Agent Orange - Inconsequential

Agent Orange - Prologue

There was a huge impact. It was as if he had been swatted by some giant, invisible hand. Agent Orange spun away weightlessly through a blackness that masqueraded as the depths of space but he knew to be the dimension of the astral plane. Though his blood pulsed a frantic staccato of fight or flight, he forced himself to control his breathing, to settle his mind. For here, body meant little and mind reigned supreme.

As his mind stilled, so did his body stop its endless turning. Before him floated four astral constructs, each of them hideous monstrosities, two parts nightmare and one part ectoplasm.  Their shapes defied any anatomical comparison, instead they each seemed to be a random amalgamation of tentacles, polyps, pustules and eyes. Some of the eyes glared hatred, others madness and a few fear, as if they were the organs of some lost soul trapped inside.

Lovecraft would have described these creatures as “indescribable”, thought Orange, and me without an elder sign. He shrugged and reached for his gun, then remembered he didn’t need it here. Instead he closed his eyes and let his will build into a torrent of mental energy. In his head it was a blinding sphere of light. He spread his arms in the direction of his enemies and brought them together, pushing against an invisible resistance, as if to compress the air between them.  When his hands met he turned them forward and splayed his fingers. Bolts of incandescent force flew from his hands. Each bolt struck one of the monsters and where these bolts struck, parts of the creatures shattered and dissolved into the blackness of the plane.

Great toothy maws, seemingly only present when needed, screamed in pain and anger. These frightful additions to the creature’s already horrific aspect stayed visible, now opening and closing like the mouths of fish, if there were ever so heinous a fish.

Great. Now they can chew on me while they squeeze my insides out like a tube of toothpaste. Agent Orange zero, horrid ectoplasmic bad guys one, thought Orange.

The creatures closed in, tentacles whipping about, some stretching to more than twice their original length. Orange floated backward, propelling himself mentally through the aether. Let’s try this. He closed his eyes again and shook his head from side to side in a kind of figure eight pattern. He was weaving a mental labyrinth around himself so that the creatures would not be able to locate him. Within the labyrinth he could take his time to build a snare powerful enough to destroy them so that he could continue to pursue their masters.

As Orange was completing the construction of the labyrinth a voice echoed around him. He feared the monsters might have defeated his maze already but then realized he recognized the voice. It was Kathleen.

“Orange, they’re here.” She sounded afraid.

Orange was distracted. He felt the maze begin to unravel. He shut out the voice and focused hard on the pattern.

“Wake up! They’re here. We have to leave! Orange!” The voice was loud and all encompassing.

A tentacle ripped through a glowing wall to his right. Others came from below. Eyes stared. Mouths lined with serrated teeth chewed the air in anticipation. A jagged barb pierced Orange’s bicep at the same time tentacles coiled about his legs.

He let the maze collapse and tried to push them away with a wave of mental force but they were too close, too strong.

There was a crashing sound far off. Something too physical to be located on the astral plane.

“Orange!” The voice was screaming this time, very close but separated by a distance incalculable by modern science.

“I just need a moment,” Orange mentally projected, though he doubted she could hear him.

The barb through his arm dragged him forward. More tentacles entwined his body pulling him the opposite direction, threatening to tear the limb from his body.

“Sorry, I might be a little late.”