The Sea Monster
Doom Patrol #9 - The Song of Love (Part 9)
The dull headlights of the van just about manage to pierce the looming darkness of the countryside as they drive on through the night. A strange atmosphere has crawled its way into the van since their encounter at the gas station, festering amongst them and causing everyone to retreat to their own personal corners of the cramped van and stare mindlessly out of the windows.
Larry is glad to be driving.
He allows himself a quick glance over his shoulder to see everyone sleeping. At least, he thinks everyone is. It’s hard to tell with Cliff. He adjusts his grip on the wheel and fights off a pang of fatigue threatening to send him to sleep, focusing on nothing but the road ahead and Niles. Eric’s guidance so far had served them well, and as he battles off the call of sleep he reflects on where they’ve come and how far left they’ve got to go, and wonders if they were right to leave in the first place. But as Larry’s mind wanders, he is disturbed from his reflection by another sensation – unwanted by him in the moment almost as much as sleep. He groans as the dull pulsating echoes from within his chest, and just about manages to pull the van over to the side of the road before his body convulses and the Negative Spirit claws its way out of his body.
The Spirit glides gently around the van for a moment, the soft glow of the being illuminating the air far better than the headlights do the road ahead and filling it with intangible whispers. If anyone in that moment could see it, it would appear as nothing more than an image through misted glass – managing to be both disturbingly distorted and as clear as day. Time appears to drain away as the Spirit hovers carefully between the roof and floor of the van, gazing at Larry’s unconscious body with its hollow yellow eyes – mere voids in its abstract form existing in an absent place – and extract the last remaining dregs of happiness from the soul of anyone unfortunate enough to look back at it. It turns its head away from Larry and casts its empty gaze around the others, before finally settling on Eric, slumped in the corner. It drifts towards him, undisturbed in sleep, and watches him like a farmer would a cow before sending it to slaughter. It has, and never will, be able to feel the emotions we do.
But as it stares at Eric a malevolent dread swells within its being and for the first time it its existence it experiences what it can only deduce to be fear.
It drifts away gracefully, calmly assessing the new emotion, and climbs back inside the solace of Larry Trainor.
========================================
World dark. Spinning
Cliff Steele has never felt more alive
Stumbling past the track and into the RV
Back turned
She’s still here
He’s surprised
“Who was it tonight?”
Smoking a cigarette through an open window
She knows
Always knows
Wish she wouldn’t do that
Cliff Steele feels warmth spread through his face
Grips the bottle harder
“I was just havin’ fun. You remember fun dontya? Can’t I have fuckin’ fun anymore?
The bottle is empty
He knew that already, though
Fresh whiskey in the cupboard
She’s behind him now
“Cliff don’t!”
“Back off Princess!”
“Don’t call me that!”
“I’ll call you what I like! What’re you goin’ to do?”
New faces in his head now, but still the same
She stares out the window
Crying? What now?
“I was speaking to Tammy. Her kid’s seven today, Cliffy. I wanted to wish her a happy birthday.”
This talk again. Drink
“Please, Cliffy-”
Drink
Something is wrong
She hugs him but her warmth is unknown
“I wanna be mom, Cliffy…”
The anger comes again
“You been speakin’ to Randy again or somethin’?”
“Please Cliffy…”
Afraid
Hands extend
Her grip tightens
“Get off…”
This isn’t right
“Get off me. You’re hurtin’ me.”
Constricting around him, arms crushing
“I wanna baby of my own… just someone to love. Please Cliffy…”
When did her smile get so big?
When was she facing him?
“Our own little family. Wouldn’t it be perfect? You could give this all up! You’d never have to race again.”
“BACK OFF!”
The face begins to melt
Fear
“Oh don’t get your buns in a twist!”
“What? What did you say?”
“You heard me Cliffy.”
Face water as hands reach out to grab
“I always say that Cliffy… hold me baby… hold me… touch me like you’ve never touched me…”
He’s on the floor. When did he end up on the floor?
Hands pull at him – pain
They claw and pull and rip and skin is pulled away to reveal -
Metal
How can it be metal?
“I can’t… I can’t feel you… I can’t feel anythin’… help me… God fuckin’ help me!”
Her body melts away into a beast, a shadow
The RV distorts around her, but it isn’t his anymore
She’s smiling
Can’t move
“Oh Cliffy, only those with a distinct lack of imagination resort to such ghastly language.”
She pulls the last of the skin away
Frozen
He’s not a man
Not a man
Was never a man
“No! You’re not - please! PLEASE!”
Hands crush his head but he feels nothing
Powerless as he always was
Children’s voices in the air
*thump* *thump* thump*
Someone is throwing stones
“HELP ME!”
Metal crushes brain tissue and squeezes red hot blood
Feels nothing
You never did, Cliff Steele
Cliff jolts awake as his eyes switch on and illuminate the van in a dull crimson glow. He clutches his chest out of instinct and looks around, his artificial eyes adapting quickly to the darkness.
Cliff: Holy shit…
He sits up and reaches for his head, and once satisfied it’s still in one piece rests back and looks out the window. The van has stopped. He glances back to the driver’s seat and spots Larry, awake and breathing heavily. Before he can say anything Larry turns wearily to look at him.
Larry: Bad dreams?
Cliff nods silently. They sit for a moment, sharing the quiet, the shame, and the comfort of each other’s sorrow.
