The Purifier Prophet

April 23, 2016:

Introducting, Jack the Purifier Prophet (Cutscene)


NPCs: Jack the Prophet



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

The one-bedroom loft style apartment was nothing to shake a stick at. For nearly one thousand dollars a month, he only got a fridge and a lightbulb out of the deal that pretty much lit the entire space once drawn on with a tug of the string.

Paper littered the apartment, various news reports of the ill-happenings that devastate New York City on a daily, almost all of them centered and focused upon the mutants. Mutants did this. Mutants did that. Mutants are a menace or Mutants need to be cherished because they were people too.

But Jack Dawson really didn't care. He didn't have a life outside of working his twelve-hour construction job day and night. A person like him, he often thought, should be greatly appreciative of the mass of destruction that happens nearly on a daily.

From condemned buildings, fires that hit homes that are minor and major that he's usually called out to fix. Or a random car thrown into a roof that he has to operate a crane to dig out. He was making money by the butt load.

Heroism, is good for the economy. It puts dudes like him to work.

But heroism also put most of the normal people at risk. Normal people such as his kid brother who was walking to school one day and had his arm ripped off by a hero smashing a bad guy into a building. His brother reached for something, his arm came clean off. While he scream and cried no one really cared. Their fucking hero worship put the screaming young man out of their line of sight and he was practically all but forgotten.

Jack should be happy that the DEO decided to do something about this. But it was fresh on his mind. Nothing, nothing that they nor Damage Control did helped. Not all the money in the world could bring his brother back.

The faucet runs on a constant stream of lukewarm water in the bathroom; bubbles filling the sink ever so slowly as thick hands grasp the edge of the sink. He bends, shoulders flexing, showing off that wiry build with his head ducked down low, feet postured as he pushes against the sink, arms shaking as he tries to conceal the daily rage he felt after his brothers death. It should have never been like this. But it was.

The straight razor was taken up off the side, a smack of shaving cream soon plastered all over his head as he begins to bring the blade a-glide across his scalp. He already gave himself a buzz cut ours before. But this just cemented it. The feel of the sharpness against his skin, the thin little pools of blood that slowly begin to build on parts where he knicked soon painted the bubbles a color red that faded into a slight pink. He didn't care. He continued to rake blade along his scalp until nothing of him was left. The smooth head was soon wiped clean with a dirty towel as he looked into the mirror. Steel amber eyes that gaze back upon someone whom he no longer recognized.

And soon, he turns the razor upon himself. It starts with a cross upon the middle of his chest in front of his heart. Then the blade touched and tapped against his forehead as he grits his teeth to hiss with the pain. To go another step further, just one more step to prove his worth to the cause; he digs the blade at a point in the middle of his forehead, digging and twisting until blood begins to flow down in between his eyes, following the contour of his nose, his hand working even though it shakes to try to form perfect lines..

Where was the worth in being a human in this world? You wake up, you go to your job, you drink beers with the boys like an everyday man and clean up after the mess that people left you with. It puts food on your table. But what good is it when you can't even eat? What good is it when those who are evolved more than you take it away from you as well as the attention because of their acts of grandeur?

What was the point of even living if they were there. Glorifying at stopping the bad guy when it's the little guy who needed them more? What was the point of praying. When gods walk the earth and show that they do not care.

But it's back to black. Jack Dawson was going to take the power back into the Human Hands. Starting with the mutant shits in their little beatnick tore down ghetto.

Jack the Prophet was coming. Jack the Purifier Prophet, that is.

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