Monstrum Bellum, Part Four
Apr 12, 2023 19:24:19 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer and bloodiedfox like this
Post by Donzig on Apr 12, 2023 19:24:19 GMT -5
The Past -
‘What about Dylan Black? Somehow you managed to never defeat him.’
Donzig grunted at Sinclair’s words as they walked through the gardens of Godfrey Hall. He paused, head tilting as he looked out across the neatly planted hedges. The flower beds were arrayed all around a few early buds already blooming.
Yet in the midst of all that life all he felt was a cold sense of dread and doom. Death in life, and he looked away with a sniff.
‘I don’t need to beat Dylan Black, Sinclair. You see all I have to do is let one of these other rabble deal with him. All I need to do is survive.’
Sinclair arched a pretty brow, absently tugging on her coat against the early morning chill. Donzig waved a hand, pacing forward as his hand absently dragged across the leaves of the nearby hedge.
‘And when it is down to two?’
‘That other will be battered, broken, exhausted. You see he had to survive as well, but he is not like me. None of them are quite like the Scourge, eh? At the end of the Rumble I will be at the height of my power.’
Drunk on blood said a cold voice, hard and mocking. Donzig frowned beneath his mask, and he tilted his head as the voice continued.
You will be mad with violence, and glad of war. You will be overconfident, and you will make mistakes. You always do.
You’re a disgrace. And they will all stand against you, they are all our enemies. You will be alone.
Donzig hissed, and he turned away from Sinclair as he waved a hand angrily.
‘Leave me.’
The Present -
The Skulltaker waited inside of the ring inside the old AWA Arena, his eyes narrowed on the door as he tapped his fingers against his arms. He turned to glare at the bound form of Draven, who smirked at him.
‘What is so funny, old man?’
‘You should let me go and leave.’
Skulltaker laughed, thumping a gloved hand to his chest. And he stalked forward, shaking his head. ‘I do not fear your brother. I have killed greater legends than the Scourge.’
‘He’s going to eat you alive, friend.’
The Skulltaker’s hand balled into a fist, and he stepped closer as Draven glared up at him. Then they paused as a voice echoed across the empty floor and halls.
It was not the off key, hissing rasp of the Scourge. It was just a voice lifted in song, almost pleasant.
‘I laughed and shook his hand
And made my way back home
I searched for form and land
For years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazeless stare
At all the millions here
I must have died alone
A long, long time ago…’
A figure stepped from the darkness, and a hazy red light hung in the air. It brightened, and then dimmed as the figure walked through the darkness.
It seemed to be a cigar or cigarette of some sort, as it fell to be flicked before being lifted again. The Skulltaker started, and Draven watched with silent eyes.
‘Who knows?
Not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With the man who sold the world’
Skulltaker stalked towards the center of the ring, and then froze as a green bottle shattered against the floor. Beer and foam oozed across the marble, and a voice spat from the darkness.
‘You fucked with my brother, Skulltaker. Did you think we—I would let that pass? You broke the rules, you defied me, and now the fucking payment is due. It is time for you to pay what you owe.’
The voice was angry, not the cold bitter indifferent rage of the Scourge. This voice was alive, terribly alive and thick with rage. It was hot, and the air seemed to throb as the footsteps came closer.
‘I do not fear you, fool! I will take your mask back to the tree and your strength will be ours.’
‘Oh, sweet pea. I am going to hurt you bad.’
The figure stepped into the light, and the Skulltaker stated as it flicked away a cigar. Donzig was wearing a black leather jacket, worn and faded but clearly not the long heavily buckled one he favored. And beneath it was dark blue and black flannel, he stared at the Skulltaker with bloodshot eyes.
‘What?’
‘Oh, you were expecting the Scourge? Not today, you see Timmy is mine. He belongs to me. So you deal with me, and in fact? Motherfucker, you might be the first person in the world who wishes that he had walked in here.’
Skulltaker backed up, and Donzig lifted a steel chair absently. It was painted, and slightly dented as he turned it slowly.
‘Sorry I was late. I had to stop at the AWA Hall of Fame and collect some things. My coat, and her.’
He slapped the chair, smiling slowly.
‘She’s a little upset I left her for so long, but she’ll get over it. She’s easy like that, just bang her a few times and she is right as rain, son.’
A pause.
‘Oh, where are my manners? This is Kirsten.’
