Of Science and Sorcery (Aug 25th RP 2)
Aug 16, 2021 5:01:05 GMT -5
BrainScratch, Oh-Oh, and 3 more like this
Post by robriot on Aug 16, 2021 5:01:05 GMT -5
Crackling, warped VHS footage fills the screen. It’s an old episode of “The Simpsons” from back when the show was young and relevant. To be more specific, it’s a “Treehouse of Horror” episode. Kang and Kodos, everybody’s favourite slimy green aliens, are addressing the famous yellow family. Kang introduces himself.
"Greetings, Earthlings. I am Kang. Do not be frightened. We mean you no harm."
That seems to alarm Marge, who says what everyone’s thinking.
“You speak English?”
Kang, with indifference, explains the situation.
"I am speaking Rigellian. By an astonishing coincidence, both of our languages are the same."
Bart is more forthright than Marge. He doesn’t care about language. He cares about plans.
“What are you going to do with us, man?”
Kang makes his pitch. To be fair to him, it’s a great one for an alien invader.
“Kodos and I are taking you to Rigel Four. A world of infinite delights to tantalise your senses and challenge your intellectual limitations.”
The footage freezes, warps again and then disappears from view completely. In its place comes the sight of Rob Riot, dressed for battle, sat in a wooden chair. He's illuminated from above by a single naked white lightbulb, only about a foot above his head. The harshness of the light reflects off his freshly shaven scalp. He might be smirking, but it's hard to tell because he's wearing sunglasses.
Maybe he stole them from Kintaru.
"See, Niko and Kono? There you are. That's you. Comic relief. Everybody loves a little comic relief. It's a good role for you, and you play it well. You're committed to your parts, and you tell a fine story. Only there's a problem, isn't there? As you seem so determined to keep telling me, you don't think it's a story. You want me to believe it's all real. The future. The alien worlds. The sci-fi nonsense. All of it. So because of that…
Riot pauses to remove his sunglasses. He leans forward in the chair. If there was a trace of mirth in his eyes from his earlier smirk, it’s gone now.
“...I have to drop the jokes. That’s not good for me, boys. I like having fun. When the fun stops, I get angry. When I get angry, people get hurt. But that’s fine. People should get hurt sometimes. Especially people who seem to be determined to fly in the face of everything I hold true in this world. Watch.”
Riot holds the sunglasses aloft and then drops them to the floor. They fall in a straight line and then shatter as they hit the concrete. If they were indeed Kintaru's, he's probably going to be very annoyed.
"That's physics. It's also gravity. I held the glasses in the air, and when I let go, physics and gravity determined what happened next. That's the world I live in. It's one of observable, provable facts. That's what I deal in. You can tell me you're alien, future-kind, or whatever the hell else you claim, but these aren't observable, provable facts. You don't belong to my reality, and so I'm going to have to drop a reality bomb on you. I live in a world of flesh and blood and joy and misery and pleasure and pain. There's enough in this world to sate the desires of any human being, no matter how grotesque those desires might be, and yet you dance in a fantasy land. Well, no longer. When Windsor and I get hold of you on August 25th, we're going to drag you back down to Earth and make you part of our reality. Sorry in advance, boys, but I don't think you're going to enjoy the crash landing. But that's something else I want to talk to you about. Trauma."
Riot reaches up and idly bats the lightbulb above his head. It swings back and forth as he continues to talk.
“I’m a rational man, and so I’ve tried to rationalise you. I know a thing or two about psychology, boys. I know why two human beings would want to run so far away from humanity that they convince themselves they’re something else altogether. It’s called a fugue state, and yes, I do invite you to look that up. A human being experiencing a fugue state might forget everything that happened in their life before the fugue state took hold. A human being experiencing a fugue state might believe anything - everything - that allows them to focus their attention away from the very thing that drove them there in the first place. Trauma. Believe me when I say I know a thing or two about trauma.”
Riot pauses for a moment, looking down at his right shoulder and noticing that he’s clasped his left hand over his iconic broken clock tattoo. He didn’t realise he’d done that. It was his subconscious again. He pats it, and then moves on.
“What traumatised the two of you so badly that you ran away together? What did you see? What did you lose? What was so awful in your lives that it became more appealing to play space aliens than to deal with it? What’s there, boys? Daddy issues? Molestation? Guilt? A combination of all three plus more? I think it’s very important that we find out. I think finding out is the first step towards recovery. Unfortunately, we have to kill this version of you before we can reach back and find the real you. That’s where me and Frank come in. You can call us Doctor Riot and Doctor Windsor. We’re going to turn your lights out on August 25th, and when you wake up again, you might finally do so as your real selves. Don't be afraid, Dark Stars. The time has come for the stars to go to sleep and the sun to come out again. It's just that…"
He reaches up, grabs the lightbulb and wrenches it out of its socket, leaving us in darkness.
