Log:Complete

[a-man-possessed.livejournal.com]

When; Last night
Rating; PG-13 for violence/scariness?
Characters; Zappa (a_man_possessed), Faust (watashipsycho), and the charming denizens of Henry Townshend's apartment
Summary; 2-D fighting games are silly campy action-packed love. Faust encounters the possessed Zappa out in the freezing cold. They do battle, and Faust takes him back to Henry's place. Fully Somewhat illustrated! Video interludes courtesy of norematch.com and the powers of youtube!
Log;




With his eternally white coat dotted with soft flakes of snow, Faust strolled the street beneath his umbrella. He reminisced upon the days in his office. The cold always reminded him of the crispness of the air in that environment. In the summer, it was always a little too cold, and in the summer, always a little too hot. But the taste of the air was always unforgettable. A sharpness, the essence of sterile decay of human tissue. Faust loved the cold because no matter how the air burned his skin, it was fresh and vital. Even in this city, whose streets smell of the emergency room day and night, the cold wind brought a breath of life that he breathed deep. That he swallowed and digested.


Up ahead, bathed in the pale gold light of a streetlamp, there was the indistinct form of a young man hunched over in the gutter. He looked battered, as if he'd been in a horrible fight – but he seemed to take no notice of his injuries, consumed, instead, with crouching and staring, blank-eyed, intently into nothingness. His shoulders twitched. He waved his hand through the air in front of him – he appeared to be swiping at some phantasm, an invisible fly.

Blood streamed from his nose and from an open wound in his abdomen, dying the snow around him an intense red. His mouth hung open in a grotesque sneer. From his lips there emerged a faint murmur, a bizarre chant -- "barababarabara. Kchh. K-k-keshiki ga keshiki ga keshiki gaaa..."
As he muttered these words, his head slowly began to twist to the right. He emitted a faint, high-pitched whine of pain – a sound like nails on a blackboard, an animal-like squeal. Then he shuddered.

Faust watched (his face, of course, expressionless) as Zappa, his eyes wide and dilated, suddenly dashed forward erratically, as if an invisible force had yanked him by the hips. He collided with the street lamp and then abruptly doubled over backwards, then flung himself just as suddenly into a brick wall. Then, tripping over his own feet, he stumbled into the road, slogging through the thick layer of snow coating the asphalt. There he collapsed again, falling backward and writhing on the ground, creating an ironic, impromptu snow angel.


"You know, you'll get hypothermia lying around out here in such a thin, skin-tight outfit like that..." Faust knew his facetiousness was falling upon uncaring ears. Subconsciously fingering his scalpel, beginning to breathe more deeply, he knew this would not end calmly.


Faust's voice had an immediate effect on Zappa. He raised himself up on his hands and feet, leering at him upside-down with a twisted grin which at once dissolved into a twisted grimace of pain and terror. "GET AWAY! GET AWAY FROM HERE – GAAAAH!" he shrieked at Faust, gnashing his teeth together. "YOU! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIIIIVE! AAARGHHH!"


"Yes, you're probably right. I suppose God has allowed me a chance to redeem myself. I should be thankful for Hell after what I've done."


Zappa's body swayed from side to side. Suddenly there was a flash – a momentary glimmer – of something indistinct, like an afterimage. A tall, thin woman, clothed in a stained and torn once-white (now-brown) dress, was bent over Zappa. Her right hand was sunk up to the wrist in his forehead, passing through his skin as if it were mist. Her left hand was spread over the center of his chest, her ragged, bleeding nails hooked into his skin. Her face, partially obscured by a tangled, coarse mess of long black hair, was wrinkled and scarred – like that of a corpse. Twisting her face upwards towards Faust, she bared her teeth at him.

You have blood on your hands, doctor.

There was another flash – and now the area around Zappa was teeming with ghostly figures. On the ground in front of him paced a shadowy dog, which whined up at the woman as if begging, then turned to Faust and began to growl. Zappa's mouth shot open – and a single gigantic black centipede slithered out, falling to the ground in a heap before unraveling itself and crawling back up Zappa's leg. An entire horde of twisting, shape-shifting ghosts – some humanoid, others definitely not – surrounded the man, all of them clamoring in unknown tongues before fading away.

The woman grinned. Then, she whisked herself away – slipping directly into Zappa's body. Zappa's arms and legs contorted as he suddenly began barreling right at the doctor – while he screamed a single, agonized note of horror.


Faust's normal flippant demeanor disappeared as quickly as S-Ko did. "You talk too much, spirit. So full of yourself, feeling like you can hurt others just because your love left you. You aren't special. You're just a weakling who couldn't get on with their life." Anger rising in his arteries, Faust swung his scalpel, denting a nearby lamppost.

"Do you know what it's like to REALLY lose someone? To watch someone you love fade away while you grasp at their organs, desperate to stop their fall?"

With a turn away from Zappa's undulating body, Faust became calm again. "I am no better than you, pitiful fiend. I haunted the earth for years, doing far more than you could ever hope to, you wretch. But at least I had the strength to stop, to take control of myself again. I had the strength to control my demons. And so does that boy whose body you fling left and right like a doll." Anticipating the coming violence, Faust backed up to a safe distance and began to assume a defensive stance.

