5 CH 4: The Abyssal Experiment. Into the Shadows.

Write some comments pleses.

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This world is survival of the fittest. The strong eat.' 'Who is strong?' I am. Me." — Ken Kaneki, 'Tokoyo Ghul'

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Marissa's POV

The mists of Gotham City concealed more secrets than one could fathom, and I was determined to uncover them all. My story began in the dark heart of this city, a place where dreams and nightmares intertwine. I, Marissa, was born into a life that would set the stage for my unholy ascent.

As a child, I was the unwitting pawn in a cruel game orchestrated by my parents. Or at least, the people I assumed were my parents. You see, I don't even know my last name because they never shared that with me. They were both driven by avarice, their only interest in me lay in the money they could make from my very existence. I was sold like a commodity to the highest bidder, and my true parentage remained a mystery to this day.

From a young age, I despised my presumed parents for their callousness and the blatant disregard for my well-being. It was my fiery spirit and deep-seated anger that ultimately led me down a treacherous path. The moment I was old enough to understand the world's darkness, I decided to turn my back on my birthright and seek my own destiny.

I found solace and purpose within the enigmatic world of the occult. The allure of power and recognition was irresistible, and I was determined to claw my way to the top. At twenty-seven, my ambitions were grandiose, fueled by the need to prove to myself that I could rise above the circumstances of my birth.

To sustain my sinister desires and support my unholy ambitions, I found a day job that was both lucrative and strategically beneficial. I became a manager at a large department store chain, not unlike Wayne Tech. This role not only paid handsomely but also provided me with easy access to my preferred prey – children.

In a bustling mall, lost and vulnerable children were a common sight. I used my position to my advantage, orchestrating situations where children could easily get separated from their parents. And in a city where most 95% of the population is below the poetry scale, few parents don't try to look for them and sometimes they even abundant them in this place in hopes that mool will find a good orphanage for them. This allowed me to carry out my sinister deeds with unsettling ease.

I became a cultist entrenched within the sinister underbelly of Gotham's magical community. This was where I honed my skills, delving into forbidden rituals, mastering the esoteric and the arcane, and forging an unholy connection with otherworldly forces.

But I carried a sinister secret, one that set me apart from my fellow occultists. My dark art was derived from the innocence and vitality of young children. Their essence, brimming with untapped potential, became the wellspring from which I drew my eldritch might. However, this maleficent source came at a dire cost, a cost I was more than willing to bear.

My twisted perversions knew no bounds, and I shamelessly indulged in hedonistic pleasures to extract these young souls. The act left my innocent victims as nothing more than empty husks, hollowed out and devoid of life, while I reveled in the macabre fulfillment of my desires.

My ultimate goal was as ominous as it was sacrilegious: to become the willing servant of Trigon, the interdimensional demon of incomprehensible power. I believed that in serving this malevolent entity, I would gain unimaginable dominion over the forces of the occult, furthering my own nefarious influence within the magical community.

One fateful day, while carrying out my malevolent plans, I stumbled upon an intriguing prospect. A young child, no older than four, emerged as the perfect target for my sinister machinations. Alone and naive, he appeared to be a prime candidate for my ritualistic designs. However, what I had not anticipated was the sheer audacity of the child.

As I approached, shrouded in malevolence, I soon discovered that the boy possessed a sharp tongue and a fearless spirit. His vocabulary was far from the innocence I had expected, and our exchange of words revealed a precocious wit that caught me off guard.

His defiance irked me, setting my anger ablaze. I was accustomed to bending others to my will, but this child, with his unyielding nature, defied my expectations. When diplomatic manipulation failed, I resorted to a more direct approach.

Restraining his small hands and legs with duct tape, I seized him and deposited him unceremoniously in the back of my car. A sinister smile played upon my lips as I envisioned the potency of the ritual I would enact with the child as my unfortunate focal point.

The journey to my home was fraught with the boy's relentless taunts and insolence. His use of vile words and vulgarities, far beyond his years, only served to stoke the flames of my fury. My initial regret was soon replaced with a chilling determination to silence him once and for all.

Upon arrival at my gloomy abode, I wasted no time. The child's relentless commentary and disdainful comments pushed me over the edge. The facade of civility crumbled, and I resorted to physical violence, striking him with a heavy hand.

The chilling silence of my home, enshrouded in the foul scent of my nefarious rituals, bore witness to the grotesque tableau that unfolded. As I began to disrobe in preparation for the ritual, the boy's insolent remarks only served to further stoke the coals of my wrath.

