Crossover Earth '98
Dealing With The Devil Logan Abbitt
Porcupain sat alone in his cell. His wounds were almost healed. In his mind he kept replaying the fight over, and over. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that! He was powerful now! He was Porcupain! No, he was Kevin Finn, just another dumb teenager. Just another kid who wanted to fight back for once, and thought he had found the way to do it. As usual, however, he was wrong. Tears started to form in the corners of his eyes, and he wasn’t strong enough to hold them back.
The slam of steel told him that someone was coming his way. A cold blue guard walked into view and stared through him mercilessly. Following him was a tall thin man in an expensive suit. "You have a visitor," announced the guard flatly.
The suit entered, and Kevin shied away from him. The suit sported dark stylish sunglasses that completely hid his eyes. His hair was receding, but in a very dignified manner, and the well-trimmed moustache helped to create a sort of ageless face. The suit removed his glasses and stared into the guard. "We won’t be needing you any more." The guard’s eyes widened momentarily, and he left the hallway much more swiftly than he had entered.
When the suit turned toward him, Kevin saw the icy, steel blue eyes for the first time. He drew a sharp breath and bit his lip. "Kevin Finn, a.k.a. Porcupain," recited the suit as he carefully folded his sunglasses and placed them into a leather carrying case. "Born Kevin Phillip Finn March 6, 1984, Atlanta, Georgia. Father: Thomas Jared Finn; ex convict, Postal worker, and child abuser; deceased. Mother: Marguerite Yolanda Santez; cleaning woman, alcoholic; also deceased. Both slain in Porcupain killing spree." The eyes never looked away. At the mention of his mother, Kevin hunched over and let his head hang.
The suit paused to sit on a bench opposite young Kevin. "A ‘C’ student at Sylvia Plath High School, mediocre member of the track team, no job, no car, no girl friend. A loser." He stopped.
Kevin’s back tensed. He wanted to punch this smug know it all so bad. "Who the hell are you?"
One eyebrow raised slightly above the icy blue eyes, eyes that never blinked it seemed. "Not long ago, your body started to mutate. You developed the metahuman ability to grow and project quills of incredible strength from your body. Adopting the name Porcupain, you decide to assert your newfound independence by taking vengeance on those who hurt you. When you were through, eight people were in the hospital, and five were dead-including your own parents. Things did not work as you expected them to. Another meta-human, one Mark Battle, arrived on the scene.
"He kicked your ass but good."
Kevin leapt to his feet. "He was just fucking lucky! I hurt him, I saw it! Ok, I think I’ve had just about enough of this. Guard! Guard!" His hands were shaking. This was not the time to lose his temper! In his mind he could picture the suit impaled upon a barrage of quills, blood seeping down that expensive cloth into pools of dark, red…
"That’s very good, Kevin. I was beginning to wonder if you had any balls at all." Kevin suddenly realized that he was clutching the suit in his hands without knowing how he got there. "Of course, that temper could be a liability, as well. We’ll have to work on that." All Kevin could see were the eyes, the cold, cold eyes of the visitor…
"Sit down." The words echoed through Kevin’s brain. He sat without hesitation. He had no choice.
"Kevin, I represent a certain party that has interest in you, in your talents." Kevin tried to say something, but couldn’t. "We believe that you have potential, Kevin, potential that you haven’t even considered. If you agree to join our organization, we will take care of this minor legal problem. Also, we will train you and fully develop the metahuman powers that you command."
Kevin managed to speak. "For how long?"
The suit smiled. "Once you’re in, you’re in. There is no backing out. I promise you though, you won’t want to leave." Silence filled the cell. Kevin was having trouble making sense of this. The questions that filled his head were unable to come to the front. "Think about it, Kevin. Stay here, and you will not only go to prison, but you will go to death row, I guarantee it. Come with me now, and you will be free, you will be paid handsomely, and Porcupain will become a name to be feared, a name whispered for fear of arousing your wrath. You will finally have the power and the respect that you so desperately deserve."
"My mother…" he began weakly. Clearing his throat, Kevin continued. "My mother used to tell me that if something sounded too good to be true, then it probably was."
"Your mother was a smart woman. And you put a spike through her temple, I believe."
Kevin’s body shook. "I…I didn’t mean to…" He sniffed strongly and scratched his scars.
"Oh don’t say that, Kevin. What’s done is done, you may as well be proud of it. After all, she probably deserved it."
"You shut up! She was my mother!"
"And yet you killed her. Tsk. That is not the sort of thing they’re likely to forget. What is the method of execution in Georgia, anyway? Electric chair? Lethal injection? Hanging? Firing Squad?"