He frowned, slapping the chair again as the Skulltaker stared at him in confusion as he drifted closer.
‘This isn’t the original Kirsten, it is—‘
A pause.
‘—fuck if I know actually. I had a different Kirsten in every town just ready to be slammed around and spread her legs. Who can keep track? At least me and the Scourge both like redheads, right?’
Draven sputtered, and the Skulltaker sneered.
‘You’re a fool.’
‘I’m a killer, and I’m a clown.’ Donzig agreed, and the Skulltaker motioned him into the ring with a grin across his painted lips beneath his mask.
Donzig paused, and dug into his jacket before he flung something at the ring. A hand in a blue and black glove covered in flames, blood oozing from it. Skulltaker’s eyes widened, and looked up in surprise as Donzig laughed a wild all to human laugh.
Then the chair flew through the air, slamming hard into the masked face of the Skulltaker. He stumbled back, cursing as he felt blood flow under his mask. And then Donzig was on him, firing off punch after punch to rock him towards the ropes.
Skulltaker came off the ropes and was hit with a face breaker across his knee. And he flopped to the mat as Donzig leaned hard on the ropes. He was tired, and his muscles sang a song of agony as he reached for his enemy.
Skulltaker hammered a few elbows into his ribs, driving him back before he fired off a few punches of his own. Every blow was like a hammer, and his head rang like a bell as he stumbled backwards. Draven yelled something, and Skulltaker laughed.
‘You are too weak to defeat me now. This is almost an insult to have to face you like this. Lay down and die, proud Donzig.’
Donzig hissed, and he rose with a sneer only to be whipped at the ropes again. Skulltaker caught him with a lariat that sent him flying. He spread his arms as Donzig lay on the mat.
‘Maybe they will let me enter the Rumble in your place, I would make a better X-crown champion anyhow. Look at you, you can barely stand.’
The Scourge panted, dragging himself forward as the Skulltaker mocked him. And his hand closed on the legs of the chair, and he twisted as he hauled it closer. The leader of the Head Hunters grabbed for him then, and Donzig rolled over to snap the chair like a battle ax across his head.
Skulltaker gaped, dropping to a knee for second as Donzig rose before him. The chair snapped outward again fast as lightning as its long edge cracked across his head. Skulltaker fell, and Donzig walked back and forth with the chair dangling from his hand.
‘Pride is a terrible thing, Skulltaker. Someone should have told you that I am most dangerous when I am down. But let me explain something to you, son.’
The chair lashed out again, and Skulltaker jerked back his arm to cradle it as he tried to rise. But the chair hammered across his spine.
‘They can line up the entire fucking XHF! They can line up every single motherfucking whore son from Steve Awesome to Zoran, and it doesn’t make a goddamned difference. You know why? Fuck them, that’s why. As long as I can breathe I will give those sons of bitches a fight.’
The chair snapped downward again, and Skulltaker howled as he jerked back his other hand as Donzig stared down at him.
‘You see what I want is the goddamned X-Crown, and I don’t want it to prove I am better than them! I don’t want it because I think I am the best! I want it out of spite, out of sheer meanness, I want the entire fucking lot of them to have to accept that I am everything I say I am, son. Do you get that?’
The Skulltaker rose, and he grabbed for the chair. Ripping it away from DonZig’s hands to fling it aside. Blood ran from under his mask, and he threw a few stiff punches before battering his knee into the ribs of the Scourge. He whipped him at the ropes, laughing.
‘You always love to listen to yourself!’
Donzig hit the middle rope, and leapt backwards to deliver an Event Horizon! Skulltaker fell, and Donzig rolled over to press closer to him. A string of curses and insults poured from him, and then he lifted Skulltaker. He slapped his cheek a few times, yanking on the mask as he stared into his eyes.
‘Not so fast, Sunshine. We’re gonna have some laughs.’
Donzig dragged him along, and spat.
‘The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides
By the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men
Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will
Shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness
For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children
And I will strike down upon thee
With great vengeance and furious anger
Those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers
And you will know my name is the Lord
When I lay my vengeance upon thee.’
25:17!
The Skulltaker crumpled as he slammed against the chair, and he rolled off to lay broken on the ring as Donzig wiped a hand across his mouth. He stared at his bloody hand, and sniffed.
He would have to stop soon, he was pushing too hard.