Angrily, I struck him on the head, a last-ditch effort to curb his defiance. The room echoed with the impact, a harbinger of the impending darkness. In my twisted mind, I believed that this child's life would be sacrificed for the fulfillment of my desires, bringing me one step closer to my ultimate goal – servitude to the demon Trigon.

But then, in a sudden and inexplicable turn of fate, the world around me unraveled. A touch, light as a feather, sent shockwaves through my very being. I was seized by a profound disorientation as my senses began to abandon me one by one. I could no longer hear, smell, or touch the world around me.

In an instant, my perception became a void, a chasm of sensory deprivation. I could only see, and what I saw plunged me into the depths of despair. My body, my very essence, was no longer whole. It had been brutally and methodically dissected into four distinct components, as if it were naught but a sheet of paper ready to be torn asunder.

I was stripped of my consciousness, a mere observer of my own horrifying transformation. My limbs, my organs, my very soul, all had been dissected, each part separated and exposed. The experience was a living nightmare, a ghastly realization that I had become the embodiment of my own dark rituals.

My shock was palpable as my body was forcibly deconstructed before my eyes. Even though all this happend I don't feel any pain

My wide eyes followed him, a desperate plea for words that I could no longer utter. In that pivotal moment, I have lost my voice, my control, and my dominion over the dark forces I had so recklessly summoned. I was reduced to a mere observer, a witness to my own undoing.

- **Vitalis**: The embodiment of her vital organs and life-sustaining systems.

- **Ossium**: The repository of her skeletal structure and the framework that held her form.

- **Muscula**: The powerhouse that housed her strength and physical prowess.

- **Dermis**: The veneer of her physical features and the protective shell of her body.

These four entities hovered in the air, each with its own eerie, spectral glow. My shock and disbelief were mirrored in her wide, unblinking eyes. I was no longer in control, and my fate had taken a nightmarish turn.

And there, lying before my fractured and dismembered self, was the child I had sought to defile and destroy. He had become the architect of my downfall, the instrument of my doom. I, Marissa, the sinister occultist, now stood on the precipice of my own demise, my life's work unraveled before me.

***

Victor POV:

I stared at Marissa then At the magical circle. At the blood which flowed and ran freely from the magical circle her being was split into four matter; I was barely keeping her alive so there was a very chance she died then came back to life because of my power.

So technically I killed a woman.

There was no revulsion.

There was no guilt.

There was no sense of strange anguish.

I had killed someone, and yet, all I could feel about the entire experience was…

Dissatisfaction.

It was easy. Too easy. So ridiculously easy. It felt like it was truly a random encounter, as though I was the Dragonborn in Skyrim who was being attacked by a bunch of vampires and bandits who did not realize that they were mere cannon fodder.

The woman, Marissa, had probably not even seen the killing blow coming. And before she or even I knew she was alive again. She would probably find herself in the afterlife just for a moment before opening her eyes again, with a mix of confusion and uncertainty as to how she got there. Here I was, standing victorious, killing her, bringing her back to life, and now she was my perfect lab rat and now I have the option to turn her into particles of light, or use her body any way I wish.

I laughed.

I found myself laughing without even realizing I was doing it.

I laughed at the ludicrous nature of it all. At the strange, near anticlimactic victory. At the odd, now absolutely insane fact, that less than a few hours ago, I could not even shoplift, and now, I had committed murder and now treating a living breathing human being as if she doesn't matter now there was no point in her life.

I laughed, and with my laughter, came a realization.

This world… the fanciful world of superheroes and supervillains –

It was a nightmare. A nightmare designed to make everyone crazy. A nightmare that had demons and space beings and aliens and gods

–

And this nightmare was now my reality.

I laughed.

Isn't it funny?

XXXXXXXX

Gabriel Norris was not a man who was often easily intimidated. At the same time, the Landlord was not someone who usually expected people to meet and surpass his expectations.

Both of those things happened, at the sight of the boy in front of his door. The boy, who was so young, yet, whose eyes possessed a dangerous, blood-curling mirth.

As though the universe and all within it, was but a mere joke.

"It's not Friday yet."

Thick wads of notes slammed into his hands.

"No. It's not."

He counted, silently.

"This is five times more than what I asked for."

"I know."

Gabe frowned. "Paying the rent up front are you?"

The boy said nothing, instead, he just kept staring at him with those weird, mirthful eyes.

"I thought –" Gabe hesitated, "I thought you were going to help me. Reunite me with my daughter."

The boy smiled.

"So did I."

He turned around, laughing.

The sound of the laughter would come to haunt Gabe for many, many nights.

