir, how did you get he—“ Morbius’ thoughts are once again cut short when the man in the wheelchair disappears. Another gust catches Morbius by surprise and he turns to see the window once more open. “A-are you still here?”
“The fourth jewel has been found. I will always be here.” The window slams shut and locks. Within seconds, Morbius once again places the jewel in a plastic ziplock bag, throws it in the safe and darts back to the safety of his apartment.
Lucifer, the Hood, & Michael Morbius
In
Dark City
Chapter I
Protectors
*
The dim light of the moon breaks the solid black of darkness covering the small room like a stream cuts a mighty wood, divides it, and forces the separate sides to draw boundaries. The dim light falls across the face of an infant, his eyes closed; his bare chest exposed; his arms unmoving—only his heart beating. His chest moves slowly, up and down, up and down—rhythmic. Just above his small crib and his unmoving body is a jagged face, a face torn by horror and a hard life—a face absent of the love of a mother’s or a father’s, but instead with glee and with hope. His eyes yellow and his iris’s a deep, dark black. A smile of pearly white plays across his face. He holds in his hand a jewel of black, seemingly in a state somewhere between solid and liquid.
“Finally, after many years of searching, I have found a child.” He reaches down and draws a line across the child’s small face in black dust. The child’s eyes flutter open and he sees the unfamiliar face for the first time. A small whimper falls from his mouth, but nothing more. “And what is your name, child?” A tear escapes from the child’s left eye and courses down his cheek, disrupting the perfect black line. “I shall name you Parker—Parker Robbins. From today, you shall bare a power unlike any other, my child. You shall be the protector of an item that will, in time, be the key to survival for your kind—a kind that I have fought long and hard for.” Without another word, the man takes the black jewel in his hand and, without hesitation, smashes it against the small child’s body.
In an instant, a black fog appears around the child. As the child opens his mouth to screams, he inadvertently inhales the fog, but not before he can release a sharp cry. The man hears a large body tumble out of the bed and begin towards the scream. “I am sorry, Parker, for we must take leave. It is, as they say, now or never. And never is not an option.” From the man’s back emerge two massive, muscular black wings with feathers shinning in the dim moonlight. He picks the baby up and cradles him, looking out into the misty night.
“Who are you?!” A man screams from the hallway just outside the room. He picks up a baseball bat next to the door and moves towards the angelic figure before stopping in his tracks. “No…no…mama warned me about you. An angel with black wings coming for my baby. No. No! NO! I’m not lettin’ you take my baby, devil!” The man charges at the angelic figure, only to be knocked away by his powerful wings.
“I am truly sorry for your loss, sir. But, if it is any consolation, you shall not feel your pain for long. Your child is destined to be a hero, a savior, a protector of the human race. This is not an opportunity that I can pass up. I shall see you in another life.” With a wave of his hand and a flap of his wings, the angelic figure disappears into the night as the house catches fire from the baby’s old crib. The man screams and tells his wife to run. But all is lost as Lucifer and Parker Robbins escape into the unknown.
*
Twenty-Six Years Later, New York City
Four bodies fill a large, glass-paneled conference room. At one end of the massive glass table in the center of the room sits three figures. One of these figures looks old and weathered, his face torn down from his long and hampered life, his silver hair and his light blue eyes befitting of his name, “Silvermaine.” The next of the three is markedly younger; his head is shaped like a brick, his eyes are a solid red with a blue ring on the very edges—his name, “Hammerhead.” Finally, sitting at the head of the table and between the two oddities sits an old man in a business suit, hit black-and-pink stripped tie extenuating his salmon shirt. He wears a monocle over his right eye—an eye that is clouded in mystery—no color, just wonder. They call him “Count Nafaria.”
And at the other end of the long table sits a lone figure, his pale white face shrouded by his tight red hood pulled up over his head. His torso, in contrast to the other three figures, is bare, with only the open red hoodi on his back covering his upper body. Drawn across his chest is a black, jagged spiral, spiraling out across his entire body. He wears blue, stonewash jeans with a belt. Across his left cheek is a broken black line, just barely visible.
“Well, Robbins? You’ve called us here today and in the past four minutes you’ve said not a single word. What is the reason for this?” The Count speaks, his American-Italian accent sounded garbled and littered, as though he’s attempting to hide his true roots.
“Will you hush it, Nafaria, he’s come this far as to get us all in a room together, might as well give him the benefit of the doubt!” The loud Hammerhead calls out, trying to hush his rival.
“It is a waste of our time to sit here and wait for him to speak.” Nafaria says, retaliating to the brutish Hammerhead.
