Post by jordan on Jan 30, 2015 16:49:58 GMT -5
All Star Marvel Proudly Presents
Lucifer & the Hood
In
Dark City
Chapter VII
A Theory of Honor
By Jordan
*
The sun rises softly over the tower behemoths of New York, it's light pink glow shimmering down upon the city, sparkles radiating from every glass window. The endless hustle and bustle of the city honks and screeches as cars glide down the streets and bodies pile from one street corner to the next, hustling into hundreds of office buildings and firms to go on with their dredging lives.
Somewhere amidst this beauty and chaos lies a solitary building, snuggled neatly between a Barnes & Noble and Target just off Taft and 122nd avenue in downtown New York. This long, unmarked building, boarded up on the outside, serves as something more than any passer-by could ever imagine.
On the top floor of this small building is a safety zone, a home for the homeless. Over two dozen homeless men, women and children sleep on the floors or in ratty cots, nestled together to keep warm in the harsh winter days, and pushed far apart to maintain the cold in the rough summer evenings.
Just below this shelter for the shelterless lies something much, much more sinister. Behind a broken door and down a dusty shaft no one ever goes near is a staircase lined with red velvet carpet, plush and endless, bringing out the vibrant golds and burgundies of the wonderfully plated walls. A long golden hallway leads to a small dinning room with four doors. One leads to the hallway which leads to the homeless home; the next to a small connection of tunnels that wined their way through New York City; another, to a small elevator that travels high into the sky somewhere unknown; the final, a small doorway leading to the kitchen.
This morning, three very important men from three very different doorways gather around a large dining room table, clothed in a red and gold table cloth, covered in delightful dishes honor of Zed, the Chef hired from Paris. At the head of the table sits an old man in a business suit, his ever present tie always matching his meticulously chosen shirt of the day, a monocle over his right eye, an eye devoid of a pupil or iris. To his left is the old man Silvermaine, his long silver hair flowing in a soft underground breeze, his blue eyes focused on Nafaria's dastardly plans. The final cinderblock-for-a-head is Hammerhead, his beady eyes staring into the plates of food but still paying close attention to every word that Nafaria says.
"I'm not happy, Nafaria." Hammerhead starts, his eyes focused on the Count while his body shovels food in his gapping mouth.
"No one is, Hammerhead. This Kingpin business with Parker Robbins has taken a turn for the worse." Nafaria says staunchly, his posture upright and his words oozing with superiority.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this, Nafaria. Parker was supposed to try and fail, not make the Kingpin run in loops, preparing for a full-scale war." The old man Silvermaine interjects, his hands undirtied by the food in front of him. "We must stop this before it goes further."
"And how would you prepose that we go about this, Silvermaine?" Nafaria turns his head to his most trusted colleague but still hated rival, his mysterious right eye searching Silvermaine for a sense of fear.
"We kill Parker before he causes further havoc." Hammerhead, for the first time sense walking into the room, places his utensils down and turns his full attention to the conversation.
"Your goal to stop a gang war is to kill the head of a terrifyingly ruthless gang?" Hammerhead says, mocking every word his two peers have uttered so far.
"Well what is your plan Hammerhead? You're usually all up for killing the enemy." Nafaria returns his attention to his lugging foe.
"We should kill the enemy. Of course we should. That's always the right answer. But first we let him try. If he loses and Kingpin kills him, then he's finished. If he kills Kingpin and takes his gang, we embrace him like we said we would. Either way, one enemy dies. Why turn our backs on our word now?" Hammerhead's small, beady eyes search into the souls of his two colleagues.
"A gang war will bring police attention, Hammerhead." Silvermaine says, a cool, calm voice dripping from his mouth.