****

"Victor honey… um…"

The sound of my name drew my attention, leading me to turn my gaze towards my mother. She stood, awkwardly, in her brassiere and a pair of boxer shorts, her blonde hair tied into a ponytail.

"You've been… cleaning rather… extensively."

I stared at the house, the small apartment to which I would call my residence of living from now to the nearest future. It was spotless. Tables were reflective, showing my own visage in their polished sheen. The floors shined as though someone had lathered olive oil on diamonds. The chairs produced a sheen that would easily be mistaken for the vibrant fur of a majestic animal in the wilderness. The kitchen area shone brightest, with the counter capable of imitating the squeaking noises of a mouse should one's finger be dragged atop the surface.

"Is something wrong with that?"

I needed to channel my anger and master my power and newfound determination somewhere beside my new pet. As it was, my body wasn't sexually mature, and hence, finding a sexual outlet was a moot point. There was no real form of physical training I could undergo for now, and considering my future plans for just modification in my body, the physical training would be entirely redundant. Similarly, there was no napalm or Molotov Cocktails available for me to go out and blow shit up.

So, I worked with what I had. A wild, untamed frenzy of cleaning, with the goal of making every single square inch of the corporate hamster-box cubicle that was my home absolutely spotless.

With a determined frenzy that mirrored the wild spirit of a hurricane, I embarked on a mission. The objective was clear: to turn every single square inch of my sterile workspace into an oasis of cleanliness, an island of order amidst the chaos of corporate life.

But here's the thing – when you possess the power to manipulate matter at the subatomic level, mundane tasks like cleaning take on a whole new dimension. With a mere touch, I could disintegrate any blemish, obliterate a speck of dust, and transmute a grubby surface into a gleaming expanse.

The process was akin to wielding a magic wand, only in this case, the enchantment was science. Dust, that insidious infiltrator, was rendered powerless in the face of my subatomic prowess. It ceased to be a nuisance, morphing instead into valuable raw material that could be fused with the very surfaces it once tarnished.

My hands danced through the cubicle, their touch a symphony of transformation. And as the minutes ticked away, the cubicle began to shed its skin of banality. Mundane materials transcended into something more profound, enhanced by the my mind of my power.

The desk, once a drab surface littered with papers and coffee stains, became an elegant expanse of polished perfection. The computer screen, which had borne the scars of countless deadlines, now radiated clarity and vibrancy. Even the air itself seemed to shimmer with a newfound purity.

In the span of hours, my corporate cage had been transformed into a sanctuary of order and cleanliness. The relentless gleam of the fluorescent lights above seemed less harsh, and the once-dull walls appeared to reflect a brighter future. My cubicle was no longer a symbol of monotony; it had become a testament to the potential of power, harnessed in the pursuit of perfection.

"Well no, not really." She said, tentatively, before raising an eyebrow. "It's just – you went missing all day yesterday and now today you come back and start cleaning the entire apartment?"

I raised an eyebrow. I sincerely hoped she was not implying what I thought she was implying.

"I'm a year old."

"Ah – but one cannot ever be too young to start inviting girls."

Of course it was what she was implying. I rubbed my nose. Other than food, alcohol and money, the only other thing that seemed to be on my mother's mind was sex. Constantly. Repetitively. I could not count the number of times that I had heard her wake up in the middle of the night, when she thought I was fast asleep, and then make her way to the bathroom. The buzzing sound of her favorite tool and the gasps and moans would have given her away easily if her sloppy excuse for stealth hadn't. The woman would and could literally spend hours in there.

The only benefit however, was the fact that she had wizened up to the knowledge that I would not tolerate her 'entertaining' guests over here. I would make it incredibly awkward for all the parties involved by walking into the room with an empty popcorn bag, sitting down, and gesturing for them to continue.

After the first three times, she got the message.

"I'm cleaning the house to gain greater control on my powers and to start mastering on a very basic level. It's actually a very underrated way that nobody tries to try in all the grandiose things they could imagine. So I start from the basics. And now I have a pretty good grasp on my power after Tons of man hours tossed into it."

She rolled her eyes at me. "I just wish your powers included 'respect mother' skill would have been great.

"It's locked unfortunately. The requirement states that I'd need a mother actually worthy of respect to unlock it."

Eva made an exaggerated clutch at her chest, and I merely shook my head and ignored her dramatics. Of course, I had bluntly told her to her face that my life was great as I am reborn with all these powers. How I can turn led into gold carbon into diamond And, just exactly with the same scenario about my reincarnation, she only gave me a blank stare and a large chortle, rubbing my head and calling me adorable.

