The Cold Forge...
The sky is just beginning to lighten as the big Diesel F-350 rolls to a stop in its usual parking spot alongside two tall pine trees. The campsite is desolate and eerie with various metal skeletons of tasks half finished. Off to the side there’s a rusty swing-set rigged with swinging hammers and poles, nearly done; across from it is a half finished shirt of chain-mail, draped over a makeshift bust like a decomposing torso.
Death seems to permeate the place, an unnatural chill that can’t seem to be shaken for all the humidity that hangs in the air. The giant immediately gets out of his truck and fires up the forge, his massive brow furrowed in concentration, frustration and anger.
“You’re such an idiot.” The nasal and annoying tone of Shane, Hound of Chicago, still rings in his ears. It drowns out the other, more positive comments made by several city members including Tammy and Dr. Colburn. He couldn’t get the experience out of his head.
“How could ya be so stupid, Joe” came his own voice as the familiar tinge of his Beast reacts to the ignition of fire under the forge. “You shoulda known that he wasn’t gonna play fair, you shoulda guessed that he’d be all kinds a judgmental. He’s a prick, but that don’t excuse yer lack of bein’ prepared.”
The giant continues to berate himself as the flames grow hotter and the sky lightens another shade. His Beast rattles the cage a bit louder, more than normal, more than he’s used to and his teeth bare down, the muscles of his jaw clench.
Pulling off his shirt and pulling down his goggles, the giant begins the steady rhythmic hammering of metal against metal.
Clang. Clang.
Nothing.
Clang. Clang.
Nothing.
The music that usually soothes the savage Beast fails to calm him.
“You ain’t gonna be good enough… ever… You showed yer true colors, boy, when you killed that old lady.” The voice of his Granny filters from his subconscious.
Muscles flex.
Vitae burns.
Smoke rises.
Clang. Clang. Clang. CLANG.
The sound is no longer focused or disciplined. It rings thick with desperation.
CLANG CLANG CLANG…
Hot metal sputters and sparks, molten slag embedding itself in the bare muscles of the giant, who is now hammering relentlessly at the mangled piece of red hot metal. There’s no process, no project, no pattern, and no end product in mind.
The cage bars rattle louder as the Beast begins hurling itself against them, just as desperate to be released.
CLANG… CLANG… CLANG… Beast and Hammer ring as one, both equal in their ferocious despondence.
The metal on the forge warps. The bars keeping the Beast at bay bend.
The sky lightens another shade. Fangs protrude.
CLANG… CLANG… CLANG…
Flesh sizzles as more molten slag is splattered against it, yet the pain it should be causing is not registered.
Inside the Beast roars in Rage. The constant hurling of its primal mass bends the cage even more, spreading the bars at unnatural angles.
Outside the giant roars uncontrollably, the once calming task of rending metal now lost among the red tide that is washing over him.
CLANG… CLANG… CLANG…
The Beast slams into the opening, oblivious to the cracking of bones as it forces a massively clawed arm through the gap. Pressing and squeezing and flailing and roaring the Beast struggles against its failing restraints.
Outside the clanging continues at a ferocious pace. Not stopping. Not helping. It is now just discordant clanging.
SNAP.
The next moment is laced with lassitude. The bars spread apart as the Beast claws its way free, roaring in its liberation. The warped metal is flung with supernatural strength to ricochet through the campsite and splash into the lake, sizzling. The giant rushes off deeper into the woods unhindered by the restraint of Humanity.
Nothing exists now for the giant but anger, rage, and fury. Trees splinter as he shoulders past them. The Beast and the giant have become one once again.
Cresting a hill and stopping, he stands in the open, raises two massively clawed hands and roars in protest of the very world.
Sunlight cascades over the land, washing and bathing the wood of the darkness that clings to it.
Smoking and smoldering the giant Beast turns and roars in defiance. Vitae and flesh burn as the scorching rays take their toll on the massive frame. Skin blackens and cracks, exposing the grey muscle underneath.
Yet still he rebels. Roaring and smoldering until something in the Beast realizes that this will be the end of it.
Almost against its Will, the giant begins to sink into the cool damp protective bosom of Mother Earth.
Silence once again permeates the wood echoing faintly of death.
Back at the campsite and unattended fires fade and a forge grows cold.