Justice League of Mississauga - "Dying Breed" Part 4 of 3
Separation had been a big debate in the country of Canada throughout the 20th century. The country was slowly growing, bringing different provinces and regions under the power of the British Empire. The province of Quebec remained the most vocal over the years. Newfoundlanders even felt that they were cheated into the Dominion of Canada. I find this all funny these days, seeing as how these lands have gone back into tribal formats. It is only now we are trying to reach the outposts, trying to find survivors. This is at least what I hear, from Captain Liberty’s correspondence, read aloud.
It’s hard turning from a stupid superhero force, fighting evil, into something meant to unify a country, perhaps the world, into something great. At least I feel that is our goal. Then again, I have decided not to be as involved in the rebuilding stages, for I have caused enough grief as it is.
Captain Liberty has a plan for me, I know it. He believes that I am ignorant to his plans, and his thoughts of me being valuable in the end. But my time is up. I have hurt too many. And after I was told of her death, I myself died as well.
* * *
Klym Manor was as dead as I thought it would be. No more Klymmuffins, and the Klymylk had gone sour. A great house, once inhabited by great Klymkiws, had been taken over by spiders, rats, racoons, and any other animal survivors, not taken by The Forty.
I do not fear The Forty.
I walked in, smelling the rotting walls and floor. The manor was built to survive worldly atrocities, but only if one takes care of the interior. The house had been long abandoned at that point, by both me and Dr. Power (formerly the Brute, but I will tell that story after this one). I remember entrusting the place to Kinger after the “Brute Incident”, before the December of ’12.
My polished shoe kicked the door down, not for dramatic flair, but because it was, in fact, stuck. I was greeted with complete darkness. The light switch was dead. Most electricity was. But I knew the basement would have power, for it had its own power-source. I stretched myself through the darkness, through familiar walls, covered with cat-hair and spider-webs.
A familiar sense of dread came over me. Something odd and unexplainable. As if one of the walls were alive, and crying as I passed through it. I composed myself in the basement, beside the power console. Forgetting the dread, I passed my fingers over the buttons.
A surge of power, and the lights illuminated the basement. One by one, the brown bulbs revealed filthy stone floors, concrete walls, and about eight hundred and thirty wires connected to various monitors and boxes. This was the only place that hadn’t changed over time, because it had always remained filthy.
I remember finding an old photo album, where I kept the entire League’s clippings and photos. A grin passed over my face as I came to the section about my brother and the boys.
Before the witches, the brawl, or the portal; back when the Justice League of Mississauga was actually a crime-fighting force. My powers were growing steadily, and I was recruiting various people.
The Marmac Boys, as I called them, consisted of Anx, Kinger, Optimus Grime, and my brother. A wonderful group of guys who did everything for themselves and nothing for others. The most selfish section of the Justice League, if at all a part of the Justice League.
In the album, I quickly went to my favourite part: Brute’s Story!
TORONTO STAR
Third page.
Large Man Throws GO-Train
MISSISSAUGA - Police filled the humble docks of Port Credit last night as a section of the Lakeshore West GO-Train flew into the lake. Reason to this occurrence is currently unknown, but transit authorities have assured the public that the trains are still safe.
Marcus Sconci, operations head of GO-Transit in Mississauga, assured the press that, “this large man was not aiming to hurt anyone. In fact, his goal was primarily to avoid casualties, and simply show his athletic abilities!”
The article was too deteriorated to read any further. I moved on to the next one.
Brute Destroys Office Building
I’ll skip right to the good stuff.
...thought to be involved with the recent appearance of masked crime-fighters and assailants. In a recent interview with Count Klymlove, co-president of the Justice League of Mississauga, the Count stated that “we simply have to acknowledge this ‘Brute’s’ existence as an act of nature. There is no reason to believe that his intentions are malicious.”
The entire album was completely disorganized, filled with many different articles pertaining to many different people. There was an article on Kinger, and his expertise in creating a new computer storage system, capable of holding massive amounts of computer space (which, luckily, the Klymlove database was based upon).
I flipped through countless articles, all dealing with the destruction of various buildings, and more and more descriptions of ‘The Brute’. Wild hair, rippling muscles, unruly chest and facial hair; he was truly a sight to behold. One of the articles remarked on how he was later seen with Kinger on his back, and later the two were quite vilified for kidnapping a girl. I remember reading the Macleans exposé in that dark basement.
