The Horrors: Night One (Mk. II)

[Gunn]

During our unfortunate friendly neighborhood Mod catastrophe, the fanfiction I wrote was destroyed.

So, here we go again. I've gone over it again and given it a little more substance here and there. You might want to re-read it just to see what's been changed.

Forewarning: All patrons that wrote their own portions will have to re-post.

[Gunn]

Prologue: A Nightmare to end all nightmares.

Gunn stood at the entrance of the Mobile Suit Pilot Bar. The doorway loomed around him, blacker than night, making his silhouette seem even more vicious. His silver eyes surveyed the inside of the bar slowly. He could see nothing of the horrors that waited within. The smell of death perforated his nostrils with a sickening and perverse motive. It would seem that even the bar’s few lights were now so saturated by blood that they no longer could function and had shorted out.

When he stepped through the doorway, he was assaulted further by a scent that could have made any lesser man vomit. The sickening stench of blood, urine, and feces filled the entire bar. Corpses were draped across tables, sprawled out over the floor, a few even hung from the rafters of the roof, but he could see no sign of his enemy. No sign of what he was looking for.

Each patron had been gutted, or had their throats torn out, in a sadistic fashion. Teeth marks lined the wrist of every man or woman who had been in the bar. Neutral Town’s police force had entered the little tavern on the outside of all natural law, and had been butchered by what awaited them. Gunn’s eyes fixated on a hand lying beside the MSPB’s only phone. So that was why Neutral Town’s SWAT team lied in heaps on the floor.

Shells were strewn everywhere. The SWAT team had evidently been fighting something it couldn’t see, hear, or touch. Then again, it could have been Raz playing a joke on the police department for fun. Gunn reached for one of the men’s flashlights, and flipped it on, horrifying himself by illuminating the terrors hidden in the darkness.

[Gunn]

The first body he found was Nowhere Man. He lay limply across one of the few chairs that hadn’t been broken in the fight. His throat brutally slashed and one of his hands missing. Nowhere Man’s remaining hand still clutched a .45, which had been emptied in the fight. The clip now sat just a few inches from the barrel where it had fallen when ejected from the gun.

Less than a few feet away from Nowhere Man’s corpse lay a young woman. Gunn couldn’t quite tell who it was due to the fact that her face had been torn off. Her eyes now remained in her skull, fixing an unblinking stare on a dead Neutral Town SWAT officer. The officer was no longer wearing his vest, or his weapons; most likely stripped off of him by a patron in need.

Gunn took a few more steps into the carnage, seeing a few hands hanging from the rafters. Squall’s body lay draped across a beam, with his left arm hanging down. His right still clutched his gunblade which had become lodged in one of the support beams during a hard swing. Blood stained the blade horribly, and had actually caused it to melt.

Gunn flashed his stolen flashlight around the room a little more. He was a silver eyed demon carrying a torch through one of the lowest pits of Hell. Yet, somehow it was ironic that he felt sorrow seeing the bodies of people he’d not only dismembered in the past, but enjoyed killing on a monthly basis.

Aries hung in front of him, behind the bar. He’d been strung up on his own bungee cord. The capillaries of his eyes had burst, leaving a horrid looking red starburst surrounding his pupils. His mouth was open in a silent scream that would have deafened the dead if they could hear it. For the first time in years, Gunn looked upon Aries’ corpse with sympathy.

[Gunn]

Ai had been knocked back into a wall, making a hefty dent. His footprints had been marked in several blood pools; he must have entered after the first slaughter. Ai carried no weapons, but his fists were bruised, and bloody. He’d also taken a beating that would have put Gunn on the floor. Ai was half lodged in the wall, his spine had been broken in several obvious places, and there were indents in his ribcage. His attacker hadn’t been armed either.

Upon scanning the room a bit more, Gunn saw Maverick. His chest heaved softly with the last sparks of life. In his right hand, he held a long bladed katana, stained with blood that was obviously not his. In his left hand, he clutched a Berretta M9. He’d obviously grabbed it out of one of the SWAT member’s holsters.

