Round
4
Frank dug his toes into the ground, employing a basic
Shield spell in front of him, his connection to Gregorio revealing to
him that the familiar had been banished in the interrum. Though this
wouldn't harm Gregorio for too long, this would keep him out of the
action for a couple of days, unable to reform himself within the
physical realm.
Huh,
at least he won't get in our way then,
Frank noted to Kitty, who continued to slowly chant to himself,
concentrating.
Rising from the crater, the explosion having blown apart
the barrier as well as the Dais he had initially feared, Valken
strode towards Frank and simply breathed, his aura seeking a ley line
to replenish his mana despite knowing, intellectually speaking, that
there was none to be found until the second barrier came down. The
collected magelight reflected brightly off of his glowing shield, the
Mage Armor and water shell combining as the defensive spell broke
down, forcibly combining with the Dais artifact.
Frank whistled, "So. That's what the Greatest
Defense Master looks like, huh?"
Valken grinned, hugging himself for a moment,
practically nude as the shell had been forced against his flesh from
the neck-down, "You just sealed your own demise, Todd. This
anomalous armor of mine is without flaw - there is no spell that can
penetrate it's defenses now. You may not see it, you dirty plebian,
but the very nature of your own shadow enforced this! I can hear it,
you know..." for a moment Jerome's hawk-like eyes glazed over
with the madness of magic overdose, "The lives the geas has
influenced. The history of the thing! It's mine now, just like the
Demonsidhe - yes, I can admit it now. What can you do to me now that
you've helped create the greatest known Mage Armor in all of known
history, Frank Todd...The Generalist!"
Frank lifted an eyebrow, snapping his fingers as he
responded, "I guess...this."
Valken looked about, seeing nothing at all happen.
Grinning, he took a step forward and plummeted to the ground, landing
hard on his face.
Frank began to laugh, long and hard, gripping at his
stomach while pointing at the prone ex-Legatus, "OH! OH WOW!
OH FUCK! MAN, are you a barrel of laughs, Legs!"
"Wh-WHAT?! But...I saw...you didn't cast a spell,
you didn't do anything!!!" Valken shook his head, the only part
of him able to move at all, the rest of his body completely frozen,
"What did you DO?!"
Frank wheezed with laughter, doubling over as he wiped a
tear from his eye, "Oh, OH! Is this your plan?! To kill me
with this, makin' me laugh m'self to death? Here, lemme try this-"
he snapped again, and Valken immediately scrambled to his feet, eyes
wild.
"How...HOW!" Valken rushed at Frank,
attempting to close the distance only to fall, once again, the
instant Frank snapped his fingers.
Frank's sneer turned into a vicious snarl as he
toyed with the ex-Legatus, allowing him to rise and attempt to either
rush Frank or escape, only to send him sprawling to the ground,
paralyzed at a mere snap of his fingers.
"HOW?!!!! TELL
ME, TODD!" Valken roared, his eyes betraying his emotions, lost
somewhere between helplessness and sheer, impotent rage.
"It's simple, Leggy," Frank chuckled from
where he sat on the Valken House's throne, "You said it
yourself, and it's like you like to say all the goddamn time.
I'm not a Magus."
He waved a gloved hand around at the assemblage, "THEY
are Magi. They live, and breathe, and work for the Code and by their
promise to the Four Elements you people put so much stock and faith
in. The very same ones you feel you can ignore, that somehow you're
above.
I'm not a Magus, and I wasn't hired to be a Magus.
I'm a Shopkeeper, Jerome Valken, ex-Legatus," Frank
walked over to the prone Magi, watching the other man's eyes fill
with sheer fright and humiliation as he held up a hand, palm extended
towards him as he continued, "We're the masters of disaster, the
innovators of violence. We are the torturers and madmen, the
boogeyman amongst monsters. We are the Kings of Angels and the
Sultans of Swing.
We are Death, Jerome Valken. Your fate was sealed
the moment we accepted you as our target."
Jerome, Patriarch of the Valken House, gazed upwards,
tears filling his eyes. His plans, long in foresight, had never
realized this one basic rule.
