Monday, January 21, 2013

Spanner 15.5: Things Fall Apart

...from previous

Chaos Angel Spanner — Chapter 15: Start the Violence
Part 5: Things Fall Apart (Final Revision)

Henry Becket cannot see him; he is invisible; but he feels his presence: the angel of chaos. He can feel the swirling pockets of pure chaos that drove his precogs mad now descending upon the devout Americans in the plaza below like little savage storms and tearing their minds of faith to shreds. The panic begins closest to the scene of the deicide, quickly spreads throughout the crowd like a virus, rocks the platform itself; the crowd surges outward, centrifugal, heedless of trampled victims, screaming for salvation, rescue that will not come. Litton blurts “I’m outta here bye!” The Secretary snarls at the coward but lets him run away. His plan to permanently implant Jerusalem Syndrome into the heart of this Devil-loving Babylon destroyed by an enemy that won’t even take shape — silently he rages and starts to Trace. Shira slips away unnoticed in the panic and heads for the news booths.

Twenty-four suits of power armour guarding the platform put their gauntlets to their helmets and start to pull them up, human warriors inside screaming for someone to stop it, but in vain: the armours rip off their helmets, the heads inside with them off their bodies: twenty-four elite soldiers of the Presidential Guard fall to the floor, spurting blood, dead, leaving the Central Committee defenseless.

Tear gas canisters fly screaming and smoking through the air. Security androids stand up rigid one by one, shout “You’ve been hacked!” loudly in unison and then “You’re under arrest!” The Beckets and the Central Committee look on in horror as the Windows copbots attack every cop, soldier, pilgrim, and iOS drone they can get their hands on yelling “You’re under arrest!” — they grab them, wrench their arms behind their backs, wrestle them to the ground, and handcuff them; they protest in vain, the robots answer only, “You’re under arrest!” and jam their prisoners into the bombproof paddy wagons to rush down to the already overcrowded portable concentration camps surrounding downtown — cops and soldiers pump bullets into them to blow them up; the hacked copbots shoot back, attack with cattle prods, throw them to the ground, bind them, and shout “You’re under arrest!”

Drusilla screams and faints into her brother Richard’s arms. A wall of Spannerbots advances toward the platform, slowly and menacingly. The Central Committee slowly retreat toward the center. Above them, drone helicopters seek each other out and mate in fiery crashes, camdrones kamikaze into the copbots’ hungry mouths, combat helicopters’ computers go haywire and force their pilots to switch to unwieldy manual and evade suicidal drones. The Scope finds the ideal position to capture the disaster as it unfolds; the Eye watches unblinking from the heavens.

The skyscrapers scream. The Party pilgrims hear their voices with their bicameral minds, accusing and threatening — Babylon unleashes her babble at deafening volume, sending the faithful screaming schizophremically, trampling each other, cacophony of voices in their heads driving them mad.

And then the girl with the violet eyes appears on the corner of the platform, completely nude, staring at Richard Becket. “Leila!” he yells like a Challenge, “you’ve finally decided to offer yourself!” She smiles ironically. Shira sees Amanda flee into the ESPNBC booth even as its crew abandon it: Perfect.

Alarms scream, all lights flash red, a POTaTOS voice blathers madly through the Amazon PA, all employees converge on the basement of each building; the Spanner team flee the opposite direction swimming against the current, the agents shouting and flashing their badges and guns to break a path through. The anarchist girl yells, “Whoa, this ain’t nothing like I expected!”

Jennifer winks. “You didn’t know we’re fighting superheroes?”

Jack Becket watches the chaos consume the scene of his grandfather’s miracle. “Secure the building at once!” he commands. “Shoot any bots that approach!” The one-eyed man paces rapidly in front of the monitors.

“This was your idea, Johnny!” screams Holmes.

Jack gets in his face. “My techs, Johnny, put up defenses not even China could hack — but guess who found a way. Consider yourself introduced!”

Radisson stares at them in silent rage. “Let the CIA handle this, then.” He storms out.

Jack calls his father. “What is it now, John?” demands Secretary Becket over the com.

“Radisson threw in the towel.”

“I told him to. Only the Tech Knights can handle the situation now that Spanner has hijacked all your robots.”

“You mean hacked?”

“No, John. Jacked. He is the robots!”

A small crowd of Drusilla’s acolytes slowly advance on the naked beauty standing before them in the pouring rain and seemingly unresisting, chanting the occult formulae of the Ceremony in the Enochian tongue. She stands still and smiles and lets them come. All eyes remaining are on her. The platform is overcome by hope. She lets the chanting priests come almost close enough to touch her — she grins, her eyes start to glow — thunder sounds — lightning flashes — her presence is replaced by a cloud of blood and shredded flesh — the platform resounds with horrified gasps and screams — the cloud settles to reveal a jet-black Repulse field of immense power forming honeycomb patterns — “That’s her!” screams the President of the President, “She’s Eclipse!”

