‘The Long-Range Knight’ by Linwood Storm [Multiverse Myths]
Disclaimer: The tale that you are about to read has been illegally extracted from the Orion Five’s incomplete galactic archives and therefore any information provided in it should be deemed non-canonical concerning historic databases that document alternate timelines for educational purposes due to the possibility of third-party alterations.
Trigger Warning: Contains Graphic Violence, Rape, and Homophobia
Subjective perceptions of immortality have forever been the lifeline of species that require internal motivation to continue evolving their worlds since Gods developed for them a relatively natural sense of intelligence, rather than functioning artificially like machines for the purpose of streamlining. This gave deities a fair-market of worshippers to share and they would often trade what we consider to be supernatural resources, or universal hacks, with one another. One of these “hacks” were masks that allowed Gods to assume direct control of their wearers using rare and expensive interdimensional symbiotic parasites that were extracted through wormholes as stitching. In order to avoid a species managing to reverse-engineer them, these harvested creatures would be programmed with integrated technology to self-destruct by a remote trigger.
Eventually, these masks would be banned from being sold as suspicions grew that a couple of problematic celestial beings were using them to become disruptive avatars for the competition that they were envious of. While production ceased, there were still some on planets that creators “lost track of”. As millenniums passed, many wound up in museums, lost at sea, or tragically destroyed due to “unforeseen circumstances”, and with Mundïus governing the twenty-first-century circuit of religions, most deities had no reason to impede a unification proving itself to be highly beneficial. Any that had serious objections also held virtually zero necessary power to make impactful changes.
Until Ogbunabali, the retired Igbo personification of Death, had sensed a connection between his forgotten crimson-patterned white Gazelle tribal mask and a male human host. Curiosity had gotten the best of him and Ogbunabali entered a meditative state to access the astral plane that bridged to the mind of the young man. He then saw through the eyes of a Black Filipino-American named Nasir West. It was midnight, and Nasir was moving through busy crowds of fans who were celebrating their Football team’s win. His fingers interlocked with his Haitian husband’s, Tony Philippe, as he was blissfully led by him forward. Unfortunately, their merriment would be halted by a small squad of five intoxicated off-duty police officers lurking in the alleyway shadows.
Not too long after a period of stalking the couple on-foot, an unmarked van blocked Nasir and Tony’s path to the hotel that they had rented a room from. Nasir stepped back and lifted up the mask he wore to get a better understanding of the concerning situation. The road vehicle’s left door slid open and two of the squad’s police officers in three-hole face ski masks pulled both lovers inside with chloroform wipes over their mouth before shutting the door, then driving off without alerting security, employees, or guests around the establishment. One of the law enforcement officers laughed as he aggressively spouted slurs and mocked the mask Nasir was wearing before placing it on his own face. A distressed Ogbunabali now saw Nasir and Tony’s wrists being tied behind their backs with zip cuff restraints by other accomplices. The diety struggled with his impulse to take matters into his hands but feared accidentally harming the kidnappees.
Some time went by and the van was parked inside of an abandoned warehouse where Nasir and Tony were stripped down to their birthday suits prior to being completely sprayed awaken with ice-cold water from a hose, then placed on top of a French Tricolour flag. The squad then proceeded to unzip their pants as punk rock music blasted from a nearby Bluetooth boombox speaker, and take turns violently raping them for a couple of hours using black axle grease as lubrication. The Gazelle tribal mask that had been taken from Nasir was put back on him by one of his attackers who disgustingly lashed out during the act. Once the corrupted lawmen finished, Nasir and Tony laid curled-up in excruciating agony from the torment that had been inflicted upon them.
“Is this faggot actually hard?” yelled one of the officers as he picked up a pair of pruning shears and walked over to him. Half-conscious, Nasir, laying on his side, defeatedly watched as the officer castrated Tony with the pruning shears and force his severed penis into his mouth. Another officer then pulled out his Glock 19 sidearm and shot Tony’s through the head. Ogbunabali was sickened by the evil that he had witnessed and failed to prevent. “Why weren’t the Gods doing anything about this discriminatory chaos?” he frustratingly questioned himself. Nasir’s spirit begun to fade as his body started to succumb to injuries and Ogbunabali could feel the connection between the two dissolved. It was only a matter of seconds before Nasir died and Ogbunabali used this opportunity to personally guide his soul into the great beyond. This would give him a trail that he could trace back to his physical form and secretly repair it with the knowledge that he had learned from a friend, Sonzwaphi, the Zulu Goddess of healing.
Once Nasir’s body was functional per operating standards, albeit illegally, Ogbunabali took possession of it through the mask it still wore when daytime had come and the squad of police officers was long gone. The puppeteer of vengeance was born and sought-out the peace-keepers responsible for the crimes that they had committed. Luckily for the diety, Nasir served as a special operations sniper for the U.S. military prior to retiring, and using memories in the host’s brain, surprisingly discovered a garden shed in his hometown, where the conservative newlyweds stored a staggering arsenal of weapons. Ogbunabali adored the Barrett M82A1 50 BMG and decided that the sniper rifle would be his instrument. Nasir West had ironically nicknamed it “Little Esther” after the African-American singer who influenced the cartoon character ‘Betty Boop’, because he liked the sound that firing it made.
Ogbunabali spent weeks locating the responsible parties, studying their schedules, habitual patterns, and planning each assassination down to the last detail. The first hit was very simple and unmistakably. Ogbunabali lined up a shot on the tallest rooftop multiple buildings away as Officer Blake kissed his pregnant bride. The large-caliber bullet ripped through Officer Blake’s skull and blood splattered onto the belly of his wife as he collapsed dead on the park’s ground. Punishing him again by killing his unborn child was a fleeting thought, but Ogbunabali decided against doing so and made his escape while shocked wedding guests either ran away or took cover. The city would be placed on lockdown until a “suicidal” activist for police brutality claimed that he did it. According to an official statement released by a Chief of Police, this activist hung himself in a jail cell a few days after his arrest.
The next target’s demise was quite humorous! On Ogbunabali’s way to another at dusk, he coincidentally found himself driving behind an officer on his list and at a traffic light, noticed that the man became distracted by a phone call. Ogbunabali annoyingly honked his horn and the preoccupied Officer Brett irritatingly floored his sedan into the middle of the four-way intersection. A semi-truck soon struck the officer’s vehicle from the left and it briefly flipped in the air before crushing him as it slammed upside-down on the road. Ogbunabali smiled and whistled the tune of his people as he felt blessed by his brothers watching over him throughout his journey while reached into the glove compartment to grab a suppressed FN Five-seveN pistol.
Earth’s full moon appeared to glow as Ogbunabali was preying on his third mark at a convenience store when suddenly two robbers, each armed with 9mm Uzis entered and commanded everyone to get on the ground. Rainer, the police officer that he was following. drew his sidearm and the three of them were in a standoff while panicking shoppers, including Ogbunabali, laid on the floor. Ogbunabali impatiently anticipated for the hectic moment to reach a resolution, however, grew bored. So, Ogbunabali crept in the back toward the alcohol section, slowly opened up the glass door, grabbed a wine bottle, and chucked it to the front. The wine bottle shattered as it slammed against a wall, spooking all three in the standoff into shooting at one another.
Officer Rainer and one of the robbers were killed, among several shoppers due to stray bullets or ricochets. The other crook managed to flee and survived being captured up to the point of passing away from infections related to several gunshot wounds.
On the following Saturday morning, Ogbunabali didn’t waste time putting Officer Mooney out of his misery in an empty church as the unsuspecting man murmured with both hands clasped in prayer. Officer Mooney happened to have an intellectual disability and was on the force because he is the brother of a well-respected detective. This did not matter to Ogbunabali, who stealthily sat behind Officer Mooney, pointed the barrel of his pistol at the mentally handicapped lawman’s occipital region, and fired twice. Ogbunabali waited for a little bit, then reached around, and snatched Officer Mooney’s bloodstained cross from his neck. This cross would be delivered to Officer Loehmann in a White mini envelope with a bloody thumbprint then opened up by his twelve-year-old son before the boy’s mother would find out and terrifyingly shriek.
Officer Mooney had the police forensic division compare the thumbprint with those that had been taken in their computer database, and while at a museum, his eyes horrifically widened when an email was sent to him through a text message showing the identity of Nasir West was undisputedly a one-hundred percent match. While tuning out the shattering of glass in the empty art exhibit and momentarily stunned by the realization that Mooney was being hunted by who he thought was a dead man, Ogbunabali used the hook of a Ngombe Ngulu, otherwise known as a Congolese executioner’s sword, to rip his throat out from behind, spinning the officer around by the neck as blood sprayed from the massive circular gash, presenting a face-to-face chance to reveal the mask that the lawman formerly ridiculed.
Ogbunabali then placed his right hand on Officer Mooney’s shoulder, plunged the Ngombe Ngulu’s hook into the shaft of his flaccid cock like it was a fish, and ferociously tore it off, leaving a hole through a disgustingly soaked pair of light-brown khakis. Ogbunabali removed his mask and spoke the African proverb, “Nobody wages war with ghosts.”, activating the symbiotic parasites’ self-destruct mechanism.
Nasir West’s soulless body dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Repercussions were promptly faced following a short universal trial and only one personification of Death is permitted to walk the “land of the living” now under extreme restrictions. As we choose not to disrupt the nature of animals for research and profitable entertainment, Gods overlook the psychotic tendencies of mankind on the same grounds.
Revenge is personal…and also bad for business.