"I hit you with a simple psionic ability, earlier,"
Frank's voice carried to him as if from a great distance away, "When
I established a link between you and I with that first kick. Y'see,
a Magus thinks the only thing in the world IS the Four Elements,
magic and Magia and spells and bullshit.
But, y'see, it can be easily trumped by psionics. Or ki
energy. Or spiritual power.
All four of the energies can be used against one
another, Valken," he chuckled, "And I've been linked to you
with my Hookshot since the get-go of this, buddy boy, draining you
slow and steady throughout this battle. Hell, you had QUITE the
store of magical power, ya did! Kudos to that. The real trap was
exactly this though - to ensure that so many innnnnnteresting forms
of energy are all about you, all this magic and the regalia-" he
waved a hand in the general direction of each item as he ticked them
off, "and the THRONES and the fucking Dais that was last used,
like, a century a-fucking-go. All these sources of power and you
couldn't feel a teeny-tiny ribbon of will piercing your soul, one
that even a novice Psionic or those fuddy-duddies over at the
d'Balthazar house with their granny panties could've spotted."
"HEY!" Ethel d'Balthazar, floating within
earshot, suddenly broke out of her trance and the gestalt connection,
"I'll have you know that we d'Balthazars are the PREIMER-"
"Yadda yadda yadda, see?" Frank laughed,
waving at the older woman as she continued to rant at a distance from
them, "See what you did, Valken? Now instead of dying with my
dulcet, creamy voice in your ears, yer gonna die with Ethel screaming
her fool head off.
'Nighty night, Jerry. Time to die."
Valken's bottom lip trembled and, with the sound of the
screaming amphitheater, thirsting and hungry for his blood, for
vengeance, for retribution against his failed plans, he closed his
eyes tightly and roared two words at them all.
"f-F...FUCK
YOUUUU!"
The barrier shattered, the magical energies of the
entire location coming completely undone as explosions rocked the
amphitheater, the roof directly above them raining debris down upon
them.
Several of the Valken House rushed forward, many of them
on high alert for just such a thing as they cast scattered Defensive
spells: barriers and shields of various geometric shapes sprang up
overhead, dotting the amphitheater assembly here and there.
Summonings and more sprang to life as the various students sought to
protect themselves, sending the various monstrosities and
otherworldly creatures, ghosts and poltergeists up to either redirect
debris, destroy it, or take the blow and disappear with the falling
object in tow.
Frank slashed a hand through the thick air, dispelling
the dust and smoke from around him while taking stock of the
situation, looking around wildly as he realized Valken had
disappeared.
"Looking...for me, Frank?"
Frank's eyes widened and he forced his body to relax,
drawing his arms up swiftly and taking the powerful blow to his
forearms, the sensation of freefall confusing him for a moment before
he landed on the ground, tumbling head over heels before landing
painfully on his back.
Grunting and groaning, his training kicked in and he
immediately curled up into a fetal position, blocking the launched
kick with both his arms and his legs, the humongous, armored foot
catching him square across his forearms and shins.
"G-GAH!" As if from a distance, he heard his
own battered body make a strange sound as his back impacted squarely
against the d'Balthasar throne, heavy with pure silver. He crumpled
to the ground, his eyes wide as he beheld the monstrosity that had
kicked him.
"...fucking. Demonsidhe."
Jerome Valken roared, his voice made thick and low from
the new steel-like bio-metal exoskeleton his body had produced, the
chemical Demonsidhe bonding him, body and soul, with the Demon whose
contract he had signed. Standing three feet taller, his body was
covered from head to toe in green, red, and silver platelets, his
flesh thicker than leather and harder then even the Mage Armor it had
absorbed in his transformation. His arms were corded with thick,
ropy muscle, his body thickening from the process as well, his hands
and feet transformed into three-digit, reptilian claws. Around it's
head a deep cape and cowl had been drawn, obscuring its' face from
view save for the foul ichor it slavered and drooled over the
scarf-like cowl wrapped around it's neck for purchase. Drawing deep
from the well of the nearby ley line, the new creature filled itself
with raw magic power, forgoing completely any of the normal processes
to create usable mana.
