ACT I - PART III

PARADISE: RECREATED

And just then, everything went black once again.

 

There was no voice that would serve as consolation, not even the cold, berating tone from the last time, only silence, deep silence.

 

Maybe this was it. It was all over and nothing else could be done now. The Painter failed its mission, and the world was engulfed in THE ANGEL’s idea of paradise.

 

Minutes passed, hours passed, nothing but pitch-black darkness and… The sound of something rustling with the wind? That’s strange, there should be no sound in the void… Let alone a feeling of “laying” on something…

 

Unless…

 

The Painter opened its eyes to a beautiful sky, with white clouds scattered like strokes on a canvas. For the first time in its existence, The Painter felt something… An itch, a petal fell on its beak. It did not know what it had to do in this sort of case, however, in an instant, its feathered hand did the job by itself.

 

The painter got up from where it was lying on the ground and looked at the horizon. Miles and miles of colorful flowers surrounded the feathered thing; a mountain could be seen in the distance, with dark clouds obscuring its top. And at its base, an indistinguishable figure. A faint sound was trying to invade the avian’s ear canals.

 

Almost by instinct, The Painter stood up and walked towards the mountain. The sounds of the flowers rustling indicated that, whatever this place was, it was as real as it could be. As the avian was getting closer, the figure at the foot of the mountain became clearer: it was dark, seemingly humanoid, and sitting on a kind of blanket.

The Painter drew even closer, thus making the figure even clearer. Now it looked like a humanoid being, it was sitting on a blanket of red, pink, and white colors, with a basket next to the dark figure.

 

It was just a matter of time until The Painter finally got to the base of the mountain. The shadowy figure was still sitting on the blanket. It had wavy hair, a strange, unidentifiable protrusion on its “face” and it seemed to wear a distinctive robe, it was like it was meant to resemble… The Painter itself.

 

The shadowy figure gently opened the basket and grabbed a sandwich, then it patted the blanket. The Painter, almost like following a protocol, sat on the blanket and grabbed a sandwich from the basket. It did not know what to do with it, for it didn’t exactly know what it was. But once again, a certain instinct inclined the feathered being to take a “bite” of the sandwich.

 

None of the two entities involved spoke at all during this “interaction” they were having. And after what seemed like endless minutes, the figure said:

 

“This is my paradise. It’s a beautiful place, is it not?”

 

The figure’s voice was strangely familiar, it was delicate, slightly high-pitched and somewhat “comforting”. Regardless of if The Painter knew or not what “comfort” was, there was a certain “aura” that could not be ignored. Whatever that figure was, The Painter knew it would not be an obstacle for its mission.

 

“I mean, there’s nature everywhere! Flowers, trees, even a big mountain. But you know what would be better? Horses. Horses of many colors and many sizes. Each one with a name, with a task and with a gift assigned from birth! Wouldn’t you like it?”

 

The Painter’s look was as blank as it had always been, it did not know what the figure in front of it was talking about, but it did not comment, not that it could.

 

“Oh, don’t give me that long face!” The figure said. “I’m sure that you would like such a place if you, well, were able to feel anything…”

 

The Painter didn’t respond, but it seemed to be listening attentively while it was unfolding another sandwich from the basket.

 

“Welp, enough talk for now. You have something to do. Climb the mountain and you’ll find the exit.” The figure then pointed its “hand” to the top of the mountain. “The white one is waiting for you...”

 

“I, on the other hand…” The figure jumped towards one of the cliffs in the mountain, it was a considerable distance, but still, it was visible. “...I hope we can get to know each other better someday… Bye~!” The figure’s voice echoed as it consequently jumped into the foggy heights of the mountain.

 

The Painter stood up from the blanket, and began to wander around almost aimlessly, it was trying to find a less “complicated” route towards the top. Despite its lack of emotion, the height of the mountain looked “intimidating” enough.

 

Unfortunately, there was no such thing as an “easy way in.”

