Now, Hunter was lucky enough to escape the frozen city and his rad addiction before things could get too bad for him physically. He looks vaguely sickly most of the time, experiences tremors and twitches, and has the malformed eye and rhino skin, but had he been allowed to remain, it would’ve become much, much worse.
He was taken to Hive after about half to three quarters of a year since his abandonment, and the mutants ran into him around a year after that. At that point, his mind would’ve deteriorated to the point where he could no longer remember a time before the city, nor have much of a handle on his own identity or even the concept of such. Feverish hallucinations and delusions would become the norm, and he would be near-constantly either hysterical or basically catatonic, what was left of his personality gradually devolving into a mix of a small child and a feral animal. Anything unfamiliar in his “territory” (or anything that could interfere with his rad supply) would immediately be classified as a threat. The only thing he’d keep from his milder days would be a terror of dying, and a desire to avoid this at any cost. After the initial period of trying to fight off the creeping madness, he’d eventually give up and even increase his rad consumption, hoping to speed up the process so he wouldn’t have to be aware of it anymore.
The first physical change would be a fully formed eye in the middle of his forehead, heavily changing the anatomy of his skull in the process and causing his skin to have to stretch and fold to accommodate it, elongating his forehead and moving his hairline up. His eyes would always remain unnaturally bright green and bloodshot, and his skin would become completely tinted green. He would’ve grown very sharp, almost canine teeth, and the rhino skin would’ve continued to spread down his chest and up the side of his face, creating a sort of scaly look to him (though it wouldn’t do much to protect him that his armor didn’t do). Due to both the changed facial anatomy and the partial rhino skin, after a while, it would begin to appear as if the skin on the other half of his face was melting off or generally ‘too large’ for him.
Movement would gradually become more unpredictable and jerky, though the tremors he’s experiencing in Hive would’ve gradually gone away. He’d become far more comfortable flying than walking, as he’d often stumble and fall in the thick snow and be unable to pull himself up without a great deal of effort. He would begin to experience occasional full-on seizures, though these would do little more than wear him out and make him angry.
And he would not be able to remember why, but for some reason, the sounds of gunshots and too-loud shouting, or the mere sight of the color blue, would immediately send him into an unstoppable, destructive rage.
[Somewhere in the I.D.P.D. database, locked behind secure firewalls and meant to only be visible to those who were overseeing the Frozen City apocalypse timeline mission, there is a sound file labeled “ATLog48.ogg”. The file notes describe it as a recorded transmission that was sent to the addresses of several I.D.P.D. communicators, but was intercepted by the headquarters before it could be received. No one has looked at it since several weeks ago, until an unknown user bothers to play it.]
[It’s a rather large audio file, and it takes a while to load, the waiting symbol on the computer’s media player mocking the user as it spins seemingly endlessly. After what feels like an eternity, the file finally begins to play--blasting the user with a loud burst of static and faint clicking noises, along with the deep sound of rushing wind against the microphone. The volume is quickly turned down, but has to be raised again for fear of missing the words that eventually come through the static.]
“Hello? Hello, is this--is this working, is this on? Hello?”
[The voice sounds as if it belongs to a prepubescent boy, high pitched and childish--and yet, it’s more tired and weary and breathless than any child’s voice should be. The speaker seems to be tripping over his own tongue, stammering, fumbling his words as if his mouth cannot keep up with his brain. The speaker gives a brief burst of quiet, but rapid and high-pitched laughter.]
“Oh geez. I’m asking if a RECORDING is turned on. Like it’s gonna answer. Okay. Okay okay okay.”
[A few moments pass of deep breathing, as if the voice is trying to calm itself down. When he next speaks, it starts off very deliberate.]
“This is a recorded S.O.S. message from I.D.P.D. Elite Gunner Aleksei Toivanen, callsign Hunter, personnel I.D., uhhhh...shoot, hell if I remember, uh, I don’t think I could read it if it was here, a three is a six is an eight and nine--nine doesn’t exist!”
[More laughter, this time loud and hysterical and abruptly cut off.]