"He has the strength within him to control you. And when he does, your rage and hatred will have brought you nothing but slavery under the soul of a much stronger man than you or I. I certainly hope you enjoy doing his will for as long as he lives. I certainly hope you are pleased at your recruitment efforts, to give the power of a legion of souls, the power of an ancient relic, the power of a god to this young man. He shall be as an angel among humans, and all he has to do for that power is to defeat your fruitless anger. Come, and I'll show you what a man who has crushed his ghosts can do!"

With that spiteful diatribe, Faust removed his bag, revealing the bald, grinning face of a murderer.

"This is my ghost! Is it scary!?"

Faust put the bag back on, wielded his scalpel, and advanced on his foe.

HEAVEN OR HELL!

DUEL 1!

LET'S ROCK!

Picking himself up off of the ground, Faust laughed giddily. "SUTEKIII! You're quite strong! That dog's bite is certainly worse than his bark!"


Zappa's constant twitching had grown more exaggerated. It was evident that the strain of being shoved around by the conflicting impulses of the spirits was taking a toll on his body. S-ko again flickered, her body entwined with Zappa's.
Tch. Can you keep up with us? One more blow like that and you'll be deaaad... her voice dissolved into a hiss as she vanished. Zappa screamed harshly and, arms flailing, lunged with an open mouth and gnashing teeth at Faust's neck.


DUEL 2!

LET'S ROCK!

Faust wagged his finger at Zappa. "A growing boy should not go into a battle on an empty stomach! I tried to give you some candy, but you seem to throw everything up again... out of your back..."



With seemingly great effort, Zappa raised himself to a standing position, facing away from Faust. Suddenly a grotesque face emerged from his back and, laughing bitterly -- "huhuhu~" -- it stuck its tongue out and vomited a green, slimy mass onto the ground.


Faust shook his head at the disgusting taunt. "Nani ga deru ka na?"


DUEL 3!

LET'S ROCK!

Zappa's body was now in horrible shape. The effort of jumping around so quickly had dislocated his shoulder, and his wounds bled profusely. He was contorting into positions no normal man could take comfortably -- but it was evident that he was about to collapse. S-ko's voice, enraged, pierced the cold night air--
What's wrong with... rgghh! Pathetic boy!... I won't be able to... I'm almost out of time... fine! She unleashed a piercing scream of fury. Enough fooling around! YOU'RE DEAD!
Before Faust could react, Zappa slid almost effortlessly towards him, as if gliding on the surface of the snow. S-ko, emerging from his chest, held out one grimy, battered hand, moving to grab Faust's bag-shrouded face.


Faust could easily see the attack coming, and parried S-Ko's hand with his scalpel. Grabbing her filthy wrist, he pulled his face close to hers and sang, "It's time for This Week's Climax!"
With the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before, Faust slipped open a pocket dimension and threw Zappa into the air and onto a stretcher, appearing out of nowhere, in an operating room, also appearing out of nowhere. A skull-painted bomb larger than a watermelon sat beneath the stretcher, with an activator near by. Strapping Zappa down in a swift motion, and flipping backwards to the activator...










Faust lifted Zappa's limp body onto his shoulder, and suddenly they were back in the City street. Sand phased into snow, and Zappa twitched unconsciously at the sharp temperature change. As he began to walk back to the apartment, Faust glanced at his footprints, stained with Zappa's dripping blood, and remembered another snowy day, carrying another bleeding victim. Only before, it had been to the graveyard.

Reaching the apartment, Faust sighed at the moaning walls and hissing appliances, even louder than usual, feeling some of their own in pain. Laying Zappa down on a makeshift stretcher, he opened his bag and began to place his tools around him on the carpet-shielding tarp that laid beneath the stretcher.

With a pair of large scissors, Faust cut Zappa's stained shirt open, revealing a leopard's skin, mottled with bruises and cuts, both new and old. Swabbing a gauze pad with disinfectant, Faust went over every wound.

As time drew on, the apartment ghosts tired themselves out, and went back to whatever sort of sleep ghosts go into. The quiet was welcome as Faust finished setting bones and bandaging much of Zappa's body, and moved him onto the bed for a more comfortable rest.

Walking out onto the balcony, Faust watched the grey sky darken. "What was it that I said to myself when I became a doctor? If I can save just one life, I will be able to rest in peace?"

Faust watched his breath float away as he sighed in the frigid air. "I suppose... there will be no rest for the wicked."


The first thing Zappa felt was a dull, heavy feeling, as if he was being suffocated by stagnant air. His eyes fluttered open. He was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling – a bit blurred, though it came into focus slowly. Where on earth was he?... he was in a room, with a desk in one corner and several framed, artistic black-and-white photographs on the walls and table. But what had happened? He groaned as he remembered the horrible nightmare he'd just been having – filled with ugly, distorted monsters, and familiar and unfamiliar faces looming up before his eyes.

“Eeeh, what an awful nightmare...” He slowly raised to a sitting position, noting as he did so that his body was wracked with pain.