Doom Patrol #9 - The Song of Love (Part 9)
The dull headlights of the van just about manage to pierce the looming darkness of the countryside as they drive on through the night. A strange atmosphere has crawled its way into the van since their encounter at the gas station, festering amongst them and causing everyone to retreat to their own personal corners of the cramped van and stare mindlessly out of the windows.
Larry is glad to be driving.
He allows himself a quick glance over his shoulder to see everyone sleeping. At least, he thinks everyone is. It’s hard to tell with Cliff. He adjusts his grip on the wheel and fights off a pang of fatigue threatening to send him to sleep, focusing on nothing but the road ahead and Niles. Eric’s guidance so far had served them well, and as he battles off the call of sleep he reflects on where they’ve come and how far left they’ve got to go, and wonders if they were right to leave in the first place. But as Larry’s mind wanders, he is disturbed from his reflection by another sensation – unwanted by him in the moment almost as much as sleep. He groans as the dull pulsating echoes from within his chest, and just about manages to pull the van over to the side of the road before his body convulses and the Negative Spirit claws its way out of his body.
The Spirit glides gently around the van for a moment, the soft glow of the being illuminating the air far better than the headlights do the road ahead and filling it with intangible whispers. If anyone in that moment could see it, it would appear as nothing more than an image through misted glass – managing to be both disturbingly distorted and as clear as day. Time appears to drain away as the Spirit hovers carefully between the roof and floor of the van, gazing at Larry’s unconscious body with its hollow yellow eyes – mere voids in its abstract form existing in an absent place – and extract the last remaining dregs of happiness from the soul of anyone unfortunate enough to look back at it. It turns its head away from Larry and casts its empty gaze around the others, before finally settling on Eric, slumped in the corner. It drifts towards him, undisturbed in sleep, and watches him like a farmer would a cow before sending it to slaughter. It has, and never will, be able to feel the emotions we do.
But as it stares at Eric a malevolent dread swells within its being and for the first time it its existence it experiences what it can only deduce to be fear.
It drifts away gracefully, calmly assessing the new emotion, and climbs back inside the solace of Larry Trainor.
========================================
World dark. Spinning
Cliff Steele has never felt more alive
Stumbling past the track and into the RV
Back turned
She’s still here
He’s surprised
“Who was it tonight?”
Smoking a cigarette through an open window
She knows
Always knows
Wish she wouldn’t do that
Cliff Steele feels warmth spread through his face
Grips the bottle harder
“I was just havin’ fun. You remember fun dontya? Can’t I have fuckin’ fun anymore?
The bottle is empty
He knew that already, though
Fresh whiskey in the cupboard
She’s behind him now
“Cliff don’t!”
“Back off Princess!”
“Don’t call me that!”
“I’ll call you what I like! What’re you goin’ to do?”
New faces in his head now, but still the same
She stares out the window
Crying? What now?
“I was speaking to Tammy. Her kid’s seven today, Cliffy. I wanted to wish her a happy birthday.”
This talk again. Drink
“Please, Cliffy-”
Drink
Something is wrong
She hugs him but her warmth is unknown
“I wanna be mom, Cliffy…”
The anger comes again
“You been speakin’ to Randy again or somethin’?”
“Please Cliffy…”
Afraid
Hands extend
Her grip tightens
“Get off…”
This isn’t right
“Get off me. You’re hurtin’ me.”
Constricting around him, arms crushing
“I wanna baby of my own… just someone to love. Please Cliffy…”
When did her smile get so big?
When was she facing him?
“Our own little family. Wouldn’t it be perfect? You could give this all up! You’d never have to race again.”
“BACK OFF!”
The face begins to melt
Fear
“Oh don’t get your buns in a twist!”
“What? What did you say?”
“You heard me Cliffy.”
Face water as hands reach out to grab
“I always say that Cliffy… hold me baby… hold me… touch me like you’ve never touched me…”
He’s on the floor. When did he end up on the floor?
Hands pull at him – pain
They claw and pull and rip and skin is pulled away to reveal -
Metal
How can it be metal?
“I can’t… I can’t feel you… I can’t feel anythin’… help me… God fuckin’ help me!”
Her body melts away into a beast, a shadow
The RV distorts around her, but it isn’t his anymore
She’s smiling
Can’t move
“Oh Cliffy, only those with a distinct lack of imagination resort to such ghastly language.”
She pulls the last of the skin away
Frozen
He’s not a man
Not a man
Was never a man
“No! You’re not - please! PLEASE!”
Hands crush his head but he feels nothing
Powerless as he always was
Children’s voices in the air
*thump* *thump* thump*
Someone is throwing stones
“HELP ME!”
Metal crushes brain tissue and squeezes red hot blood
Feels nothing
You never did, Cliff Steele
Cliff jolts awake as his eyes switch on and illuminate the van in a dull crimson glow. He clutches his chest out of instinct and looks around, his artificial eyes adapting quickly to the darkness.
Cliff: Holy shit…
He sits up and reaches for his head, and once satisfied it’s still in one piece rests back and looks out the window. The van has stopped. He glances back to the driver’s seat and spots Larry, awake and breathing heavily. Before he can say anything Larry turns wearily to look at him.
Larry: Bad dreams?
Cliff nods silently. They sit for a moment, sharing the quiet, the shame, and the comfort of each other’s sorrow.