Man Of The First Century
Thought to be an animal, then a villain, and finally Earth’s favourite friend, Adam Klymkiw has been known by many names... To tell his story, one must tell of the excellence in science achieved by Kinger...
...Optimus Grime, whose suit was built by both Kinger and Klymkiw, keeps him alive, as well as in a perpetual state of mental pleasure...
...Kinger’s experiments with DNA, which led to the very first test subject, being Adam Klymkiw... the first injection led to his transformation into what people now refer to as ‘The Brute’...
...terrorizing the Greater Toronto Area, throwing trains for sport, destroying buildings, and even kidnapping a young girl by the name of...
...military aid from all across the globe to stop both Kinger and The Brute, who held their prisoner captive on top of a Brampton apartment building...
...later discovered of the girl’s serious condition, and her kidnapping actually scientific scheme to keep her alive, and return her ‘essence’...
One of the first affected by the Forty.
...Kinger attempts to restore Klymkiw...
...Brute reduced to the man now called Dr. Power...
...Kinger unlocked the strand of DNA, turning Klymkiw from a primitive mammal into a vastly superior being, unclassified by scientists, appearing to be both physically and mentally greater than the average human...
I remember looking at this in fondness. My brother stole all the press from me. As I fought villains and saved people, he destroyed buildings and got an article in Macleans. I never got an article in Macleans.
The article went on talking about their loose ties to the Justice League, as well as the adventures of Anx and Optimus Grime. I never got to finish the article, as my face was soon pressed into the cement floor.
The cold touch of his large, wet hand brought instantaneous fear into me. I felt blood seep out of my broken nose and mouth, onto the cold floor, touching my white collar. I couldn’t look up, but I knew who it was: Corn Mouth. Fucking Corn Mouth. I tried to stretch my way out, tried to pull myself through matter, but his grip actually kept me in place. I could not move.
I was shivering under his grip. He lifted me up, and held me facing towards his face.
My god, it was worse than the dream. A hideous monster, his skin like wet, grey clay, and his body, completely naked, completely pulsating with veins; they stretched from his hidious open mouth down all the way to his ugly dick, and down his legs. I tried to kick him, but to no avail, my foot rammed into soft mush, completely invincible.
Inside his mouth, there was no corn, but a large phallic bone covered in sharp looking grooves, like a coral being. It moved ever so slowly, and I had the urge to grab it, and pull it out. But I wouldn’t. My eyes welled with tears.
I watched his face, as his skin rotted off, but also melted at the same time. I watched his beady black eyes blink, filled with ink. I felt his putrid breath on me, that horrid smell of old blood covered in spunk, fried. Horrible things.
“You’ve pushed it with the descriptions, Count.”
Did you hear that? That voice, did you hear, Kid?
You heard it! I fucking know you heard it, Kid. Write it down. Write this all down.
(Note to reader: the truth must be kept from him at all times, until he reveals all that has happened, and his moment finally arrives. Captain’s orders! -Kid Confucius)
Where was I?
Ah, yes, I couldn’t stand this fear and pain any longer. This was my moment to die. So I grabbed for his mouth.
My hand became stuck to the bone, or the corn. It stung, like a hundred bee stings. And I could not let go, as it sank into his mouth, and pulled me in.
My arm twisted and broke as I entered his mouth.
My scream was stifled by his soft flesh, filling my mouth.
I sank deep inside darkness.
Every part of me was torn open, every pore penetrated with pain. Endless pain of hell, as my flesh boiled, as my organs ripped apart. I could not faint, I was kept alive. Every part of me under his control.
Fucking Corn Mouth.
* * *
I woke up on a cold table. It looked cold, but I could not feel it. I couldn’t close my eyes, my eyelids were gone. I couldn’t talk, my mouth would not open; teeth, cheeks, and tongue melded together.
All I could do was hear. There was no more pain. Just silence, and voices.
“He fucked you up, son.” The voice was metallic, through speakers.
Another voice, pleasant and full of love, “My man Klymlove’s a fighter. We’ll patch him up.”
“It’s going to take a long time to get him back,” said another voice, raspy and pleasant as well.
