SPAWN IN...

WHAT IF VIOLATOR BECAME PRESIDENT?

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognisable characters in these epic tales…

The crowd whistled and applauded the new president, Mr. Vincent Latham. He stood on a platform, arms raised before the American flag, smiling oddly, perversely. His eyes seemed to glow red. His teeth looked abnormally sharp. Suddenly, he slowly, oh so slowly, began to grow… grow. His skin turned grey. His eyes were now truly red. He was some kind of insect-like monster.

"Ladies and gentlemen," He crooned to his now terrified, screaming congregation, "It's a fine day for a little butchery."

Suddenly, 'Latham' was everywhere at once. Though it should be said, he was not Victor Latham; that was merely a misnomer he had come up with, and thought it rather clever. This was The Violator, official Republican party candidate following George. W. Bush's untimely demise.

His fangs were pouring with fresh blood, his long tongue lolling out to lap up spilled blood. Cameramen fled, leaving their recorders to tell the sad story of the massacre, as the Violator laughed sadistically, feasting on flesh. The slaughter must have lasted only ten minutes, but over two hundred people were dead already. The demon yawned lazily and belched. This would be fun… now all he had to do was take care of the Spawn problem, then all would be perfect for the Violator.

A dark figure, tattered red cloak billowing in the wind, stood on a rooftop, staring down at a TV in a shop window. The news showed the story of American's triumphant new Republican hero, Vincent Latham. Something seemed familiar in the tall, thin man. It was far later that they reached a report of every person at the White House when Latham made his first speech were missing. It was no coincidence. Spawn cursed under his breath. The Violator was back on Earth. Without another glance at the TV, Spawn took off into the air, swooping high. It was time he paid a visit to the Oval Office…

Violator, in his true demonic form, was slumped in his chair in the Oval Office, feet up on the desk, slurping noisily from a McDonalds paper cup of coca cola through a straw. His secretary, Mr. Johnson, entered, shrinking from his human form and shedding his suit to become some kind of naked red imp.

"Master."

Violator yawned loudly and threw the empty cup into his mouth, swallowing it in one gulp.

"What is it?"

"It's Simmons, master… he knows," Explained the imp.

"Then I believe it is time that I addressed the nation." Violator's face broke into a sinister smile as two cameramen, dead cameramen, with bloody holes in their chests from when Violator had torn their hearts from their bodies, entered the room and focused the camera on the new president. He slowly shrank, forming into the guise of 'Victor Latham'. The camera rolled and the Violator addressed his people, his slaves… his victims…

Spawn was flying low over the streets of Washington, with one objective fixed in his mind: to kill the Violator… and no one could stand in his way now. Or so he hoped. Suddenly, two helicopters were bearing down on him.

"What the HELL…?" He gasped with his unnaturally gravely, deep voice. They were police choppers… and they opened fire, "No… dammit… Violator, you son of a…"

Spawn flew in an arc to avoid the copters… and dropped onto a roof, head bowed. Suddenly, he turned rapidly. Soldiers were advancing on him… clutching glowing spears. Angelic weapons. Violator had finally trapped him!

People across the nation stared at their TV screens, as President Victor Latham spoke, with seemingly supernatural charisma:

"Ladies and gentlemen! News is incoming about a terrorist seeking to attack the White House." A picture showed on every screen of the Hellspawn himself, "This is that man. A supernatural terrorist, who I have dispatched elite agents to stop his path of destruction. This man seeks to destroy America… he must be stopped, my people… stopped and eliminated!"

Violator smiled. This deal had been worth it. Betraying the masters of Hell… seizing immense power… deceiving the angels… at last, he could annihilate Simmons, and become a God.

Spawn couldn't believe it. Fifty men, all hefting heaven's weaponry. He ran, leaping across rooftops. Suddenly, a hurled spear buried itself in his leg. Al Simmons, the Hellspawn, fell, shrieking a demonic cry of pain. He staggered up and the men were upon him in a swarm, the blades burning into his flesh. Spawn shut his eyes, bellowing:

"WANDA! WAAAANDAAAA!!!"

He erupted with necroplasmic force, frying every attacker. Spawn staggered away, weakened but ever determined, and flew towards the White House, for his last confrontation with The Violator!

"I want somethin' to eat, boys." The new president addressed his men as he tossed a thirteenth burger down his throat, "Some real sustenance. Bring me a couple o' dozen little children… with lashings of apple sauce."

He chuckled and lit a humongous cigar. Life was good. Now all he had to do was kill… right on time, Spawn burst through the window. He was weak, his symbiotic costume shredded.

"VIOLATOR!" He bellowed, "THIS ENDS NOW!"

"Indeed, it looks like it shall for you, Simmons," Violator dived at his prey, cackling oddly.

Spawn dived at him, his chains snaking out. Violator caught them and swung his archenemy up and hurled him through the roof, roaring. He leapt up after the Hellspawn, knocking him across the grounds and following, smashing his foe into a pulp. Spawn was doomed, and he knew it. Violator lifted Spawn by the neck and devoured his head whole. He swallowed for a minute and then belched violently and burst into inhuman laughter.

"Damn, that's good!"

He tore at Spawn's necroplasmic body with his fangs, eating the entirety. Nothing was left. Violator strode away, sniggering, and yawned:

"Mmmm… about time I had a nice demonic snack… well, I hope Worm remembered those kids."

Violator decided that, with Spawn out of the way, he could enjoy a little… publicity. He lay on his desk in front of TV cameras feeding to every channel in the World, in his true demonic form, dangling a fourth child over his mouth. The public watched in horror. It was a good life, the Violator decided, and more fun would come soon… whole armies… it had been a long time since he had feasted on a whole army…

NEXT: WHAT IF AL SIMMONS SURVIVED?