Jarod Reactor (It Continues.)

...but then, life grabbed Jarod Reactor and broke him in half. Slammed him against the cold steel of his chrome and glass, ultra modern, decadent, nasty as sin, yet somehow anesthetic, lair. Stripped him naked and scarred his body. Reached down his throat and up his ass and twisted his weak, puny, inconsequential - human - organs , and said "Deal with this!" He had anticipated this his whole life, but never really thought it would come. But, it came. It came all over him in a tidal wave of broken dreams and old testament carnage.
"You are nothing!" it screamed.
"You are nothing!" it screamed.
"You are nothing!" it screamed.

And he was nothing.

A whole new reality enveloped him. Took him over. Inundated him. Infused him. He soaked it up like a sponge soaks up dirty water. But, he didn't know what to do with it. He didn't know his next move. He had no game plan. He didn't know the rules. Or the name of the game, even. He didn't know jack.

Life will fuck you up, sometimes.

This was no party. This wasn't fun. This was an existence of decay, dust, ashes and dirt. The moon had fallen from the sky and the wolves howled at nothing. They just howled. The stars trembled with uncertainty and that uncertainty shot through him like electricity, searing a four lane highway down his spine.

Burning flesh smells sweet.

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Get down on your bloody knees and believe in something, Jarod Reactor!
But, you know our "hero" - he just couldn't.

Tripping, falling, he unsteadily crossed the emotionally apocalyptic landscape, weary and spiritually exhausted, searching in vain for something. Anything.
Afraid to breathe. Afraid to eat. Afraid of sleep. Afraid to be afraid.

Panic is a killer, Jarod. It will finish the job. It will take you out.

The world gave him a wide berth. The doom dogs were nipping at his heels. Anyone could sense it. There was a repulsive stench that heralded his coming, generated by the mechanisms of dying.
Don't drag us down, they telepathically warned him. We won't be dragged down by the likes of you.
His mind was flying apart, his thoughts were flung into space, his whole existence had been turned on its head - and the head had been snapped off.
But, something in him remained rigid and un-giving. Somehow.
Jarod Reactor was one stubborn son of a bitch.
He might break, but he wasn't going to bend!

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! He crawled from the wreckage, in the morning, to stare down the sun. He took the ragged breaths that he deemed rightfully his. He assembled the pieces of his broken, misfit of a body (and soul - that pitiful soul) and alone (but with himself), faced the masses. He embraced the role he had been left with.
Screaming "I exist! I am alive!," he bloodied his canvas and made them see it.

I am the one Jarod Reactor. I am the one.
And this is what it is.