"Name one officer we don't have a hold of. In the whole world. Please?" Hammerhead challenges. The room sits in silence, taking in Hammerhead's words. "You know, once upon a time we had courage and we had something even more valuable, even when we were young and took this organization from our predecessors--we had a theory of honor, a promise of promises, we would never break our word and we would still rule the world. We've come this far on that theory of honor, and you want to turn your backs now?" Hammerhead whips his mouth with his napkin and throws it on the desk, standing up suddenly and dramatically. "Maybe I'm not as old as you two and maybe I'm not jaded by my experiences in this harsh world, but I still believe in our theory of honor, and what's the point in riches with it?" Hammerhead shoves his chair in and walks back up the door to the home for the homeless, disappearing into the night. The room is engulfed in a never-ending, powerful silence, drawing in the minds of the two remaining men sitting around the large table.
"He's right, Nafaria. We promised we would stay pure." Silvermaine says, his eyes staring forward at the gold-plated walls. Nafaria laughs and stands up, towering above the sitting man.
"Pure? Purity went out the door when we decided that we would rule the world under a criminal empire. Purity went out the door when we assassinated some of the world's most powerful men. Purity went out the window in the middle of the sea when we made a deal with the devil, when we created our theory of honor. We are not pure and it is a joke that you would ever even entertain that theory of purity." Nafaria walks away through a door into a complex tunnel system, leaving Silermaine there alone, pondering what he has spent the last years of his life doing.
*
Wednesday, 12.14 PM
"Tonight's the night, Parker. Are you ready?" Lucifer's soft, breezy voice accents the roaring winds on the balcony overlooking the bright, shinny city. Atop the balcony sits Lucifer and Parker, father and son, sitting in near silence. What was the darkness? Was it a dream or was it a reality?
"Lucifer, before tonight...I have to know something." Parker's eyes drift down to the rows of cars below, honking and swerving through traffic, always in a hurry. The roaring winds slow to a comfortable breeze. Lucifer glances over at his son, his golden eyes analyzing everything from Parker's posture to his distant stare.
"What is it Parker?"
"Who is Cthon?" Suddenly, the breeze seems to stop, the air grows cold and the sun dark. Lucifer's worried glance turns into that of a suspicious anger.
"Parker, where did you hear that name?" Lucifer's calm voice spits out, angry and afraid. His eyes become wary and his posture stiff.
"Why does it matter?"
"Because it is a dark name, Parker." Silence engulfs the balcony as the two stand there, deciding who is the bad guy in this whole thing.
"After the explosion, when you teleported us all away, I was knocked out for a few hours, right?" Lucifer nodded his head, unaware of the direction of this conversation. "I was swept into this darkness, this endless darkness and...and I heard your voice. But when I turned around it wasn't you, and this man told me to ask you about him...about Cthon." Lucifer looks away, gazing over the tall skyscrapers that line the New York skyline.
"Cthon is a darkness, Parker. He is something you should not know of nor should you mess with."
"Tell me more. How does he know you?" Silence once more engulfs the father and son.
"What I am about to tell you is something you can never repeat, Parker. Never."
"I promise, father."
"Cthon was the first of the fallen, he was something old and powerful long before me, long before the Heavens. Legend has it he was locked away in a mirror world of this Earth, something worse than Hell and darker than Earth. But when he fell his life's work fell with him. A hammer and a sword, a book of dark magics, and a stone shattered in seven scattered across the Earth. When I also fell from the Heavens, a different Heaven, I found him reaching out to me, trying to grasp my mind. He corrupted me to convince the new humans to fall out of God's grace. He convinced me to wage wars against Heaven's armies. He forced me to destroy everything I had believed in. When I had discovered the only way to defeat him, I had devoted my life to it, and that is why I stand here."
"What is the only way to defeat him?"
"To gather the seven stones and destroy them with the sword, the hammer and the book of dark magic."
"Why did you take me from my family?" The air grows denser and the world colder.
"Because you are the only one who could control the power of Cthon's dark magic." Parker finally turns his gaze to his father, searching the golden eyes for any sense of humor.
"So these powers..."
"They aren't a demon who I contracted to protect you. They are the rage of Cthon, solidified by the willpower which you hold." A lone, isolated tear runs down Parker's face.
