RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block I, Vengeance

I don’t remember how it all started. One minute, I’m just riding my chopper into the great wide open, and the next, I wake up in the middle of nowhere. Not that that’s anything unusual. The strange part was the guy standing over me. I’ve seen lots of strange shit in my day, but never have I seen a skeleton with it’s head on fire.

“Am I dead?” I asked, hoping that the answer was no, but guessing it was yes.

“Yes and no.”

Great, ambiguities from the great beyond. Oh well, if I’m dead, I’m dead. Not much I can do about that. But if I’m alive, well, I would like to know what’s going on.

“Technically, you are still alive, but only because you have been chosen.”

“Chosen for what?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to that one, but what the hell.

“You have been chosen to be the avatar for the spirit of vengeance.”

At that point, I passed out. The human psyche can only take so much before it shuts down, and being told that you are to become the human embodiment of vengeance is well past the point of shutdown. When I woke up, I was still lying beside the twisted form of my motorcycle, but there was another one sitting upright next to it. On the seat there was a letter.

“This bike is to replace the one that was destroyed when I caused your wreck. You will have to overlook that, but there was no other way. You had to die to take the role you have been given.”

Ok, so I died…but this isn’t exactly what I thought the afterlife would be like. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Oh well, I have a bike, it’s time to ride. I guess the rest will be explained later.

Elsewhen. . .

The robed and hooded figures stood around the well, watching their chosen avatar ride off into his destiny.

"It is done."

"Was such a direct action necessary?"

"I am afraid so. The new Death avatar has acted out of line at least twice. And now, we have received reports that the great devourer is missing as well. We must have an agent on the mortal plane if the paranatural phenomenon continues to grow."

"Let us continue to watch. . ."

"Hey, wake up!"

Where the hell am I? Looking around, I notice that the gascap on my bike was glowing. I keep remembering a snippet of what seems like a dream, but at the same time it seems too real to be a dream. In the dream, I saw myself holding a man over the side of a building, and him screaming that he was sorry...for what, I have no idea. This has been a strange few days, the dreams, the bike with the glowing gascap, and the never-ending feeling that I am being watched.

As I get on the bike and start to ride, I notice a strange mist swirling up around me and the road ahead seems to vanish. . .

"Mom, that man on the motorcycle disappeared into a cloud of smoke!"

"Oh, hush, Charlie! You and your overactive imagination!"

Later. . .

An odd looking motorcycle appears out of a cloud of smoke just down the road from Bobby Joe's BBQ Shack. It pulls into the driveway and the oddly dressed rider gets off and walks inside.

"Sheeeooott!! Get a loada this guy! Is it Halloween awready?"

Vengeance ignores the loud drunk and walks over to two men at the end of the bar.

The first, looking like a human rat, looks up from his Budweiser and speaks "Can I help you, buddy?"

"For what you did to that little girl. . .YOU MUST PAY!!"

Vengeance held the rat faced man up off of the ground by one arm, his hand now ungloved. The other patrons of Bobby Joe's BBQ Shack lay scattered along the floor like forgotten toys. Vengeance's long coat fluttered in a non-existent breeze, while the spectral glow that surrounded him grew ever brighter.

As Vengeance began to speak, the ungloved hand began to emit a pule of energy into the man: "You think you've known pain? You've known nothing! Feel my touch. Feel it pulse inside of you. Know the meaing of . . .my gift."

Instaneously, the rat-faced man was filled with visions of pain, torment, rape, murder, all with his leering face grinning at him. He broke down uncontrollably in sobs.

Vengeance, his face hidden by the demonic "helmet" turned and walked out of the bar and towards his bike. The bike revved and started up at his approach, almost as if alive. He got on and drove off into the night. . .

Blazing down Perdition's highway, Route 666, the flaming skeleton leads me down the road of vengeance. I don't know if I'm dreaming or not. . .and part of me doesn't care.

We come to a stop in front of a gnarled oak tree.

"The oracles will tell you your future. Listen closely."

