 |
|
| Morbius 2099UG Issue #9 "Path of the Loa, Part 1" Written by Jason C. Smith |
| The 2099 Underground is a project whereby a group of fans are putting together a series of stories continuing from Marvel's fantastic futuristic 2099! Ignoring the ignoble and inaccurate "2099: World of Tomorrow", we're exploring what we feel is the true spirit of 2099 as envisioned by then Editor-in-Chief Joey Cavalieri. Participation is open to all. Comments about this issue should be sent to the author. Or you can visit our message board and post your thoughts on the issue. Anyone wishing to join the mailing list should do so by signing up at Yahoo! Groups. It's free and easy! Simply type in the keyword "Ghostworks" and you're good to go. |
 |
| "Can you give me sanctuary I must find a place to hide A place for me to hide Can you find me soft asylum I can't make it anymore The Man is at the door" Jim Morrison, "The Soft Parade" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The strange fog continued to blanket the city as the moon tried to shine through it's thickness. The fog began to settle on the sleeping form of Morbius, as the beautiful woman began to slowly float toward him. She smiled down upon his slumbering body as she reached down to stroke his long, black hair. His sleep was deep and unnatural and he didn't stir. She continued to drift above him. She only looked away into the distance, as if waiting for something. The city was asleep. . .as was another. But, not for long. . . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Samson Memorial Institute, Neuve York The room was dark and forbidden. But it wasn't dark enough to escape the predators that haunted, and stalked him. Abraham Lincoln had dealt with their kind before. He could see the red glow of the vampire's eyes as he crawled in the floor. They wouldn't get him. Not this time. He heard the flutter of their wings as he lashed out with his home-made stake. He would pierce the heart of everyone of those sons of glitches, he told himself. That was when he felt the hand around his neck. He quickly woke up and rolled out of bed, to escape the creature's cold grasp, as he scurried away into the darkness. "You won't get me this time," he whispered. He bumped into a wall, and scrambled to his feet, tripping over something and falling int the corner. He curled up and began waving the stake before him, as if for protection. He screamed out in terror, "Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I'll kill you all!" "Who is he talking to," asked the nurse. Doctor Blackwell looked down upon his clipboard, and then at the nurse with an uneasy grin, "Well, I'm not entirely sure. He seems to think he's being stalked by vampires. He's been fashioning those stakes out of furniture for months. He's always waking up from dreams screaming about these imaginary creatures, and no amount of medicine can stop him." "Wow. That's really sad, Doctor." "You think that's bad!? Heh. He thinks his name is Abraham Lincoln!" The nurse giggled silently. "Yes, that is bad. Should we try and sedate him?" "Well, this is the worst I've ever seen him. I'm not sure it will help, but if we don't do something, he's bound to hurt himself with that stake. I know he has others in there," he said as he turned to an orderly. "Have his room searched as well." As they opened the door, Lincoln looked up as the light penetrated his personal darkness. He saw the shadows of the doctor, and the nurses, and quickly got to his feet, running over to his bed, throwing himself on his mattress. "I won't let you have them! They're my only protection! Wait a minute. . .you're with them! You're vampires too! Get away from me!" He began throwing his arms about, before finally fainting, falling back into the wall. The nurse grabbed his arm, as the doctor prepared a hypo-spray, which would sedate their patient. As the doctor prepared to treat his patient, Lincoln's eyes flew open. He quickly bit the male nurse's arm, and kicked the doctor in the gut, sending him crashing off of the bed, and into the floor. He jumped up onto the bed, shouting curses, and what was supposed to be spells. Of course, nothing happened. As the nurse held his arm to his chest, he tried to grab Lincoln's leg. The patient leaped out of the way, onto the ground. He picked up his stake and ran at the nurse. As the nurse tried to back out of the way, Lincoln brought the stake crashing down into his chest, plunging it deep into his heart. "I told you, foul creature, you would not get me tonight. You will never get me again!" He reached down, underneath the mattress, and pulled out a bundle of stakes, tied up by a strip from his bed sheet. He dropped them to the floor, as he kneeled down, grasping his doctor by the hair, and pulling him up from the ground. The other nurses began to approach slowly. Lincoln took hold of one of his home-made stakes and held it up to the doctor's chest. The doctor could barely breath, and he was trembling with fear. Lincoln shoved the stake into his chest without even thinking twice. As the nurses ran at him, he pushed the body into them, as he leapt forward, with another stake. He caught one nurse in the side of the face with the blunt side of stake, knocking him to the floor. The female nurse shrieked as he grinned at him. "I told them they wouldn't get me! That's what they get for trying to touch my neck! No one gets near my neck. . .never again!" As he said this, he grabbed the bundle of stakes and ran down the winding corridor, making his way into the cold, bitter Neuve York night. He was the only one unaffected by the mist which continued to settle upon the sleeping city. Abraham Lincoln was free for the first time in years, and his goal was already in mind. And he began to follow the path that the mist laid out before him. . .leading him to the source of his nightmares. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Downtown, The Loa Temple Le'Osha continued to watch over the crowds that were pouring into the temple. She was grateful at first, but now she was beginning to worry. They crowds were growing larger since the mists began to appear. It had gotten so big that the ceremonies were taking place outside in the streets. This was ridiculous, Le'Osha thought. All of these people were ready to embrace vodun, and yet Morbius was still doubtful. Perhaps his prolonged absence had something to do with the mysterious fog that surrounded her temple, and the rest of Downtown? It made her feel very strange. And she was having trouble keeping control again. She needed added strength to deal with the stress she had been placed under. She had felt it during the mess with Tetragrammaton. She had to keep control. . .for giving in to the Petro Loa was dangerous. Especially to one such as Baron Samedi. They expected to be repaid for their services. They were fair more powerful than the White Loa, or the Rada. They were quicker, and more powerful. They also worshiped death, and Samedi was the Loa of death. He had tempted her often in times of crisis. But, she could not bring herself to promise to service him. And if she did, she wouldn't be able to bring herself to fulfill his awful requests, and that would mean revenge from Samedi. . .and that was something she couldn't bring herself to think of. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- On The Other Side of Downtown With a blinding flash of light, the entire side of an old doll factory exploded into glowing embers, as a young woman floated into the room. As she her foot touched the cold ground, the light faded, and the embers disappeared, as if they never existed. As she looked over the troubled scene before her, she slowly placed a long strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. She was too late. . .again. Strange walked over to the large circle in the middle of the room, and leaned down beside the smoking remains of a human form. She passed her hand over the body of the poor woman as she mumbled the words of a long forgotten language. The remaining sparks of the fire fluttered out as her hand passed over them. She looked over, and did the same with the candles, casting the spell which would put them out. She chuckled to herself as she realized how easily she could have blown them out! She ran her hand through the red liquid that had been used to construct the circle. She stared at the blood, and quickly found that the blood wasn't that of the victim. . .it was from the killer! The voodoo killer really was psychotic, she thought. She had used her own blood in the sacrifice. And as Strange got up to leave and continue her search, something strange caught her eye. She quickly went to examine it and wasn't surprised once she made it out. It was a word spelled from the killer's blood. It simply said "Samedi." The Petro Loa. . .the Loa of the Dead. Strange felt a strong feeling in her gut that she knew where to go next. She quickly made her way out, just as she had came. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Uptown Morbius eyes flickered as he slowly grasped for consciousness. His breathing was difficult and it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. He thought he saw the form of a woman. . .a beautiful, exotic creature before him. If anything caused him to finally wake up. . .this was it. But as he tried to sit up, he looked around and noticed that he was alone. Had he been dreaming? Was he going crazy? It must be the affects of that mist, he thought silently to himself. And as this particular idea flashed through his mind, he looked around, trying to calculate the origin of the mysterious fog. But he could only find traces of it. . .around him. It began to settle upon him, and sank into his clothes, hair, and skin. He briefly began to panic, before realizing that it wasn't doing anything to him. It was merely disappearing. Had it really been from the Tetragrammaton's residue floating through the city, or was he beginning to slip? He wasn't sure, and as he fought to get to his feet, he was beginning to question himself once again. He thought he saw a shadow run by him. He wasn't sure if it was the moon's light playing tricks with his tired mind, or if someone was indeed up on the tower with him. He wasn't about to question himself again, so he merely ignored it. But the sensation that he wasn't alone, simply would not let him be. He turned to see if he had reason to feel this way, as a figure ran at him, pushing him off of the high platform onto a lower level of the building. He quickly grabbed the man's arm, bringing his attacker with him. He landed hard on his back. The man who had began searching for Morbius earlier in the evening had finally found his prey. He had found the source of his nightmares. And just as he had slain his would be predators earlier that night, he would once again destroy the one that had scared him so long ago. Abraham Lincoln got to his feet before Morbius, stake in hand. "You thought you could hide forever didn't you! You thought that you were safe when Uncle Alchemax started playing with my head, huh? You were wrong! You were wrong! I'm not crazy! I don't care what they say, I know who I am, and I know who you are!" As Lincoln said this he began to tremble, and slowly walking toward Morbius, who was still laying on his back, completely bewildered. His eyes wouldn't focus, and he found it much easier to concentrate with them tightly closed. The smartest thing to do? Hardly, he thought. He started to loose consciousness again, and it was only when he felt Lincoln's hot breath on his face that he realized what was going on. He could feel a sharp point pressing into his chest. "Look at me, son. Don't you realize who I am? It's your friend! I'm your friend, Abraham Lincoln. What's wrong. . .don't go to sleep on me, boy. You'll have nightmares. Trust me. . .I'm the king of nightmares, I've survived the roughest of dreams. The most horrible visions that you can imagine. . .and they led me to you! They led me to you! They led me to you! They led me t--" Finally, Morbius managed to throw his assailant off guard, by head butting him. Abraham Lincoln sprawled backward clutching his mouth. Some blood began to seep through his fingers. As he landed, the stake flew from his hand and bounced away, before finally coming to a stop, right in front of Morbius' feet. He reached down and clutched the misshapen