Superhero Adventures, UK Style

In the safe folds of Ffrwd Dylluan two Akira’s lay side-by-side on the floor.

He had originally thought that perhaps it was this place that had given him the power, the insight, the inspiration to do what he had felt was necessary. It was this idea that had led him to abandon the BASEment and friends so suddenly, to seek refuge here in his ancestral home. He knew differently now.

What of his friends?  He could do nothing to help them currently; instead, he had to do whatever he could to help himself.

The transformation spell he had performed on himself in Kenya was so much more powerful that he had originally anticipated. He had intended to use it just to rid himself of the curse branded on his forearm. Instead he’d come within a hair’s breadth of transforming himself forever into an obedient servant of Yig.

Only by abandoning his body and assuming a pure astral form had he finally managed to temporarily arrest the transformation, to free his mind of the dark force that had been influencing it these last few months.

In the end, he’d been forced to mystically manifest a physical double grown from his own blood and the realm of chaos to act as a scapegoat. He had then started to transfer the chaotic influence from his own body into the mindless twin forming beside him. The embryonic creature was still growing and aging into a physical body identical to his own. Identical except now the serpent brand and the curse infected his mystical clone instead of his body.

Forced to astral project himself as protection whilst he transferred the chaotic influence into the duplicate that had been all the freedom Akira had needed. He had deliberately severed the link between his own mind and his body leaving the force that had been possessing and transforming him trapped inside the new ‘Akira’.

It worked sort of, but that’s when it had all gone wrong, he’d suddenly realised that what had happened to him had not been natural but had to have been controlled by someone with an intimate knowledge of black magic. This mysterious sorcerer had been trying to entangle him with the influence of Yig for some time but who was he?

As he considered what this all meant, ‘something’ flowed passed him and reached into the cloned body. Confused at having two Akira’s to choose from, it followed the mark and inhabited its bearer.

Akira was trapped. The delicate thread that linked spirit to matter was no longer present. His body floated free above his unconscious physical form, the silver strand that linked the two was now absent. He suspected that the connection had accidentally transferred over to the other body and now resided within the copycat ‘Akira’. Perhaps if this simulacrum were destroyed, the connection would return to his comatose body and allow him to re-enter? Otherwise, would Akira remain like this forever; a ghost-like entity trapped between heaven and hell, locked out of his body for all time?

The clone was now the physical age of a teenager and aging fast by the second. To his horror, the ‘something’ now animated the simulacrum. Its embryonic, ectoplasmic ‘sac’ was torn open as the vacant creature was suddenly brought to life.

It took a great effort of will not to be dragged kicking and screaming into this new body alongside its new occupant. With the brand transferred, the body has also assumed the transformations that had plagued the original body. Akira realised his original concept had worked, leaving his physical body untainted unfortunately it had required creating an empty shell that cried out for an occupant.

For a moment, he relaxed his will and to his surprise, he found himself seeing through the simulacrum Akira’s eyes.

It spoke, “Why do you call me by that stupid name? Akira is gone, dispelled leaving only you, a memory. I now control this body, reincarnated once more. I am Og, last of the Rephaim; king-sorcerer of Bashan and High Priest of Yig, the creator and destroyer of worlds. I am the avatar of the Most Low. Bend to my will.”

He felt an incredibly ancient Reptilian mind trying to swallow his own. Its evil thoughts overwhelmed him and he saw its plan to make itself indestructible and immortal, worthy to become the avatar of an ancient evil… Yig!

Akira struggled and managed to snap himself loose from the clawing pull. He couldn’t afford to relax though, his spirit was called to the silver cord now bound in the duplicates body. He had to remain vigilant as the double stood up and began to strip the clothes of the original’s inanimate and unconscious body. Yet, perhaps just perhaps when his friends needed him most he might again risk looking through the eyes of Og and warn them, help them somehow? Possibly make amends for what he had done, but then again perhaps he’d already done enough?

He should never have taken that grimoire they had rescued from the Vault. He had sensed its great age and immense power, had sought to use that power for good. Hah, who was he trying to kid?

Locked out of his body like this, he could at least be honest with himself; he’d tried to acquire that power for himself. Look where that had got him. As the duplicate Akira, now hosted by this Og, stood up and smirked. Akira’s astral-self screamed with rage and self-loathing as the simulacrum walked out of the house and away from view.

Akira found himself struggling with the truth of his actions, in his mind he found himself thinking, “You’ve no one to blame but yourself, no one to talk to now but myself. Nothing to see but yourself, no one to listen to but myself, nothing to lose but yourself… And my mind” he reminded himself, “I could lose my mind, my mind…” then looking down at the unconscious body below he thought, “My mind, your mind, never mind…”