"When we are done with this...all of this...can I see my family again? They deserve to know that I am safe."
"Absolutely, son." Lucifer's gaze goes out upon the city as he leans against the small rail at the end of the balcony, the world seems to grow a little bit brighter. A small smile breaks across Parker's face as he thinks about reuniting with his long lost family.
*
Wednesday, 13.44 PM
The fire burned out hours ago, the faint light of a million sparks highlighting the dozens of pounds of molten ash. Police officers swarm the large storage facility, their black boots muddied in the dirt and the ash, their eyes searching for any clue of what once was here.
"Aye Russ, I think we found something!" One officer calls, his stumpy legs racing towards something glimmering in a pile of ash. His meaty hands reach down and unearth a small chunk of metal, pinning down a red strand of fabric.
A tall, tan man walks over across the ash, his hazel eyes constantly searching for a break in the case. His beard grows full and thick over his head, connecting to his hair through sideburns, creating a mountain-man look. A long black trench coat reaches halfway down his calves; his dirty blonde hair slicked back but still out of place and messy. He crouches down beside the officer, his eyes staring at the metal and fabric. "You think it could be that new guy we've heard about, this Hood fellow?" The officer asks, his lips curved up in a thick smile. He found the Hood. No one could ever find proof, but he found the Hood! He's a hero!
"Don't be an idiot, the Hood doesn't exist. He's a tale made up by the Kingpin and we all know that. This metal though could be something entirely else. It could be something special. Take it to the lab, have them run tests. I want to know what destroyed this place and how." The tan man says, his voice coming out rough and graveled, his eyes never straying from the small, shinny chunk of metal.
"Absolutely, Russ." The officer stand with the chunk of metal and slips it into a small plastic evidence bag before he runs off to be the hero. Russ stands up, his eyes searching the ash where the metal was found. Could it be possible that the Hood is real? That the horror stories Russ had heard for the past few years were true?
"I guess I've got a myth to find." Russ mumbles under his breath to himself before continuing his search through the ash.
TO BE CONTINUED
Lucifer & the Hood
In
Dark City
Chapter VII
A Theory of Honor
By Jordan
*
The sun rises softly over the tower behemoths of New York, it's light pink glow shimmering down upon the city, sparkles radiating from every glass window. The endless hustle and bustle of the city honks and screeches as cars glide down the streets and bodies pile from one street corner to the next, hustling into hundreds of office buildings and firms to go on with their dredging lives.
Somewhere amidst this beauty and chaos lies a solitary building, snuggled neatly between a Barnes & Noble and Target just off Taft and 122nd avenue in downtown New York. This long, unmarked building, boarded up on the outside, serves as something more than any passer-by could ever imagine.
On the top floor of this small building is a safety zone, a home for the homeless. Over two dozen homeless men, women and children sleep on the floors or in ratty cots, nestled together to keep warm in the harsh winter days, and pushed far apart to maintain the cold in the rough summer evenings.
Just below this shelter for the shelterless lies something much, much more sinister. Behind a broken door and down a dusty shaft no one ever goes near is a staircase lined with red velvet carpet, plush and endless, bringing out the vibrant golds and burgundies of the wonderfully plated walls. A long golden hallway leads to a small dinning room with four doors. One leads to the hallway which leads to the homeless home; the next to a small connection of tunnels that wined their way through New York City; another, to a small elevator that travels high into the sky somewhere unknown; the final, a small doorway leading to the kitchen.
This morning, three very important men from three very different doorways gather around a large dining room table, clothed in a red and gold table cloth, covered in delightful dishes honor of Zed, the Chef hired from Paris. At the head of the table sits an old man in a business suit, his ever present tie always matching his meticulously chosen shirt of the day, a monocle over his right eye, an eye devoid of a pupil or iris. To his left is the old man Silvermaine, his long silver hair flowing in a soft underground breeze, his blue eyes focused on Nafaria's dastardly plans. The final cinderblock-for-a-head is Hammerhead, his beady eyes staring into the plates of food but still paying close attention to every word that Nafaria says.