Even though the room was filled with corpses, Mav was the most interesting for two reasons. One, he was still breathing, and two, he had bullet wounds. Four of them to be exact; one of which had struck him directly in the left eye. The other three had impacted his chest. From the pattern, it was obvious that he’d taken several shots at close range from an automatic. Probably a fairly high caliber, but the last bullet had been pure luck. It seemed to have impacted the side of his nose before skimming his eye and ripping through the outer facial bone. It was pure luck that the bullet hadn’t gone right into his brain. Unfortunately, despite the fact that he was breathing, he was unconscious. From what Gunn could see, it looked like his body had shut down due to overwhelming pain.

Suddenly, an explosion racked the MSPB. The entire bar shuddered; many of the few unbroken glasses were now broken pieces littering the floor. Gunn growled softly. The thing responsible for this was obviously beneath him now. Which meant he’d have to either rappel down the shaft to find it, or go through the stairs; neither of which he wanted to do at the moment.

[Gunn]

As he took a few steps back, away from the room of carnage, he sighed. It was hard to believe just one person, or thing had done this. Raz had caused carnage before, but a massacre of such a horrible level was not his style. The room was missing a few people, had they been taken beneath by some sort of demon he hadn’t seen before? Not likely.

One of the bodies missing was that of Libra. The second was Raz. Ellis had also not been among the dead. The last missing was Gunn himself. His only question now was: Where were the other three?

[Gunn]

Chapter One: In The Beginning.

In the beginning, we were all pawns, I suppose. Each of us was used in our own way to further the goals of a madman. Lunacy brought Aries to his end. Honor did the same to Maverick. Intelligence brought Cygnus to her demise. In the end it was ignorance that killed us all, really. I know ignorance is what got me, at least.

You see, the beginning was so long ago, you couldn’t even remember it if you tried. Ever since that one moment, you and I have been misled, mistreated, and misinformed to the point that we can’t tell which way our body’s facing, because our heads are too far up our asses. It’s a scary thought, but the worst part about it is the brutal honesty in which it’s presented.

You could try to define the beginning, but you really can’t define madness. You can create it, but not control it. Consume it, but not be rid of it. You can even see it, and be blind to it at the exact same moment. We all became puppets of madness at some point, or another; every last one of us, twisting in the wind, and frailer than a withered leaf in the middle of winter.

It was more than two years ago when I first strode passed the wooden doorway of the Mobile Suit Pilot Bar, but The Beginning hadn’t truly started yet. No, The Beginning didn’t start until much, much later. Unfortunately, I would remain blind to it right up to the very end. Two nights ago I walked into the MSPB and found blood, and death. Less than a few hours after that, Libra and I stood at the edge of sanity, and managed to survive Hell itself. The real story began long before that fateful night. For me, this chapter of my own ignorance started two weeks before…<br>
Winter can be a harsh mistress and a good ally to those who know her. Unfortunately, I don’t seem to lie on her good side, so going to Japan in the middle of a snowstorm was probably not my brightest and most well thought out idea. A few days prior to my horrible idea Libra had turned me on to a blacksmith who was skilled with demonic metals, and I was in need of a katana that could stand up to as much punishment as I could dish out, and Raz’s skin if need be.

My flight to Japan wasn’t the most pleasant thing I’ve ever been through, and the Japanese taxi seemed to be colder than the icy street. My breath fogged the windows as I tucked my hands into my armpits and wished that the bastard of a smith could have lived in the desert or somewhere tropical.

After tipping the cabbie I wondered just how much I would have to pay for having my axe spruced up and getting a katana custom made. Since this smith was obviously an expert, it would probably take a heavy toll on my bank account. Probably heavy enough to make me go back to my previous line of work as an (Classified).