Then, a deep, soulful tone, “We take as much time as we need.”
A face looked down upon me, worn, with primitive features similar to my own.
“Brother, it’s time we fight back.”
As my body lay fractured and ravaged, my spirit sang.
That’s all for today, Kid. Thanks for dropping in again.
It’s hard turning from a stupid superhero force, fighting evil, into something meant to unify a country, perhaps the world, into something great. At least I feel that is our goal. Then again, I have decided not to be as involved in the rebuilding stages, for I have caused enough grief as it is.
Captain Liberty has a plan for me, I know it. He believes that I am ignorant to his plans, and his thoughts of me being valuable in the end. But my time is up. I have hurt too many. And after I was told of her death, I myself died as well.
* * *
Klym Manor was as dead as I thought it would be. No more Klymmuffins, and the Klymylk had gone sour. A great house, once inhabited by great Klymkiws, had been taken over by spiders, rats, racoons, and any other animal survivors, not taken by The Forty.
I do not fear The Forty.
I walked in, smelling the rotting walls and floor. The manor was built to survive worldly atrocities, but only if one takes care of the interior. The house had been long abandoned at that point, by both me and Dr. Power (formerly the Brute, but I will tell that story after this one). I remember entrusting the place to Kinger after the “Brute Incident”, before the December of ’12.
My polished shoe kicked the door down, not for dramatic flair, but because it was, in fact, stuck. I was greeted with complete darkness. The light switch was dead. Most electricity was. But I knew the basement would have power, for it had its own power-source. I stretched myself through the darkness, through familiar walls, covered with cat-hair and spider-webs.
A familiar sense of dread came over me. Something odd and unexplainable. As if one of the walls were alive, and crying as I passed through it. I composed myself in the basement, beside the power console. Forgetting the dread, I passed my fingers over the buttons.
A surge of power, and the lights illuminated the basement. One by one, the brown bulbs revealed filthy stone floors, concrete walls, and about eight hundred and thirty wires connected to various monitors and boxes. This was the only place that hadn’t changed over time, because it had always remained filthy.
I remember finding an old photo album, where I kept the entire League’s clippings and photos. A grin passed over my face as I came to the section about my brother and the boys.
Before the witches, the brawl, or the portal; back when the Justice League of Mississauga was actually a crime-fighting force. My powers were growing steadily, and I was recruiting various people.
The Marmac Boys, as I called them, consisted of Anx, Kinger, Optimus Grime, and my brother. A wonderful group of guys who did everything for themselves and nothing for others. The most selfish section of the Justice League, if at all a part of the Justice League.
In the album, I quickly went to my favourite part: Brute’s Story!
TORONTO STAR
Third page.
Large Man Throws GO-Train
MISSISSAUGA - Police filled the humble docks of Port Credit last night as a section of the Lakeshore West GO-Train flew into the lake. Reason to this occurrence is currently unknown, but transit authorities have assured the public that the trains are still safe.
Marcus Sconci, operations head of GO-Transit in Mississauga, assured the press that, “this large man was not aiming to hurt anyone. In fact, his goal was primarily to avoid casualties, and simply show his athletic abilities!”
The article was too deteriorated to read any further. I moved on to the next one.
Brute Destroys Office Building
I’ll skip right to the good stuff.
...thought to be involved with the recent appearance of masked crime-fighters and assailants. In a recent interview with Count Klymlove, co-president of the Justice League of Mississauga, the Count stated that “we simply have to acknowledge this ‘Brute’s’ existence as an act of nature. There is no reason to believe that his intentions are malicious.”
The entire album was completely disorganized, filled with many different articles pertaining to many different people. There was an article on Kinger, and his expertise in creating a new computer storage system, capable of holding massive amounts of computer space (which, luckily, the Klymlove database was based upon).
I flipped through countless articles, all dealing with the destruction of various buildings, and more and more descriptions of ‘The Brute’. Wild hair, rippling muscles, unruly chest and facial hair; he was truly a sight to behold. One of the articles remarked on how he was later seen with Kinger on his back, and later the two were quite vilified for kidnapping a girl. I remember reading the Macleans exposé in that dark basement.
Man Of The First Century
Thought to be an animal, then a villain, and finally Earth’s favourite friend, Adam Klymkiw has been known by many names... To tell his story, one must tell of the excellence in science achieved by Kinger...
