Nostos 44
Title: Nóstos 44
Summary: This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with Change. After the bombs fall, Critic must lead his people on an epic journey in search of a place to call home.
Characters/Pairings: Linkara/Spoony, Linkara/Marzgurl, Critic/Chick, Tom/Mickey
Rating: R- descriptions of death, violence, sexual abuse, and angst.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This work is based on characters played by the great guys at Channel Awesome.
Author's Note: This is a full blown post apocalyptic rewrite of Kickassia (with added superpowers!). Somewhere between an homage and a parody of post-apocalyptic movies, it makes deliberate use of tropes common to the genre. For those interested, a list of tropes and references will be provided at the end.
Warning and Triggers: For a homage/parody, this is a serious fic. It includes references to mental illness, child abuse, sexual abuse, incest, sexual assault, rape, torture, dub-con situations, good people doing bad things, bad people doing worse things, and issues dealing with gray morality. Please do not read if any of this may trigger you. Warnings include character death, violence, descriptions of gore, and some surprisingly mild sexual content.
Personal Disclaimer: The thoughts and actions of the characters do not reflect the personal feelings or opinions of the author
Spoony settled his fingers on the keyboard. Took a deep, steadying breath, and reached out to Insano.
They asked, and Molossia answered.
It didn't begin there.
But Molossia was where they'd tested it, the first versions of the chemical they came to call Change. Not as a weapon, but as a way to create them.
The first round of experiments had given them a man of living flame.
A man with cloven feet and unnatural agility.
A man with gills who died choking on air.
When Change was administered to a rodent, a monkey, it produced predictable results. A desert fox would always grow dual heads, a coyote would always sprout tentacles along its spine. The scientists had expected it would be the same with their 'volunteers,' and so quickly learned the first rule of Change when applied to Homo sapiens.
Change was random.
Round two gave them armored skin, wings, a razor smile.
The scientists kept spinning their roulette wheel of monstrosities, searching for a way to stabilize the compound. A way to manipulate Change, direct and control it, and so build a more lethal solider.
They were kind, at least, when it came time to delve deeper into the mysteries they had created. At night the doors to the dormitory were sealed, the vents opened. Death came creeping, and the recruits in their beds breathed deep and slid gently into sleep.
Round three.
Round four.
They covered the faces of the dead before they picked up their scalpels. Made guesses to the functions of unfamiliar organs, traced the pathways of new nerves. And when they had learned all there was to know, they burned what little was left, and later raised a toast in honor of their victims.
Round five.
Had Baugh known, back when he'd been a lowly guard? Had he taken his turn to push the button, to write letters praising the bravery of murdered men? Had practice made it easier when it came time to sacrifice his fellow officers to save his family?
The first report came from Israel. A soldier with laser beam eyes, another with eye-blink speed. Within a week more were flooding in. An insurgent who could kill with a touch in Pakistan, a man who could heal in Darfur, a girl with fur and horns in England.
The secret had been stolen, and Change was loose upon the world.
But where the United States had delayed and dissected, looking for perfection, for control, her enemies embraced the capricious nature of the drug. Built armies from misfits, and the generals in their bunkers were afraid.
The United States launched the first missiles, old-fashioned destruction raining down in warning.
What they got in return was Change and a blood red horizon.
What better way to destroy a country then to give her own people the power to destroy each other? The bombs crisscrossed the globe, the players in the drama competing for the final word.
Insano bypassed the security measures that called for a thumbprint and retina scan, but it was Spoony who pressed the button.
He sealed the vents and opened the doors.
All of them.
The doors that led down to the dormitories buried deep beneath the earth. The dorms that had been meant for the first wave of mutated soldiers, five hundred beds in neat rows, the sheets still tight at the corners.
The doors that led to the laboratories where Change had been studied, where someday might be found the secret to reversing it.
It didn't begin in Molossia.
But something would.
next
Summary: This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with Change. After the bombs fall, Critic must lead his people on an epic journey in search of a place to call home.
Characters/Pairings: Linkara/Spoony, Linkara/Marzgurl, Critic/Chick, Tom/Mickey
Rating: R- descriptions of death, violence, sexual abuse, and angst.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This work is based on characters played by the great guys at Channel Awesome.
Author's Note: This is a full blown post apocalyptic rewrite of Kickassia (with added superpowers!). Somewhere between an homage and a parody of post-apocalyptic movies, it makes deliberate use of tropes common to the genre. For those interested, a list of tropes and references will be provided at the end.
Warning and Triggers: For a homage/parody, this is a serious fic. It includes references to mental illness, child abuse, sexual abuse, incest, sexual assault, rape, torture, dub-con situations, good people doing bad things, bad people doing worse things, and issues dealing with gray morality. Please do not read if any of this may trigger you. Warnings include character death, violence, descriptions of gore, and some surprisingly mild sexual content.
Personal Disclaimer: The thoughts and actions of the characters do not reflect the personal feelings or opinions of the author
Spoony settled his fingers on the keyboard. Took a deep, steadying breath, and reached out to Insano.
They asked, and Molossia answered.
It didn't begin there.
But Molossia was where they'd tested it, the first versions of the chemical they came to call Change. Not as a weapon, but as a way to create them.
The first round of experiments had given them a man of living flame.
A man with cloven feet and unnatural agility.
A man with gills who died choking on air.
When Change was administered to a rodent, a monkey, it produced predictable results. A desert fox would always grow dual heads, a coyote would always sprout tentacles along its spine. The scientists had expected it would be the same with their 'volunteers,' and so quickly learned the first rule of Change when applied to Homo sapiens.
Change was random.
Round two gave them armored skin, wings, a razor smile.
The scientists kept spinning their roulette wheel of monstrosities, searching for a way to stabilize the compound. A way to manipulate Change, direct and control it, and so build a more lethal solider.
They were kind, at least, when it came time to delve deeper into the mysteries they had created. At night the doors to the dormitory were sealed, the vents opened. Death came creeping, and the recruits in their beds breathed deep and slid gently into sleep.
Round three.
Round four.
They covered the faces of the dead before they picked up their scalpels. Made guesses to the functions of unfamiliar organs, traced the pathways of new nerves. And when they had learned all there was to know, they burned what little was left, and later raised a toast in honor of their victims.
Round five.
Had Baugh known, back when he'd been a lowly guard? Had he taken his turn to push the button, to write letters praising the bravery of murdered men? Had practice made it easier when it came time to sacrifice his fellow officers to save his family?
The first report came from Israel. A soldier with laser beam eyes, another with eye-blink speed. Within a week more were flooding in. An insurgent who could kill with a touch in Pakistan, a man who could heal in Darfur, a girl with fur and horns in England.
The secret had been stolen, and Change was loose upon the world.
But where the United States had delayed and dissected, looking for perfection, for control, her enemies embraced the capricious nature of the drug. Built armies from misfits, and the generals in their bunkers were afraid.
The United States launched the first missiles, old-fashioned destruction raining down in warning.
What they got in return was Change and a blood red horizon.
What better way to destroy a country then to give her own people the power to destroy each other? The bombs crisscrossed the globe, the players in the drama competing for the final word.
Insano bypassed the security measures that called for a thumbprint and retina scan, but it was Spoony who pressed the button.
He sealed the vents and opened the doors.
All of them.
The doors that led down to the dormitories buried deep beneath the earth. The dorms that had been meant for the first wave of mutated soldiers, five hundred beds in neat rows, the sheets still tight at the corners.
The doors that led to the laboratories where Change had been studied, where someday might be found the secret to reversing it.
It didn't begin in Molossia.
But something would.
next