I can’t possibly explain the sensation that passed through my body when I entered the doorway. The closest metaphor I can come to is it felt like someone had strip searched me and then given me several cavity searches, and then being left without my clothes on. The breath in my lungs was ripped right out of me after a few steps, and after a moment, I could breathe again. I still felt utterly naked but I couldn’t put my finger on just why that was.

As I walked through the doorway into the front office I noticed two people. One, a very intelligent and gorgeous Asian woman standing behind a terminal wearing a uniform, and two, a middle aged man sitting in a waiting seat. I couldn’t quite identify why the man didn’t look right to me, but sitting here and looking back on it makes it seem brighter than the sun.

[Gunn]

As I stepped up to the desk I pulled my wallet out of the back pocket of my pants. This movement made the man twitch, because I was pushing back my trench coat, making it look like I was going for a weapon. From the wallet I removed a small card with the smith’s name on it. On the back of the card was Libra’s name; he’d signed the card himself when referring me. We’d both been sitting right at the bar when he’d done it.

“You’ve been looking for a good demonic weapons dealer and smith, haven’t you?” Libra asked, giving me a questioning look over his Red Comet.

I shrugged and took a mouthful of coffee, letting the burning liquid disappear down my throat. “I need a little tune up and I’ve been looking for a good demonic smith, yeah.”<br>
“Try this man.” Libra had said, while pulling the card out of his jacket. “He’s the best.”<br>
I watched Libra flip the card and sign his name on the back of it. It struck me as odd that he’d sign a business card. “What’s with the autograph?”<br>
Libra chuckled and slid the card over to me. “He doesn’t like new customers unless they’re referred by other customers.”<br>
“Ahh, he must serve a Hell of a clientele to run his business that way.”<br>
Libra laughed. “He’s good enough to get my business.”<br>
Now as I stood in front of the terminal, I absent mindedly wondered just why the man only worked with specific clients. Probably because he didn’t want to be too widely known; normal people would find a flaming weapon capable of cutting through 9 feet of reinforced titanium very interesting, too interesting.

The young woman took the card with a smile, and flashed it under a scanner. She then checked Libra’s signature, no doubt against a very expensive check he’d written for them before. The woman looked up after a few moments with a smile that could have made a blind man see.

“You’re all set. We’ve been waiting for you.”<br>
“Waiting for me?”<br>
Those three words bothered me more than I can tell you, but they didn’t bother me half as much as the feeling of the sitting man’s blade against my throat. The whole thing had been a trick. I now realize why he didn’t look right to me, because he’d been pulling a katana away from one of the wall’s beautiful supports. The katana had no doubt been built right in for whenever they got a customer that didn’t fit the criteria. I felt like kicking Libra’s balls up into his skull.

Before the sitting man could get the blade all the way against my throat, I swung out with the side of my palm, knocking his wrist and his blade away from my neck. He countered by grabbing the blade with his other hand and pulling it in hard to try to take my head clean off, but before he could accomplish it I’d ducked down and turned to face him.

[Gunn]

He had a look on his face I’ll never forget. Wonder, amazement, and cold anger all mixed together in a kaleidoscope of rage colored glass. His right wrist swished forward, bringing the blade toward my neck. Since I rather like my neck, and my head, I leaned as far back as I could, using the terminal as support for my back. The blade passed less than an inch over the top of my chest.

I looked at the young woman, and found that she was not in the least surprised that the man was trying to kill me. It seemed strange to me that she could be so at ease with the idea of seeing my blood spill over her terminal. Anyway, after I’d given myself another thing to mull over while fighting, I drew my right leg up as tight as I could to my body before lashing out with it, knocking the man the chest with the force of a semi truck hitting an elephant.

I remember the sound of the man’s brightly polished shoes squealing against the floor, like tires burning rubber on asphalt, with the same distinct scent. The man seemed even angrier at the fact that I had thwarted him two times. I leaned up from the counter just as he began to run forward at me again. Rather than wait for him to get to me and try to put his blade through my head, I jumped forward and hit him dead in the midsection, taking him backwards right through the wall.

