In Hell [Chapter One]

[Donzig]

Chapter One

I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves…. - White Room, Cream

The Green Man fled across the desert, and the Scourge followed.

How long had he been following his enemy? He didn’t know. His life was this, just endless walking across the blasted landscape beneath a bloated red sun. In the far distance there gleamed a city, it’s rust pitted walls visible in the hazy light. Every day his plodding footsteps across the barren sands drew him closer to the city.

The gates of the city bore a weathered sign, and it’s metal worn down by endless ages of sand and wind. It read ‘Abandon Hope, all ye who enter here’. He didn’t have hope, all he had was certainty.

At night or during the day, he would find himself in a different place. A world filled with people he vaguely recalled, people who seemed more real than those he met in this wasteland. Most of them were enemies, he knew that. In that place his enemy waited, a mirror image that he loathed.

This other self had all his gifts, all of his talents, and he wasted them! Wasted them on what? A quest for props to boost his ego? For money? And worse, he wasted hours brooding on his wrongs, and wallowing in self pity. He drowned himself in alcohol, and he wouldn’t lift a finger to stop the decline of the world around him.

This man had stolen from him, he had taken his face! The thing that called itself the Scourhe seethed, eyes boiling with rage beneath his hood. He spat, fuming as he kept walking across the windswept hills as sand and dust billowed around him. He gathered his cloak around him, shaking his head.

He had other enemies, they stole from him. They took away his kingdom, his army, and his allies. They had been the source of this fall! And now another of those enemies, some fallen god tried to drag him back. Tried to call him back into that world to suffer his wrath, and he knew that all of these enemies would suffer!

He would break them after he found his face, after he found that drunk fool. His hand lifted slowly, and he stared at his gloved fingers as they held a single worn chess piece. A hiss, and he looked up.

‘Soon.’

Chapter Two

I grab the bottle, open up and make it quiet
But they get louder every time I try to hide it…. – Misery, Memphis May Fire

The beat in the bar thumped as he waved his hand for another round, and he stared at the girls gyrating nearby on the stage as money rained down around their naked forms. He grunted, and he chewed on his cigar as smoke swirled. A bouncer leaned forward, and frowned as he stared at him.

‘Hey, buddy, you can’t smoke in here.’

Donzig exhaled a ring of smoke, and flipped the man off before looking back at the girls. The big man blinked, and reached for him again. But froze as Donzig’s head snapped towards him, those eyes suddenly cold and empty as his lips twisted into a scowl. The bouncer held up his hands, stepping back as Donzig’s cheek twitched. The bouncer shook his head, moving away as Donzig glared after him.

But it was too late, he could already hear the voice of the Scourge hissing to life in his mind. Is this what it was like? Did the enemies of the Scourge hear his cold hissing voice in their darkest hours as he promised? Donzig had watched the tapes, and he found whatever that thing was disturbing.

It was him, but it was the worst version of him. His worst impulses, his worst instincts, the very face of every terrible thing that he had ever done. Donzig had never been overburdened with a conscience, or any sense of guilt for his ruthless quest for glory. But the Scourge was a monster.

He shivered, and he grabbed the beer bottle from the waitress before he chugged it down. He looked up as Saito walked over, glancing at the girls before he dropped down across from Donzig. He shook his head as he offered him a beer, and Donzig rolled his eyes.

The Scourge started to mutter again. He hated Saito.

After a moment, Donzig fumbled in his jacket to pull out a small ash stained chess piece. It was the white king, he turned it in his fingers with a faint smile. He wasn’t sure where the chess piece came from, but it comforted him. He stared at it, then glanced up at Saito.

‘What?’

‘Shouldn’t you be getting ready for End of Days? Isn’t that why we are in Vegas?’

The beer bottle was lowered, and Donzig gestured with the cigar.

‘Uh, right. So let me get this right, I am getting ready to face Spike Kane at Battle of Britain in who knows what the fuck kind of goddamned match! I still have SKY Force breathing down my back, and now the XHF Brass has thrown me into some kind of tournament? Are you fucking kidding me? I just had to do some crazy fucking battle royal at Disney!’