“...we have to walk into the dark before we find the light. Let’s walk there together. Be brave.”
"Greetings, Earthlings. I am Kang. Do not be frightened. We mean you no harm."
That seems to alarm Marge, who says what everyone’s thinking.
“You speak English?”
Kang, with indifference, explains the situation.
"I am speaking Rigellian. By an astonishing coincidence, both of our languages are the same."
Bart is more forthright than Marge. He doesn’t care about language. He cares about plans.
“What are you going to do with us, man?”
Kang makes his pitch. To be fair to him, it’s a great one for an alien invader.
“Kodos and I are taking you to Rigel Four. A world of infinite delights to tantalise your senses and challenge your intellectual limitations.”
The footage freezes, warps again and then disappears from view completely. In its place comes the sight of Rob Riot, dressed for battle, sat in a wooden chair. He's illuminated from above by a single naked white lightbulb, only about a foot above his head. The harshness of the light reflects off his freshly shaven scalp. He might be smirking, but it's hard to tell because he's wearing sunglasses.
Maybe he stole them from Kintaru.
"See, Niko and Kono? There you are. That's you. Comic relief. Everybody loves a little comic relief. It's a good role for you, and you play it well. You're committed to your parts, and you tell a fine story. Only there's a problem, isn't there? As you seem so determined to keep telling me, you don't think it's a story. You want me to believe it's all real. The future. The alien worlds. The sci-fi nonsense. All of it. So because of that…
Riot pauses to remove his sunglasses. He leans forward in the chair. If there was a trace of mirth in his eyes from his earlier smirk, it’s gone now.
“...I have to drop the jokes. That’s not good for me, boys. I like having fun. When the fun stops, I get angry. When I get angry, people get hurt. But that’s fine. People should get hurt sometimes. Especially people who seem to be determined to fly in the face of everything I hold true in this world. Watch.”
Riot holds the sunglasses aloft and then drops them to the floor. They fall in a straight line and then shatter as they hit the concrete. If they were indeed Kintaru's, he's probably going to be very annoyed.
"That's physics. It's also gravity. I held the glasses in the air, and when I let go, physics and gravity determined what happened next. That's the world I live in. It's one of observable, provable facts. That's what I deal in. You can tell me you're alien, future-kind, or whatever the hell else you claim, but these aren't observable, provable facts. You don't belong to my reality, and so I'm going to have to drop a reality bomb on you. I live in a world of flesh and blood and joy and misery and pleasure and pain. There's enough in this world to sate the desires of any human being, no matter how grotesque those desires might be, and yet you dance in a fantasy land. Well, no longer. When Windsor and I get hold of you on August 25th, we're going to drag you back down to Earth and make you part of our reality. Sorry in advance, boys, but I don't think you're going to enjoy the crash landing. But that's something else I want to talk to you about. Trauma."
Riot reaches up and idly bats the lightbulb above his head. It swings back and forth as he continues to talk.
“I’m a rational man, and so I’ve tried to rationalise you. I know a thing or two about psychology, boys. I know why two human beings would want to run so far away from humanity that they convince themselves they’re something else altogether. It’s called a fugue state, and yes, I do invite you to look that up. A human being experiencing a fugue state might forget everything that happened in their life before the fugue state took hold. A human being experiencing a fugue state might believe anything - everything - that allows them to focus their attention away from the very thing that drove them there in the first place. Trauma. Believe me when I say I know a thing or two about trauma.”
Riot pauses for a moment, looking down at his right shoulder and noticing that he’s clasped his left hand over his iconic broken clock tattoo. He didn’t realise he’d done that. It was his subconscious again. He pats it, and then moves on.
“What traumatised the two of you so badly that you ran away together? What did you see? What did you lose? What was so awful in your lives that it became more appealing to play space aliens than to deal with it? What’s there, boys? Daddy issues? Molestation? Guilt? A combination of all three plus more? I think it’s very important that we find out. I think finding out is the first step towards recovery. Unfortunately, we have to kill this version of you before we can reach back and find the real you. That’s where me and Frank come in. You can call us Doctor Riot and Doctor Windsor. We’re going to turn your lights out on August 25th, and when you wake up again, you might finally do so as your real selves. Don't be afraid, Dark Stars. The time has come for the stars to go to sleep and the sun to come out again. It's just that…"
He reaches up, grabs the lightbulb and wrenches it out of its socket, leaving us in darkness.
“...we have to walk into the dark before we find the light. Let’s walk there together. Be brave.”