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Angel Falls RIP Aftermath: The Fires of Change

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Angel Falls RIP Aftermath: The Fires of Change
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"When the dark does what the dark does best, It's darkness!
Let the dark do what the dark does best, Let there be darkness!

So face the dark and I'll teach you about fire in the blink of an eye
(Now drink the cyanide!)
The worlds collide and you know it's pure filth that I hide."

"Cyanide" by Deathstars

Earth-235
An Old 'Safehouse'
Paris, France
Sunday January 2019
11:35 am


Sparks flew off the polished metal as he manipulated the object in his hands, conforming it to the desired measurements. He had numerous safehouses around Paris, and while the late Dupree was quite thorough in his hunt, they didn't get to all of his hiding places. A small TV sat on a decrepit footstool, playing continuing news coverage of yesterday's 'incident'. The authorities still weren't mentioning who was responsible for this sudden and brazen act. They blamed gas mains, and unattended chemicals.

They're half-right.

The first thing he had done upon his escape was to find something substantial to eat. Something with flavor, something savory... no more Nutra-Loaf garbage. All it cost was one street vendor. Next came a need for clothes, a cause which some late-night store clerks gave their lives for. Now he was in the process of crafting a new mask... a new face. The old one was far too damaged to be of any use to him.

That and it brought back too many annoying memories. Memories of better times. Memories that only seemed to taunt him with a life he could never have again. A world that's dead, and left him behind.

"Now all I have left... is this." he thought to himself as he looked at the reflection in the polished surface. "Though I'm not the only one."

-------------
Elsewhere...

The footage showed film recorded from last year, from a fixed camera in the cell block which held the fiendish villain she knew as Eviscerare. The date was all too familiar to the large woman. Normally in such circumstances, she'd be dressed in her 'work clothes', but she hadn't worn that outfit since... that day. No, today she was in normal civilian clothes. A tight-fitting t-shirt clung to her curvacious body, straining at the slightest movement. And her jeans fared little better against her muscular hips.

"Why am I here?" Olga Yezhov asked herself begrudingly, starting to have second thoughts about this. The French authorities had personally approached her earlier that day, begging for her help in this matter. They didn't have to look too far, she had been there, in this city, ever since helping bury the dead of Angel Falls. Mindy Marvel, Doc Valiant, General Bardak, and... her beloved.

Her wife.

"No... not here. Keep it together Olga." she said to herself, fighting back the tears welling up in her eyes as she resumed her concentration on the footage being played. There was no sound, but what she saw spoke volumes.

It was Eviscerare, standing up against the translucent metal, staring at the television screen outside his prison. "This was around the time of-" started the warden.

"I know what time it is from." replied the towering Soviet, cutting him off, yet never taking her eyes off the screen. She had never seen the masked fiend without his beloved piece of headgear. He looked like he could've been quite handsome at one point in time. The prisoner's bodily demeanor told of his anxiety, his sadness. The time stamps on the camera screen helped keep track of what she could only guess he was seeing, corresponding to her own set of memories of that night. Then it winded down to that... event. Her own barely held back emotions mirrored those on display, Eviscerare was now pounding his fists against the wall of his prison. He was screaming at the television report.

It was at roughly the same time, as she had been later told, that Maia had... died. And with her, a large portion of the city she had called home.

"That's really the only thing we can think of that might have spurred his recent actions. His mood and demeanor changed after that day." said the Warden.
"Changed? How so?" asked Olga, wanting to focus her mind on something else.
"Well, before this, the prisoner had at least chatted with the security guards, appeal lawyers, and psychiatrists when they visited... or during scheduled food and hygienic tasks. The psychiatrists tended to not be repeat visitors, though, due to his manipulative mind games he'd play with them. That and we eventually stopped bringing in full-time shrinks, after the first psychiatrist hung hi-"
"And afterwards?" interrupted the Soviet heroine, not wanting a dissertation. The Warden blushed.

"Sorry. Well after that day, he pretty much clammed up. Rarely talking to anyone, no matter who they were. For a brief time we worried he'd be a suicide risk. Somehow. He legitimately seemed depressed." answered the head of the prison. This gave the mighty Russian pause. The idea that she could empathize with this Sociopath was a bit chilling.
"Were there any signs he was planning something leading up to this breakout?" she asked, again trying to put these thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time for it.