I have to tell you, it was strange enough that the man was trying to kill me. It was even stranger that he survived going through a wall at over 50, but he did. He almost smiled when he got up and brushed himself off and took another three swings at me with the katana. After the third and final swing in his attack, I kicked his sword clear of his hand with my left foot.

As I removed the weapon from his hand, he moved seamlessly into unarmed combat, as if expecting it. His left hand followed my ankle, and struck it hard, sending me spinning around to face away from him. Rather than grab me around the neck, he got a grip on my left arm, and ripped it around behind my back, at the same time, his right hand gripped the back of my head and ran me forward into the nearest wall.

My head made a distinct dent in the wall, rather handsome if I do say so myself, aside from the fact that it was a dull imprint of my face with a broken nose. The second impact proved to be even more furious than the first, most likely due to the fact that I hadn’t been rendered unconscious on the first blow.

Finally as my head was about to be slammed into the wall a third time, I was able to swing my body around to face him again. My forehead impacted his nose with a rather satisfying crunch, sending him reeling backward with blood almost spraying from his obviously broken nose. He had succeeded in breaking my left arm while twisting it, so any punches could have easily been deflected so I relied on my feet.

The first kick landed hard across the man’s face, causing a spray of blood to leave his mouth, along with a few teeth. The second hit him in the ribs and threw him back through the hole in the wall I’d created with him earlier. Personally, I think it was rather selfless of him to offer himself up as a remodeling tool.

This time, when he went down, I stood directly over him. My own blood dripped onto his chest.

“Don’t make me put you down again, asshole.”<br>
The man groaned softly and I slammed my heel down on his hand, shattering at least two bones. The man said nothing after that.

[Gunn]

I can only imagine the look I gave the young woman. I know it was enough to make her soil herself. That’s just about all I remember before a large metal bat was used to knock me into a few miles of pure blackness.

Now, I honestly don’t know whether you’ve been unconscious or not, but it’s an amazing feeling. It hurts, but at the same time, it doesn’t, because you can’t feel anything. Until you wake up, anyway. Then it hurts like a bitch. I was half conscious when my vision was starting to come back. The only thing I could really make out were two grey looking ghosts of mist a few feet away, bathed in white.

“Look, he’s coming around.”<br>
“No, he’s just twitching again.”<br>
“Look closer.”<br>
That was just about when my eyes opened all the way. The eyes I found looking back at me were of the young asian girl from the counter. Concern was the first thing that struck me. Strange thing to be staring up at a person who was just about ready to watch you die, and was now concerned about whether you were conscious or not.

I sat up slightly, finding myself lying on the terminal desk itself. I found the other misty blob to be a round asian man, no doubt the smith himself coming down to see what the hell had been going on in his front room.

“Oh, god, are you ok?” Again, I have to say, it was an ironic feeling to have a person ready to see me murdered one minute, and then concerned about my well-being the next.

“Fine as long as your friend over there doesn’t try to slit my throat again.” I gestured over to the man who still occupied the same spot of floor I’d forcefully given to him earlier.

The woman flushed a crimson red. “That wasn’t his intention, really..”<br>
I raised an eyebrow at her. “A katana against the neck tends to imply that one intends to kill.”<br>
The woman looked down. I felt pleased. What kind of person could sit there and watch the murder of a person they didn’t know at all? Granted, I was one of those people, but that’s because my blood runs a little darker than most.

Finally the asian man spoke up. “Gunn Devirone, right?”<br>
“Mm-hmm.” I replied as I snapped my shoulder back into place.