All eyes turn to Richard Becket, eldest and most powerful of King Patriot’s sons: the Scarab, superheroic guardian of the Pyramid of Light, eighth of the lineage established in the time of Napoleon, grandmaster of the Illuminati who are heir to the ancient Essenes and Assassins — he stares at the living incarnation of the failure of the work of centuries — the prophecy he spent his life trying to prevent, its failure now standing before him — the Plan forever ended—

his eyes glowing with rage and grief, he throws his head back and lets out a scream that drowns out the thunder—

Amanda cowers alone and abandoned in the ESPNBC booth, body wracked with terrified sobs, the entire crew lost to the panic. She tries to pick up her company phone, but it slips out of her shaking hands. She takes a deep breath, then another, then another. She makes one more attempt to pick up the phone. It doesn’t fall out.

She feels a presence. Her inner alarms go off. She spins around to face the intruder, and finds — Shira! naked gorgeous dripping wet, exhausted and stoned on endorphin, projecting pure amoral charisma, wanting her — “Bright-eyed girl,” she deliriously moans, “I so need you.”

Amanda screams and tries to flee; Shira catches her in her arms. “N-no—” Shira silences her with a violent kiss, she writhes struggles tries to escape, screams for help now gone — Shira muscles her coatdress off sending buttons flying like shrapnel, tears off bra panties slip stockings, picks her up naked writhing sobbing, clears the desk, sets her on and herself on top, and with extra violence kisses her — suddenly Talia bursts in, freezes in horror, watches her estranged sister rape Amanda—

The Scarab’s power staff flies to him on command — Jack: “Uncle, you old fool!” — Deth: “He’s gonna pop!” — chanting in ancient Egyptian he powers up his Destruct field — Radisson: “No...” — Alex: “Brace for impact!” — radioactive aura distorts his visible image tall thin and faceless — Drusilla: “Run!” — Akane: “AT Field?!” — Oliver: “Not him!” — he glows plasma bright, his Destruct field condenses to crystalline hardness — Holmes faints — Wellspring: “The end has begun.” — he points the staff’s crystal end at the newborn superwoman, gives himself over to pure rage and hatred, and with a bloodcurdling inhuman scream

unleashes his full power at her

“Holy wave motion gun!” exclaims Shane from the streetcar; Kowalczyk stares in horror and whispers, “You maniac, you just ruined everything” — the helicopter pilot blurts “What’s going on down there?” Will grimly replies, “We just lost” — Shockley wails, “Damn you, Uncle! You fell into her trap!” — all power goes out downtown, all signals drowned out by the clash of power fields, the Eye in heaven goes blind — drones in the sky and copbots in the streets continue to brawl heedless—

Talia jumps on Shira trying to pry her off Amanda only to be pried off herself — “Let go of me!” she yells at Brandi and Arisa; she tries to punch them, but they wrestle her to the ground and tie her up — “Shira! Stop it please!” she protests in vain as Shira writhes in erotic frenzy screaming and wailing with her unwilling lover—

—the nameless girl Repulses the blast back at the Scarab — he glows and roars and sustains his blast — Drusilla puts up her own Repulse field to protect the Central Committee — too late, they’re burning alive, flailing and screaming on the burning platform, she lets out a wail of despair — giant screen melts, giant flag burns — Will watches in horror from above as his uncle’s Repulsed fire scorches the plaza like Sekhmet’s world-ending fury and catches the surrounding skyscrapers on fire — the last thing Echelon sees before the power burns out its satellite eye—

Byron Scofield gathers the Shepherds of the Spiritual Warfare Bureau outside the ESPNBC booth, a crowd of robed and bearded men letting out a low noise — Shira hears it — her eyes go wide — “Oh no! they’re here for you!” — she makes love to Amanda harder, attacks her clit more violently with hers, presses the power spot inside her more firmly — the low tone gradually resolves into a chant, allegedly in Ancient Egyptian but really the Unknown Tongue chanted in regular rhythm — “Bright-eyed girl, erase your name!” — the chanting slowly shifts from the Unknown Tongue to Illuminati Coptic, preparation for the summon spell — Shira summons Brandi and Arisa suck and bite Amanda’s breasts with violence equal to hers, Amanda struggles sobs and screams, helpless to resist the sexual attack, helpless to defend against the Shepherds’ summon spell—

At last their leader adds his voice. Scofield begins to intone; the Shepherds’ voices gravitate to his like steel shards to a magnet. Amanda screams cries protests, writhes helplessly, tries to escape Shira’s love

and then Scofield chants the name:


Shira, Arisa, and Brandi attack her harder, torturing her most sensitive parts, torturing her beyond ecstasy to something unbearable, her spirit gives up, her identity falls away, all reason ceases to exist, everything goes white and silent except for Shira’s voice...