The Demonsidhe that was Jerome Valken roared,
armor-plated mandibulae reaching beyond the confines of the dark
cloak, his red, glowing eyes opening wide.
Demonsidhe. The abominable combination of Magus and
Demon, their magical powers combined and magnified.
An amazing juggernaut of magical fury and horrible
malice.
The process of transformation shrugged off all pain,
damage, suffering, illness, and whatever lingering spells and
damaging skills Frank had placed on him as well.
"Aw mommy, aw damn, aw crap!" Frank cursed
aloud, groaning to himself, "Now I gotta start from square one!"
"First you have to somehow heal your broken back in
time to stop me!" Valken chortled, his new body shaking with it
as, up above, spotlights replaced the magelights as a massive airship
shadowed the squalling amphitheater, a massive island of metal half
as wide as the amphitheater rooftop and supported by four powerful
rotors - able to cut through the air with it's beak-life front as
easily as it could hover. A rope ladder was thrown down and Valken
leapt, grabbing onto it with one hand and flipping Frank off with the
other.
"While we BOTH have to start from square one, at
least I get a God Mode cheat and you don't! HAH! Frank Todd, The
Generalist, I bid thee a fo-"
Jerome Valken had completed the process to become a
Demonsidhe, one of the most feared alchemical monstrosities known to
the Order, a powerhouse even amongst the Fallen Thrones, those
ex-Angels who now lived as Demons. Jerome Valken, once the Legatus
of the Order of Magi, had risen to one of the highest positions one
could within an order devoted to the secret gathering of knowledge
and interdimensional power.
The Patriarch. He who would have been the Daywatch, had
the Grand Magus and his cohorts not named one before he could take
her place, now powerless to even challenge them now that he was
offically culled from their ranks.
Yet despite how he had looked into the very ether of the
darkness that lay between worlds with his own naked eyes, nothing
prepared him as he witnessed Frank get up to his feet, dust his
khakis off and crack his neck as if his back had never been broken.
Frank frowned, his eyes burning with hatred as his
shades crumbled to the ground, a sad casualty of activating the most
powerful of Artifacts on his person, "You broke my shades, you
sonofabitch."
Scrambling up the rope ladder towards the humongous
aircraft, its' four rotors revving up faster as it lifted up both
men, unseen hands from above pulling the rope in, Valken kept his
face upwards, climbing as fast as his magically-empowered new body
could muster, hearing Frank's constant litany of cursing and violent
promises grow closer despite him.
Too shocked to even wonder at Frank's sudden
regeneration, the guards who piloted and staffed his "backup
plan," dubbed The Reaver, pulled him in then stumbled backwards
as he turned, nearly slashing at several of them with the blades from
his pauldrons. Reaching out with a sharp-nailed claw, he roared with
vicious intent only to look out from the open bay door and looked...
At nothing.
He blinked, gripping the bay doors, the ground already
at a frightening height as The Reaver screamed upwards, every sleek
inch of her powered by the very magical energies harnessed by the
Demonsidhe body he now utilized. Looking left and right, mastering
his own fear, his eyes widened and he slowly turned, hearing the last
of the present guards fall to the ground.
Frank looked up from where he stood, a fresh pair of
shades on his face, the blood from the latest cranium he had smashed
already burning from his fists as the Maximum Gloves continued to
feed ki energy directly into his body. Snarling, he pointed a thick
finger at Valken, growling, "And WHAT is he doing here?!"
Jerome smiled, or something close to a facsimile of it,
from within the depths of his shadowy cowl as he yanked the bundle of
unconscious troll to his feet, dangerously close in front of the bay
door.
Frank lowered his hands, the edges of his shoulders
slightly blurry as he growled harder, "What...is DASH...doing
here?! What...have you DONE...to my FRIEND?!!!"
