Defenestrate The Masses
Inevitably Yours
Edward woke in a room with close shadows, again the tired milieu of Proctor Tennant. The self same came out of those shadows, the effect long lost on Edward.
“Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, Eh, scum?” Proctor Tennant delivered a swift kick to Edward's ribs. He was too lost to respond, “What did the old man do to you?” Proctor Tennant delivered a blow with each word, “Why - kill - him?”
Edward knew why. Edward knew how, and he now formulated a conclusion. Conrad had to die, because he fulfilled his commitment to the City - because he fulfilled his commitment to his creation. With each blow from Proctor Tennant, a piece of the puzzle became dislodged. The answer was out there. But he was in here, trapped. Conrad had revealed the solution and it was simple. Release would come from death. The body must die so the spirit could escape. Each kick was one step closer to the bodily death, the release of the Rook. Proctor Tennant was unrelenting. The lack of response had obviously stabbed his ego. Next came the shock stick. Proctor Tennant prodded and pushed the electrical charge into the flesh, getting one step closer. Proctor Tennant shouted expletives, insults, degrading chatter, but no response. Edward could feel closer to death, as the words and the pain became more distant each second. One breath was dragged out after another, until one last shock of the stick made the body motionless. Then things began to happen.
The black mist rose from the prone figure, rising like flames from a funeral pyre. It danced and hissed, stretching its once confined tendrils into the fetid air. Proctor Tennant looked worried. The black mist engulfed the body of Edward River, creating the beautiful outline of the carrion bird, filling the space with menace, certainty, inevitability of violence to follow. Proctor Tennant lifted his arms to protect himself, as ineffectual as that would be. The Rook lifted to a standing position, facing Proctor Tennant dangerously close, nose to black liquid nose. The Rook rumbled and Proctor Tennant whimpered, and the two separate halves of Proctor Tennant fell in opposite directions to each other.
The Rook escaped. First it broke out of the room, taking several Proctors in its wake. The bodies spun like ragdolls, crashing and crunching into the walls. The confinement of the Rook had left it with energy to spare, and it used ever inch of this power at its command. It jumped into groups of Proctors, a whirlwind of destruction, smashing through walls and windows, until it broke out of the building, bringing down the large word, “Collections” from the exterior of the edifice, reading now simply, “Black Dog”.
Outside, there were more Proctors, some gliding above, some wandering below. The Rook pushed through them, bringing many to a crushing ground. It would lift some from their feet, smashing them into each other, using them as ballistics to take down others. Limping a little, having taken many a knock, the Rook finally fell to its destination. The Wedge. As it landed, the Rook dissipated. The smoke puffed out, finding refuge. The body of Edward River was all that was left. The people came out of their homes, surrounding him. Some wept openly and children grasped their Mothers out of fear. Jude Ennis alone picked up the body and took it to Edward’s home. He declared the man was yet alive, if deathly weak.
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