Just When Al’s Neck Deep in Enough Problems...There are More to Surface.
Who: Al Simmons (Spawn) and anyone else in town
What: The arrival of a hellspawn who’s very frustrated and pissed off.
Where: a small alley within Nexus Town
When: Definitely sometime after Tifa goes dark side, and very early in the morning
Warnings: Apologies towards those light sleepers out there! Also; if you say or do anything to tick him off further, Al won’t hesitate to beat the crap out of you. Unless you’re a big, bulky, and super-strong cyborg perhaps, that will be as easy to Al as it is easy for anyone to breathe.
For the very first time in his very bizarre and unnatural existence, Al Simmons actually felt dead. The buzz from the mass amounts of beer he guzzled down was wearing off as he walked away from his current friends, his current family that gathered around the fire.
Their words echoed in his head as he moved to some shadowy part of another alley, to not be seen by anyone. “You could have done something to save him.”
“Oh, that’s right. You don’t help anyone outside your turf!”
“Loser.”
What he told Erik had been true, that he wasn’t some walking bank machine. Yet, what Erik said in return was also true. Al could have done something for the poor old man, Fred Something... Fred Garnett. Yeah-that was it. He was just a man who had his daughter taken away from him, under court of law because he was poor and couldn’t provide for her. That’s what Fred had explained to him. Wasn’t there a family man inside of Al, too? Deep down inside his cold, bitter heart?
The guilt had hit him hard after glancing through the headlines of Fred’s suicide. Al couldn’t blame him, even though his previous life was all gone. But now wasn’t the time to be thinking about Wanda, exactly, even though it was only her that he wanted.
Aside from what Al wanted, reading the newspaper about what Fred did certainly didn’t make anything better. And all this hellspawn on earth could now do was mull over it. I could have welcomed him in. Could have protected him. Maybe pull some strings for him... He lowered and slowly shook his head as those thoughts led to thinking about that young girl, who would have to live the rest of her life without her father. Because Al didn’t do so much as lift a finger for the guy...
Those guys back there are all I have, to talk to. The only selfless, kind-hearted folks I know. And I let them down. Like me, they have nowhere else to go; no careers, no houses or apartments to live in, and no families. They accepted me as one of their own.
He sighed and looked ahead. There was someplace he had in mind to be secluded from everything and everyone else; his “throne room”. And as he focused, all the distant chatter of the homeless, cars, and sirens-they were all gone. All of a sudden, everything had gone quiet. Nearly as quiet as a tomb, apart from the light breezy wind and crickets chirping.
“What the,” Al murmured as he looked behind him. The faded orange glow of the fire in the barrel he just walked away from was gone. It was dark. As he dashed over there to look and see if they were all right, his large broad crimson cape billowing just behind him.
His heart skipped several beats as he noticed the structure of the buildings. They didn’t look familiar. “The hell...? Bobby! Boots! Erik!” He stopped, and called their names, but he heard not a word from any of them. “Emily? Claude? Joe?”
As he was on the move again and continued to look for faces he recognized, he couldn’t even see the skyscrapers in Manhattan. ...Or was he not in Manhattan anymore? Jeez-zus! Didn’t he get back from some alternate dimension that was some slice of Heaven, not too long ago? Only that time, he had been warned by his ally and friend, Count Cagliostro. Had he not seen this coming? Where was this place, anyway? It looked like some ordinary town on earth, but everything was just too quiet here.
Another first time in a while since his death; he felt spooked. Uncomfortable. But he wasn’t going to stay here, not while he had the ability to just go back home. Al, however, didn’t like relying on this ability, because teleportation often hurt while he did it (collapsing into himself and breaking himself up into smaller particles for fast travel), and sometimes he’d feel thoroughly uncomfortable afterwards.
Forget it. If somebody else wants me, then they’d fuckin’ better come and GET me. Al exhaled, then cleared his head as he concentrated a little, picturing those faces around the fire who were so disappointed in him minutes ago.
He held his breath as he awaited for the pain to come, while maintaining his focus. It would be all over in a minute. If anyone was around to notice, they’d see a black, white and red costumed guy shrinking down to small glowing green matter, only to enlarge and reveal the intimidating seven foot tall figure, standing in place.
He opened his eyes to see that he hadn’t gone anywhere. What...? Why didn’t that work? It usually did. Christ, this was weird.
He tried again, only to find himself standing in the same spot again.
Al could feel his powers drain from him a little. His eyes narrowed as he glared to nothing and no one in particular. Again, what the hell?
In under a minute later after his third attempt, his sharp deep voice bellowed, “COME ON!! WORK!” The sentience of his costume must have felt frustrated too, because the chains from Al’s waistline lashed out to smash some small boxes nearby.