“We’ve been expecting you. I got a call from Libra earlier, it seems there’s been a mix-up.”<br>
“Really now? So you didn’t intend to tear my head off from the start? That’s good news. What the fuck did you mix up?”<br>
“Well, when Libra called, he was a little distressed. Not for your sake, but for the sake of our protector here. You see, if anyone comes in without the proper ink and signature on the back of my card, they need to be… dealt with.” He cleared his throat softly in an attempt to push the subject forward. “When he finally got through to me, he had realized that the card was signed with the wrong ink. I really am very sorry about all this.”<br>
“Then you can put a discount on my purchase.”<br>
The man’s brow furrowed. “You do not pay for weapons here.”

[Gunn]

I suppose a thousand bells should have been going off in my head by now. Since arriving in Japan, I’d been screwed over by a cabbie, assaulted, knocked unconscious, and met a very cold hearted woman. Normally, all these things in one day aren’t common happenings. Granted, my potential to deal with strange situations is better than most, but by now I should have been turning and getting way the hell away from that building. As usual, and true to my own style, I ignored logic and got off the terminal desk.

“So, you’re a smith that makes weapons, but, you don’t ask to get paid? Strange way to do business.”<br>
The man laughed. “Weapons are not my business, they are my pleasure. Demons from all over the world come here to be chosen.”<br>
The choosing is something I think no one but a smith can understand. It is a strange symphony between soul and weapon. When the correct two find one another, they resonate in a way that can not be matched by anyone, or anything. I have been through “The Choosing” two times. The first time, I received my trusty shotgun. The second time, I received my axe.

“I see. Weapons are your art. You must pay a great deal for demonic metals, though.”<br>
“Yes… but I love what I do. It’s worth any cost.”<br>
Another bell should have gone off right there. Nothing is worth any cost, except for love. Aside from that one exception, nothing is worth any cost.

“Is that so? I hope you’re good enough to fix up a relic, then.”<br>
“What kind?”<br>
I grinned in a slightly vicious way. “An old friend of mine. A battle axe.”<br>
“A battle axe! What a find, you must have been proud to have gotten it in The Choosing.”<br>
“Yes, it was a hell of a match.”<br>
“A Hell of a match, indeed…”

I pushed myself off of the table, feeling a sting of pain resonate through my skull. Being unconscious always has a suspicious way of creating some of my worst headaches, but this one felt different. Yet another warning disregarded, and again I allowed myself to be pulled deeper into my own crushing ignorance.

The asian girl chimed in again. “Are you sure you’re alright, Mr. Devirone?”<br>
“Positive. I’ve been to hell and back, this is a walk in the park.”<br>
“Then what is it like being tortured?” Asked the smith. The look that adorned his face should have come off as another warning. He reminded me of Raz.

“Good question, I haven’t run into anyone who can catch me.”<br>
“Yet.”<br>
I chuckled darkly at what I assumed had been a joke, and followed the man as he led me through a maze of walls towards an elevator that most likely led to his office. When I stood in front of the elevator, I found myself filled with this extremely curious sensation that I was missing something profoundly important. Something absolutely necessary to my survival. I think it was my natural instinct budding into places it doesn’t belong, but then again, it might have been nothing at all, so for that time, I ignored it; one of my first, and biggest, mistakes.

[Gunn]

When the elevator opened up I was filled with this extreme sense of foreboding. It seemed darker than it should have been; more vicious. It reminded me of the gates of Hell. They have the same distinct darkness, and yet at the same time, their own twisted luminosity. Now that I think back on it, maybe something should have stopped me from walking in. Maybe I wasn’t meant to step into that elevator. Perhaps I did not need a new weapon or a tune up on my axe. Unfortunately none of these things registered inside my head, and I just stepped into the elevator without another thought.

I must say now, that my ignorance that day was the first thing that led me to be a pawn. The Beginning, for me, was right there, when I stepped into that elevator. You can’t really call it being brainwashed, because I was in full control of myself. You can’t call it being controlled, because I wasn’t under control of anyone. What it was, in the simplest way I can put it, was being strung along on a leash. Pulled towards things you don’t understand. Given certain choices to make, just enough freedom to keep you thinking your life is yours, but at the same time, leading you through a pre-designed maze created just for you.