“Not like he’s a mute or anything, give him a chance to speak!”
“Will you two cease your bickering?” Robbins, the lone figure at the end of the table calls out, his voice reverberating throughout the room, shaking the two arguing souls down to their bones. Their argument ends and all eyes turn towards the man known as the Hood.
“Please, Robbins, enlighten us as to why we have come out of our way to speak with you.” The quiet old man, Silvermaine, speaks up.
“You are all here today because I have something that I know you all seek.” Robbins leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, interlocking his fingers and laying his chin to rest on his hands.
“And what is it that we all seek, the three most powerful men in the world, which we need your help to find?”
“The Kingpin.” A small smile creeps across The Hood’s face, and his bright green eyes show out from within the shadows of his hood.
“I’m sorry, son, but if the Kingpin were anywhere to be found, we would’ve found him by now.” The Count calls out, dismissing the entire conversation.
“As much as I hate to agree with him, the Count’s right. No one in their right mind is going to stick around after we tell ‘em to leave.” Hammerhead lets out, his eyes still focused on Robbins, refusing to look the other way.
“Why don’t you tell us the end with which you hoped this lie would be a means?” Silvermaine, who has remained calm throughout the short ordeal, now a small sliver of annoyance creeps into his words.
“Lying, I am not, but if you choose not to believe me, then I still am here to request official admittance into the Maggia Families proper.” The room goes silent for a moment as the Hood’s words resound in everyone’s ears. Then, suddenly, the silence is broken by the laughter of Hammerhead. The raging, pounding noise vibrates the room, forcing Silvermaine to cover his ears to save his aging eardrums.
“This is ridiculous. I have other business to attend to. Farewell.” Count Nafaria stands to exit the room, turning away from Parker Robbins. And in the blink of an eye, a gunshot sounds, Nafaria falls and Hammerhead’s laughing ceases. All eyes turn to Nafaria as he kneels down, clutching his right leg. “You bastard, what was that for?!” Nafaria screams, starring down the barrel of a long, powerful gun in the hands of a madman with a hood.
“Can’t say ya didn’t deserve it, Count.” Hammerhead adds, letting out a little laugh at his fallen rival.
“You call me a liar and laugh at my power and my bid to enter the Maggia? You turn your back and walk away from me? I am the Hood, the king of New York City!” The edges of his hoodi flare up and shred. His eyes turn from a light green to a daunting black. Hammerhead and Silvermaine stand, the latter pulls his own gun.
“Listen, son, it’s all fun and games to be a crime-king and rich criminal; it’s even fine to gather us all up and ask to join our little group—but you drew the line when you shot one of us, even if the one is this jackass.” Hammerhead points down at Nafaria. “You ain’t the King of nothing, hear me? So we’re gonna make you make good on your promise—you got one week to bring us the Kingpin or you and your whole operation are dead, got me?” Silence encapsulates the room once more as Nafaria uses all his might to stand.
“I’ll bring you the Kingpin, but when I do, you let me in.”
“That’s reasonable enough, wouldn’t you say, brothers?” Silvermaine speaks.
“Sure, why not? You got one week.” Robbins holsters his gun and strides out the room, his hoodi returning to normal.
“Why didn’t you kill the bastard?” Nafaria calls out, resting his weight against the table.
“Cause he’s fuckin’ crazy. I kinda like him.” Hammerhead lets out another laugh before pushing Nafaria off the table and back onto the ground, then proceeds to walk out the room.
*
A Few Miles Away
It’s a bright day outside, the sun shining down on one of the hottest days of the year. As the temperatures begin to hit the triple digits, each and every workers sweat and tears go into their jobs. From the office grunts to the interns, all the way to the construction workers—especially the construction workers on the largest site in New York, the site of the New City Hall.
But on this day the construction has stopped, and it is not for the heat that it has stopped, but instead for a discovery. As a team of nine men led by Billy Russo dug into the Earth today to begin laying the foundation on the New City Hall, they came across something. Something dark. Something black. Something evil. Now, with his eight men behind him, Billy Russo stands look up at the sky as the massive black helicopter lands just yards away. From the helicopter fall seven men, fully armed and ready for war. The circle the black jewel, taking aim in case anything happens. Moments later, another man emerges; his skin an olive tan; his hair beautiful blonde; his eyes a shining blue; and, despite the ridiculous temperatures, he is adorn in a long, black trenchcoat covering his suit.
The man walks slowly towards Russo, surveying the site for any possible injuries or dangers related to the jewel. He comes within inches of Russo before coming to a halt and starring into Russo’s frightened eyes. There’s been a lot happening in New York lately, and things like this get a lot of people scared. The man extends his hand to shake Russo’s, and, despite how shaky it is, Russo manages to return the gesture.