“Uh, uhhhhh, okay, okay, okay...I’m--uh--I’m gonna be sending this a lot hoping it’ll go through, there’s a lot of radiation and it’s hard to get a signal outside of official I.D.P.D. channels--so I don’t know when anyone’s getting this but I’m sending it to personal comms because I don’t think MOCR is actually answering my calls anymore since I’ve been yelling at them for like four days now and no one’s actually said anything so! That’s probably a bad idea! So I guess take the message to them if you’re hearing this and if you’re not, uh, it doesn’t matter?”
[Another brief outpouring of giggles, before the voice gives a heavy sigh.]
“I...I think this might be the last log I do for this mission. Or, you know...ever.”
[There’s another brief pause, as if the speaker is collecting his thoughts.]
“Okay. S-so if anyone doesn’t know I was...sent here to some apocalypse timeline, I don’t remember which one...and I was sent after some kind of yeti-mutant that had wrecked the city and scared off anyone who was still alive in it. Well, uh...”
“There is no yeti.”
[He sounds like he’s about to cry when he says this, but quickly gathers himself.]
“B-but--there are a lot of robots, hairy robots, big robots, dog robots, big hairy dog robots!”
[A long string of gibberish ensues, with the word ‘robots’ occasionally thrown in.]
“--Oh right, okay, focus, Hunter, focus, just for a few minutes--sorry, my head’s in a bad place, my brain feels like it got put in a blender that had brains in it. My brains. In a--okay.”
“I was gunned down by one of them and I landed in a puddle of green substance. Gummed up my respirator. Don’t know how long I was inhaling it for. Kept running. Lots of running. Found a cave. Hid out there. Uh--green substance, described as ‘rads’, that’s the name. The n-n-nickname, I mean. I--”
[It seems he’s having some trouble getting his mouth to form words, only letting out a few more stammering noises for several seconds. He stops himself and takes a deep breath.]
“Um. Yeah. So, compromised. Probably why they aren’t answering me I told them I needed out but they cut me off and hung up on me I need out please help, please please please, I need help, please, help me, I don’t wanna be here I don’t wanna die please--”
[The words come out in a rush; he’s gibbering, and choking up again, but very quickly switches back to a normal, even grim tone.]
“...Rads’ effects on humans up to now undocumented from internal perspective. Substance is...is very highly psychoactive. S-symptoms included, uh, they set in about half an hour after I got to the cave--symptoms included...nausea, dizziness, vertigo, disorientation...generalized pain...it was like I had a fever, I don’t know what that feels like ‘cause we can’t get fevers anymore but I imagine it’s what it felt like I was hot...loss of motor control...and...and very vivid auditory and visual hallucinations.”
[The speaker takes several shaky, uneven breaths.]
“There was other stuff too probably but I don’t remember. Don’t know how long it lasted I--I think I came down about...f-five hours later? The substance also has an effect like...like a stimulant, like an adrenaline shot, I--I still can’t stop shaking, I haven’t felt this energetic in YEARS!”
[The hysterical laughter, absent for a little while, comes back in full force, peaking the audio. It goes on for a solid ten seconds.]
“...I want to do it again. Not the rest of it but the--the energy I could run miles but I know that this stuff is apparently addictive and I can tell I’m getting a headache and it’s been a few days since then. So maybe that’s why they don’t come, or they just hate me and want me to die. I don’t want to die...”
[More laughter, but it’s weaker this time, and seems to be interspersed with sobbing.]
“I’m scared. God i’m scared, please, please someone help, but if someone comes I don’t know what’ll happen because I’m scared, but I want to go back but they hate me and they did this on purpose and NO ONE IS EVER GOING TO COME BECAUSE THEY HATE ME!”
[The screaming peaks the mic again.]
“YOU HATE ME, DON’T YOU?! ALL OF YOU. EVERY SINGLE ONE! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU ALL SO MUCH I HATE YOU I HATE I HATE--”
[He stops. There’s a few seconds of just frantic wheezing breaths, mixed with sobs.]
“...come on, Hunter, just hang on...”