I didn’t know why I wanted to get into the elevator, but I did. I don’t know why I didn’t consider it strange, but I didn’t. Destiny, perhaps, was leading me towards that night and the massacre of the bar. I often wonder what could have happened if I’d followed another path and found myself facing down the cause of the deaths of each MSPB patron.

I wonder now if Libra knew his part in this evil destiny. Or whether Raz thought he would become a puppet and wind up a part of this conspiracy. Perhaps Ellis knew what part he had to play in this vicious little plot. Thinking back now, it seems like he knew exactly what he had to do.

I remember what he said to me that night, when I’d finally found him.

“We all have a part to play, Gunn. It’s confusing, and it’s wrong that things have to be this way, but they do. Now, you play your part, and I will play mine.”<br>
Libra, however, did no such thing. He followed me into the breach, toting a .44 Magnum I’d tossed to him before we went back into the bar. He held his own against the enemy we found. He understood by the end, I’m sure, what had happened. His role in this tragedy was equal to mine. We were both just pawns, really. Had we known in advance of that night that we’d be drenched in blood and fighting for our lives, I’m sure we would have gone in with more weapons, or at least a tank.

Raz had no idea about his role. He was played off of in a very clever way. His mind hadn’t been manipulated; he had just been blindfolded so the truth could never be seen. Just as blind as I was. He and I are the two almost directly responsible for the massacre.

Responsible for the death of all but 3 patrons, and the destruction of the Cloning Machine, along with the bar itself. Even now, I still don’t know what Raz’s fate was. I haven’t seen him since that night. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. Not as the Raz I first and truly knew, anyway. I don’t think any of us will ever be the same again.

[Gunn]

Chapter 2: The Choosing.

Now, I have to admit, The Choosing is something that ranks about a 10 on my strange-sensations meter. I’ve never really felt anything quite like it. You sort of slip yourself into this bath of carbonated water. Like being surrounded by bubbles, but each bubble is a sort of consciousness that is all it’s own. Each bubble is a weapon, and each of them tries to resonate with your mind.

Once a weapon can resonate with you, you can use it to it’s full extent. You can run right passed the limits of the weapon itself, and do the impossible. My axe is a weapon that chose my soul to resonate with it. When I hold it, it’s like holding a feather. It doesn’t matter if the axe is really heavy or not; just that it belongs with me. It becomes an extension of myself, and is capable of anything.

As I stood in the elevator, ascending to the 50th floor of the smith’s building, I recalled the day of The Choosing, in which my axe was presented to me. I remember what the feeling was, exactly, as if it had just happened…<br>
I stood in a small circle of light, bathed in a flame of brilliant lustrous orange. It was like standing in the middle of a piece of gold. Pictures flew through my mind at a hundred miles an hour, until finally they started to slow down. The pictures slowly came to a gentle smooth transition and I realized I was seeing faces. Faces of men, women, young, and old. Warriors of the past who had held weapons of great power and destruction, ready to pass their legacy down to me if I resonated with them.

Thousands of faces raced through my mind for at least six hours, before I found one that was familiar. The face was old, weathered, but not tired. The man looked as vibrant as he would ever be, even when his body seemed so fragile. The way he seemed to carry himself was dignified. Tall, with white hair, streaked back. He carried a large battleaxe on one shoulder as if it weighed nothing to him. He wore a set of black and silver armor, and his eyes held a look that could have made any man stop dead in his tracks.

Being chosen is a unique feeling, because it is quite different for everyone. For some, it might feel wrong, but it’s right nonetheless. For others, it might feel like being in love. For me, it just felt right. It’s hard to explain, because you never really can explain such a thing to anyone who hasn’t experienced it.

