LONELINESS AND THE SINISTER SOUL

by Matt Nute

DISCLAIMER: The characters within are mostly the property of Marvel Comics,
with some exceptions that if I state here will totally spoil the whole story,
but needless to say I don't own ANY of the characters within, which is a shame
since Marvel's dropped into the level of total incompetency. Oh yeah ,they
didn't tell me I could use their characters specifically, but Stan says it's
okay so THERE. I'm not making any money off this anyway, more's the pity.

ARCHIVING: As usual, just ask first.

FEEDBACK: to nute@jps.net. Much appreciated. Oh, and go pick up DEADPOOL
before Joe Kelly leaves and Marvel loses its one good comic. Support good
comics while they last.

**********

Gloved fingers tapped slowly on the armrest of the electroencephalograph.
Brainwave patterns pinged slowly on the monochrome screen, tracing rhythmic
patterns in green, illuminating the room. The muted thrum of machinery
provided ambience in counterpoint to the loud, even breathing that echoed from
the cold, sterile walls. 

Sinister peered down at the machine. Half a dozen wire electrodes were taped
to a red gelatinous substance, the light reflecting and playing off its
surface. With the twisting of a dial, and the flip of a switch, current
flowed, causing the substance to vibrate with a low hum. 

Watching the EEG readouts, Sinister leaned in closely. Parting ebony lips, he
breathed an incantation over the substance. 

"Knock knock."

No response. Sinister cleared his throat and tried again.

"Knock knock."

Still nothing. With a sigh, he shut off the machine and opened his medical
journal. 

"SATURDAY, APRIL 30. RESULTS STILL NEGATIVE. CONCLUSION - RASPBERRY JELL-O
DOES NOT HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR."

Slapping the book closed, Sinister walked out of the lab, maliciously tossing
the failed experiment in the refuse bin as he left. 

As the hydraulic doors hissed closed behind him, a muted giggle came from the
trash can.

It was going to be a long night.

*****

Sinister checked the security readout. The Marauders were all gone for the
night, dispersed into their own pasttimes and recreation. Sinister sighed
again. If he got another 2AM phone call to bail Blockbuster and Scrambler out
of some county jail in Ass End, Tennessee again...

With a few keystrokes, Sinister called up the security cameras for 1407
Greymalkin Lane, Westchester. A frown crossed his face as he checked his
watch. Eleven forty-five, and the X-Men were all ASLEEP? This simply would not
do. Panning the cameras, he searched for anything moving, anything EXCITING.

With the exception of Bishop curled around his plush teddy bear, nothing in
the X-Mansion seemed worthy of note. Sinister punched the OFF button in
frustration. This simply would not do. He had lived for over a century,
studying, researching, experimenting.

Tonight, though, he was... bored.

"Threnody!" he called. Only the echoes of his own voice responded. "THRENODY!"
he repeated. Then he paused. "You do not work for me any more. Never mind." 

Metal boot heels clicked on tile as Sinister began to pace the halls. Over
eighty screens in his communications center displayed information from various
world capitals, secret military installations, and intercepted electronic
communiques. 

Not one of them had HBO. 

Sinister growled. Network television it would be.

*****

"Tonight, on a very special Blossom-"

*CLICK*

"Mulder, there's no such thing as-"

*CLICK*

"Aqui esta los pollos con cajones mas grande-"

*CLICK*

"For only $49.95, you, YES YOU! can become a member of-"

*CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK*

"Mitch! Shawnee's stuck in a tide pool!"

"I'll be right there, CJ!"

Sinister grinned. "Ah... Baywatch... I must deduce the secret of Pamela's
mutant anti-gravity abilities... this is beyond the realm of medical
science..."

*BZZT*

Darkness. Silence. 

"Damn." Sinister grumbled. "Where IS that fuse box...?"

*****

Eventually, power was restored (at the cost of one smashed knuckle and a
partially melted screwdriver). However, much to Sinister's dismay, he had
returned only in time for the credits. 

"Next, on BAYWATCH NIGHTS..."

An energy blast erupted from his fist, reducing the television to splinters of
glass and plastic. Sinister gritted his teeth, then arched his eyebrows at an
idea...