 

Then, something came to its nearly hollow mind, like cables making contact to turn on a lightbulb. The Painter flexed its legs and impulsed itself upwards… Only to fall face down on the flowery ground, leaving a slight pothole in the ground.

 

Endless attempts were made which were met with endless failure and many potholes. There was something The Painter was doing wrong, but its lack of proper thinking made it unable to know what it was.

 

So, it kept jumping…

 

And jumping…

 

And jumping once more…

 

Until in one of those attempts, The Painter jumped high enough to reach the first cliff.

 

The journey was slightly easier afterwards.

 

As The Painter jumped and climbed its way through the mountain, the fog became denser, the colors faded into grayscale and a strange sound could be heard… Static… Then, The Painter reached the top of the mountain. A flat, gray barren area with wilted flowers as only decoration. In the center, there was a small, shining crack, floating in the air. As The Painter got closer, the static noise increased in volume, to the point of being unbearable to the common living being.

 

But The Painter, as impassive as it has always been since it was created, cut the enigmatic crack with its brush. The crack began to open wide, wider yet wider. Of course, this little “heaven” it was trapped in was nothing more than a mere illusion, and an imperfect one at that.

 

The static became even louder than it was before, a strange “corruption” began eating the little fantasy realm, revealing the horrors behind the veil. A bizarre, indescribable landscape, with static replacing what were once blue skies. Behind the static, a bunch of horrible imagery was struggling to resurface, images that would drive mad anyone who stared for too long.

 

Surrounding the platform that used to be The Painter’s “heaven”, there were gigantic orbs, floating within the horrid space. They shone with white outlines, and their inner parts depicted what could be interpreted as other people’s “paradises”. In the distance, one “paradise” stood out from the others: a ginger girl, enjoying infinite luxury, with many people surrounding her, most of them flattering her.

 

Another “paradise” that could be seen, depicted a woman reclining in a beach chair, watching the sunset on the horizon of a beach. A short, elderly man was resting on her lap like a feline.

 

The Painter kept analyzing the uncanny landscape in search of THE ANGEL, until it noticed another mountain, sharper than the one in the former dream world. Near its center, there was a cavern, unexplainably illuminated and, as far as it could be seen, it looked “fancier” in comparison.

 

As if by fate, a pile of loose debris was scattered in such a way that it would conveniently allow The Painter to jump to that strange location.

 

As it was jumping through the debris, a distant melody reverbed through the static-filled dimension. It sounded like someone was trying to emulate happiness while never having known what that was in the first place. A piece of music no human was able to imagine, yet one could feel it has been heard before.

 

Eventually, The Painter reached the fancy-like cavern with relative ease, the melody was clearer now, it sounded like a piano. The cavern, if it can be called that, had salmon-colored tiles as floor, contrasting the rough dark walls filled with crude depictions of mouths with sharp teeth.

 

In the center of the room, a figure sat in front of a pristine white piano, it was THE ANGEL herself. Her crude appearance remained unchanged from the last time they met.

 

The Painter walked calmly, preparing to do a sneak attack, its steps weren’t making any sort of noise. THE ANGEL kept playing the piano, as if she could not notice the avian’s presence.

 

It wasn’t until The Painter was inches away from its objective that THE ANGEL slammed the keys with her big, delicately grotesque fingers. The sudden, out of tune noise made The Painter stay still, its new set of instincts were acting once again.

 

“HOW CURIOUS… YOU’VE MANAGED TO ESCAPE…”

 

THE ANGEL turned her head to The Painter, cracking and snapping noises reverbed sickeningly through the entire extension of the cavern, then, she continued:

 

“WHAT’S THE MATTER?”

 

“IS THE INSTANT FULFILLMENT OF DREAMS NOT ENOUGH?”

 

“YOUR MIND IS EMPTY…”

 

“AND YOU HAVE NO SOUL.”