But there was a big difference between walking into that office, and walking into the ancient hall where I received my axe. A difference I should have paid more attention to, but I ignored, being sure that I was doing what I needed to do. I was wrong… so very wrong…<br>
Stepping out of the elevator, I could see that the smith had made himself a great deal of money. In the hallway to his office, the walls were all marble, containing set-in cases full of weapons not many humans know to even exist. I found myself drooling over a few axes he had collected. Axes wielding the power of the elements. What stunned me to no end was his collection of axes controlling water. Not even many demons know of their existence, and this man had 12.

[Gunn]

That should have made me run right out of the hallway, or head for a window, but still I insisted that I was right, and that I needed to do this. I needed to go through The Choosing again. I needed a sword. Thinking back now, I didn’t need a sword half as bad as I’d convinced myself I needed one. Yet another case of the mind kicking the crap out of instinct by brutally beating it into submission, and throwing caution to the wind, totally forgotten.

So, there I was, facing down the doorway I had to walk through to get the sword I’d convinced myself I wanted. Surrounded by a thousand weapons that were older than the ancients and filled with a gut sense that could have made a homicide detective close his case in under half an hour with no leads, and yet I persisted. What a perfect puppet I must have been. Walking right onto the stage, and dancing flawlessly to my unseen master’s will. Looking back now, I feel sick thinking about how easy I was to manipulate.

I honestly don’t know why I forced myself into that room. Perhaps it was that chain dragging me along that led me into the room. It pulled me in even though every illogical bone in my body was screaming at me to run away from there as quickly as my legs could carry me. Something still pulled me into the room despite my instinct begging me not to cross the threshold. Destiny, maybe, but I think it was just irony and bad luck forming an army against me.

The office was also all marble, but much darker. Nearly black, with strings of gray streaking upward like smoke against the inky night. The light in this room was much lower than even the elevator. Looking back, I would say it was foreboding. Too dark to hold anything worth finding. Unfortunately I was still ignoring my gut, and walked right in. The smith followed me with a smile.

“So, tell me, Mr. Devirone. What can I do for you, hm?”<br>
I regarded him cautiously, trying to ease my nerves. “We both know now that you hold a Choosing Circle here. We both know I need to use it to get what I want.”<br>
The man’s face was stone cold. It became granite in just a few seconds. “And why should I provide you with that ability?”<br>
“Because Libra referred me to you.”<br>
The man’s brow furrowed softly. “Mr. Devirone,” His tone was harsh, “do you honestly think I will sit here and let you soul search for hours until you find your weapon, without something in return?”<br>
“You didn’t ask for cash.”<br>
“You’re right, I didn’t… I don’t want your money. I’m an artist and collector of weapons.”<br>
My eyes shot into slits when I realized what he was implying. “My weapons are my own. I won’t give you a God damn thing.”<br>
“Oh, that’s what you think now…”

I suddenly felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head, and thrown me into the snow. My head tried to turn inside out and I let out a scream of pain while dropping to my knees. Imagine the feeling of two knives being pushed into your skull, and then twisted in two different directions at ninety miles an hour. With both blades coated in acid.

[Gunn]

It’s really a miracle I passed out, because I’m sure the man was planning to do worse to get me to cooperate, I’m also sure he would have gotten me to cooperate, too. Anyway, I had been moved after I’d passed out. When I finally woke up, I wasn’t quite sure what had been done to me. I could see a small pile of vomit a few feet away. Evidently the torture had gone on after I’d passed out.
When my eyes opened all the way, I couldn’t see anything. No lights at all. I’d been strung up between two marble pillars in the office, and the only thing I could smell was the putrid scent of my own vomit. I have to tell you, I really wished I hadn’t gotten into that elevator.
Moments later, the demands continued.
“I am a very reasonable man, Mr. Devirone, if you give me what I’m looking for.”<br> I growled out a curse on his family, and was met with the sensation of every limb being twisted out of it’s socket.
“I’m not in the mood for games, Mr. Devirone.”<br> I managed to lift my head, and grin at him. “Do your worst.” I regretted those words as soon as I’d spoken them, because I felt a first impact my chest and break one of my ribs. Another strike then twisted my head to the side, leaving a small waterfall of blood coming from my lips, and the inside of my mouth.
“This can go on as long as I want, if you don’t give me what I want.”<br> I raised my head again, and spat blood onto his fancy business suit. That’s the last thing I remember from that day.