‘Thrown you in? No, you have to volunteer.’

Donzig’s brows shot up, and he lowered the beer bottle as he blinked in surprise. He absently flung a few bills towards the redhead on stage, he had found he had a thing for redheads. And his head cocked as he stared at Saito.

‘I volunteered? Why the fuck would I do that? What kind of lunatic with all of this shit going on would say ‘I NEED TO BE IN THIS TOURNAMENT’.’

A wave of cold dread hit him, and he stared at Saito.

‘Yeah.’

‘What in the hell! Does he do this sort of thing all the time?’

Saito stared at the grinding redhead, and then looked away with a blush. A shrug.

‘You? Him, I mean? Yes. He is unstoppable, he will fucking tear through every event on the Network if he feels like it. End of Days? I think the winner gets a shot at the X-crown so yeah.’

Donzig winced, a spike hammering into his head as his fingers tightened on the chess piece. And the whisper rose to a shriek, a howl in his mind as he fell back in his seat.

The X-Crown. The Scourge was obsessed with it. It was his holy grail. Any mention of the X-crown made him come back to life, and Donzig had to force him back. He could taste blood in his mouth, and he grabbed the bottle to take a long drink.

Saito shrugged.

‘And you know who has the X-crown.’

His hand snapped up, motioning the Young Lion to stay silent. If the X-crown made the fire flare up, mentioning the name of the champion was like gasoline. He was not sure why the Scourge was obsessed with destroying that guy, but it was.

‘Fine. Fuck it. Whose in the match?’

Saito blinked, leaning back as the redhead sauntered off. Donzig watched her go, and then he took another drink before he gestured with the bottle for Saito to continue. Saito rubbed his head, shrugging before he spread his hands.

‘Joe Nobody.’

‘The fedora guy from HKW? He’s been at this for seven years you know.’

Saito blinked, and Donzig waved his hand.

‘It’s okay, a fedora won’t save you from a Donzig Stunner. I am going to leave him in a heap, you see seven years ain’t shit to me. Imagine some guy from Detroit thinking he can go toe to toe with me? Christ.’

‘But–’

Donzig snorted.

‘But nothing, next!’

Well, no matter which face of Donzig you dealt with he never lacked for confidence.

‘Dana the Drone Daniels.’

Donzig’s brow lifted, and he sat forward with a grunt.

‘This better not be one of those fucking borg things from GUNS. Who has time for that shit? Come on, man! This is a fucking joke right?’

Saito laughed, shaking his head.

‘Ah, no. But you’re not going to like it.’

‘Oh, I can’t remember the last time I liked anything except that redhead so try me.’

Saito looked away, muttering something. Donzig frowned, and he gestured before he leaned closer. He tapped the table, and Saito looked at him before a hand lifted to rub at the back of his neck before he looked away again.

Donzig scowled, and he reached over to tap on Saito’s shoulder.

A sigh.

‘He was a beekeeper. Drone like a bee.’

Now Saito knew what most people did not. Donzig didn’t like bees. In fact, Donzig despised and hated bees. In fact, it bordered on what most people would call fear. Donzig even this Donzig would walk into Hell, he wouldn’t bat an eye at a group of people waiting to murder him. He didn’t even care if he was thrown face first into burning barbed wire.

Bees? He drew the line at bees.

Saito had always wondered if the Scourge also was scared of bees, but he had never found the nerve to ask. Maybe he should try mentioning it to Sinclair, but he found her more terrifying then anything in the XHF.

Donzig was staring at him, and he let his hand fall to the table.

‘A bee keeper? Are you fucking for real? I better not see one bee, Saito.’

Saito had seen how Donzig reacted to bees, and that was violently. He shrugged.

‘He’s mostly a simp now! Marty trained him.’

Donzig rolled his eyes, and he took a swallow of beer.

‘I don’t know why he hates Marty so much either.’

