|Date of Cutscene:||15 April 2019|
|Synopsis:||Lobo wants to fix his bike...but gets drunk first.|
|Cast of Characters:||Lobo|
Lobo watched the Milano fly away, watched it take off out of Knowhere and toward who knew where. For his part, the Main Man was more than happy to be off that crowded boat and back on solid land, even if it meant he was hauling his own vehicle on his back for a while. Ever since that fight with the terran in the black costume(Editor's note: See log number 7174 "Abduction" for details.) the Spacehog had been acting erratically, shorting out and on one occasion nearly punched a hole through Quill's ship before Lobo ripped its engine and central computer right out, both of which were hanging from the damaged bike that was currently slung over the bounty hunter's shoulder...it was inconvenient, to say the least.
On his way to one of his safehouses, the Last Czarnian muscled and bullied his way through throngs of people and scumbags, many of them giving the recognized murder machine a wide berth. The few who didn't, ended up regretting it. Truth be told, Lobo barely paid them any mind, all he wanted to do, was get very very drunk, black out for many many hours, and then try and put his ride back together. Otherwise his one way off this hive of scum and villainy was to try and steal a new ship and learn how to pilot it on the fly. On the fly, his brain was making puns now. He really NEEDED to get drunk.
Try to picture a more beautiful paradise than Blessed Czarnia, and you will surely fail. Every aspect of their planet and society, from the geography to the formation of clouds to the very cycle of day and night was perfectly controlled by its inhabitants, by its beautiful brilliant inhabitants who never knew war, or famine, or misery or conflict. For a Czarnian, life is spent eating grapes atop the tallest mountains, exploring the beautiful serene and tranquil oceans, making love for weeks continuously whilst reflecting upon the questions asked by the great philosophers of past eras.
For a Czarnian, dispute and conflict are pointless concepts because they've nothing to do with your destiny. At Creation(either in a test tube or less popularly, 'the old fashioned way') an infant is inspected by a team of scientists, behavioral therapists and other similar gifted minds, called 'Seers'. Once they See your destiny, they help you obtain the goals that will make you happiest.
One baby, unusually born 'the old fashioned way' is Seen, and what is Seen chills them to the bone. This child is the Destroyer, the Other, the antithesis to their perfect paradise. Perhaps they should have killed him, but on Czarnia such an action is unthinkable, such an action is so alien that it is impossible to even be considered. Such as a lizard would never think to fly or a falcon would never think to burrow, so a Czarnian would never think to slay, especially not one of their own. No, instead this child is raised by all, as all children are raised by all who are capable.
A child is named Lobo, the Destroyer, the Ruiner. A child with evil inherent within it is whispered about in hushed tones. When he makes himself known, their gazes are averted. He feels their avoidance. He hears their whispers.
On Czarnia, there is no 'property' or 'ownership'. Food, clothing, shelter, transportation, everything belongs to everyone. But there is the concept of charity. The cold are given warm clothes, the starving are given a meal, the exhausted are given a bed. On Czarnia, the communal good and the social connection is more important than the material.
The Destroyer is given a wide berth, any conflict alien and impossible to fathom. When he wants something, it is surrendered immediately. Lobo gains the material, while the communal good continue to leave him to himself. When he speaks, they do not answer, when he approaches they retreat. The boy grows older, and is learning what they teach him.
In the darkness, the boy looks into the mirror, seeing The Destroyer as they do, as they often whisper. "I am the last", he says out loud. "It dies with me."
In the darkness, the ghost-white form stirs awake finally, sitting up slowly surrounded in empty metal cans, and empty glass bottles hard enough to cave in a Terran's skull. In the glass of the bottle at his feet, Lobo could see his haggard reflection staring up at him, the lines in his face deep, his cheeks and nose and everything else clearly showing the signs of living the life he did. Nude and left bare he had nothing to say, and turned away from his own critical gaze while kicking that bottle hard enough to shatter into shards well across the room.
He stayed like this for nearly twenty minutes before grabbing another bottle, and drinking it empty after a good ten seconds of straight chugging. This stuff was so strong that legally the Nova Empire considered it a poison and thus illegal to purchase or carry within their borders. So it would be strong enough to act as hair of the dog and get him started for the day, at least. Now he was ready to put the Hog back together. Put his property back together, get back to collecting bounties, and get back to taking what belonged to him. And frag anyone who tried to say otherwise.
(Soundtrack for this cutscene: "I Don't Believe A Word", by Motorhead. Go check it out.)