Technically, I had never lied to my mother. Even when it was for her own good, I would generally use half-truths and misdirection than telling an explicit lie. It was not my fault if she did not choose to believe the truths I told her, however exotic and far-fetched it sounded.

"You know, I am kind of worried about how morbid your imagination is getting," she moved over to the couch, plopping unto it. "I mean, getting kidnapped by a pedophile cultist who wanted to mount you and drain your soul to fuel her magical powers in worship of an interdimensional demon? That's a little out there for you Victor."

I shrugged.

"You forgot the part where I killed her by splitting her body into four components, then bringing her back to life. Currently, she is locked in her chair directly measured into a chair. And did I tell you that the chair is made of gold, seamlessly melded with an iron wall, which, in turn, is compositively locked with the very ground? Oh, and she doesn't have a mouth, you see. I've created these special walls made of craven fiber and wool all around the building, which absorb any sound, so even her screams during my experiments vanish into the void."

"Ok, ok," she sighs, "Jesus, I get it. You've already filled me in on all this and more. Please, stop."

Eva rolled her eyes. "You and your insatiable appetite for intricate details. I swear, where on earth did you even pick up all those fancy scientific jumbo mumbo?"

"Exactly like that. It's like I am playing an M-Rated game."

She sighed again. "Somehow, I feel, your obsession with adult content is slightly my fault."

I gave her a long, piercing stare.

"Okay, maybe more than just slightly."

The stare continued.

"Fine, fine, it's entirely my fault! Jeez! Stop with the staring already." She tossed a pillow in my direction, which I effortlessly dodged anime-style with a slight tilt of my head.

"You know, this was so not what I was expecting when I became a mother. I was expecting diapers and nappy changes and crying – not someone who makes me feel like a child in comparison especially with all this terminology"

I rolled my eyes. "I could always take a crap in my pants and suck off your nipples if it'd make you feel better."

"Er – no – actually, I'm good."

I blinked, before turning to her. "That's right – your breasts should technically still be capable of producing milk."

She gave me a weird look. "Yeeees? Why?"

Should I?

Shouldn't I?

Fuck it. I wanted to do it.

A large grin came on my face as I began making groping gestures with my hands.

"Milk time."

Eva gasped, covering her chest.

"You're not coming anywhere near my babies!"

"Woman," I said, deadpan, "I am your baby."

"NOOOOO!"

It was a match which I knew that I could not truly win, with her being larger, bigger and stronger of course I could always win, but it was merely the fun of it which I enjoyed. It was utterly strange how I gained satisfaction from groping her breasts – even though my body could not gain any sexual satisfaction, and my mind knew that as long as we were biologically related, anything sexual was out, but I enjoyed grabbing the soft bags of flesh anyway, and listening to her squeal.

It was… fun.

It also helped remind me of what truly mattered.

"Haha! The nipples are mine! VICTORY!"

****

"Victor honey, I'm off to work!"

My mother, clad in her work clothes, which most people would consider a 'lack of' work clothes, kissed me on the cheek as she sauntered in her high-heels and short skirt towards the door.

It was there, bubbling at the back of my mind, with a triumphant rage like that of a wild and territorial black bear facing a silverback gorilla. The realization, that my mother would be ogled and watched by a bunch of men with boners in their pants, all eagerly licking their lips in order to have sex with her.

The power that is from going insane helped me in forcing it down and putting on a manageable smile.

It was only a matter of time. A matter of time before I changed that.

"I'd been trying to get you a babysitter but…"

I rolled my eyes. "…but we can't afford one anyway and you feel I'm smart enough to stay home on my own."

"Or you'd probably drive the babysitter to question their existence in the grand scheme of the universe."

"That too."

She smiled.

"Stay safe!"

"Shouldn't I be the one telling you that?"

She pouted her lips at me. "Well I'm not the child in our little relationship."

"The ratio of laundry done and meals cooked would disagree with that."

She coughed slightly, her gaze turning away. "Er…"

"Just be back by eight. Anything later and you'll be skipping breakfast."

She gaped at me.

"Viiictorrryyy-booooo –"

"You'll be late." I said, waving "Now shush and be gone – I need to go pick up your discarded stockings and make the bedroom spotless again then head back to Marissa's home and begin my experiments."

There was some light-hearted grumbling about obsessively-compulsive and bossy children that didn't have any real heat to it, and the door eventually closed with a silent click. I had waited, to assure with all certainty that she was gone for the evening, before I took in a deep breath.

*****

*Unknown Amount Of Time Later*

I wasn't insane.

To imply insanity would be to mean that I was not in control of my mental faculties, and consequently, I was a bundle of indistinguishable instincts like some human personification of the Freudian Id. My Mind power did well to prevent that I would not truly go insane, not have my mind shatter from stress or horrific realizations, and would instead, function optimally.

There would be no 'Why so serious?' questions coming anytime soon I'm afraid.

Instead, I had merely been struck with an epiphany. A realization as to the somewhat humorous situation I found myself, to the life I found myself, and to the world I found myself. It was hilarious, the level of danger inherent in it, the level of chaos and insanity –

It was just all too damned funny.

And now, I was in on the joke.

I had been trying too hard to make sense of this universe. To look at myself from the outside of it, to try and consider myself a spectator in the grand scheme of things. Except, I wasn't. As far as I knew, I had no magical plot armor in the form of a billion dollar suit or fancy alien genes that could absorb sunlight. I was in essence, the ruler and maker of my own destiny and fate in this bizarre world were gods looked on demurely at the actions of humans, like an amused parent would watch a child splatter paint all over their clothes.

Well fuck that.

Fuck it all. Everything about this entire situation and arrangement. Everything about this world that expected me to play by the rules and become subsumed under the universe, becoming nothing but background noise in the musical pitch of existence.

No. I was going to live in this world damn it. I was going to live.

This was a world where both heaven and hell were real. I already knew that heaven was a pipedream, but when, if, the moment came when demons began to claw at my eternal soul and drag me to the lower depths, I would be prepared to go down laughing, I would be prepared, to give the middle finger to both the guys on top and the ones below, and I would be the one, ultimately, who would make them realize that it was a grave mistake to have allowed my existence on this god-forsaken universe.

I snapped out of my contemplation and noticed her eyelids slowly parting. As I halted the stopwatch in my left hand, a sly grin crept across my face. "Welcome back to the realm of the living, Marissa. This time, you've shaved a whole four seconds off your previous record."

******

Marissa POV

Opening my eyes, I felt a headache, a headache that surpassed anything I'd ever experienced. It was a tormenting pulse in my skull, more excruciating than the worst hangover. I struggled to piece together the fragments of my memory. Had I overindulged again? But the recollections were murky, like shattered glass reflecting distorted images.

As I attempted to make sense of my surroundings, a chilling realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. My gaze fell upon a child, a child who seemed to materialize out of the shadows. With his presence, memories surged back like a torrential flood, and a tidal wave of pain washed over me.

I attempted to move, to escape, but I was bound to a super heavy chair made out of gold not by ropes or chains but by my own skin. My body and the chair had become one entity, an indistinguishable fusion of agony and despair. I was trapped, helpless, a puppet in the hands of some malevolent puppeteer.

"Welcome back to the realm of the living, Marissa," the child said with a sinister grin. "This time, you've shaved a whole four seconds off your previous record."

I tried to scream, to protest, but my voice had been silenced, I felt I didn't even moved my lips. Panic surged within me, an overwhelming sense of dread that surpassed any pain I had endured.

The child's hand touched my forehead, and a sinister energy coursed through my body. Suddenly, my flesh began to rip itself apart, tearing into nothingness, molecule by agonizing molecule. My bones were wrenched from their moorings, and my organs convulsed as if they sought escape from their tortured vessel. It was as though my own body had turned against me, as though my very being begged for release.

My lungs filled with blood, and I gasped for breath, the coppery taste of despair choking me. Each gasp was a struggle, and each moment was an eternity of torment. Just when I felt on the verge of oblivion, the blood disappeared for a fleeting moment, allowing me to inhale before it returned, drowning me in a viscous crimson tide.

But just before I pass out the blood briefly disappears giving me just enough time to get my breath back before it reappears and I start to choke again as my body slowly destroys itself with seemingly no cause I suffer the most excruciating pain a pain so terrible I don't beg for it to stop I beg to stop existing.

The pain was beyond human comprehension, a torment so unbearable that I didn't beg for it to end; I begged for an end to my existence

After an unperceivable amount of time and terror my wish finally comes true I succumb to the darkness I was finally free until.

Yet, the darkness that loomed on the precipice of consciousness eluded me.

When I awoke, the room remained the same, the chair an instrument of torment, and the child an embodiment of malevolence. There was no escape, not even death could set me free. I was trapped in a never-ending nightmare.

As the child began to take notes and touched my forehead once more, I knew what was to come. The stopwatch started, and I was condemned to relive the brutal, as I go through the same brutal excruciating process again and again and again there is no escaping with no respite, no release even with all my power and that's everything I was. excruciating process over and over. This was my existence, a never-ending cycle of agony, a purgatory from which there was no escape.