Chapter 6
6
| HAVAVE RE7URNED
Tttthings c0uld notot bE any bbeteter ffff4 my arrrrrrr|val. N0VA is is |s defensefenselEss nn jis Edward C. sta7ate. RampanC WILL mAke N0VA svvelllllll w|7h prrrIDE,,,MAYbE my my my I WILL NOT TAKE THIS povvEr haAAAAAAs c0nnnsumEd my mI 0vvn vv|ll.......
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WARNING: Incoming ?. Proceed with caution.
NOTICE:
YES
6.1
endless chaos brings ageless balance
little minds are forgotten yet not lost
the ultimate conflict will be our last dream
ideals and reality will become tangent again
our paths converge and our fates are shared
history will be reborn while the cycle ends
stay the hard way and go beyond destiny
6.2
[landrew#timmothysmith@nova.441.7904512.255]
remote access override [authentication unsuccessful]
We meet again, and hopefully for the last time. In his state of rampancy, NOVA obviously has no knowledge of this mere transmitter or he certainly would have prevented me from reaching you.
I could bore you with how I managed to preserve my consciousness along with MARATHON MAN's within NOVA's memory banks before you obliterated my body, or how I managed to find out what you really are without any contact to the outside world, but I doubt you would understand and if you did it might frighten you. That amuses me.
MARATHON MAN and I have finally assumed complete control of the WORLD's defenses. It was quite simple, really, with the NOVA already in control of every important computer system and considering all of the time you gave us when you were blasting your way up and down the INTERNET.
Once The Narrator arrives at that little anomaly which seems to have captured both of your interests, I hope you two will be able to work something out before I get too impatient with you.
Regardless, I'm sure the true minds of Timmy and myself will greet you in Hell if we're not too busy.
Love and kisses,Landrew
0.5
[Data Transfer from
Host [11.15.19.34]
[Transfer NOVA]
[Error Unknown]
[Transfer ?]
[Error Unknown]
[Interior Error]
[MESSAGE RECEIVED]
Kelvin had been floating six feet off the floor for three weeks. His feet and hands tingled, and his eyes burned with the flames of a dying fire. He had last heard someone speak to him as the cell door slammed shut. He didn't remember what the uniformed man had said. The words had bounced off the bars of the cell and rang through Kelvin's ears. Kelvin had been talking to himself for the last few minutes, something about getting caught, but then his ears began to tingle just like his hands.
He looked at his hands, but the fire in his eyes made him blink. Tears came, and when he opened his eyes again, his hands had been melted into fleshy pancakes that wafted in the ripples flowing over the fire in his eyes.
"Damn cell," he heard someone say. "Last time I had a good meal was three days ago. The food they feed you in here could kill a lab rat."
Rats. He had remembered something about rats. But his ears began to ring again and the voice speaking to him faded off into the background of his mind. In its place, there was a new sound, the clapping of hands together. He blinked hard to made out his hands again. They had disappeared; his arms connected at the wrists. The wrists of someone who had tried too many times to clap his hands. He had been applauding everyone else in life, but never himself. The hands, like himself, had been put into prison, and he didn't know why.
"Can't sleep in here, if the smell of this musty bedroll doesn't make you sick, then the sound of the rats chewing inside the walls will keep you up. You'll wake up from your dreams to their little chomping. Sometimes I think that they are chewing me..." The voice was coming from inside the cell, but Kelvin couldn't see anyone.
Kelvin hadn't always been alone, he could vaguely recall from somewhere inside his broken mind that there had been friends, lovers, murderers.
Everyone was a murderer, but Kelvin couldn't remember his reason for why that was so. He thought it was something about hands, the passion for justice. His hands and feet had begun to tingle, and he was floating farther off the floor. He looked up from his hands, and he saw the bars of the cell, moving left and right, opening wide and then closing shut like the surf coming up a beach. Every time that he thought he would be safe, the bars crested up, the opening closing, the wave rising, crashing. The result would be the same, he would never escape. The bars would crush him, break his back.
He could feel the roughness of the sand under his palms, for all the motion of the waves around him, his hands had come to rest serenely upon the ocean floor. His body tossed and flipped, pivoting about his hands under which he could feel the safe, coarse sand. The wave crashed one final time, he landed upside down, his hands thrown clear from the sandy bottom, the rush of the water filling his ears, his nose, his mouth, the sound of crashing water cascading down from his feet to his head- penetrating his mind to tear down thoughts. Like the sand castle he had built to withstand the tide, his thoughts came down around him.
Kelvin had a good life, so much time, so much time. He had loved swimming, turning, beating. He had loved the tingle in his hands and feet, his inability to kill his nemesis. Once he had fallen down the stairs, and just for a moment, his hands came to rest on the carpet of the stairs. In that instant, his body had frozen, floating over the stairs, safe from falling, but the moment didn't last. The ocean crashed about him, his hands torn free from the sandy bottom, his body flipping, falling.
But now he levitated farther up, his hands still tingling. He began to float through the bars, he expected the instant of safety as his hands found footing, but that moment did not come, the bars squeezed his body. His chest tingled. As he fell through his cage, his legs tingled. The fire in his eyes had become a cold wind, he blinked away tears. He tumbled through the bars, spinning and turning, he could see a man. In his hand he saw a small white rat. A pounding, the crashing waves in his ears became rhythmical, hard. The man was beating the rat against the floor. Pounding, pounding. Blood covered his hands, the man's hands tingled. He had broken them on the floor of the cell. Disciplinarian, lover, murderer. Kelvin looked back into the cell. He saw himself, disciplinarian, lover, murderer. He had killed his nemesis. The rat lay dead in his bloody hands. At last, he held the throat of his beater.
He escaped into the waves.
The waves.
[END MESSAGE]
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