Thursday, September 6, 2007

Chaosdate – 1/3rd – “Fart Attack” Is A Funny Thing To Say
My power comes from me, I am my power.
My power lies within my blood, for it fuels the life that makes me; my blood is my power.
My power comes from my heart, which controls my blood, which fuels my life that makes me; my heart is my power.
My heart controls me.
And I will control my heart.

You hear that, you som’bitch?!

I’m comin for ya, and I will best you! Heart of the Shape-Changer. No- no… Heart of The Immortal!

Wait… “my heart is my power?”
Well, if this fails, I can always get a job working for Hall*Mark.

So, what’s the plan you ask, dearest Cassandra?
Cassandra: I- I already know the plan, you don-
First, I feel the flow of power to and from my heart. I let the chaotic shifting dance through me. I-
Should I will myself the ability to not shape-shift anymore?

That is stupid.

Also - Read up on the amount of times Onanwhatever has died.
Cassandra: Otanashi

…I let the chaotic shifting dance through me. I let it flow into and out of it’s power source, it’s engine – my heart.

Then I tear the fucker out.

More specifically, I remove my most vital of organs, yet force my body to compensate in it’s stead. I will my blood to flow freely. I will my body to consume the oxygen around me. The control of my body is unstoppable. Added with the Power of My Heart, it’s terrifying.


I have two options. “Grow” my heart out of me, or tear it out. Which is more symbolic? Both are acts of force of will. But the AC/DC fan inside of me (I still can’t believe you like them, Cassandra) thinks tearing it out would be more “hardcore.”

Why not both? I adapt. I change. I am the most suited for my environment. I am the fittest and I will survive.

And I will myself not to think of Gloria Gaynor (a Herculean Task indeed).

It’s surprisingly painless when I control my pain. It’s bloodless as I control my blood. What spills I will to crawl back inside of me.

And now I’m holding my heart in my hand.
I snort.
Holy shit, I’m holding my motherfucking heart in my motherfucking hand! I am a Creature of Chaos, I am Ultimate Endurance, I am the Best Motherfucking Shape-Shifter In The Goddamn Universe!

Now what?

I hold it above my head. I let wounds form in my arms. I force the blood to flow up, to flow up. Into the heart, yet back down into me.



Now what?

Put it back? Or walk the Pattern once again with it?

And – this idea came creeping in – what about my brain?


I toss my heart up and down in the air as I contemplate.
Yeah, Brain’s gotta go, too.

I brush off a nearby pedestal and place my heart on it. Now’s the hard part.

My heart is my power, my brain is my control. My heart is the engine where I draw upon my Power, my brain is the steering wheel, guiding that Power. My heart is the heart, my brain is the brain. My metaphors are getting a little weak. My brain keeps me Masamba. My brain directs the unstoppable current of my power. My unstoppable torrent of blood. Shit, I think Rose would like that analogy. My brain is what guides me back to Masamba. My brain was forced into defeating Clyde, and gently usurped the power of Cassandra. My brain will not allow another Peter (I try to convince myself). My brain makes me Masamba, but Masamba makes his brain. My brain gives me power. My brain gives me strength. My brain gives me fear, my brain gives me pain. I will have power over my brain. I do have power over my brain. Power over my power. I will be in ultimate control.

The red dog from years ago pops into my mind. I laugh.

I’m five years old, I am in trouble. For what, I don’t know. Mommy and Daddy are fighting again. Naff (I had a hard time pronouncing those X’s) pulls me aside. He still looks so sick after he walked into that place with the black thick water. We talk. I’m scared of Mommy and Daddy. Our dog, Rebel, is outside, safe and free (Was our dog really named Rebel?). I want to be our dog, running away, outside. Naff tells me I can do it, but I have to tell myself I can. Tell myself I am Rebel. So I start talking, and talking. And I’m Rebel and I’m running away.

I’m walking in the desert, holding a compass that’s way too big for me. I miss Julie. Why did we do this? I’m starting to get scared. Why did I leave her after we both left? Was Amber really that bad? Yes. But the desert is scarey. It was so hot when the sun was out, now it’s so cold. Is this even the same desert, the sky looks different. I hear something, I feel something, I- what? That bald man in black, is that Naxx? Was he always that much older than me? We talk. He explains he’s concerned, but he knows a place to go. He’s speaking highly of my grandfather? No- great-grandfather. My great-grandfather, not his. Very highly. Naxx says he knows a place that’s close to where Great-Grampa used to live. He takes me there, but frown.
Close Enough he says. He tells me I should find a new identity. I tell him I’m not sure. I remember his exact words “You like talking to yourself, Frex. Convince yourself you’re someone else. Use your words for a purpose this time.”

Old Habits Die Hard, Kunta-Kente

My brain.
My thoughts are in my spine. My feelings in my bones. My desires in my hea- scratch that, in my veins. I copy every part of my brain somewhere into my body. I toss myself a shot of mental booze. Here we go. Fire it up!

I think back to Cassandra in med-school. Which part of the brain would be the easiest to lose. I turn it off and hope the back-up kicks in. Success. I turn off the next part. Success! I turn off the next, and the next and- I stumble to the ground. Collect myself, shift my body, shift my control, what makes me me is not in my brain and i don’t need it anymore so i turn that fucker off! OFF!

I blink.

I turn off the pain sensors in my… spleen? I ease my skull open. I sever the connection from my brain and my body.

FUCK YEAH! I AM THE MASTER OF MASAMBA! I AM THE SHAPE-CHANGER. I jump in the air and land funny. Real funny. I musta shook something vital. Like, brain-related-vital. Gotta be careful. This is sort of scarey.
Not any more! Boink!
My left toe falls off. Hrm. I should plan things cautiously. I don’t want to boink away some important internal organs.
Haw! What important internal organs? I laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.
Then I change myself so my body is, in fact, getting enough air.
I better make this quick. Back to Amber! Wait, maybe I shoulda taken a pit dip. Too late now. I want to get my organs back.

My Artifacts back. I fumble for my trump deck. Ah, here’s the one for Amber. Ooh, brain goo. I set my brain down on the pedestal next to my heart. Felix! Get me a- Oh, wait, he’s not. Orloo! Ever-present Orloo. My lungs still work just fine as I yell for him. Maybe I should remove them too? Now I’m being silly. Orloo! Fetch me something to wash my hands and a… uh… golden vase. I gotta keep these here organs somewhere. All clean, and nice big jar. I. I should think. No. Better. Rest? No. Don’t wanna “heal” a new brain or heart. This’ll be tough. I should go to the pit. How should I get to the pit. Fuck it, I gotta talk to Rose.

Remember the plan for Rose. Tell her every secret, hide every obvious truth. You are pious and saintly. You are doing this only as defense. It disgusts you.
I can’t/won’t boink. Be careful.

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