Jerome cackled with wicked, malicious glee, holding him
out through the bay door so his clawed feet dangled, his strength
more than enough to hold the trussed-up troll, bound hands and feet
by simple rope, in the air, "This. This is my ultimate backup
plan, you filthy urchin. The Reaper, the greatest artifact to ever
be built artificially! And now, I'm off to go deliver this and the
cargo of Demonsidhe drug to my buyer! So. Here's the deal,"
Jerome gave Dash a shake, eliciting a snore from the still-sleeping
troll-gene, "You can dive after your friend or stay here and
kill me. Sounds like a pl-"
"I'm going to kill you if you let him go,"
Frank stated with a cold finality, "You're dead."
Jerome lifted an armored eyebrow and chuckled, "So
be it!"
He turned and watched as Dash fell, calling Frank's
bluff as The Reaper pierced the stratosphere, the bay door beginning
to close. So it was with a complete and utter shock as, almost in
slow motion, he found himself tumbling through the air as well.
A Demonsidhe. One of the worst, artificially-created
terrors known to this realm. A creature that should stand head and
shoulders above all other monster-genes.
And yet.
He spun through the air, ignoring the troll as he
fastened his eyes on the speeding form of Frank as, missile-like, the
human rocketed toward him.
It was then that he finally realized something, a
conversation they had had back when they were merely classmates
rather than bitter rivals and enemies.
"It's simple really," Frank, younger and
having just become a teacher within the Order, laughed. They had
luncheoned in one of the common rooms that day, a garden park that
was a favorite hang-out spot of the other teachers and more than a
few of the more gifted students.
"Oh?
Explain then, fellow Magus," Jerome leaned back, eyeballing a
young couple as they passed by.
"Well.
Let's say, well, the Order in and of itself. We're required to
register EVERY single one of the Magia we know, right?"
"Well,
yes," Jerome looked back at him with a bored expression, "Is
this your issue with the War Party again? I get it, I get it - you
agree with them about registration versus personal freedom-"
"But
that's just it!" He laughed, "Even if we ARE being given
that one point if we stand down - the right to not have to register
our fifth Magia, I'd just as lief just LIE about it!"
"Lie?
To the Order?" Jerome laughed derisively, "Oh, you ARE
rich, young Magus Todd!"
Lost
in his memories, the younger Frank grunted as Jerome gazed upon the
glowing fist already within reach of his armored, insectoid face,
"I'm
not a Magus. I'm a Generalist."
In the space between seconds, where even freefall stood
still, Frank grunted, "I'm THE Generalist!"
Time
stand still~!
When the storm hit, Jerome's only perception was of
pain. Unending, unceasing pain as Frank became a whirlwind around
him, the Overdrive pushed by his berserker fury to a blazing level 3,
focusing only on the Time Stop. Where usually doing so on the ground
would have torn his all-too-human musculature, in the sky things were
completely different for Frank.
With Kitty casting the spells from his store of Air
Magia, Frank found his body encased within a shell that negated much
of the G Forces, torquing his body about mid-air, firing off spells
and delivering three punches at time each time he used the Overdrive
more than strain enough on him.
It was in such a manner that he was able to deliver five
sets of three straight punches each in the span of only one second
from all directions, grabbing the reeling Demonsidhe and tearing his
cowl off, ignoring the terrible gashes opening up across his own
flesh, the backlash of so much Overdrive use already taking it's toll
as it devoured the regenerative abilities of the Maximum Gloves at an
incredible pace.
Frank ignored the sensation of terminal velocity, the
horror that Valken had turned himself into. The red glowing eyes,
multi-faceted, his flesh turning armored, the tendrils that had
replaced his hair. The Demonsidhe blinked, it's eyes glazed
over...and the Demon he had contracted screaming from within, willing
Frank to not recognize it. As insectoid as Jerome currently looked,
it's body was humanoid until the lower half came into view, very much
so a four-footed reptile, terminating with a long, spiked tail. Like
all Angels and Fallen Thrones, the creature was breathtakingly
winged, it's shoulder muscles and back muscles exaggerated and
bulky-looking to accommodate for them. The creature wailed and felt
along the walls of its' spiritual prison, doing anything to hide
itself from Frank's piercing gaze.