"Well, about a month ago, he started chatting again. Light conversation with the psychiatrists. We just chalked it up to boredom, or his own personal resolutions. The psychiatrists chose to see it as them having made breakthroughs." replied the Warden.
"Anything else you can think of?" asked Olga, wanting to get as much info as she could.
"That's the thing though, Ms. Yezhov... the conversations... well, let me give you a sample of one of the transcripts." came the anxious prison official. With that he picked up a tablet, after a few button presses and scrolling, handed the device to the Soviet. The small computer looked downright minuscule in the Superwoman's hands.

Aww... der'mo. she thought to herself. "And this is the same for each conversation?" she asked, gritting her teeth slightly. The Warden sheepishly nodded in confirmation.

It was all about Angel Falls. Little aspects, locations, certain individuals... and the Fiend's fonder memories thereof.

The more she wanted to go back to her apartment, to cut herself off from the rest of the world, to be absorbed in her grief... there was a small (but vocal) part of Olga that spurred her on. She couldn't leave France at the mercy of this monster. It was perhaps time to step into the boots of the Soviet Superwoman... one last time.

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Later That Day...

Officer Matthieu Lahaye was in his squad car, on break, having a hastily thrown together lunch (that was now serving as an early dinner) he had made earlier that morning as he waited for his partner to return from the convenience store. The Rue des Pyramides was starting to slow down in congestion and activity. His radio was still abuzz with talk about yesterday's events, and his fellow officers were on the look out for some possible escapees. Well... one escapee actually, though their orders were to keep quiet about his identity out of fear of causing panic. Lahaye hadn't been on the force for too long, (barely three years) but he had grown up in this region of France his whole life. So his memories of that... night, were still quite vivid.

The final night of the 'Nine Days of Fear', or simply the 'Nuit des Feux Longues' (Night of the Long Fires) when the monstrous individual known simply as Eviscerare put a devastating exclamation point on his campaign of brutality. He barely lived a block and a half from one of the police precincts that got obliterated. Debris had hit his house, amongst... other things.

He had never shared these aspects of his past with his partner, Pierre Renaudin, who was himself another recent transfer to the force. But the rookie had been practically quizzing Lahaye all morning about those events. Especially once they got their orders.

Their orders also stated they were to apprehend the masked sociopath. Lahaye wasn't so sure he would be able to follow that order. He'd simply chalk it up to 'self defense' when he so happened to put a bullet in the head of the fiend. He'd be able to rest easy with that on his conscience, even if it were to cost him his job. He just hoped Renaudin would understand these reasons should it come to that.

As he fantasized about killing the escaped convict, Matthieu barely noticed when his side door opened. He just figured it was Pierre coming back from the nearby store, undoubtedly arms stuffed with whatever American-made junkfood he could afford. "What took you so along, mon ami?" he asked quizzically as he finally turned his head.

What met his eyes was a mirrored reflection of himself. "Whuh... what the...?" he stuttered out in confusion.
"My apologies officer." came a voice. A voice that Lahaye found that, even after almost a decade, was still quite fresh in his memory. And the name that went with it.

Eviscerare. He was in his squad car.

Without hesitation Matthieu went for his sidearm. The sound, more like the sensation, of motion was felt before he found his arm pinned to his car door. Gasped in pain, and fighting back fear, the besieged police officer looked down at his appendage... finding a large bayonette blade holding it in place.

"But I'm going to need your car." said the fiend as he wrapped his gloved hand around Lahaye's throat. The last thing the officer felt, the last thing he heard, was a series of sickening snaps.


TO BE CONTINUED...
Previous Chapter: sxgodzilla.deviantart.com/art/…

Having orchestrated a daring escape from a prison that was supposed to be 'escape proof', this version of Eviscerare is once again loose in an alternate reality set in the fiery aftermath of the 'R.I.P.' storyline. But what could he be after?

Either way this is set to bring him into direct conflict with a recovering/mourning Soviet Superwoman who was in the same city at this time.

Had help/feedback from :iconsoviet-superwoman:. Hope you all like it.


Takes place in an Alternate Reality/Alternate Future of the :iconangel-fallsda: setting.
© 2017 - 2024 SXGodzilla
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Soviet-Superwoman's avatar
Great read my friend! :clap: