I wanna take you for a ride (I think)! Let's discuss Marvel vs. Capcom: Infinite!


August 20, 2012

I Hraet You (30)

Beat 30: Well, That’s One Way to Establish Yourself As a Threat…

Patton nodded slowly and folded his arms.  “So that’s how it is, huh?  Manly or not, you’re the bad guy.  You’re about to wreck Porbeagle, for one reason or another.”  He unfolded his arms, and started popping his knuckles.  “All right then.  Get ready to eat your own face.”

“Ah-ah-ah -- we can’t have any onstage violence until the script demands it,” said Gaston, waving a finger at the colossal captive.  “The time is not yet right for the duel -- and I certainly wouldn’t engage in one with an extra like you.”

“Extra?”

“Figuratively speaking of course.  As the show’s mastermind and arguable leading man, I have more of a…shall we say, stake in the show.  I suppose it’s a bit hasty of me to call you extras, but you’re all at least a tier lower than I am.”

Mrs. Overdose started tapping the back of her head against the old mansion’s doors -- soft enough to avoid injury, but hard enough to have the knocking ring through the grand hall.

“Oh, don’t worry, my dear.  I haven’t forgotten about your compensation.  You’ll get the money for your daily bread soon enough -- but first, I would think that a bit of a…shall we say, explanation is in order.”

Mrs. Overdose slammed her head against the door.

Gaston swept his hands through the air slowly, as if trying to conduct a symphony; each motion sent his fingers into a chaotic dance.  “Would you like to hear a secret, Monsieur Hoigleheimer?”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

“No?  So the brute refuses to open his mind?  Ah, what a shame.”  He looked to Trixie, his mask’s smile almost curving even further.  “And how about you, mademoiselle?  Eager to have your mind opened?”

Trixie glared at him.

“Then I suppose that leaves the young Hoi-”

“I-I’M NOT AFRAID OF GHOSTS!” the sweaty JP blurted.  “THEY DON’T EVEN EXIST!”

Gaston stared at JP for a minute, and then turned to the rest of the group.  “And now, as is the standard, I shall reveal my rationale.  Ku fu fu…I know the custom is to reveal the master plan, but I just find that old convention so trite -- and of course, I can’t have my precious plans ruined before the grand premiere.  You follow, yes?”

He didn’t even bother waiting for an answer; he just continued his conducting, humming a tune that likely sounded sublime to him, but came off as a cacophony to the captives.  “Let me tell you a secret about this great blue planet of ours,” he practically sang.  “All the world’s a stage.”

Mrs. Overdose held a palm over one eye.  “Here we go...”

Gaston’s cape flowed even more than before, as if a divine wind danced about him (or someone opened a window).  And then he began:

“All the world's a stage, 
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.  At first the infant --”

“Will ya get on with it already?” Trixie yelled.  “Whaddya want from us, and what’re ya plannin’ on doin’?”

Gaston froze in place.  “My, my…women today are so earnest and direct; rather distressing that they can’t take a moment to enjoy the niceties of Shakespeare.”  He relaxed his body, and returned to his usual -- if exaggerated -- stance.  “Even with that segment, you understand the gist of that visionary’s intent, yes?  You understand the nature of life itself?”

Patton and Trixie exchanged a quick glance.

“Humans…they are born, they live, and then they die.  A standard progression, a common cycle that binds us all -- it is our connection to the mortal coil that unites us as a species.  It is a truth that one must accept, lest they seek to be thought a fool…or worse, struck down by the wrath of the Lord.  However…”  Gaston held up a finger, keeping it more rigid than the trio thought possible of him.  “Humanity has lost its way.  They have become so acclimated to the rules and conventions of the day that they have erred.  They are content with living such stale, colorless lives.  They are content with whatever they believe is “natural” and “normal.”  The only thing they refuse to be content with is that which differs; the unique and unseen are dismissed, disrespected, or outright dismantled.”

He spun around, and his cape whirled about as he virtually broke into dance.  “Ah, this world!  How it clings to reality!  How it abhors the flighty, unforeseeable, vibrant colors in time’s tapestry!  But alas, such is life…such is humanity.”

Gaston stopped moving, and stared at the trio -- and for a moment, a wave of malice swept out of his smiling mask.  “It sickens me.”

He raised a hand to the heavens.  “And that is why I intend to change all of that, post-haste.  What this world needs is -- to put it in contemporary terms, fair friends -- a shake-up.  It needs a jolt, a bolt with more voltage than Zeus Himself could provide, to bring a revolution.  To remind the populace of the whimsy, the zest, the beloved uniqueness of our world, I intend to take control.  To be the director of a new world order.”  He pressed that same hand to his heart -- though his fingers refused to touch the blade lodged inside it.  “It’s true, I may be using some rather unsavory brute force, but my intent is indeed heartfelt.  For the sake of a paradigm shift…for the sake of a unified, transformed world, where the heart is free to appreciate unexplainable wonders…I will descend upon the earth, and alter it as per my designs.”