"Shut up! You shut the fuck up!" Kevin was on his feet in front of the suit, grabbing his collar, screaming, begging him to quit. "Stop it!"
The steel blue eyes moved ever so slowly toward Kevin. He became lost in them. Words came from everywhere at him. "No, I believe it’s the gas chamber…" Suddenly Kevin was in another room, a clean white room with a single wooden chair. Four men entered, one clearly a prisoner while two others were guards. The guards strapped the prisoner into ominous seat. The fourth man was placing a bowl filled with some liquid in the corner behind the chair. Upon a small shelf above the bowl he placed two large green capsules. When he was satisfied, he and the guards left.
Kevin approached the prisoner. He was thin, emaciated. His eyes were bloodshot, and his head had been shaved. He had to be at least seventy years old, Kevin thought. His lower lip trembled. The red rimmed eyes finally seemed to notice Kevin. He turned and mouthed to him please… Kevin fought to keep from throwing up. He backed away from the old man, frantic to get away. He ran to the door, but it was locked. There was an audible click. He turned to see capsules fall into the bowl. Foam poured from the top, and green smoke billowed forth. The stench of swamp gas struck his senses. He fell away from the door. His legs would not carry him any further. In a panic, he clutched at the floor, dragging himself toward the corner furthest from the choking green fumes.
He heard coughing. His heartbeat increased. Without wanting to, he gazed up at the prisoner. Tears were streaming down his face. The threatening green mist was encircling his legs. The smoke took years to reach the old man’s resigned countenance. His head whipped backward violently. His tongue forced its way between his teeth, lubricated by threads of dark red blood. A thick slime seeped from the man's nostrils as his entire body seized out of control. The bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets impossibly, grotesquely trying to escape of their own accord. Blood flowed freely from the man’s mouth as he bit completely through his own tongue, which fell into his lap still twitching. Veins bulged on his head and his neck, showing through the skin that had taken on a sickly, pale olive shade. Blood trickled from his eyes. Kevin screamed.
Kevin screamed for a long time before he realized that he was back in his cell with the man in the suit. Even then, he continued to scream. The suit was sitting apart from him, smiling gently, occasionally licking his lips. Kevin had to stop; he couldn’t breathe. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. The taste of blood was in his mouth. Tears ran uncontrolled down his cheeks. Even whimpering was beyond his power now. "Would you like to see what the electric chair can do to a human being, Kevin?" There was a haze, and Kevin was back in the white room, facing an empty metal framework chair.
"No, no please…" he begged. He had no strength, and he knew that if was forced to watch one more execution, he would surely die as well. "Please, no…I’ll do anything, anything…" The jail cell returned. The man in the suit was at the door now.
"Well, Kevin. Have you made your decision?" Kevin could barely move. He sobbed incoherently. "Oh do try to control yourself. I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Perhaps I should just leave."
"Please, please don’t let them kill me." Somehow he had managed to roll over. He crawled with the strength of desperation toward the suit. "Please, take me with you, please…"
The suit bent forward and whispered hoarsely. "Are you quite sure?" Kevin pressed his eyes shut, and nodded. The suit rose, laughing. It was an awful, evil laugh; a hideous echoing cackle that blocked out the sun. Green smoke filled the chamber, and despite his best efforts, Kevin lost consciousness.
When he awoke, he was in a dirty black room. His head hurt worse than any hangover. Far away a light formed. Reds and oranges danced about far off walls. Someone was coming toward him carrying a torch. Was he in a cave? The figure was very tall, but the torch was too bright for Kevin to focus clearly on him.
"Oh good, you are awake." The voice was ominous and raspy, echoing low. Familiarity tugged at his mind, but the headache wouldn’t allow him to think. "I wanted to come and welcome my new prize."
He forced his eyes to focus. He saw a grotesque inhuman leer there speaking to him. The skin was an ugly greenish yellow, and the nose was pointed and jutting out from the face too far. The ochre chin was sharp below a nauseous row of teeth; sharp fangs revealed in that impossibly wide grin. Ratty black hair was strewn about the head. Kevin groaned and whimpered. "Oh Kevin, you and I are going to have such fun!"
"Oh my god," Kevin tried to retch, but he could only heave. His mind howled against what he saw, the cave walls with the firelight dancing upon them, the inhuman smile on his host, and the awful, mocking laughter!
The hideous grin laughed. It was a dark sound that echoed in the dimly lit chamber. It was a terrible laugh, one that Kevin recognized. His blood turned to ice. The man stood and spread his arms proudly. "I am the Goblin King, Kevin.
"And you belong to me now!"
Once more the appalling laughter absorbed Kevin’s senses. Once more he began to cry.