Saturday, October 6

A new threat reveals its ugly heads

It was Superhero/Supervillain Night in Steelhead City. At assortment of the heroic and infamous appeared. The Shadow. Superman. Poison Ivy. Lady Rocketeer. Iron Man (steampunk version). Bill Heterodyne. Sonic the Hedgehog.

I hadn't planned on attending. I was preparing for evening prayers when I felt the Hydra sink a set of fangs into my neck. The burning venom stifled my screams,and I collapsed into unconsciousness.

Only later did I learn to my horror that my own father, Dr. Jeremiah Mason, was behind the attack. He floated there in Kokopelli Square, surveying the land and its citizens for weaknesses. He said little, save for a few choice threats, and the interrogation of one friend in particular.

He tipped his hand: he sought to claim the legacy of the Bloodwing curse that I inherited as his own. That is why the Hydra..the beast inflicted upon Bloodwing as a punishment by Hades..chose another Mason to inhabit. In the chimeric form you see, he is obviously undead. He ripped out his own heart as part of a Faustian bargain.

Even when he was alive, I never knew him to show feelings of love or tenderness..he was as cold-blooded as the snakes that have now seized him. Documents my children retrieved from the remnants of his lab confirm this. I wish I had never cast eyes on the passages relating to my own Mother! The reason he chose her from the multitude of young immigrant ladies, laboring endless days in his Baltimore factory, had nothing to do with infatuation..the truth was laid out in medical charts that only a handful in this Age can understand. It was all too clear to me. I sobbed myself to sleep, loathing my own origins.

Of all things, it was a song that did him in. A lesson learned: when possessed by the Hydra, don't make it angry, especially if you're borrowing the use of its heart to survive.

I fear we haven't seen the last of him. Reanimators are nearly impossible to kill, and the Hydra has an untold number of heads.

The only solace I have is that he seemed as frustrated in his search for Sumalee as his progeny are. The trail has grown cold. We've searched the Colonies, the jungles, the pyramids, the places where nekos prowl..and no trace, no sighting, save for the Ankh she left behind when she slipped through Jeremiah's cold fingers.

I cannot stop looking. I could never look my son in the face again if I gave up. Please, Sumalee..if you can read this..send us a sign. A clue. Something!

1 comment:

Baron K. Wulfenbach said...

Now I understand better what I saw. It is good to have this information, Herr Doktor, although you are dealing with forces well out of my normal sphere.