“My name is Michael Morbius, Agent of SHIELD. I received your call about the disturbance and I am here to investigate.”
“Y-yeah man, its right there if you didn’t see it.” Russo stumbles out, pointing down at the jewel.
“Thank you, I and my men will take it from here.” Morbius turns away from Russo and walks past his men to the jewel, pulling on a white glove over his hand. “Well, if I haven’t finally found it. I’ve only ever heard stories of such a jewel.” Morbius mumbles to himself before reaching down and grasping the jewel. He slips it into a small plastic bag and places it in his trenchcoat. He makes a motion to his men, and together they all parade back into the helicopter and lift off into the sky, leaving Russo stunned and starring at where the black abyss had been. Something was off in his eyes.
*
Parker Robbins storms out of the tall office building and onto the crowded streets of New York City. His hoodi halfway zips itself up, leaving the spiral markings on his chest barely visible. Despite the unnerving heat, Robbins does not sweat. As he storms down the street, an odd gust of wind blows down his hood, exposing his dirty, messy black hair and the long scar running diagonal down his face. “This isn’t the time, father.”
By his side appears a man, seemingly no older, unblemished skin and dirty blonde hair. His lips are twisted up in a sort of half smile and his eyes are golden with deep black irises. He wears a sleek, black shirt with dark blue jeans. A small golden chain hangs from his neck. “I see we’ve encountered a small problem, Parker?”
“We haven’t encountered a problem, father. I just need to find the Kingpin, and I need to kill him.” Parker pulls his hood over his face, once more concealing the scar.
“Now, now, Parker, these are things we probably shouldn’t be saying too loud.”
“And why not?”
“Big men like Fisk have big ears, and big ears hear a lot of small things. And what you’re saying isn’t exactly a small thing, child.”
“Well, I figure you’ll know eventually, so I might as well tell you here. I have one week—I get him, I’m in; I don’t, I’m dead.”
“Surely you understand that, even if they wanted to, they cannot kill you. You are stronger than the three of them combined.”
“Yeah, you’ve made that perfectly clear to me father—but this is an operation that will eliminate many, many of my enemies. So it needs to happen.”
“So be it, son. You know where you can find me if you need help. And just like I’ve told you your whole life, call me Lucifer.”
“As you say, Lucifer.” And in another odd gust of wind, Lucifer disappears.
*
The clock strikes one as its barely visible hand moves forward in the dim moonlit night. The bell sounds across New York City as the drunkards and the criminals move about. And alone in his study stands a tall, tanned figure, his eyes fixed through a microscope. He mutters strange words to himself as he slowly moves around the black jewel found earlier in the scorching day turned freezing night.
“Finally, finally—after all these years of searching I’ve finally found it. The black jewel of Amatsu, the primordial evil. I’d thought these only legends but…the power…the sheer power I can feel from within the jewel…if only I can learn its secrets…” Michael Morbius’ thoughts are cut short as an odd gust of wind catches him by surprise. He turns to look in the direction from which the gust came when he notices the open window. “Could’ve sworn I’d closed these.” He moves to the window and slams it shut, being sure to lock it in place. He turns to return to his study when he sees an odd man standing over the jewel. The man wears a navy blue suit with pink pinstripes running down every side. “Can I help you, sir?” Morbius calls out, but there is no reply. Now furious, Morbius lunges forward and slams his on the man’s shoulder, only to phase through him and slam into his desk, knocking the jewel off the desk. Morbius shoots himself over to catch the jewel and narrowly makes the save. He looks around and the strange man is nowhere to be seen.
“The fourth jewel has been found.” A shallow, dark voice resounds throughout the room, prompting Morbius to look around in fear. What has the jewel done?
“W-who’s here?” Morbius calls out, shaking in fear. What has he unearthed? This time a shaky old man appears before Morbius in a wheelchair, his head hung low, covered by a small, blue-and-pink pinstriped fedora.
“C-c-can you help me, young man? I seem to have lost my w-w-way.” His voice calls out, bitter and cold, on the verge of death.
“Sir, how did you get he—“ Morbius’ thoughts are once again cut short when the man in the wheelchair disappears. Another gust catches Morbius by surprise and he turns to see the window once more open. “A-are you still here?”
“The fourth jewel has been found. I will always be here.” The window slams shut and locks. Within seconds, Morbius once again places the jewel in a plastic ziplock bag, throws it in the safe and darts back to the safety of his apartment.