That’s the last thing I remember about the office, or my time there. The next thing I remember, was waking up in a subway terminal at 2:45am in New York. It was over two weeks after the day I’d walked through the doors of that office building. My powers were gone. I could no longer summon my axe, which meant only one thing. I’d given in.

I have to admit, lacking my demon prowess and weapons was a frightening thing. I still can’t comprehend how I survived that night without both of them. I honestly don’t understand how human beings could endure so much pain and such beatings to their body without dying. I know I’ve died more than once. I know what death feels like. What I experienced as a human was beyond death, and beyond suffering.

Looking back, I understand why so many in the bar didn’t survive. I see now why as a demon I’ve been permitted to live through things that would kill most. It was a humbling experience, to say the very least. It was something I brooded about while locating a cab and an airport. After the incident in that office, I had to get back to Neutral Town as fast as possible. Libra was going to get a very, very long talk, and I hoped he had a very, very good explanation. I didn’t want to hurt him. Well, not too badly anyway.

I stepped out of the subway car, realizing something strange as I headed up the concrete stairs. My wounds were gone. I didn’t even have a bruise on my jaw or chest from the pounding I’d taken. My boots weren’t even scuffed. How in the hell had that happened? I sighed and headed up the street towards the airport, plagued by yet another strange question without an answer. Yet.

[Gunn]

Stepping up to the terminal gave me a horrid sense of déjà vu, and a mental image of the young asian girl came into mind. It made me shiver. Luck was on my side, however, because it was still winter and shivering was extremely common. Anyway, my mind was filled with questions on the flight back to Neutral Town. Libra was going to get an interesting talk from me, at least. I almost had to swear to myself not to keep him alive and torture him. I wanted him to suffer in ways that could make him go insane.

Vengeance would be cold, surely, but it was also going to be very, very sweet.
Or so I thought…<br>
In between the sweet thoughts of vengeance, I wondered why the man had wanted my weapons so badly. Surely I could not pose that much of a threat to a person I’ve never known? For this question, I had no answer. The only person holding the answers was an unseen entity waiting outside on the boundaries of reality. A ghost none had seen in a very, very long time. Pulling the strings and making the plays from a silent place in nowhere.

It scares me to think of the severe patience that was exercised in this little action. The planning, care, and utter compulsion to be so involved and yet so silent and set away. A puppet master pulling the strings with such delicate care that had he been just a bit tougher, the lines would have broken, but if he had been softer, his plan would have never come to light.

It was sick, twisted, and viciously planned and executed. And at the time I had no idea that this puppet master even existed. No idea that somewhere, something deep and dark was making us all dance on a stage to their perverse melody. Looking back on it makes me question whether I have full control of my actions now, or whether some new puppet master is playing a new tune for me to dance to. Turning my reality into some twisted version of their own creation.

When the plane finally landed back at Neutral Town, and I finally disembarked, I found that the feeling of being naked again trailed over my body. As if not being a demon anymore had gone against everything I was, and still am now. It’s a feeling that is just wrong in nearly every way you can think of. It’s as if you’ve had warm brown tanned skin for your entire life, and then suddenly you’re whiter than a ghost. It just doesn’t feel right.

I can honestly say as I walked back towards my apartment, I could already see something was wrong. The world was already dark. Darker than it had ever been whenever I stepped into the bar. The entire world was just black. Like someone had tossed a cover over the moon and left it sitting that way for years. It was a vicious darkness that was created to hide truth.

I couldn’t see anything for miles. No one. Nothing.

Thinking back on that moment, I wish more than anything that I’d been armed on that street. Because blood was going to be spilled that night. A lot of it. And I was one of the people that had to spill it.