In the Midst
|In the Midst|
|Date of Cutscene:||01 October 2017|
|Cast of Characters:||Brainiac 5|
"You know the beautiful thing about chaos? It provides eminently suitable cover through which the cunning may act." The figure that strode through the Russian nuclear power plant was alien -- green skin, shaggy, long blond hair, hateful green eyes--tendrils that sprouted from his back thrashed and snaked along the grating, pulling up up a level as he dragged a gasping technician along with him.
"Nuclear power?" A short, bitter laugh. "How absolutely primitive. But it will do--" As the figure walked by, shadowy creatures moved; light caught them, showing tattered clothes and technican's coats ripped and town over twisted flesh and gleaming chrome, their faces flensed to the bone, cybernetic implants jutting from their eyes, hands curled into claws. They still worked. "Your co-workers. They serve better this way. No food, no breaks, no *complaining*. Darkseid has the right idea; free will and independent thought in the weak is so *tiresome*." The chrome tentacle twisted, sending the hapless technician sprawling along the catwalk, and then turned to a console, negligently reaching out to begin dismantling safety controls. "I need maximum power output. I daresay it'll cause a meltdown... but I also don't care."
Then he gestured. "My drones are currently building a projector. It's going to convert the power produced by this facility into a ray of energy..." He pointed. "Aimed... right about there. That energy beam is going to punch a hole through the fabric of your universe, and allow my allies to bring our Warworld through. The Consortium will take advantage of Earth's defenders being in a weakened state from fighting Darkseid, and we'll pick your planet clean."
Green fingers curled into a handrail. "This world is *damned*. And it won't know it until it's too late."
The technician got to his feet. "Why... why? What's the point? Why would you do these terrible things?!"
The coluan looked down, his eyes narrowing. "You really want to know why? Why I killed your co-workers? Why I'm going to leave this Earth a desecrated ruin? The logic, the purpose?"
Then he grinned, slowly and in a manner slightly reminiscent of a shark. "You know... I really enjoy denying you that knowledge."
Querl Dox of the Anti-Matter Universe, who they called Pulsar Stargrave, looked upon the horrors he had wrought, and thought of those yet to come, and smiled.
And Stargrave went on with his work. And Stargrave hated. He hated, and hated, and hated, and the hate sustained him, and the hate inspired great and terrible works. It was the sort of burning hate that, tended and carefully stoked, might one day burn a galaxy to ashes.