 

“A HEAVEN LIKE YOURS WAS ANYONE’S…”

 

“WHY WOULD YOU…”

 

“OH… I SEE…”

 

“YOU WANT THE THING THAT ALLOWED ME TO BE BORN.”

 

“THIS “DIMENSIONAL PRISM” THAT RESIDES IN MY CHEST.”

 

“THE THING THAT KEEPS THIS UNIVERSE ALIVE, MY SOUL.”

 

“I CAN SEE IT IN YOUR HOLLOW GLARE.”

 

“BUT WHY? WHY WOULD YOU NEED IT?”

 

“JUST AFTER I MANAGED TO FULFILL MY DESTINY.”

 

“WHY RUIN THE FUN JUST NOW? TELL ME!”

 

The Painter said nothing, THE ANGEL was getting desperate.

 

“SPEAK, OR YOU SHALL SUFFER ETERNALLY.”

 

The Painter, still, said nothing.

 

THE ANGEL sent The Painter flying with a single kick, the latter going limp while it bounced like a pebble in a lake. In an instant, THE ANGEL teleported just beside the harmed avian, screeching like a mad harpy:

 

“I! SAID! SPEAK!”

 

The Painter’s throat began to burn as vocal cords began to grow within. A weak groan was all it would let out as THE ANGEL kept her little kicking game, growing more impatient. It got to a point where The Painter landed near the edge of the entrance of the cavern, where if it didn’t fall into the madness-inducing, endless pit of horrors, it would fall then to a cluster of unnatural rock spikes.

 

THE ANGEL, severely upset and not nearly as tired as anyone in The Painter’s situation would have wished, lifted the wounded green artist with one of her claws, bringing it up to eye-level.

 

“NOW, SPEAK, PEST.” THE ANGEL demanded.

 

The Painter muttered… Something.

 

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

 

The Painter kept muttering, raising the volume each time. THE ANGEL’s patience was running thin.

 

“SPEAK UP BEFORE I-”

 

“Playtime’s over…” The Painter spoke, in a hoarse, yet monotone voice.

 

“WHAT…?” THE ANGEL asked in confusion.

 

Suddenly, a blast emerged from The Painter’s brush, knocking THE ANGEL back to the wall of the salmon-colored cavern. A succession of bullet-like blasts followed soon after, striking THE ANGEL ceaselessly. THE ANGEL, with visible wounds that were simultaneously regenerating, screamed her lungs out in desperation, letting out a sonic boom that shook the ground violently, making The Painter fall to its knees.

 

Frustrated, THE ANGEL threw herself towards The Painter, grabbing it by the robes.

 

“WHY WON’T WE TAKE A LITTLE RIDE?”

 

“MAYBE THAT WILL CHANGE YOUR MIND.”

 

Immediately after, THE ANGEL violently flew out of the cavern at a frightening speed, her hands still holding The Painter’s body with a fierce grip. The latter, instinctively, tried to fight back, punching THE ANGEL where it could. It managed to derail THE ANGEL’s flight, crashing subsequently into one of the gigantic orbs.

 

The fall seemed eternal, but in the end, The Painter fell limp into a wooden floor, and THE ANGEL was nowhere to be seen. The place where it landed seemed to be a dark room, barely illuminated by the faint glow of the moon from a nearby window and the glow that came from whatever was on the other side of a wooden door.

 

Suddenly, somebody slammed the door open.

 

“Who the hell is-”, a freckled girl raised her voice wearing a golden, gala-like dress with no shoulders and a frilly, light pink fur coat. It was The Warrior. Behind her, a ball was taking place, several guests dressed for the occasion, dancing a waltz and celebrating life.

 

The Warrior looked down and saw the wounded, groaning green bird.

 

“Ew… A mutant hobo…” The Warrior grimaced at such a sight, almost sickened by the fact that something like this managed to enter her property, let alone be allowed to exist.