*****

"Pah! Such amateur genetic workmanship! A somatic application of
neuroephedrine into the pituitaries would have produced FAR similar results."

Sinister sat cross-legged on a pillow in front of a smaller television screen,
his PlayStation controller in his hand. He glared at the display before him,
expertly dodging giant spiders. 

"'RESIDENT EVIL', feh. I have seen evil, simple computer, and you are not it."

*CRUNCH! ZAP!*

{{GAME OVER}}

The PlayStation was a puddle of grey plastic as Sinister stormed from the rec
room.

*****

*BOOP BEEP BIP BOOP BIP BIP BIP*

"Hello?"

"Octavius."

"Essex. To what do I owe the pleasure? Come to congratulate me on my latest
victory over the wall-crawler?"

"Victory? Oh yes, that picture of you plastered in the Bugle webbed to the
lamp post. No, actually, I had a more mundane intention."

"Grr... mundane? Speak."

"I was pondering..."

"This is nothing new."

"Are you occupied?"

"Other than planning my revenge on the accursed Spider-Man? No more so than
usual."

"I was wondering, do you wish to... hang out?"

"Excuse me?"

"Commiserate, share tales, perhaps consume alcoholic beverages and tell
inappropriate jokes."

"Oh. Well. Gee, I'd LOVE to, but.. oh, is that a fission coil leak? Sinny,
bubbulah, I'll call you later."

*CLICK*

{{BZZZZ}}

Sinister sighed. 

*BIP BIP BAP BEEP BEEP BOOP BIP*

"Hi. You've reached Freehold, lair of the Leader. No one's here to answer your
call right now, but after the beep-"

*CLICK*

*BEEP BIP BEEP BIP BOOP BOOP BAP*

"Castle Latveria. Identify yourself."

"Sinister. Mister Sinister."

"Oh, bugger off, Essex. Doom does not have time for childish vendettas."

"No, I just-"

*CLICK*

{{BZZZZ}}

Sinister gritted his teeth. It was going to be a long night.

*****

One-twenty in the morning. Sinister reclined on a Barcalounger in his personal
quarters. His ribboned cape and metal trousers had been exchanged for a
stained tank top and boxer shorts with cute little double helix designs on
them. ("A small affectation", he constantly explained to himself.)

He had exhausted all the options available, save one.

His eyes narrowed in desperation as he stood, stalking his way down the
corridors to Blockbuster's personal quarters. Yes, he thought, he WOULD find
something interesting here.

*****

Three-forty-five AM. A dozen empty beer bottles, two fifths of Jim Beam, and
countless cigarette butts littered the table before him. Sinister sighed, head
in hands. 

"I damn thee, damn thee, damn thee, cursed Apocalypse. For the boon of eternal
life, you have cursed me a thousandfold... *sigh* ... I miss getting
pissed..."

Sweeping the table clear, Sinister prowled around the room, cracking his
knuckles absently. Looking at the clock, he took a deep breath and picked up
the phone.

*BEEP BEEP BOOP BOOP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

{{BZZZ}}

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is this the Baxter Building?"

"Yes..." came the sleepy voice from the other line. "Great Scott, what TIME is
it...?"

"Never mind that." Sinister hissed gleefully. "I must know, if your
refrigerator running?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your refrigerator. Is it running?"

"Yes, I believe so."

Sinister stifled a chuckle. "Would it not be prudent to go out and catch it?"

*CLICK*

{{BZZZZZZZZ}}

Sinister sighed as he hung up the phone. The momentary ecstasy of the prank
phone call had faded all too briefly. There seemed to be only one recourse to
end his ennui, to satiate his interminable loneliness and boredom.

Sinister drew on his lab coat and walked down to his laboratory.

*****

Hours later, Sinister stood before his cloning tube. He smiled smugly. With
all his knowledge of biology, genetic sequencing, and mutant genomes, he had
managed to clone the ideal life form to assist him in easing  his boredom. He
stepped toward the form that stood crouched on the platform before him, small
jags of electricity still crackling. A smile crossed his lips. 

"Little creation, you are mine. Together, we shall be unstoppable, and watch
our enemies crushed before us!"

"PIKA! PIKAAAAA!!!" was the only response. 

Sinister sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

It was still going to be a long night.

~FIN

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