"I'm not happy, Nafaria." Hammerhead starts, his eyes focused on the Count while his body shovels food in his gapping mouth.
"No one is, Hammerhead. This Kingpin business with Parker Robbins has taken a turn for the worse." Nafaria says staunchly, his posture upright and his words oozing with superiority.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this, Nafaria. Parker was supposed to try and fail, not make the Kingpin run in loops, preparing for a full-scale war." The old man Silvermaine interjects, his hands undirtied by the food in front of him. "We must stop this before it goes further."
"And how would you prepose that we go about this, Silvermaine?" Nafaria turns his head to his most trusted colleague but still hated rival, his mysterious right eye searching Silvermaine for a sense of fear.
"We kill Parker before he causes further havoc." Hammerhead, for the first time sense walking into the room, places his utensils down and turns his full attention to the conversation.
"Your goal to stop a gang war is to kill the head of a terrifyingly ruthless gang?" Hammerhead says, mocking every word his two peers have uttered so far.
"Well what is your plan Hammerhead? You're usually all up for killing the enemy." Nafaria returns his attention to his lugging foe.
"We should kill the enemy. Of course we should. That's always the right answer. But first we let him try. If he loses and Kingpin kills him, then he's finished. If he kills Kingpin and takes his gang, we embrace him like we said we would. Either way, one enemy dies. Why turn our backs on our word now?" Hammerhead's small, beady eyes search into the souls of his two colleagues.
"A gang war will bring police attention, Hammerhead." Silvermaine says, a cool, calm voice dripping from his mouth.
"Name one officer we don't have a hold of. In the whole world. Please?" Hammerhead challenges. The room sits in silence, taking in Hammerhead's words. "You know, once upon a time we had courage and we had something even more valuable, even when we were young and took this organization from our predecessors--we had a theory of honor, a promise of promises, we would never break our word and we would still rule the world. We've come this far on that theory of honor, and you want to turn your backs now?" Hammerhead whips his mouth with his napkin and throws it on the desk, standing up suddenly and dramatically. "Maybe I'm not as old as you two and maybe I'm not jaded by my experiences in this harsh world, but I still believe in our theory of honor, and what's the point in riches with it?" Hammerhead shoves his chair in and walks back up the door to the home for the homeless, disappearing into the night. The room is engulfed in a never-ending, powerful silence, drawing in the minds of the two remaining men sitting around the large table.
"He's right, Nafaria. We promised we would stay pure." Silvermaine says, his eyes staring forward at the gold-plated walls. Nafaria laughs and stands up, towering above the sitting man.
"Pure? Purity went out the door when we decided that we would rule the world under a criminal empire. Purity went out the door when we assassinated some of the world's most powerful men. Purity went out the window in the middle of the sea when we made a deal with the devil, when we created our theory of honor. We are not pure and it is a joke that you would ever even entertain that theory of purity." Nafaria walks away through a door into a complex tunnel system, leaving Silermaine there alone, pondering what he has spent the last years of his life doing.
*
Wednesday, 12.14 PM
"Tonight's the night, Parker. Are you ready?" Lucifer's soft, breezy voice accents the roaring winds on the balcony overlooking the bright, shinny city. Atop the balcony sits Lucifer and Parker, father and son, sitting in near silence. What was the darkness? Was it a dream or was it a reality?
"Lucifer, before tonight...I have to know something." Parker's eyes drift down to the rows of cars below, honking and swerving through traffic, always in a hurry. The roaring winds slow to a comfortable breeze. Lucifer glances over at his son, his golden eyes analyzing everything from Parker's posture to his distant stare.
"What is it Parker?"
"Who is Cthon?" Suddenly, the breeze seems to stop, the air grows cold and the sun dark. Lucifer's worried glance turns into that of a suspicious anger.
"Parker, where did you hear that name?" Lucifer's calm voice spits out, angry and afraid. His eyes become wary and his posture stiff.