 

But the more she thought about “that thing”, the sicker she felt, not only because of its appearance, which she found gross; but also, because it looked familiar to her.

 

She remembered every birthday, every victory, every relationship, and yet she felt she saw this bird-thing before, despite having never met it. The Painter, meanwhile, was lifting itself up.

 

“Ill… Ill… Illusion…” The Painter was stuttering weakly, trying to spit out a word as it was slowly approaching its hand to the girl’s head.

 

“G-Get away from me!” The Warrior screeched, hoping someone would listen while she threw fists and kicks to scare away the bird-like being. Unfortunately, everyone kept dancing.

 

“T-t-trapped…” The Painter muttered again. Its voice did nothing to calm The Warrior in her distress. This got to the point where she didn’t see where she was going and ended up accidentally stumbling backwards, falling on her back.

 

The Painter, now inches from The Warrior, touched her face with its feathered hand.

 

“Wake up…” The Painter groaned.

 

Suddenly, something clicked within her mind.

 

“Is… Is it all a dream?” she whispered to herself. Then, suddenly, she exploded, and the dress fell to the wooden floor along with multicolored confetti.

 

As she disappeared from the illusion, a crack appeared where she once was, then, other cracks appeared, the world began to rumble. The guests kept dancing despite their faces becoming blurry and their bodies melting like wax. More cracks appeared as The Painter was preparing an attack, aiming at the first crack.

 

But before it had the chance, The Painter was fiercely knocked out of the orb by none other than THE ANGEL, who was notoriously furious.

 

“IF WE’RE GOING TO PLAY DIRTY, THEN WE’LL PLAY DIRTY.”

 

THE ANGEL rapidly grabbed The Painter and flew violently throughout as many orbs as they could crash on, hoping the colossal impacts would kill the nuisance that was the green bird.

 

The beach where The Mayor was resting upon had its water drained through the cracks that generated when she witnessed the two beings flying past.

The Primate’s dream dictatorship began to melt as he saw THE ANGEL zooming by. The Green Thing's good time with his friends in a hedonistic city began to turn off once he gazed at the stream of light from THE ANGEL's flight.

 

Orb after orb, world after world, those who managed to see the two entities flying through began questioning their current reality, then popping like balloons when realizing the truth. Afterwards, the orbs shattered like glass.

 

Knowing her efforts weren’t being fruitful, THE ANGEL decided to go straight down the madness-inducing void, a never-ending fall that she hoped would make The Painter turn into mush because of the speed.

 

And while their fall went for a while, seemingly looping from top to bottom and no apparent ending in sight, they eventually tore through the actual bottom of her chaotic dimension, arriving once again in the city, which remained unchanged since the last time.

 

But THE ANGEL’s little tantrum did not end there, she crashed through every solid object she could find at a frightening speed, be it buildings, monuments or even The Primate’s lair. She was not willing to stop until The Painter was dead.

 

But alas, even a powerful being like her had her limits. So, she eventually gave up. THE ANGEL, tired, violently tossed The Painter to the park, which created a crater due to the impact. Immediately after, THE ANGEL lunged towards the avian and began punching it fiercely.

 

“WHY. WON’T. YOU. DIE!?”

 

“DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!”

 

She was too focused on her unholy tantrum to notice someone sneaking up behind her, too focused to hear the dry grass cracking with footsteps, too focused to at least turn her head around and spit acid on her potential attacker.

 

But she failed.

 

Suddenly, a metallic fist tore through THE ANGEL’s chest. A black, blood-like substance stained both the fist and the demonic being’s clothes, and dripped on The Painter, which despite having received brutal damage, was still alive.

 

THE ANGEL, very upset, turned her head once again, and spoke as The Warrior pulled out her metallic fist.

 

“HOW DARE YOU?”

 

“I HAVE GIVEN YOU WHAT YOU WANTED MOST…”

 

“A BETTER FATHER, A BETTER WORLD TO LIVE IN...”