tool. "Are you crazy," he exclaimed. He was still weak, and he could barely stand. He began shaking the stake at his attacker. He was furious, and he only grew angrier as his strength began to waver. He was hungry. "Come on then, monster. I've faced you before, and I'll do it again," Lincoln said. As he said this he rubbed the scar which disfigured the side of his face. He did have a hard time sorting out all of the images in his head. . .some real, some false. . .but, he could remember the last time they met. When the vampire scared him. At least, he thought the creature had scared him. Morbius didn't reply, as he was trying to stop himself from entering the familiar transformation. His strength began to slowly make it's way back into his tired limbs. He could feel the hunger burning within him as he saw the small, blue hairs begin to grow, extending from his skin, covering the back of his hand. He could feel the wings beginning to extend from his back, but as he concentrated they began to slightly tremble, begging to come forth. He wiped the small bit of drool that had accumulated on his chin. He was going to have to feed soon, he thought. Morbius looked at Lincoln and could easily see that this mad fool intended on killing him, and that walking away would not be enough. Somehow, this madman had found him, had been driven toward him, and he would do it again. Why? He hardly knew why. But, he was going to take him out, before the hunger took him. He was afraid of himself when he gave way to his transformations. He was as close to a real vampire as you could get. . .and that was enough. As Lincoln began to approach him, he was quickly stunned as Morbius leaped at him, bringing the fight to his opponent. Both had stakes in hand, and it was readily apparent that Lincoln wasn't afraid to use his. Morbius flew forward, driving all of his force into Lincoln's stake, but his sapping strength made him no more powerful than his foe. Trying to keep the transformation dormant was just as hard on his endurance as going without feeding. The two began trying to slash each other with their stakes. Morbius lashed out, grabbing Lincoln's arm, as the two circled around. He tried to pull Lincoln in so he could stab him with the stake. ‘What am I doing,' he thought. Lincoln jerked backward, pulling Morbius with him. As he did so, he lowered his head, sinking his teeth into Morbius' arm. The pseudo-vampire flinched away from him, as the blood began to seep from the bite wound. As he looked down upon his arm, Lincoln lunged forward, cutting Morbius' abdomen with his stake. Morbius cried out as he stumbled back, and fell to the ground. Lincoln began to run at his fallen opponent. As his stake neared in striking distance, Morbius laid there, waiting to give up. But suddenly Lincoln stopped. He began to tremble, as he dropped the stake to the cold ground. He began to clutch his ears, as tears began to roll from his cement eyelids. He would only open them enough to see the source of the incredible pain in his ears, throughout his entire body. He pointed upward, toward an exotic woman who was descending from the heavens. Morbius looked up as his mouth dropped open. He could hardly believe the sight. It was as if everything he had ever wanted was wrapped into one. . .into one woman. All of his desires had been wrapped into flesh, and given life. He could only stare as she landed upon the high tower of Uptown. Finally, she held her hand out to him, and he scrambled toward her. He fell at her feet, and began to weep. She kneeled down to him, caressing his soft, pale face. He had forgotten his hunger. He had been murmuring something while weeping, and finally he said it so that she could understand him. He whispered, "You're real." "Yes, I am. And so are you. Come with me, child." All he could do was nod in agreement, and finally manage to say, "Who are you?" She reached down, placed a kiss on his forehead, and answered, "Marie Laveau." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Epilogue, Somewhere In Neuve York The mists released from Tetragrammaton's essence has finally settled into the ground, and disappeared from the night. A small group of Street Surgeons huddle together from the cold Neuve York night. There fresh find lies before them in the form of a woman. . .her bladder freshly removed. The blood releases a scent into the chill of the night, a scent that travels on the Eastern winds. And despite the direction of currents, a thin mist begins to form near them. One of the Surgeons looked up at the cloud and pointed. It was unlike anything they had ever seen. It wasn't like the gas that escaped the vents from Downtown time to time, for it was thick and condensed, and as they watched, it began to become even more material. It began to take the shape of a man. An instant later, they found themselves staring into a face from the past. Someone untouched by the winding years of yesterday. Someone neither alive nor dead. He scooped down and slowly ran his finger along the puddle of blood surrounding the Surgeons' victim. He held his finger slightly below his nose and sniffed. A small grin formed from his lips, and he plunged the finger into his mouth, tasting the blood. He silently whispered, "Delicious." One of the Surgeons lifted a laser scalpel and shoved it into his arm. He looked down, and calmly grabbed the punk doctor's arm, breaking it in one solid movement. He had his hand over his new victim's mouth before the scream could reach his lips. The others watched in amazement as they saw their mysterious attacker plunge his teeth into the jugular of the fallen Surgeon. As the others began to run in hopes of escape, a black cape seized their vision, and they found themselves victims for the first time. Their insides were now the prize of another, although for different reasons indeed. The only thing that could be heard was the sounds of the black stranger enjoying his feast. Next Issue: Now what!? Well, we have some more developments, and yes, answers to those burning questions. I hope you enjoy the guest writing from me, Jason Smith, so please send us your comments! Look out for more of Morbius, and me, in "The Path of the Loa Pt. II" |