You have no name.
You are the bright-eyed girl.

the letters and sounds of her name try to come together, but they must not come together or the bright-eyed girl will die, her spirit destroyed, so the angel of chaos fights back the letters, fights back the sounds — an evil force commands the name to slay the bright-eyed girl — the name tries to form, but the angel of chaos slays the letters and sounds with her mithril sword — the face of the evil one begins to form as a thundercloud, the mist turns into a face, the bearded and mystic-capped face of Byron Scofield, bigger than the body of God, overshadowing the universe — the angel of chaos summons her ancient and pagan mother Eris, goddess of strife, who appears in the form of a golden apple — Scofield’s lips form the name, the sounds escape with his breath — the angel of chaos takes hold of the golden apple of discord, spins around, cocks back her arm, unleashes the apple with a mighty throw, straight into Scofield’s mouth — the apple grows to fill his mouth, silences his spell — and then explodes

beneath the mushroom cloud of the exploding spell the angel of chaos finds the beautiful bright-eyed girl cowering and calling her name; she comes to her, an angel of mercy, spreads her shimmering ruby wings, takes her into her arms, and flies away—

—and Shira escapes the tent with the unconscious nude Amanda in her arms, Brandi and Arisa scattering in different directions, away just in time for a drone to fire its missile — the booth explodes in a ball of hellfire, the shockwave makes Shira stumble, but she must not stumble, she cannot let the bright-eyed girl get hurt; she stumbles back into a run, struggles to keep hold of her, secures her in her arms, and carries her away to safety

as the Scarab’s power begins to falter, his sources of energy burning out and fading away — the Repulse field holds against his relentless assault — with a scream of pain beyond human endurance he finally powers out in a burst of smoke that fills the plaza and rises — now looking every one of his eighty years as his rage burned away the youth for which he drank dry countless Factor Positives — and the one standing before him, the one of the prophecy who developed her power against all the efforts and crimes of the Synarchy over centuries, she lets her Repulse field dissipate into the charged atmosphere, stares at him and laughs. She laughs at the Synarchy, the Prophecy, the Dragonites, and him.

Silence. Then ears unaccustomed to normal volume relax and pick up the surrounding sounds. Skyscraper sirens and car alarms still sounding, copbots bashing each other into scrap and then hitting each other with the severed pieces while declaring each other under arrest, pilgrims clutching and shaking their heads while screaming the name of Jesus America to exorcise the Babylonian chorus, bandits whooping deliriously as they swoop in to steal Corporate treasures left behind

The surviving US Police Force helicopters descend to the platform to pick up the surviving Party leaders while dodging berserk copbots and shooting down kamikaze drones, sweep the leaders on and fly away as fast as they can. Like the Corporates and Patriots who swarmed into the city and now swarm out, the soldiers came to impose the will of their Lord Jesus America onto this godless Babylon, only to watch his presence dispelled and their deified King slain by the angel of chaos who attacked them in New York. The name of Spanner resounds on their lips for the entire flight back to Lewis-McChord, and from there all the way back to Holy City.

Into the empty Public Safety Building the bandits come, anarchists and hackers and nudefighters on a mission to the storage room where Jack Becket keeps his sexbots. Deth Pussy directs Bremeloes, Slasher Hunters, and hackers into the jimmied-open doors. “Make sure you pick the best ones!”

Sparks holds his hand to his forehead and shakes his head in embarrassment. “Do we really have to make this side trip?”

“Carpe diem, dude! We gotta seize the opportunity while Echelon don’t know we exist!”

Lars and Kio bring out a beauty. Jennifer bounces beside them breathlessly, points at it, tells Deth,

“I want that one!”

“Babe, consider it yours!” says Deth.

Alex approaches the group. The sexbot thieves all stare at her. “Now everybody split up and pick a hotel. We’re claiming finder’s right while there’s still time.”

Jennifer grabs Sparks’ cuff and breathlessly blurts, “We got Dru’s!”

Sparks says, “Shira and them should already be there.”

“Then let’s go,” Alex yells, “right now!” The bandits swarm out of Jack’s secret stash, out of the COPCO Seattle building, weave their way around brawling bots, meet their groups, take their hotels, and start looting.

Sparks, Jennifer and Irina take the naked sexbot, hijack Jack’s own SUV, and drive around the damage to meet Shira at the twin-towered Westin, relatively undamaged by the Scarab’s fury. Shira bursts in the driver door, reaches over Sparks, grabs the mic, and declares loud and clear: “Finder’s right belongs to Miranda Clayton-Wilder!”

on to the next...

Back to Chapter 15 index...
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Copyright © 2013 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
Creative Commons License

[Revision 4 Final, 1/21/13: Based on the outline for the never produced Third Revision version. Revision 2 scenes re-edited and condensed; superhero battle added from the original Revision 3 plan. Previous names: “Robot Riot” (R1) and “You Are the Demons” (R2).]

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