 

“I’VE EVEN GIVEN YOU THE BEST HIGH SCHOOL DRAMA I COULD THINK OF!”

 

To which The Warrior responded: “You didn’t have any idea what I actually wanted.”

 

THE ANGEL’s wounds began to heal; a nervous laughter could be heard from her gaping maw.

 

“SO WRONG YOU ARE, P. I CAN REMEMBER EVERYTHING...”

 

The Painter’s wounds also began to heal.

 

“I REMEMBER YOU RANTING ABOUT BEING LONELY”

“I REMEMBER YOU WHINING ABOUT HOW SOCIETY WAS AGAINST YOU…”

“I REMEMBER YOU WANTING TO BE MY FRIEND…”

 

THE ANGEL walks with difficulty towards The Warrior, slouching, her arms hanging down.

 

“BUT YOU ALWAYS FAILED TO SEE HOW SELFISH AND SPOILED YOU WERE..."

 

“ALWAYS WANTING MORE…”

 

“WHILE HAVING EVERYTHING IN THIS WORLD …”

 

The Painter stands up, weakly and, fortunately, not making any noise.

 

“YOU WERE IMPURE… AND NEEDED CORRECTION…”

 

“AND WHAT’S A BETTER SOLUTION THAN GOING FOR THE ROOTS?”

 

The Warrior’s eyes widened.

 

“HE WAS SUCH A BAD INFLUENCE FOR YOU, P…”

 

“BUT NOW LOOK AT YOU! STRONG! INDEPENDENT! SMART!”

 

“WORTHY OF PARADISE! LIKE ANY PERSON FREE OF SIN!”

 

“YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME-”

 

“Thank you for what!? For ruining my life!? For leaving me an orphan!? For making a fucking mess and calling it salvation!? No thanks!”, The Warrior talked back angrily. THE ANGEL’s already distorted face distorted even more in anger.

 

“I’d rather live my life in this hellhole than give a delusional freak like you the satisfaction of sending us into a golden cage!”, The Warrior concluded before THE ANGEL quickly grabbed her by the neck using two of her huge fingers, stealing her breath away.

 

“YOU UNGRATEFUL GINGER BRAT, ARE YOU BLIND!?” THE ANGEL screeched.

 

“I AM GOD NOW!”

 

“I CAN GRANT EVERY WISH!”

 

“EVERY WHIM! EVERY NEED!”

 

The Painter walked towards THE ANGEL, getting an attack ready.

 

“THE LEAST YOU CAN DO, IS TO WORSHIP ME-!”

 

The Painter slashed.

 

THE ANGEL turns her head once more, in the same unnatural way. Her everlasting grin was now somewhat genuine, in the most mocking way possible. Her deranged look screamed “that didn’t even tickle.” She opened her mouth with the intent of saying something. But then, a crack appeared in her forehead.

 

Both THE ANGEL and The Warrior were shocked. The crack spread across the entire vertical surface of her body. An unexplainable light, pitch-black in color began shining through the cracks as the same black substance poured from them.

 

As she screamed in utter agony while the cracks spread through her body, THE ANGEL dropped The Warrior.

 

“NO! YOU PROMISED!” THE ANGEL screeched.

 

“YOU PROMISED ME I COULD KEEP MY PARADISE IF I DID YOUR BIDDING!”

 

“HOW MANY TIMES I WILL BE SUFFERING THIS PUNISHMENT!?”

 

“TELL ME! HOW MANY?”

 

“GIVE ME MY HEART BACK! PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING!”

 

“DON’T LET ME DIE!”

 

“DON’T.. LET ME… DIE… Alone…”

 

THE ANGEL’s body burst open, covering several parts of the crater with the dark substance and, surprisingly, white glowing flowers emerged from the covered parts. Her carcass fell down immediately after.