“...if I don’t come back....”
“...first of all tell the Captain to screw herself for this I don’t care if I get in trouble she HATES ME--”
[Another pause.]
“Uh. Tell Shielder Ismail to forget about the ten bucks he owes me.”
“...and Ali, I’m--I’m gonna send this to Ali but if it doesn’t go through somebody find her because she needs to know that...that s-she was right about something bad happening and I always said she worried too much but I was wrong and she was right but she won’t come either I want her here but I want her to be safe and okay but I don’t want to be alone but she HATES--”
...
“She doesn’t. That’s not fair. Ugh--my head...”
[For a long while, there’s only silence and the sound of breathing.]
“...I think I’m gonna sign off here...I don’t have much more in me...I guess if anyone gets this just...let them know what happened. Please. Please tell them what happened.”
[He’s full-on crying now, his words nearly incomprehensible.]
“I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die...”
[The speaker continues to repeat this for some time, getting increasingly faster and louder until he’s screaming it. His voice abruptly drops in volume, and he says something else, sounding frightened, but it’s too quiet and garbled to be decipherable.]
[The audio file ends there. The ‘replay’ button mocks the user. As if she’d want to hear this again--]
[The door opens and she abruptly closes the open windows on the computer, launching herself under the desk and barely daring to breathe as an elite enters the administration computer room. All the while, she’s fuming.]
[The file had been received weeks ago. No one had told her a thing. Who knows what state he’s in now...]
[She is going to find out. She resolves that then and there. She’s going to find him and she’s going to save him. If only so he knew that someone, somewhere still cared about him.]
I read Batman: The Court of Owls a few days ago and I can’t get it out of my head. The storyline involves an organization called the court of owls, which has sort of been running the city for years. It’s a collection of the first 7 or so issues of the New 52 DC reboot from a few years ago. Here are my thoughts:
[spoilers]
The writers try to set up owls as the natural enemy of bats, and at first it feels silly, but they really make it work. Bruce doesn’t believe the court exists at first, but eventually he decides to investigate, and the last few chapters are him stuck in this underground owl-themed maze. He hallucinates in trippy looking panels, and his narration boxes show him mentally arguing with himself a lot.
The art style generally conveys a sense of insanity, also. A few pages are layed out sideways, and then upside down, so you have to flip the book over to keep reading. Batman’s costume looks torn, and his cape is tattered, sometimes stretching out much further behind him than it should. Batman has a hole ripped in his mask so you can see his eye, which looks more bloodshot and insane as the story goes on. This eye hole also lets us see the tears in his eye when he decides he has to keep fighting, even after being thrown around and stabbed by the asassin Talon and essentially giving up. The visible eye is really a genius storytelling mechanism, especially in the case of a normally masked character like Batman.
When he finally gets back to the Batcave, he’s held up by Alfred as he walks up the stairs. Then he sees the dead body of Talon (who the others had brought to the cave for research), and jumps back. He doesn’t even look prepared to fight, just scared. You can see the terror in his face, and you understand it considering what he’s been thorugh. It’s a scene where we see this powerful, almost fearless character who has been broken and thoroughly humanized.
He snaps out of it in a moment, and refuses medical care in favor of examining Talon and figuring out some important information about the court of owls (typical Batman), but you can tell he’s still not okay.
;;W;; Sickle wanted to visit Allen in the asylum so ☤
“H... Help. P-Please.” His voice is cracking, broken and hoarse, most likely from screaming. Allen has an oversized, plain white shirt on- or maybe it’s a dress. His hair is an untied mess reaching past his shoulders, and he seems skinnier than usual.
The room is a plain, medium shade of gray. Not too light, not too dark. There’s a bed with a pillow and blanket, and a wooden nightstand. There’s no windows except for one in the door. There’s also a table and chair, also wooden. All the furniture is bolted to the floor- most likely for if a patient had a tantrum.
“T-They won’t listen to me. I-I don’t know what t-they’ve been doing... i-it’s a blur.” He remains seated on the bed, hands gripping the cloth tight enough to pale his knuckles.
