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"Vengeance In Silver"
May. 18th, 2022 07:04 pm"Vengeance In Silver"
3/18-3/27/1979
I.
At midnight, pure white light brighter than the sun flared silently in an alley off Ninth Avenue. As it faded and normal colors returned, a huge metallic form was seen on one bent knee and both hands flat on the alley floor. Steam rose from the silver surface of the being as if it had been taken from a kiln into the cool night air. The gleaming form lifted its head and rose effortlessly to stand erect, with the silver skin flexing as easily as human hide.
Khang stood several inches over seven feet tall, wide-shouldered and hewn with the muscles of a wrestler. Yet he had no fingernails, no navel or genitals, his feet were solid pads without toes. He looked more like an abstract statue given animation than a living man coated with silver. Except for two glowing eye-slots, his head was a featureless helmet without hair, nose or mouth or ears. If anyone had been there to see the arrival, they would have been stunned by the surreal sight.
For a long moment, Khang stood motionless, lost in thought. He lowered his head and regarded his shining hands as if seeing them for the first time. There was a Salvation Army store next to him. Perhaps that was why he had materialized here? He vaguely remembered he was here for a purpose, he had a mission but he could not quite think clearly yet. Khang pressed his hand against the side door of the store and the lock snapped audibly although he had not even tried to break it. He was stronger than flesh and blood, perhaps strong beyond all previous definitions of the word.
Entering the darkened interior, he found he could see quite plainly, although "see" might not have been the most accurate word. He sensed his surrounding, in all directions equally as well, without any disorientation. It was strange. Khang moved slowly, distractedly, as he found oversized clothing that would fit him. Huge clunky brogans, flannel trousers, a tan raincoat, all so large an average-sized man would be lost within them. Even so, they were slightly tight when he moved. A wide-brimmed slouch hat and workman's gauntlets meant for the railroad were put on next. Better than nothing.
He was leaving the store with the vague worry he had tripped a silent alarm while entering when he saw two more items. A wool scarf in bright plaid, which he wrapped to conceal his face, and a pair of welder's goggles he could strap on. He had no money to leave in exchange, which troubled him. Whoever he had been before this transformation had been too honest...
Whoever he had been before? That was a strange thought. He had not always been Khang. He had been... someone else. Flesh, with breath in his lungs and blood in his veins, not a living metal statue. But that was all he could remember. It was all so strange, he needed time to think.
Walking out onto the night streets, Khang began heading up Ninth Avenue without clear purpose in mind. The cars looked so different. Where were the tailfins? The chrome? The models seemed so small. And the people he passed were dressed so oddly. Women wearing pants. Men without suits or hats, all in dungarees and gaudy T-shirts and the billed caps that baseball players wore. He realized now he had been gone for a long time.
( the rest of the story )
3/18-3/27/1979
I.
At midnight, pure white light brighter than the sun flared silently in an alley off Ninth Avenue. As it faded and normal colors returned, a huge metallic form was seen on one bent knee and both hands flat on the alley floor. Steam rose from the silver surface of the being as if it had been taken from a kiln into the cool night air. The gleaming form lifted its head and rose effortlessly to stand erect, with the silver skin flexing as easily as human hide.
Khang stood several inches over seven feet tall, wide-shouldered and hewn with the muscles of a wrestler. Yet he had no fingernails, no navel or genitals, his feet were solid pads without toes. He looked more like an abstract statue given animation than a living man coated with silver. Except for two glowing eye-slots, his head was a featureless helmet without hair, nose or mouth or ears. If anyone had been there to see the arrival, they would have been stunned by the surreal sight.
For a long moment, Khang stood motionless, lost in thought. He lowered his head and regarded his shining hands as if seeing them for the first time. There was a Salvation Army store next to him. Perhaps that was why he had materialized here? He vaguely remembered he was here for a purpose, he had a mission but he could not quite think clearly yet. Khang pressed his hand against the side door of the store and the lock snapped audibly although he had not even tried to break it. He was stronger than flesh and blood, perhaps strong beyond all previous definitions of the word.
Entering the darkened interior, he found he could see quite plainly, although "see" might not have been the most accurate word. He sensed his surrounding, in all directions equally as well, without any disorientation. It was strange. Khang moved slowly, distractedly, as he found oversized clothing that would fit him. Huge clunky brogans, flannel trousers, a tan raincoat, all so large an average-sized man would be lost within them. Even so, they were slightly tight when he moved. A wide-brimmed slouch hat and workman's gauntlets meant for the railroad were put on next. Better than nothing.
He was leaving the store with the vague worry he had tripped a silent alarm while entering when he saw two more items. A wool scarf in bright plaid, which he wrapped to conceal his face, and a pair of welder's goggles he could strap on. He had no money to leave in exchange, which troubled him. Whoever he had been before this transformation had been too honest...
Whoever he had been before? That was a strange thought. He had not always been Khang. He had been... someone else. Flesh, with breath in his lungs and blood in his veins, not a living metal statue. But that was all he could remember. It was all so strange, he needed time to think.
Walking out onto the night streets, Khang began heading up Ninth Avenue without clear purpose in mind. The cars looked so different. Where were the tailfins? The chrome? The models seemed so small. And the people he passed were dressed so oddly. Women wearing pants. Men without suits or hats, all in dungarees and gaudy T-shirts and the billed caps that baseball players wore. He realized now he had been gone for a long time.
( the rest of the story )