 

The gigantic orb that hovered over Townsville shattered in pieces, returning the city’s inhabitants to their position prior to THE ANGEL’s “rapture.” At the same time, everyone conscious enough looked with awe at the sky, which, after years of being colored red, turned back into a beautiful blue hue with white scattered clouds.

 

While everyone witnessed what could be considered “the event of a lifetime”, The Painter walked towards the carcass of what used to be Bianca Utonium. It buried its hand inside the carcass, rummaging through the dark substance that remained inside her.

 

In less than a minute, The Painter took out a mysterious object: a pitch-black prism with a white outline. It possessed a strange aura that emitted an after-image effect. Instinctively, it placed the enigmatic object in front of its forehead, and suddenly, a vision came to its mind.

 

I’ve been in a hell filled with colors.

Trapped in a loop of constant humiliation.

With an appearance I didn’t choose.

Every small victory I ever had,

Was taken from me at every loop’s start.

Eventually, all colors faded away,

And only a blank canvas prevailed.

It took me a while to realize that the world I was in was already gone.

I had been abandoned by everyone, including my creator.

And that's when I screamed,

The echo resounded in that immense space.

And so, I realized…

I could speak.

 

“Hey! You there! Come here!” The Warrior yelled at The Painter. “The Mayor has something to say!”

 

The Painter climbed out of the crater, where many citizens were reunited, most of them with improvised clothing or half-dressed. The Mayor, Sara Bellum, was in the center, clearly improvising a speech.

 

“After so many years in which we suffered the deaths of loved ones, oppression and even a rapture event, it suffices to say that this day is one we shall remember for the rest of our lives. For THE ANGEL has fallen at last. We couldn’t have done this without the help of every one of you, regardless of how small your contributions were, thank you, Townsville.”

 

She made a pause.

 

“And I’d also like to congratulate our most proficient warriors: Princess Morbucks, Mojo Jojo, Grubber and…”

 

The Mayor fell silent, everyone was staring at both The Warrior and The Painter. Nobody knew the name of the second being that saved them, let alone where it came from. Usually, they wouldn’t ask and name it whatever, but The Painter, now in possession of the first item, emitted an aura they could not disregard.

 

A citizen approached The Painter, and asked: “What are you?”

 

The Painter remained silent for a moment, but then, making use of its new vocal cords, it spoke: “The Painter.” The citizen went to The Mayor and told her what it told him.

 

“... And The Painter!” Bellum finished her speech as she gestured to them to come closer. The Primate and The Thing came along too, just in time for their own speech.

 

The Warrior spoke about her tragedy and how she grew because of that, promising she’ll make sure nothing like that happens to any other child.

 

The Primate spoke about how this event changed his views of life and promised to use his technology and abilities for the greater good.

The Thing, surprisingly, spoke fluently, surprising everyone present, and promised to contribute to the rebuilding of the city of Townsville in any way he could.

 

Then, it was The Painter’s turn to speak, but the only thing it said left everyone confused:

 

“It’s over...”

 

“Look! in the sky! what is that!?” Another citizen pointed out a patch in the sky, which was expanding like a melting film. The other citizens became confused, some became scared, some others fainted and others began to run around.

 

It wasn’t until the ground began to rumble that panic set in; everyone was running for their lives as the white patch began consuming the ruined buildings. The gray door appeared once again as The Painter’s teammates looked in shock at how the world they worked so much to retrieve was being erased before their very eyes.

 

The Painter, with utter indifference, proceeded to walk to the gray door. At last, its mission was accomplished. However, The Warrior noticed the avian walking away and thus, she ran, trying to reach it...

 

Only to be knocked out in an instant.

 

The Painter reached the door, looking one last time at the world it had helped to “save.” “Sweet dreams…” It said, with a soft yet raspy voice, before crossing the gray door, which closed itself afterwards. The others, seeing what happened, ran towards the door and opened it…

 

…Only to find out the door led to nowhere.

 

So, once again, the day was saved.

 

And The City of Townsville became a blank canvas.