He calmly placed the bent chair around Skulltaker’s lower leg, and stomped down on it. He bowled, screaming as he grabbed for the limb as he reached into his jacket to produce a cigar. He snipped the end off with a cigar cutter. Chewing on it as he paced, a match struck and he lit it with a few puffs of smoke.
‘The Scourge should start smoking, we really miss this.’
He tossed the match aside, and he stared down at the Skulltaker who was clearly in a lot of pain. A hand lifted, and he stared at the cigar cutter. He closed it a few times, and shrugged as he paced absently.
‘You know Reese gave me this cigar cutter before he retired the first time. It’s very nice, gold plated. Has my fucking name on it.’
Draven stared at him, and Donzig turned his gaze back to the Skulltaker before he drove a knee into his ribs. The man groaned, and Donzig stepped over him before he yanked his arm upwards as he sank down on his back. His hand around his wrist, and he lowered the cigar cutter towards his fingers.
‘You know the Scourge doesn’t go for shit like this. He would just take the answer from your mind, or ask some pointed questions. Some shit or another. He considers this sort of petty violence and torture beneath him. Sadly? I don’t care much one way or another, but you’re going to tell me where those two were going.’
Skulltaker groaned, trying to make a fist as Donzig slid the cigar cutter around his finger. And then he shook his head, before he spat.
‘She said you would know that they were going back to the beginning.’
Donzig smiled, and withdrew the cutter. Then he slammed his fist into the back of Skulltaker’s head, leaving him sprawled on the mat. He rose, and absently flicked ashes from the cigar before he slid from the ring. He shrugged off the jacket and flannel, and moved to untie Timmy. Draven stared at him.
‘Donzig, who are these people? What is going on?’
‘Oh, it’s a trap. But I don’t care.’
‘You’re hurt.’
Donzig stared at him, snorting as blood ran from his nose.
‘Oh, I bet we are. But not as bad as they are going to be. Good bye, Timmy.’
Donzig walked away even as Timmy tried to stop him, but he was shrugged off as Donzig turned to face him. A hand lifted, and he sneered before he gave a broken laugh.
‘No, no, no. You’re a weakness.’
The Present -
Armand muttered under his breath as he followed Victoria down the darkened path through the tangled trees and undergrowth. He wiped sweat from his face, and looked around before he shoved a few broad leaves from their path as she paused ahead of him. Down the slope in a small valley he could see a ruin rising from the jungles.
It was old, the weathered and cracked stone covered in vines and plants. It was Aztec built, or perhaps Mayan. Broken and weathered statues stared down at them, old forgotten gods and heroes left to waste away in the jungle. A few guttering torches stood on the edges of the stairs and platforms, and others lined the path ahead of them.
Armand felt a shiver, the power of this place washed over him as he looked to Victoria.
‘What is this place?’
‘It is where it all began, the Temple of the Order, we call it the Heart of Darkness. The House of the Scourge.’
Victoria gave a faint smile, and she pushed aside a few branches as she stepped onto the stones buried in the ancient mud and overgrowth. She turned to face him, motioning for him to follow as she started down the old road between the torches.
Armand followed, and his need for that power grew with every step.
A trio of black robed figures stepped from the trees, and watched them silently. Armand was surprised to see they were women, their faces pretty beneath their hoods as they regarded the pair without expression. But Armand could see the malice in their eyes, and Victoria stepped forward as she lifted a leather clad hand.
‘We come as supplicants.’
They all glared at them, then looked at each other before one motioned for them to follow. She led them down the path, and Armand arched a brow.
‘What are they?’
‘The Witches of the Temple, the Priestesses of Oblivion.’
‘They seem familiar.’
‘You have met two of them, you just did not know what they are.’
Armand blinked, and Victoria sniffed.
‘Emily Black, and of course their leader. That woman.’
‘Godfrey?’
Victoria spat.
The Past -
Victoria frowned as she walked across the ancient stones of the floor of the Great Temple, and she looked up nervously as the weight of the whole place seemed to settle around her as she walked through the shadows. The empty eyes of the old carvings stared at her as well as the skulls of those who had once ruled here. She hated this place, and she frowned as she crossed the ornately carved reliefs on the floor. Ahead of her loomed the Abyss, it was a great hole that filled these chambers.
A rift into nothing, a bottomless pit it was said. A hole in creation. No one came down here, no one except him.
