||[Dec. 18th, 2006|12:31 am]
Sometimes, when it is real quiet and you listen very closely, there is a sound. You may not hear it at first, but if you really focus, all at once it will creep into your eardrums, like a slow wave on the beach.|
A soft buzzing, as if a thousand little gnats were beating their wings at once.
It seems harmless, but a little unsettling. The first noise to break your concentration and it's gone. You'll convince yourself you never heard it and after a nanosecond it's so far from your thoughts, you won't ever remember you did.
But in that moment, that forgotten second, you did hear it.
...and it heard you.
Those are the demons of Hell.
Millions of them, whispering, just beyond the fence of this world. Their voices a sound that would suggest the very raping of the natural order. In moments you get a chill, or feel uneasy...it's cause you caught a listen, even though your mind doesn't remember it.
The human mind is designed not to. You'd go mad if you did.
To spring someone from Hell is no easy task. To do it unintentionally, that requires something tremendously large: the murder of an angel, the genocide of a country...
...an extremely unstable and large magic spell.
For every action of magic, there is a reaction.
...and whoever made the mistake of pulling me out of the deepest depths of the inferno, well...I assume that whatever action they did, it was big.
Ironic, that I was ripped back to this realm to find myself in the place they dub the "City of Angels", Los Angeles. If only they knew.
It had been some time since I had been in the Earthen realm, or at least I thought so. The way time worked here was much different than in the nether regions of darkness, but I knew it had been a while. The last I had been here, I was on the opposite end of this decadent Rome that the modern agers referred to as America. In the city of New York.
I aided the Hellspawn, who was easily tricked into thinking we were working on behalf of the Heavens. I trained him, mentored him, and he never once questioned that it was all a lie. The first lesson to be learned about the denizens of Hell, truth was not our strong point.
But there was eventually a revolution on the seventh ring, and I was trapped back in the fires. Forgotten, the victim of my deception now aware of what his mentor was...who he was.
In every sense of the word.
So there I stayed, eternity before me.
...and now, this.
But the magic had not only freed me, it had...restored me. No longer was I the old man, withered and decrepid sorceror...my youth returned. I was as I was in the days prior to the fall of man. Before judgement.
I was whole.
...and my blood ran hot.
My youth had returned, but my experience remained. I was back on Earth, but Hell was on my side...
...it was time to take back what was rightfully mine.
But first things are first.
I pull the dusty old trench coat on over my bare shoulders, the cool material soothes my hot flesh. My eyes follow the blood smear on the brick wall down to its origin: a transient who happened to have what I needed: Earthly attire. His death had been simple, collison of his head with the wall with enough force to crack his skull. Removing teeth, that had just been for fun.
I slip my fingers slowly down into the pocket in which they had been placed, a jagged, moist mess. I smooth my thumb over what feels to be his molar and smile.
I step out of the alley and look right and left. I choose my direction, and walk slowly, the traffic of people going this way and that is invigorating. So much life.
I could just imagine it all in one bleeding pile.
It's enough to make a man smile.
My eyes catch the folded creases of the crier's work, a newspaper. I scan the front, my eyes locking on a series of words, and I smile.
I turn from the paper stand and look about, locating the nearest cross walk. I make my way over, stepping out to traffic, I hold up my hand. Immediately several of the vehicles come to a halt. I glance them all over, assessing each one, I walk through the line of immobile cars slowly.
My eyes narrow as I see the large behemoth before me, and I instantly know what I desire. Sure the choice was extravagant, and slightly inconspicous, but I owed it to myself, didn't I?
Why take one motorist, when I could have dozens?
I knock on the glass door of the bus, and the driver tugs the latch, removing the seperation between us.
"Are you fuckin' nuts buddy? Get off the road!"
"You. You will drive me to New Metropolis."
"What? Does this look like an airplane to you? You're crazy. Get off the damn road. This is the bus, I don't leave the city."
I step up onto the grated metal steps into the vehicle's interior, and up into the bus major, I turn and see a young girl, mid-20's perhaps, sitting in the first seat.
I smile at her.
There is a moment of silence, wherein nothing occurs...and then it happens. Faint at first. A smell which must be unfamiliar to them, but I would identify easily...brimstone. The girl starts twitching, uncomfortable at the beginning, but it is only when she starts screaming uncontrollably that the rest of the passengers take notice.
She is burning, without flames. The sight is likely unbearable for them, the popping flesh, the cracking blisters, and all the blood. What is the worst though, is the eyes...how they run down her face.
Public transportation was never pretty.
Seconds later, it is over, and the young co-ed slumps forward, smoke curling off her now ashen body.
I turn back to the driver.
"You say you don't leave the city? Well I say today you do."
I hear the bus door clap shut behind me, and I smile.
I clap my hands together as I turn to face the silent passengers, the bus beguns to hum along the street.
"So...who has an open seat?"
((Not quite open...coming soon to New Metropolis))