What: The arrival of a hellspawn who’s very frustrated and pissed off.
Where: a small alley within Nexus Town
When: Definitely sometime after Tifa goes dark side, and very early in the morning
Warnings: Apologies towards those light sleepers out there! Also; if you say or do anything to tick him off further, Al won’t hesitate to beat the crap out of you. Unless you’re a big, bulky, and super-strong cyborg perhaps, that will be as easy to Al as it is easy for anyone to breathe.
For the very first time in his very bizarre and unnatural existence, Al Simmons actually felt dead. The buzz from the mass amounts of beer he guzzled down was wearing off as he walked away from his current friends, his current family that gathered around the fire.
Their words echoed in his head as he moved to some shadowy part of another alley, to not be seen by anyone. “You could have done something to save him.”
“Oh, that’s right. You don’t help anyone outside your turf!”
“Loser.”
What he told Erik had been true, that he wasn’t some walking bank machine. Yet, what Erik said in return was also true. Al could have done something for the poor old man, Fred Something... Fred Garnett. Yeah-that was it. He was just a man who had his daughter taken away from him, under court of law because he was poor and couldn’t provide for her. That’s what Fred had explained to him. Wasn’t there a family man inside of Al, too? Deep down inside his cold, bitter heart?
The guilt had hit him hard after glancing through the headlines of Fred’s suicide. Al couldn’t blame him, even though his previous life was all gone. But now wasn’t the time to be thinking about Wanda, exactly, even though it was only her that he wanted.
Aside from what Al wanted, reading the newspaper about what Fred did certainly didn’t make anything better. And all this hellspawn on earth could now do was mull over it. I could have welcomed him in. Could have protected him. Maybe pull some strings for him... He lowered and slowly shook his head as those thoughts led to thinking about that young girl, who would have to live the rest of her life without her father. Because Al didn’t do so much as lift a finger for the guy...
Those guys back there are all I have, to talk to. The only selfless, kind-hearted folks I know. And I let them down. Like me, they have nowhere else to go; no careers, no houses or apartments to live in, and no families. They accepted me as one of their own.
He sighed and looked ahead. There was someplace he had in mind to be secluded from everything and everyone else; his “throne room”. And as he focused, all the distant chatter of the homeless, cars, and sirens-they were all gone. All of a sudden, everything had gone quiet. Nearly as quiet as a tomb, apart from the light breezy wind and crickets chirping.
“What the,” Al murmured as he looked behind him. The faded orange glow of the fire in the barrel he just walked away from was gone. It was dark. As he dashed over there to look and see if they were all right, his large broad crimson cape billowing just behind him.
His heart skipped several beats as he noticed the structure of the buildings. They didn’t look familiar. “The hell...? Bobby! Boots! Erik!” He stopped, and called their names, but he heard not a word from any of them. “Emily? Claude? Joe?”
As he was on the move again and continued to look for faces he recognized, he couldn’t even see the skyscrapers in Manhattan. ...Or was he not in Manhattan anymore? Jeez-zus! Didn’t he get back from some alternate dimension that was some slice of Heaven, not too long ago? Only that time, he had been warned by his ally and friend, Count Cagliostro. Had he not seen this coming? Where was this place, anyway? It looked like some ordinary town on earth, but everything was just too quiet here.
Another first time in a while since his death; he felt spooked. Uncomfortable. But he wasn’t going to stay here, not while he had the ability to just go back home. Al, however, didn’t like relying on this ability, because teleportation often hurt while he did it (collapsing into himself and breaking himself up into smaller particles for fast travel), and sometimes he’d feel thoroughly uncomfortable afterwards.
Forget it. If somebody else wants me, then they’d fuckin’ better come and GET me. Al exhaled, then cleared his head as he concentrated a little, picturing those faces around the fire who were so disappointed in him minutes ago.
He held his breath as he awaited for the pain to come, while maintaining his focus. It would be all over in a minute. If anyone was around to notice, they’d see a black, white and red costumed guy shrinking down to small glowing green matter, only to enlarge and reveal the intimidating seven foot tall figure, standing in place.
He opened his eyes to see that he hadn’t gone anywhere. What...? Why didn’t that work? It usually did. Christ, this was weird.
He tried again, only to find himself standing in the same spot again.
Al could feel his powers drain from him a little. His eyes narrowed as he glared to nothing and no one in particular. Again, what the hell?
In under a minute later after his third attempt, his sharp deep voice bellowed, “COME ON!! WORK!” The sentience of his costume must have felt frustrated too, because the chains from Al’s waistline lashed out to smash some small boxes nearby.