Her brother stood at the edge of the pit, staring down into it from behind his mask. She hated that thing, he had returned from exile wearing it. More and more she did not see him without it, like it pained him to be apart from it. He lifted a hand suddenly, and she nearly jumped as two huge shapes loomed from the darkness.
They were her brother’s prized students, the two big Albanians he had brought from Europe. He had trained them to be as cold and merciless as he was. They made her uneasy, they made everyone uneasy. But they said nothing as they watched her before they walked off.
She watched them go, and then approached her brother as she tried to keep her eyes off that hole.
‘Why do you come down here?’
‘Have you studied Nietzsche?’
‘What?’
‘Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.’
Victoria frowned.
‘You’re not a monster.’
‘It is kind of you to say so, but I was a monster before I ever entered this place.’
‘Mother would be proud of you.’
A laugh, bitter and somehow wrong.
‘No, she wouldn’t.’
Victoria stared at that mask, shivering as she saw her own distorted reflection on it’s surface. Her brother had waged war for the Order, and then against the Order. He had fought heroes and monsters. He had hunted them down, and brought them all to ruin.
That and train their minions. That was his life, and yet she knew he was working against them.
‘They are getting closer to figuring out who is working against them. They have sent to the Temple of Nippon for their greatest champion. Is it wise for you to be so close to the Temple? And can you trust those two?’
Donzig turned.
‘They are the things of shapes to come. The first of my children, dear sister. They will be all that I trust, they will be the Rock on which I build a new world.’
Victoria stared at him, shivering. She hated when he talked like that.
‘Just remember our goal, we destroy the Order. We cast them down, and we rule in their place. Remember. Everything they have will be ours.’
Donzig looked back to the Abyss, and he tilted his head slowly. Victoria stared for a minute and then looked away. Her eyes settled on a black scorpion walking across the old stones, it’s carapace gleaming in the torchlight as it scuttled over the floor with tail held high.
‘Oh, I won’t forget.’
She looked away from the scorpion.
‘They say the Champion of Nippon fancies himself a God. He is a dangerous man.’
Donzig snorted, and he turned to walk away from the edge of the abyss with a wave of his hand.
‘God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. Yet his shadow still looms. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives; who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves?’
‘What about Dylan Black? Somehow you managed to never defeat him.’
Donzig grunted at Sinclair’s words as they walked through the gardens of Godfrey Hall. He paused, head tilting as he looked out across the neatly planted hedges. The flower beds were arrayed all around a few early buds already blooming.
Yet in the midst of all that life all he felt was a cold sense of dread and doom. Death in life, and he looked away with a sniff.
‘I don’t need to beat Dylan Black, Sinclair. You see all I have to do is let one of these other rabble deal with him. All I need to do is survive.’
Sinclair arched a pretty brow, absently tugging on her coat against the early morning chill. Donzig waved a hand, pacing forward as his hand absently dragged across the leaves of the nearby hedge.
‘And when it is down to two?’
‘That other will be battered, broken, exhausted. You see he had to survive as well, but he is not like me. None of them are quite like the Scourge, eh? At the end of the Rumble I will be at the height of my power.’
Drunk on blood said a cold voice, hard and mocking. Donzig frowned beneath his mask, and he tilted his head as the voice continued.
You will be mad with violence, and glad of war. You will be overconfident, and you will make mistakes. You always do.
You’re a disgrace. And they will all stand against you, they are all our enemies. You will be alone.
Donzig hissed, and he turned away from Sinclair as he waved a hand angrily.
‘Leave me.’
The Present -
The Skulltaker waited inside of the ring inside the old AWA Arena, his eyes narrowed on the door as he tapped his fingers against his arms. He turned to glare at the bound form of Draven, who smirked at him.
‘What is so funny, old man?’
‘You should let me go and leave.’
Skulltaker laughed, thumping a gloved hand to his chest. And he stalked forward, shaking his head. ‘I do not fear your brother. I have killed greater legends than the Scourge.’
‘He’s going to eat you alive, friend.’
The Skulltaker’s hand balled into a fist, and he stepped closer as Draven glared up at him. Then they paused as a voice echoed across the empty floor and halls.
It was not the off key, hissing rasp of the Scourge. It was just a voice lifted in song, almost pleasant.
‘I laughed and shook his hand
And made my way back home
I searched for form and land
For years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazeless stare
At all the millions here
I must have died alone
A long, long time ago…’
A figure stepped from the darkness, and a hazy red light hung in the air. It brightened, and then dimmed as the figure walked through the darkness.
