fear of voids

don't you also feel the void inside yourself? the black pit that waits to swallow us all? don't do this. don't let it out.

[kasadys-archive]

    Why you gotta take me down then?

[kenophxbic]

      Because you're no hero either.

[kasadys-archive]

    Why you gotta play me like that? You ain’t no hero.

[kenophxbic]

     I know.

     But I never said I was.

[kasadys-archive]

    Heh. Funny.

    How you get like that? You an alien?

[kenophxbic]

      No. It's a long story.

[cellobowsandarrows]

"Damnit. Where the hell is he!"

[kenophxbic]

     ... Why do you ask?

[tigrx-archive]

        Ah. Well, you’d be right about that…

       We don’t blame you for that. I just — wanted you to know that.

[kenophxbic]

       Everyone blames me for that.

       ( There's a little laugh to it as he shakes his head. ) I blame myself for that. It's my fault, after all.

[medusx-archive]

Robert. It’s been some time. How are you?

[kenophxbic]

    Fine. ( A lie. )

    Always nice to see you. How is Crystal doing?

[cellobowsandarrows]

"You haven’t happened to see a dude with a bow and arrow around here have you?"

[kenophxbic]

      Hawkeye?

      I'm afraid not. Sorry.

[kasadys-archive]

    Ain’t hard for me to rip a hair model’s head off. Rip out intestines like red ribbons from his stomach. But not you.     The hell are you?

[kenophxbic]

     ( He feels his stomach turn. Of course, Cletus' words aren't too far off from the Void's. )

     A little bit more than a hair model.

[kasadys-archive]

    Sonuvabitch. [ Carnage swallows down trepidation and replaces it with all the anger of a man torn in half, all the anger of being separated from Carnage. ]

     Not this time.

[kenophxbic]

     ( It's a vague memory, not something he holds too highly among his thoughts. There's Lindy, there's the Void, there's his youth, there's the Avengers (both New and Dark), and then there's... this. Right. )

     You don't seem happy.

[queencersei]

[kenophxbic]

[comicartwork]

[kenophxbic]

       ( sometimes he tries to sleep. lindy always tried to get him to sleep, but he'd always say, "no time." being immortal just meant you didn't have to sleep. it just isn't necessary. 

       so he's left to his own thoughts, left thinking about the past, left thinking about lindy. )

       --!

       Yeah?

[kenophxbic]

[myparkersenseistingling]

Uh, hey… Bob.

How’s it going?

[kenophxbic]

    I'm... doing as well as I can.

    How are you, Peter?

[kenophxbic]

     Peter.

[crosshaired]

    [ Bullseye has seen the man in front of him hold the skull of many men in his hands, then weep over it in the following hours. He’s seen the instability of a man with so much power he never wanted swim in the blackness of his eyes, shifting blue and ever changing. 

And Lester? Lester is scared.

    He hasn’t been this scared since he was a child awaiting “punishment” for something he’d never done. Bullseye wonders, haphazardly, if he looks like a child. Wide-eyed and fearful with liquid eyes that threaten to spill. This is a trip. This is a nightmare. 

Hope is a small thing, something that shows up in the ever-changing visage of Bob, the shame and the averted eyes, so different from the sweep of cruelty over his frame. It’s The Sentry who’s his saving grace. Not Bob, the man who once touched Lindy with love. Not the Void, the creature that touched everything with hate. (Bullseye wonders if he’s the kind of thing the Void is, and answers himself with of course.)

    One hard squeeze at his throat and he’s dead. Bullseye’s mouth is open, trying futilely to make words. Maybe he should have spent time with Bob at the tower. Gotten out all of his secrets. But it was Bullseye who was the most careful, making no move to tear the man apart like he did with everyone else on their team of criminals. Stepping around him. Breaking eye contact. Keeping his voice low when he spoke of him. 

But even through spotty vision and — holy shit, he’s crying — wet cheeks, he sees what Sentry is thinking. You’re no hero, he wants to say. You’re a criminal like all of us. Scream for death you want so bad, can’t get it, take it out on someone else. 

    No one loved you. Least of all Lindy. ]

           Nor —

[ He begins, and struggles to talk. He can hardly breath. He mouths the word over and over, face and lips terrifyingly numb, as though he’d been shot with a syringe through the face.

    Norman. Norman. ]

[kenophxbic]

      ( It's not that hard to deduce what Bullseye means to say. He means to say that it's Norman. He means to say that Bob was manipulated, that all of the team were manipulated by that madman -- except for the part where everyone on the team was psychopathic and only used the Sentry for his raw power. That's all everyone uses Bob for -- Sentry. 

      The New Avengers wanted the Sentry for his power. 

      Tony and Steve watch out for him, Dr. Strange and Emma Frost peak into his head, and use him to stop the Hulk's rampage. They use him. They don't care about him. Nobody does. 

      Norman Osborn came along and offered him a better deal, and gave it to him. With promises of medication and psychological help, how could Bob refuse? He couldn't. 

      And, in turn, Norman Osborn received the Angel of Death on his team. )

      I know. Norman. Not just Norman, though -- you, too. 

      ( 2 Corinthians 11:14 - And no marvel; for Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light.

      And such a lie that is. Satan himself is disguised as an angel of light.

      He is the Angel of Death. He is the Angel of Death that killed the first born of Egypt, caused the Flood of Noah, and razed Sodom and Gomorrah. He is God's Wrath. Nothing can stop him -- not even a Helicarrier to the face or a God of Thunder tossing him into the sun. 

      Naturally, the Angel of Death should bring death, right? Naturally, he shouldn't be shocked when those dearest to him are dead.

      Used to killing, not used to loved ones being killed, maybe. 

      He shifts once more, Bullseye's life in his hands. He could very easily end his life. He could end all the pain and suffering and right all the wrongs. But he doesn't. Not yet.

      There's a sharp squeeze against Bullseye's throat, enough to leave him effectively breathless. Just a bit more and he'd be dead. )

      Next time you see Norman, tell him I'm looking for him.

      ( He finally -- finally -- loosens his grasp on Bullseye's neck. By the way he's wheezing and is desperate for air, he can tell he did his job: that being to scare the hell out of him. Maybe he will think twice next time he tries to hurt someone else. Maybe, but he's not counting on it. 

      His back is turned, ready to leap off the building and fly away. He turns back momentarily, as if awaiting speech from Bullseye. Maybe, but he's not counting on it. )