"Why does it matter?"
"Because it is a dark name, Parker." Silence engulfs the balcony as the two stand there, deciding who is the bad guy in this whole thing.
"After the explosion, when you teleported us all away, I was knocked out for a few hours, right?" Lucifer nodded his head, unaware of the direction of this conversation. "I was swept into this darkness, this endless darkness and...and I heard your voice. But when I turned around it wasn't you, and this man told me to ask you about him...about Cthon." Lucifer looks away, gazing over the tall skyscrapers that line the New York skyline.
"Cthon is a darkness, Parker. He is something you should not know of nor should you mess with."
"Tell me more. How does he know you?" Silence once more engulfs the father and son.
"What I am about to tell you is something you can never repeat, Parker. Never."
"I promise, father."
"Cthon was the first of the fallen, he was something old and powerful long before me, long before the Heavens. Legend has it he was locked away in a mirror world of this Earth, something worse than Hell and darker than Earth. But when he fell his life's work fell with him. A hammer and a sword, a book of dark magics, and a stone shattered in seven scattered across the Earth. When I also fell from the Heavens, a different Heaven, I found him reaching out to me, trying to grasp my mind. He corrupted me to convince the new humans to fall out of God's grace. He convinced me to wage wars against Heaven's armies. He forced me to destroy everything I had believed in. When I had discovered the only way to defeat him, I had devoted my life to it, and that is why I stand here."
"What is the only way to defeat him?"
"To gather the seven stones and destroy them with the sword, the hammer and the book of dark magic."
"Why did you take me from my family?" The air grows denser and the world colder.
"Because you are the only one who could control the power of Cthon's dark magic." Parker finally turns his gaze to his father, searching the golden eyes for any sense of humor.
"So these powers..."
"They aren't a demon who I contracted to protect you. They are the rage of Cthon, solidified by the willpower which you hold." A lone, isolated tear runs down Parker's face.
"When we are done with this...all of this...can I see my family again? They deserve to know that I am safe."
"Absolutely, son." Lucifer's gaze goes out upon the city as he leans against the small rail at the end of the balcony, the world seems to grow a little bit brighter. A small smile breaks across Parker's face as he thinks about reuniting with his long lost family.
*
Wednesday, 13.44 PM
The fire burned out hours ago, the faint light of a million sparks highlighting the dozens of pounds of molten ash. Police officers swarm the large storage facility, their black boots muddied in the dirt and the ash, their eyes searching for any clue of what once was here.
"Aye Russ, I think we found something!" One officer calls, his stumpy legs racing towards something glimmering in a pile of ash. His meaty hands reach down and unearth a small chunk of metal, pinning down a red strand of fabric.
A tall, tan man walks over across the ash, his hazel eyes constantly searching for a break in the case. His beard grows full and thick over his head, connecting to his hair through sideburns, creating a mountain-man look. A long black trench coat reaches halfway down his calves; his dirty blonde hair slicked back but still out of place and messy. He crouches down beside the officer, his eyes staring at the metal and fabric. "You think it could be that new guy we've heard about, this Hood fellow?" The officer asks, his lips curved up in a thick smile. He found the Hood. No one could ever find proof, but he found the Hood! He's a hero!
"Don't be an idiot, the Hood doesn't exist. He's a tale made up by the Kingpin and we all know that. This metal though could be something entirely else. It could be something special. Take it to the lab, have them run tests. I want to know what destroyed this place and how." The tan man says, his voice coming out rough and graveled, his eyes never straying from the small, shinny chunk of metal.
"Absolutely, Russ." The officer stand with the chunk of metal and slips it into a small plastic evidence bag before he runs off to be the hero. Russ stands up, his eyes searching the ash where the metal was found. Could it be possible that the Hood is real? That the horror stories Russ had heard for the past few years were true?
"I guess I've got a myth to find." Russ mumbles under his breath to himself before continuing his search through the ash.
TO BE CONTINUED