It seemed to be a cigar or cigarette of some sort, as it fell to be flicked before being lifted again. The Skulltaker started, and Draven watched with silent eyes.
‘Who knows?
Not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With the man who sold the world’
Skulltaker stalked towards the center of the ring, and then froze as a green bottle shattered against the floor. Beer and foam oozed across the marble, and a voice spat from the darkness.
‘You fucked with my brother, Skulltaker. Did you think we—I would let that pass? You broke the rules, you defied me, and now the fucking payment is due. It is time for you to pay what you owe.’
The voice was angry, not the cold bitter indifferent rage of the Scourge. This voice was alive, terribly alive and thick with rage. It was hot, and the air seemed to throb as the footsteps came closer.
‘I do not fear you, fool! I will take your mask back to the tree and your strength will be ours.’
‘Oh, sweet pea. I am going to hurt you bad.’
The figure stepped into the light, and the Skulltaker stated as it flicked away a cigar. Donzig was wearing a black leather jacket, worn and faded but clearly not the long heavily buckled one he favored. And beneath it was dark blue and black flannel, he stared at the Skulltaker with bloodshot eyes.
‘What?’
‘Oh, you were expecting the Scourge? Not today, you see Timmy is mine. He belongs to me. So you deal with me, and in fact? Motherfucker, you might be the first person in the world who wishes that he had walked in here.’
Skulltaker backed up, and Donzig lifted a steel chair absently. It was painted, and slightly dented as he turned it slowly.
‘Sorry I was late. I had to stop at the AWA Hall of Fame and collect some things. My coat, and her.’
He slapped the chair, smiling slowly.
‘She’s a little upset I left her for so long, but she’ll get over it. She’s easy like that, just bang her a few times and she is right as rain, son.’
A pause.
‘Oh, where are my manners? This is Kirsten.’
He frowned, slapping the chair again as the Skulltaker stared at him in confusion as he drifted closer.
‘This isn’t the original Kirsten, it is—‘
A pause.
‘—fuck if I know actually. I had a different Kirsten in every town just ready to be slammed around and spread her legs. Who can keep track? At least me and the Scourge both like redheads, right?’
Draven sputtered, and the Skulltaker sneered.
‘You’re a fool.’
‘I’m a killer, and I’m a clown.’ Donzig agreed, and the Skulltaker motioned him into the ring with a grin across his painted lips beneath his mask.
Donzig paused, and dug into his jacket before he flung something at the ring. A hand in a blue and black glove covered in flames, blood oozing from it. Skulltaker’s eyes widened, and looked up in surprise as Donzig laughed a wild all to human laugh.
Then the chair flew through the air, slamming hard into the masked face of the Skulltaker. He stumbled back, cursing as he felt blood flow under his mask. And then Donzig was on him, firing off punch after punch to rock him towards the ropes.
Skulltaker came off the ropes and was hit with a face breaker across his knee. And he flopped to the mat as Donzig leaned hard on the ropes. He was tired, and his muscles sang a song of agony as he reached for his enemy.
Skulltaker hammered a few elbows into his ribs, driving him back before he fired off a few punches of his own. Every blow was like a hammer, and his head rang like a bell as he stumbled backwards. Draven yelled something, and Skulltaker laughed.
‘You are too weak to defeat me now. This is almost an insult to have to face you like this. Lay down and die, proud Donzig.’
Donzig hissed, and he rose with a sneer only to be whipped at the ropes again. Skulltaker caught him with a lariat that sent him flying. He spread his arms as Donzig lay on the mat.
‘Maybe they will let me enter the Rumble in your place, I would make a better X-crown champion anyhow. Look at you, you can barely stand.’
The Scourge panted, dragging himself forward as the Skulltaker mocked him. And his hand closed on the legs of the chair, and he twisted as he hauled it closer. The leader of the Head Hunters grabbed for him then, and Donzig rolled over to snap the chair like a battle ax across his head.
Skulltaker gaped, dropping to a knee for second as Donzig rose before him. The chair snapped outward again fast as lightning as its long edge cracked across his head. Skulltaker fell, and Donzig walked back and forth with the chair dangling from his hand.
‘Pride is a terrible thing, Skulltaker. Someone should have told you that I am most dangerous when I am down. But let me explain something to you, son.’