Saito blinked, and he just kept going. He didn’t want to bring up the thermos of bees to Donzig at all.

‘CJ Walker.’

Donzig nearly dropped his bottle, his eyes going empty and cold as he hissed.

‘CJ Walker? What the fuck? Who wrote this fucking card? Who is the miserable piece of shit at XHF HQ who just signed their own death warrant? Do you know who the fuck I am? I am a God among men! I am the Wonder and Terror of this age! I can tolerate Nobody, I can overlook the fucking beekeeper! But this shit? I will have someone’s bloody eyes for this, little man!’

Saito flinched away from Donzig whose voice had risen to drown out the music. The half clad girl nearby ducked away as Donzig half rose from the table. His eyes were dead flat things, and his face was a frozen mask as his hands lifted. They pointed at him like claws, and a pair of bouncer stepped forward.

Donzig’s head snapped around, and he stared at them.

They jerked backwards, nearly toppling over each other as he hissed.

Saito took a deep breath, and Donzig stared at him before he blinked a few times. He took a deep calming breath, and then dropped back into the seat as he fumbled for his beer bottle. His hand shook slightly, and he finished the beer in a gulp before he motioned for another.

‘I got this.’

Saito nodded slowly, and looked away.

Chapter Three

‘Spin my way out of hell
There's nothing left this soul to sell
Live fast and die fast too
How many times to do this for you?’ –Long Hard Road Out of Hell, Marilyn Manson

He blinked as he found himself standing on a hill covered in dying scrub. He had been somewhere else for a moment, somewhere far away. He remembered something, something about an insult. He shrugged, and wiped a hand through his beard before he started down the hill as sand and dust swirled around him as he almost slid.

Below him in the narrow valley was a farm that looked on the verge of collapse, the sun weathered and warped boards of the barn barely held together in the hot wind. He held out a hand to steady himself, and then started forward again as he reached the bottom of the hill. He frowned as he heard someone shouting.

A woman was stumbling through the dust, nearly falling as she held onto her torn dress. A man yelled behind her, being held up by one arm by a squat dusty figure in ragged and torn motley. More of them stood around laughing, a few howling as they chased after the woman. Their dirt streaked faces were covered in ragged and worn paint. Clowns, they looked like clowns.

The woman fell at his feet, and held up her hands.

‘Help me! Please! Help us!’

He snorted, and looked up as he turned to walk away. Then one of the clown creatures laughed gruffly, pointing at him.

‘Walk away, fool. This is none of your business.’

He froze, and his eyes narrowed. No one commanded him. No one told him what to do. He didn’t care about these farmers, these peasants, not really. But he would not abide this insult, he staggered back as he jerked his sword free with a loud hiss. The creature’s eyes widened, and they pulled out their own weapons. Jagged, evil looking things and rust pitted black iron, and they circled slowly.

He laughed, a cold mirthless sound as he charged forward with his sword held low. It stabbed into one’s leg with a spray of blood, and he ripped it free as he spun away. The blade catching the other’s wild swing high, before he drove a fist into it’s chest. The sword spun whistling, blood arced through the air before the creature’s paint head flew away across the earth. Blood spraying as it rolled across the earth before it dropped.

The one in the dirt mewled, and the third stalked forward with a low growl. He sighed, almost bored before he swung the sword in a flashing arc. The thing brought its own cleaver like weapon up to block, and he twisted away. His own sword, snapping across its ribs twice which made it stumble before he ran it through.

He flicked the blood away, and he shrugged as the farmers gaped at him.

‘Thank you! Thank you!’

They grabbed for him, but he drew back from their hands as he gathered his cloak around him. His eyes blazed with fury, and he spat as he leveled the sword.

‘Don’t touch me.’

The farmers wept, and he turned on his heel as he walked off once more. His eyes focused on the distant city, he had to find his face. He had to find his mask. He had a world to save. He wiped his sword on his cloak absently, frowning as he slid it back into the scabbard.

He would have his vengeance, no matter what it cost. He would not be denied.

He would be returned.