In the branches of the tree sit, a raven, a bat (upside down, of course), and an owl. They begin to speak to me without moving their mouths.

"We are Those Who Fly By Night. And you must listen to what we have to tell you. . ."

The Raven: "Beware of the dead man, no matter your strength, he can kill you if you are not careful."

The Bat: "Drink deep of the blood of Vengeance, but do not let your thirst control you."

The Owl: "The wise man knows when to fight, and WHO to fight."

And then I woke up, laying next to my bike on the side of the highway.

What a dream! Talking birds, what's next? I better not ask that, with everything that's been going on lately. I look around to find myself parked on the side of the highway again, but I have absolutely no idea where I am. Last time I knew, I was in Arizona, now it looks like I’m somewhere in the southeast.

“Do you remember Bobby Joe’s?” It was the ol’ Flame-head again.

“Bobby Joe’s?”

“Yeah, the bar you destroyed last night. Oh, you don’t remember, that’s right. How silly of me. Let me show you.”

With that, he reached out his hand and grasped my forehead. I saw…something…beating the crap out of everybody within it’s reach. Then I understood. That…thing…was me. I don’t know how I understood it, but I KNEW that that was me.

“This is your gift. You shall bring vengeance to the guilty. I know it’s a big job, but you were the one They chose.”

“They? Who are they? And this is supposed to be a gift? I have swiss cheese for memory, and this is a gift?”

“We did give you a new bike.”

“Gee, thanks. You kill me, turn me into some kind of demon…”

“You’re not a demon. I’m the demon here.”

“Funny. So, I’m not a demon. But I’m most certainly not human.”

“You’re still human…for the most part. You just had certain aspects of your being…tweaked.”

“Ok, I can’t take any more. What if I was to play chicken with a semi? I’m on a bike, I’d be hamburger.”

“Wouldn’t happen. They wouldn’t allow it.”

“Great. So I’m stuck. Well, if I have to do this, I’m gonna do it my way.”

“That’s the idea. As long as you follow the rules.”

Elsewhen

The robed men sat around the well, watching the waters which revealed to them their agent's whereabouts.

"It seems as if this "Michael Ringo" will be an excellent choice for our earthly agent."

"Yes, but is he strong enough to stand up to the forces he is intended to control?"

"His physical strength should hold up. The question should be will his mind be able to handle the strain of dealing out vengeance?"

"Enough! His mental acuity should serve him well. It is one of the reasons why he was chosen."

"Yes, but what of the Prophet?"

"The Prophet has been detained elsewhere. We have seen to that. The Order will not trouble us."

I had the strangest dream last night. I don't remeber much about it, just flashes. The flashes though, were pretty disturbing. I remember being in a room with guys in robes staring into a well, talking about me. I have no idea what it means, but it seemed too...real to be just a dream. I woke up feeling like I had been asleep for days, but when I looked at my watch, it had only been 4 hours. Oh well, time to hit the road again. As I pulled out onto the interstate, I had the strangest feeling that I was supposed to be somewhere...that's when I noticed the gas cap on my bike was glowing. The farther east I travelled, the brighter it glowed. The last thing I remember was seeing the Alabama state line.

In case you are reading this, I may be dead. My name is Michael Ringo, and I have been keeping an account of the strange things that have happened to me over the last two months.

The spirit that seems to possess me from time to time is leading across the US on some bizarre mission of vengeance. In fact, it calls itself Vengeance and it dresses the part, garbed in a demonic red helmet and a long, white overcoat (I swear you can see the screaming faces of those that this being claims to avenge in the folds of this coat) and riding a bizarre bike that looks like the devil himself built it. (How do I know this, you may ask? Well, because the spirit seems to take great delight in showing me it's actions after it's performed them.)

I have kept a heavy record of my journeys since encountering it, and have just recently left Alabama. The spirit is compelling me to drive all over the US interstate. The last few road signs I've passed seem to indicate I'm heading for Pennsylvania now. I hope I can find something to eat soon. . .

To be continued. . .In the pages of Hero Revolution #11!