The chair lashed out again, and Skulltaker jerked back his arm to cradle it as he tried to rise. But the chair hammered across his spine.
‘They can line up the entire fucking XHF! They can line up every single motherfucking whore son from Steve Awesome to Zoran, and it doesn’t make a goddamned difference. You know why? Fuck them, that’s why. As long as I can breathe I will give those sons of bitches a fight.’
The chair snapped downward again, and Skulltaker howled as he jerked back his other hand as Donzig stared down at him.
‘You see what I want is the goddamned X-Crown, and I don’t want it to prove I am better than them! I don’t want it because I think I am the best! I want it out of spite, out of sheer meanness, I want the entire fucking lot of them to have to accept that I am everything I say I am, son. Do you get that?’
The Skulltaker rose, and he grabbed for the chair. Ripping it away from DonZig’s hands to fling it aside. Blood ran from under his mask, and he threw a few stiff punches before battering his knee into the ribs of the Scourge. He whipped him at the ropes, laughing.
‘You always love to listen to yourself!’
Donzig hit the middle rope, and leapt backwards to deliver an Event Horizon! Skulltaker fell, and Donzig rolled over to press closer to him. A string of curses and insults poured from him, and then he lifted Skulltaker. He slapped his cheek a few times, yanking on the mask as he stared into his eyes.
‘Not so fast, Sunshine. We’re gonna have some laughs.’
Donzig dragged him along, and spat.
‘The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides
By the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men
Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will
Shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness
For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children
And I will strike down upon thee
With great vengeance and furious anger
Those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers
And you will know my name is the Lord
When I lay my vengeance upon thee.’
25:17!
The Skulltaker crumpled as he slammed against the chair, and he rolled off to lay broken on the ring as Donzig wiped a hand across his mouth. He stared at his bloody hand, and sniffed.
He would have to stop soon, he was pushing too hard.
He calmly placed the bent chair around Skulltaker’s lower leg, and stomped down on it. He bowled, screaming as he grabbed for the limb as he reached into his jacket to produce a cigar. He snipped the end off with a cigar cutter. Chewing on it as he paced, a match struck and he lit it with a few puffs of smoke.
‘The Scourge should start smoking, we really miss this.’
He tossed the match aside, and he stared down at the Skulltaker who was clearly in a lot of pain. A hand lifted, and he stared at the cigar cutter. He closed it a few times, and shrugged as he paced absently.
‘You know Reese gave me this cigar cutter before he retired the first time. It’s very nice, gold plated. Has my fucking name on it.’
Draven stared at him, and Donzig turned his gaze back to the Skulltaker before he drove a knee into his ribs. The man groaned, and Donzig stepped over him before he yanked his arm upwards as he sank down on his back. His hand around his wrist, and he lowered the cigar cutter towards his fingers.
‘You know the Scourge doesn’t go for shit like this. He would just take the answer from your mind, or ask some pointed questions. Some shit or another. He considers this sort of petty violence and torture beneath him. Sadly? I don’t care much one way or another, but you’re going to tell me where those two were going.’
Skulltaker groaned, trying to make a fist as Donzig slid the cigar cutter around his finger. And then he shook his head, before he spat.
‘She said you would know that they were going back to the beginning.’
Donzig smiled, and withdrew the cutter. Then he slammed his fist into the back of Skulltaker’s head, leaving him sprawled on the mat. He rose, and absently flicked ashes from the cigar before he slid from the ring. He shrugged off the jacket and flannel, and moved to untie Timmy. Draven stared at him.
‘Donzig, who are these people? What is going on?’
‘Oh, it’s a trap. But I don’t care.’
‘You’re hurt.’
Donzig stared at him, snorting as blood ran from his nose.
‘Oh, I bet we are. But not as bad as they are going to be. Good bye, Timmy.’
Donzig walked away even as Timmy tried to stop him, but he was shrugged off as Donzig turned to face him. A hand lifted, and he sneered before he gave a broken laugh.
‘No, no, no. You’re a weakness.’
The Present -
Armand muttered under his breath as he followed Victoria down the darkened path through the tangled trees and undergrowth. He wiped sweat from his face, and looked around before he shoved a few broad leaves from their path as she paused ahead of him. Down the slope in a small valley he could see a ruin rising from the jungles.