“What's this? Ah! Ha-ta-ta...” He shook his head. “It hurts... did I... oh, no. Don't tell me I...” He looked down at his body. “Wh... blood?! I'M BLEEDING! I've g-got to get to a doctor right away...” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing. “Though, I don't get why I would wake up in someone else's bed...”

He froze.
There, for a second, in the closet across from the bed, he thought he saw a shadow drifting.

“Hn? No, no. Must be my imagination. Ha hah!” His nervous laughter echoed eerily in the oppressive atmosphere of the bedroom. He looked around, and then spoke with as much decisiveness as he could manage. “... I'm getting out of here.”

However, no sooner had he made a move towards the bedroom door than the shadow drifted up again in the closet. Zappa cried out as he saw the shape – and as he was suddenly struck by a terrible headache. He raised his hand to his forehead. “What is this? What... the hell? GAAAH!” He screamed again as the floating shadow morphed into the silhouette of a small child. A cacophony of chanting, screaming, hissing, buzzing, mewing, knocking, crying noises suddenly surrounded him.

Forcing himself to move, Zappa made a mad dash for the door, swinging it open and finding himself in a hallway. He made for the nearest door, directly across the one he had come from --
-- only to find himself in a small bathroom. He began to breathe a sigh of relief – but stopped short with a gasp and another scream as he spotted the blood-soaked, gore-filled bathtub, and the bizarre carvings on the wall – where it appeared as if a large, gaping hole had been sealed up with concrete.

Making an about-face, Zappa darted out into the hall again and this time veered left, finding himself in a living room – but he barely had enough time to absorb his surroundings before he collided with someone, and fell back with a thud onto the carpet.

“Oh, thank go-” he again cut himself short with an alarmed cry when he stared up at the nine-foot-fall hulking form of a man carrying an enormous, blood-splattered scalpel. His face was covered with a paper bag, from which shone a single glowing eye.

Zappa's scream faded away. Almost miraculously, his terror subsided to be replaced with sheer astonishment. “Fa... Faust? Y-you're... you're Dr. Faust! DR. FAUST!” Scrambling forward, he grabbed the incredibly tall man by the leg. “YOU'VE GOT TO HELP ME! PLEASE! I BEG YOU!”


Faust mumbled quietly, "I've already helped you quite a bit, but...." Extending a hand to help Zappa stand, he inquired as to the panic and screaming. "What can I help you with?


Zappa was about to speak when he noticed, directly to his right, a writhing mold-like substance plastered on the wall above a wooden chest. As he watched in horror, groups of tiny round faces emerged from the gunky mess and began to whimper plaintively at him.
Zappa shrieked and hid behind Faust. Flinging his pointed finger in the general direction of the monstrous sight, he wailed, "C... c-can't you DO something about that?!"


Assuming a dramatic stance and turning away from Zappa, Faust removed his bag. "FACE FLASH!"
Zappa could only see a small white candle burning atop the bald head of Faust. At the sight of the candle, the apparitions began to fade.


Zappa stared, aghast, as the moldy abomination melted away into the wall. To his relief, his headache subsided as well. “Incredible!... but... wait... h-how did you do that... and shouldn't the bag be on fire... but, argh, more importantly! Dr. Faust!” Zappa held his hands together in an expression of pleading. “Dr. Faust, I desperately need your help! For so many months now, I've had this awful disease. Every now and then I lose consciousness, you see... and then, when I wake up, I'm in a different place, I'm all beaten up, and I can't remember anything! It's driving me insane! Please, help me!”


Faust put his hand on Zappa's shoulder in an attempt at acting paternal. "Young man, there is nothing more that my medicine can do for you. I'm sorry. The only way to cure your condition is to become stronger. Only you can help yourself. Train your body and your will, and you shall become more powerful than you can ever imagine."


Zappa blinked.
It took a while for the doctor's words to set in.
"Wh... wh... WHAT? But, doctor! Y-you're the most renowned surgeon in the world! I've heard hundreds of stories about how you cured incurable diseases and saved patients from the brink of death... do you really mean to say that it's hopeless for me?!"


Faust sighed. "Your affliction is not caused by anything medical science has yet to discover. I am very sorry, but the cure lies only within you. Now, I must bid you adieu." Faust gathered his bag and his umbrella, and walked out onto the balcony. Waving goodbye to the young man, Faust opened his umbrella and began to float off into the air, saying "Also don't strain that leg for the next 3-5 weeeeeeeeeeeeks...."




Zappa was left standing open-mouthed in the middle of the strange living room. He stammered for words as he watched the silhouette of Faust and his umbrella fly in front of the moon, then slowly fade away to a speck.
Beneath that odd scene, the lights of the City glittered as they always had. Zappa sighed. Despite his growing and overwhelming sense of despair, he had to admit that the sight of the City outside, frosted over with a clean layer of snow, was very beautiful... it evoked in him a feeling of resignation to his fate.
“If that's the way it is,” he murmured. He turned and left the room – noticing as he did the strange shackles on the door – to make his way back to Megumi's apartment.