Strike Me Dumb, God [Marta/Closed]

When Marta finally came to, he would notice he was inside something enclosed like a box. The rumbling and purring of the engine could make it easy for him to notice he was inside some kind of vehicle, a van. But what the Persona User would also notice that all of his limbs were restrained together against his body in the vice-grip of a strait-jacket and his head adorned in a crown-like object that seemed to prevent him from calling upon his powers. It was hard to tell where he was right now, but he was the only one seated inside chained to his seat.

"Finally awake, huh?" he would hear a voice from the grating that let in the light. The driver spoke derisively through the opening. The man wouldn't spare a look as his eyes were still on the road. The music was lazily eking out the tunes of some kind of rock music, something about being thunderstruck or whatever it howled out between riffs. The armored van would only continue to stroll through the highway...

Marta's memories groggily returned. In a lot of ways, the night was just a cascading flood of absurd actions leading to more absurd actions. Signing up for some stupid drug raid, getting brainwashed into being a drug monster demon, being thrown onto the streets, something about vomiting on a police officer, fire everywhere, getting exploded, explosions, fire, scary giant men with swords, dashing magicians, and something about poop water though he wasn't quite really sure what that was all about.

He was in fact still not entirely sure where he was, why he was in restraints, or where he was headed. Or what any of those things he had seen were. Like why he was even temporarily in weird clothing.

He took a deep breath. Wherever he was or whatever was going on, there was certainly nothing gained by making a scene. Not that he even could, considering the restraints. Then again, maybe the driver would be a source of information.

"Maybe. I still feel half-asleep. I hope that's not permanent."

He took another breath, "I suppose in a film, this would be when I make a record scratch freeze frame and start narrating how I got into this audience. Though I am unfortunately at a complete loss there."

"Ya got caught. Higher-ups said, 'off you go to prison'. Enjoy your new home, pretty fitting for a criminal setting cops on fire." The driver drawled as his eyes were on the road. Freaking Psyche-Terrorists, always causing problems for everyone in this City. It was a simpler time when every goddamn criminal out there wasn't using any supernatural voodoo to make everything so complicated. "You'll probably gonna wish you we--the Hell?"


Out in the distance, in the lonesome streets, an obscured figure stood before the incoming truck. The red in its eyes flashed as the exterior lights shone on them. Soon, a voice began to fill the space. It could be heard through the walls of the vehicle. Marta would begin to feel an excruciating and ear-splitting headache coursing through his skull. But what he would also notice was the abrupt turn the vehicle took before violently crashing. It came to a stop, but the song did not cease until a little longer. For now, there was silence. Yet the small tell-tale signs of footsteps would alert him of activity. A few doors opening and closing and the sound of something jingling afterwards, the door to the back of the armored truck swung open.

While the light from the streetlights may have hindered his sight, it wouldn't be long until his view was occupied by a hooded figure with a skull mask. There were others wearing similar such masks, but the one who began to enter the vehicle demanded his attention.

Marta was wondering how to politely respond to someone who was clearly not acting with the etiquette that Marta had demanded of both himself and to a lesser degree public servants.

But alas, that was not to me. Once again, his thoughts were brought to a screeching halt as he was forced painfully against his restraints as literal screeching noises came out of what seemed to be the vehicle he was in.

He was then briefly blinded by light, which failed to remind him that it was his lack of personal initiative that made the last events of the night seem like a hallway simulator.

He stared back at the hooded man in what was honestly a quite horrifying mask with a blank stare, successfully implementing his desire to make a different kind of facial expression.

"I suppose unclear...but after this absurd night, as ready as any mortal person could reasonably be. So yes?"

"Rejoice, the hour of your redemption is at hand. Your soul shall be offered to Him, to be reborn anew. Accept this blessing." The man began to approach him. But, Marta can soon realize that he was not here to release him as his hands did not even reach for the restraints. No, it was far much worse. The skull-masked individual placed his fingers on the captured Psyche-Terrorist's forehead. The heavenly hymn would return again, but this time it was at point blank distance as the space around them flashed into a bright light. All Marta could see was white. Every single fragment of his mind was being wiped away. The power of his potential was being erased with such frightening ease. But his mind was not an exception to this deletion. As the pain in his head began to split more and more... eventually, all was numb.

The man known as Marta Po was no more. He is a mindless vegetable staring at the van's ceiling with absolute no response to any stimuli from his environment. Heretic began to rise from him and jumped from the back of the truck to the solid asphalt, leaving the empty individual to himself. He finally addressed to the rest of his skull-faced brethren. "Our work here is finished. Let us go, brothers."

In no less than a moment, the crew began to leave the area. All that was left was a crashed armored vehicle and desolation as if a vengeful ghost had just been here. It would be a while until the Government and their local law enforcement would find out what happened here. They would only find the guards knocked unconscious with little recollection, save for a mysteriously skull-masked Psyche-Terrorist. But most surprisingly, or perhaps not, their prisoner-to-be has already been claimed by the one and only Heretic. To those astute enough to get a take away from all of this, it was a message.