It was old, the weathered and cracked stone covered in vines and plants. It was Aztec built, or perhaps Mayan. Broken and weathered statues stared down at them, old forgotten gods and heroes left to waste away in the jungle. A few guttering torches stood on the edges of the stairs and platforms, and others lined the path ahead of them.
Armand felt a shiver, the power of this place washed over him as he looked to Victoria.
‘What is this place?’
‘It is where it all began, the Temple of the Order, we call it the Heart of Darkness. The House of the Scourge.’
Victoria gave a faint smile, and she pushed aside a few branches as she stepped onto the stones buried in the ancient mud and overgrowth. She turned to face him, motioning for him to follow as she started down the old road between the torches.
Armand followed, and his need for that power grew with every step.
A trio of black robed figures stepped from the trees, and watched them silently. Armand was surprised to see they were women, their faces pretty beneath their hoods as they regarded the pair without expression. But Armand could see the malice in their eyes, and Victoria stepped forward as she lifted a leather clad hand.
‘We come as supplicants.’
They all glared at them, then looked at each other before one motioned for them to follow. She led them down the path, and Armand arched a brow.
‘What are they?’
‘The Witches of the Temple, the Priestesses of Oblivion.’
‘They seem familiar.’
‘You have met two of them, you just did not know what they are.’
Armand blinked, and Victoria sniffed.
‘Emily Black, and of course their leader. That woman.’
‘Godfrey?’
Victoria spat.
The Past -
Victoria frowned as she walked across the ancient stones of the floor of the Great Temple, and she looked up nervously as the weight of the whole place seemed to settle around her as she walked through the shadows. The empty eyes of the old carvings stared at her as well as the skulls of those who had once ruled here. She hated this place, and she frowned as she crossed the ornately carved reliefs on the floor. Ahead of her loomed the Abyss, it was a great hole that filled these chambers.
A rift into nothing, a bottomless pit it was said. A hole in creation. No one came down here, no one except him.
Her brother stood at the edge of the pit, staring down into it from behind his mask. She hated that thing, he had returned from exile wearing it. More and more she did not see him without it, like it pained him to be apart from it. He lifted a hand suddenly, and she nearly jumped as two huge shapes loomed from the darkness.
They were her brother’s prized students, the two big Albanians he had brought from Europe. He had trained them to be as cold and merciless as he was. They made her uneasy, they made everyone uneasy. But they said nothing as they watched her before they walked off.
She watched them go, and then approached her brother as she tried to keep her eyes off that hole.
‘Why do you come down here?’
‘Have you studied Nietzsche?’
‘What?’
‘Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.’
Victoria frowned.
‘You’re not a monster.’
‘It is kind of you to say so, but I was a monster before I ever entered this place.’
‘Mother would be proud of you.’
A laugh, bitter and somehow wrong.
‘No, she wouldn’t.’
Victoria stared at that mask, shivering as she saw her own distorted reflection on it’s surface. Her brother had waged war for the Order, and then against the Order. He had fought heroes and monsters. He had hunted them down, and brought them all to ruin.
That and train their minions. That was his life, and yet she knew he was working against them.
‘They are getting closer to figuring out who is working against them. They have sent to the Temple of Nippon for their greatest champion. Is it wise for you to be so close to the Temple? And can you trust those two?’
Donzig turned.
‘They are the things of shapes to come. The first of my children, dear sister. They will be all that I trust, they will be the Rock on which I build a new world.’
Victoria stared at him, shivering. She hated when he talked like that.
‘Just remember our goal, we destroy the Order. We cast them down, and we rule in their place. Remember. Everything they have will be ours.’
Donzig looked back to the Abyss, and he tilted his head slowly. Victoria stared for a minute and then looked away. Her eyes settled on a black scorpion walking across the old stones, it’s carapace gleaming in the torchlight as it scuttled over the floor with tail held high.
‘Oh, I won’t forget.’
She looked away from the scorpion.
‘They say the Champion of Nippon fancies himself a God. He is a dangerous man.’
Donzig snorted, and he turned to walk away from the edge of the abyss with a wave of his hand.
‘God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. Yet his shadow still looms. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives; who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves?’
End Part Four
“He struggled with himself, too. I saw it -- I heard it. I saw the inconceivable mystery of a soul that knew no restraint, no faith, and no fear, yet struggling blindly with itself.” –Joseph Conrad, the Heart of Darkness