...Optimus Grime, whose suit was built by both Kinger and Klymkiw, keeps him alive, as well as in a perpetual state of mental pleasure...
...Kinger’s experiments with DNA, which led to the very first test subject, being Adam Klymkiw... the first injection led to his transformation into what people now refer to as ‘The Brute’...
...terrorizing the Greater Toronto Area, throwing trains for sport, destroying buildings, and even kidnapping a young girl by the name of...
...military aid from all across the globe to stop both Kinger and The Brute, who held their prisoner captive on top of a Brampton apartment building...
...later discovered of the girl’s serious condition, and her kidnapping actually scientific scheme to keep her alive, and return her ‘essence’...
One of the first affected by the Forty.
...Kinger attempts to restore Klymkiw...
...Brute reduced to the man now called Dr. Power...
...Kinger unlocked the strand of DNA, turning Klymkiw from a primitive mammal into a vastly superior being, unclassified by scientists, appearing to be both physically and mentally greater than the average human...
I remember looking at this in fondness. My brother stole all the press from me. As I fought villains and saved people, he destroyed buildings and got an article in Macleans. I never got an article in Macleans.
The article went on talking about their loose ties to the Justice League, as well as the adventures of Anx and Optimus Grime. I never got to finish the article, as my face was soon pressed into the cement floor.
The cold touch of his large, wet hand brought instantaneous fear into me. I felt blood seep out of my broken nose and mouth, onto the cold floor, touching my white collar. I couldn’t look up, but I knew who it was: Corn Mouth. Fucking Corn Mouth. I tried to stretch my way out, tried to pull myself through matter, but his grip actually kept me in place. I could not move.
I was shivering under his grip. He lifted me up, and held me facing towards his face.
My god, it was worse than the dream. A hideous monster, his skin like wet, grey clay, and his body, completely naked, completely pulsating with veins; they stretched from his hidious open mouth down all the way to his ugly dick, and down his legs. I tried to kick him, but to no avail, my foot rammed into soft mush, completely invincible.
Inside his mouth, there was no corn, but a large phallic bone covered in sharp looking grooves, like a coral being. It moved ever so slowly, and I had the urge to grab it, and pull it out. But I wouldn’t. My eyes welled with tears.
I watched his face, as his skin rotted off, but also melted at the same time. I watched his beady black eyes blink, filled with ink. I felt his putrid breath on me, that horrid smell of old blood covered in spunk, fried. Horrible things.
“You’ve pushed it with the descriptions, Count.”
Did you hear that? That voice, did you hear, Kid?
You heard it! I fucking know you heard it, Kid. Write it down. Write this all down.
(Note to reader: the truth must be kept from him at all times, until he reveals all that has happened, and his moment finally arrives. Captain’s orders! -Kid Confucius)
Where was I?
Ah, yes, I couldn’t stand this fear and pain any longer. This was my moment to die. So I grabbed for his mouth.
My hand became stuck to the bone, or the corn. It stung, like a hundred bee stings. And I could not let go, as it sank into his mouth, and pulled me in.
My arm twisted and broke as I entered his mouth.
My scream was stifled by his soft flesh, filling my mouth.
I sank deep inside darkness.
Every part of me was torn open, every pore penetrated with pain. Endless pain of hell, as my flesh boiled, as my organs ripped apart. I could not faint, I was kept alive. Every part of me under his control.
Fucking Corn Mouth.
* * *
I woke up on a cold table. It looked cold, but I could not feel it. I couldn’t close my eyes, my eyelids were gone. I couldn’t talk, my mouth would not open; teeth, cheeks, and tongue melded together.
All I could do was hear. There was no more pain. Just silence, and voices.
“He fucked you up, son.” The voice was metallic, through speakers.
Another voice, pleasant and full of love, “My man Klymlove’s a fighter. We’ll patch him up.”
“It’s going to take a long time to get him back,” said another voice, raspy and pleasant as well.
Then, a deep, soulful tone, “We take as much time as we need.”
A face looked down upon me, worn, with primitive features similar to my own.
“Brother, it’s time we fight back.”
As my body lay fractured and ravaged, my spirit sang.
That’s all for today, Kid. Thanks for dropping in again.