I am the life, the body and the blood. I am the quiet death that comes at night. I am the scream of terror in the midday haze. I am the photon stream that come through your TV. I am the euphoric narcotic that flows like wine through your veins.
It is by my will you live or die. It is through me that all things come to pass. There is no meat that you consume that I have not passed fit for eating.
Believe what I say and you shall have every vice your heart desires.
Ignore me and you shall have tedium eternal.
MR Slayer, Adress to new Stigmartyr Operatives, 435SD, Not for Publication.
***
A building in Upper Downtown. Brownstone, about forty stories. A cordon of green Shiva bodies surround the building, while the weird colours of flashing SCAF lights play over them. A large crowd has gathered. Several people are selling various food services to the assembled locals, while a Monarch officer argues heatedly silly little cherub with the Shiva captain. Several Third Eye crews are also trying to get entry, with a notable lack of success.
The eye draws back and we can see that a Kilcopter has landed on the rooftop. Various men in dull grey armour are disappearing and reappearing from a large rusted metal hatch in the roof. The engines on the 'copter are whining loudly, as if the pilot can't wait patience is a virtue, dear boy to take off.
As we enter the old, rusted, roof cargo doorway we pass Mr J. Smith, Dept Classified, SCL 2A who apparently is sponsored by MAL if his armour and weapons are anyway of judging. As we don't technically exist, he doesn't put large bleeding holes BANG. Giggle... in us. Thank you Mr Smith.
A nice, easily followed trail of Glowlights(tm) leads us through a hallway, down some cracked and filthy concrete stairs and into a large auditorium sized warehouse. This door has a Ms F. Smith, Dept Classified, SCL 2, and an aficionado of Power Projects and BLA. She is as able to see us as her counterpart. Its very handy having a mobile narrative POV, isn't it, boys and girls?
Here is the source of the excitement. Lights set up on tripods illuminate a rather gruesome scene why, thank you, my dear of blood and gore. If only those Third Eye reporters could get in, they'd think their major religious holiday had come early. Then again, they might just end up like the two other Third Eye personnel already here, who are currently lying on the floor in a rather large pool of blood. They have been aerated by the darts from an Arcphire Airgun(tm). The three Operatives who are on the floor in various "oh, shit, I'm dead" poses seem to have required something larger, as they are wearing various forms of armour. This armour has an average of two large holes, per metre of height, per operative. How neat. A man after my own heart. Probably.
Beyond them, we have another twelve former people. Now they are corpses. They lack heads. Someone Oh, I wonder who! has removed their heads with a vibro blade of some sort, quite neatly. They have then strung them from the roof with wire, like puppets. Most of the corpses have been taken down and now lie in a row against the far wall, but the three that still remain have been posed in an attitude of worship: kneeling in midair, hands clasped. Their heads would probably be bowed, except that they aren't here, remember. Do try to keep up.
Nailed to the wall with SLA Blades(tm) is a large publicity poster of Mr Slayer, dated 438 SD. Below that is some writing in New Parisian. The author apparently made use of the large quantities of blood around to save ink. No, I just don't own a pen. A man in white overalls is currently washing the writing off. The only bit left says: "So the noseless one is the king? I think not my little ones. Just look beyond the wailing wall to MY king. His minions, the skulled and hornéd ones are..."
A man who appears to be covered in black, oily looking scales enters. He lacks a head too, but appears to make do with his eyes and mouth set in his chest. His gaze traces across the room until he is looking directly at us. He grins horribly, snaps his fingers, and we are again viewing the scene from a rooftop two blocks away. How rude. I shall have to remove him from my party list
***
"Hi, I'm Bob Villerman, Third Eye news. We're at the scene of a massive
explosion in Upper Downtown, which has just ripped apart a forty-story
building. Early reports, thanks to Station Analysis, tell us that apparently
some operatives investigating Sebastian the Toymaker's latest offering have
accidentally tripped a booby trap attached to the building's gas system.
Ouch! Is it just me, or was last years Meny class a little on the dumb side?
In any case, congratulations go to Sebastian who appears to have outwitted
the Ops again. My feeling is that this Serial Killer will soon come to the
attention of someone other than SCL 10's, and good luck to him for getting
this far.
This is Bob Villerman for Third Eye News."