He pointed at JP, at Patton, at Trixie.  “And none of you can stop me.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” said Patton.

Gaston didn’t even flinch; he just opened his arms wide.  “Ku fu fu…oh, so you think you can keep the world on its errant path with muscle alone?  Very well, then.  I welcome you to try, Monsieur.  Aim well, and try to hit me.”  He waved a hand at Mrs. Overdose.  “You needn’t retaliate, my dear; as you’ve likely guessed, I’m in no danger.”

“Wasn’t planning on it anyway,” the huntress cracked.  “No pay, no point.”

“A-ha!  Ever the shrewd businesswoman!”  He focused back on Patton.  “Now then, what say you to a gentlemanly duel?  I’ll even do you a service; I’ll allow you, good sir, to throw --”

Patton didn’t even bother letting him finish.  With a primal roar he leapt at Gaston and slammed the ground; the sheer force of the attack practically made the mansion rumble, and Trixie’s hair fluttered from the gales.

If his attack had hit a normal man, he’d be a splatter on the carpet.  But Gaston was far from normal.  For one thing, he’d dodged the attack with ease.  And for another, he stood on the ceiling.

“Ku fu fu…my, so impetuous,” he taunted, his cape still hanging around him as if he stood in normal gravity.  “Well, I was going to say ‘I’ll allow you to throw the gauntlet’ but I suppose I’ll revoke that statement; good manners are wasted on a beast like you.  And I’d throw my own glove, but, well, these are just my favorite pair of gloves, and I’d hate to get them dirty.”

“Get your ass down here!” Patton roared.  “If I have to jump up there and get you, you’ll regret it!”

“Mr. Hoigleheimer, are ya just gonna ignore him bein’ able to stand on the ceiling?!” Trixie asked, taking hold of his now rock-hard arms.  “I mean, I wanna kick his dandy ass halfway ‘cross town, too, but --”

“Good.  Then I’ll throw you up there, and you can drag him down here so I can finish him off!”

“That’s not what I --”

Patton looked down at JP.  “Oh, wait.  Son, did you want to finish him off?  I think you’re old enough for your first taste of vigilantism-based assault.”

“Whatever, I don’t care!  Just kill him already!”  JP shook his head furiously.  “A-a-and you CAN kill him, because he’s NOT a ghost!”

Gaston clapped stridently from his perch on the ceiling.  “Keh ha ha ha!  Splendid!  Simply splendid!  You see?  THIS is the zest of LIFE!  Irregularity, unpredictability, a disregard of reality!  And yet…and yet…I want more!  So much more!  I know you can give it to me…I know, instinctively, that you can all let your extremities run wild!  And I’ll have them -- all of them -- made real soon enough!” 

He pressed a hand to his mask, but that did little to stop his uproarious laughter; his howls echoed from one corner of the mansion to the other, shaking the dust and cobwebs from their resting grounds.  And then, just as quickly as he’d started, he stopped -- and he looked down at the trio.  “My, oh my.  Methinks I’m getting ahead of myself; we’ve yet to finish our little fight, as I recall.  So allow me to deliver the killing blow.”  He threw out an arm in a flourish, and snapped his fingers.

And with that, the entire mansion flipped upside down.

Neither Trixie, nor Patton, nor even JP had enough time to register the turn; the mansion turned so fast that they didn’t even tumble against the floor.  They just started falling toward the ceiling, and crashed against it with a resounding thud.  And they didn’t fall alone; paintings, the carpet, and even the chandelier came crashing down, each one bringing with it a crash of varying magnitude.

Amidst the chaos, Gaston stood atop the ceiling -- or rather, the now-bare floor.  “Ku fu fu…I hope now you’re all starting to understand,” he said as he watched them stumble to their feet.  “You have potential, but in the end, you’re all limited in your capacity.  What you need is a director, playwright, a craftsman, a savior to give you what you need most.  So heed my voice; let me give you the direction you so need, and let the flow carry you to a new plateau.”

Patton bore his teeth.  “And what if we don’t want to?”

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to be a bit unpleasant with you.”  He twirled his fingers through the air -- and shortly after, a grinding rumble echoed through the grand hall. 

The source?  The walls themselves -- all of them moved towards the group, moving faster and faster and faster, with a very clear intent in mind.

To crush them all.

TO BE HEARTINUED…   

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