To no avail.
Frank gave a sly grin before roaring directly at the
creature, "TARIEL! I SEE YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" Laughing,
the right Maximum Glove burning to ashes as the Overdrive sought to
offset the balance with even more living energy, Frank reached into
his pocket and slipped another Artifact on.
Holy Diver, the silver knuckles he kept on his person.
Crafted from a mixture of blessed silver metal and steeped in holy
water instead of regular water, the knuckles themselves bore eldritch
script - Frank's own handiwork, and one of his best anti-Demon
artifacts.
Anti-quite a bit of things, really. As an Artifact,
they were able to affect the insubstantial and the spiritual, rumored
to have a force that can even strike at entities a cross dimensions.
The Purification Blow, the “Ritual of Fuck Off Already,” began
the moment he slipped them onto his knuckles, and as his fist
whistled through the air to slam into Valken, and through him Tariel,
a stream of glowing latin words flowed out of the Holy Diver, quickly
lost to the wind as they plummeted towards the ground. While the
after-effect of the Holy Diver was incredibly useful, allowing him to
both exorcise and banish a target while creating a boundary that
stopped them from fleeing this realm and the anchor they were
attached to, there was little for the boundary to do but float into
the ether and fade away, useless in such a situation.
But Frank wasn't looking to create a boundary, at that
point he was more than happy to simply pummel at Valken's armored
face with the silver knuckles, laughing wildly as he watched the
demon Tariel writhe within it, bound yet scrabbling to escape anyway.
Though he had exorcised and banished Tariel, the creature could
still be summoned, it's power used by anyone strong enough to bind it
to their will.
And this wasn't just a normal Binding either. The
Demonsidhe process was irreversible, and that meant there was nowhere
for Tariel to go now, no way for it to easily escape Frank's waxing
wrath.
Thankful for the shade's protection, bound to his skull
by invisible filaments of ki energy, Frank gauged the distance
between the rapidly rising ground and themselves. Punching Tariel
and Jerome one more time, he left the Demonsidhe fall to it's own
fate, kicking away from it with a shove of his legs and a minor Coast
spell from Kitty, the duo working perfectly in synch to send Frank
towards Dash. Rocketing into the troll, they collided while Frank
scrabbled for purchase, doing nothing but upsetting Dash's combat
fatigues for a moment before passing him by completely.
Growling, Kitty fired off more Coast spells, relying on
their simplicity and the short burst of air they provided to help
rocket Frank towards Dash once again. Reaching out, Frank felt the
pit of his stomach turn ice-cold as he realized his left Maximum
Glove artifact had completely burned away, the Overdrive still hungry
and seeking for more resources to draw from. Realizing he was going
to have one helluva comeuppance for so many uses of the Overdrive, he
grasped Dash by the collar and hauled him in close, quickly untying
his hands and using it to tie their belts together. Using Kitty's
spells, Frank repositioned them both so the troll was directly under
him, feeling the wicked, strange energy of the Overdrive rev into
life once more as he prepared a complicated series of actions.
In
THEORY, this'll work!
Kitty panted within him, slightly turned on from the excitement and
danger, If
this doesn't work, I love you Frank!
Frank closed his eyes, murmuring aloud, his words lost
to the wind as the ground sped towards them even faster than before.
Time...stand
still!
The Overdrive, already pumped to level 4, took a
sideways twist, allowing him to slow down Time to his perception and
movements without ramping up to the final lethal level. Kitty,
feeling the main persona begin his work, immediately fired off a Hard
Air spell from the last of their magical reserves, creating a solid
cube of pressurized air directly parallel to them.
Even though he seemed to have all the time in the world,
Frank gritted his teeth until his gums bled, taking forever to reach
out with his legs and connect solidly with the cube of air, passing
them by with a strange dual slowness and quickness.
Feeling the muscles of his legs explode, his knees
threatening to buckle, both personae felt a moment of utter elation
as their velocity immediately changed direction as Frank attempted to
change their landing pattern towards a swimming pool he had spotted
earlier and cut some of their falling speed down.
Spreading himself so his body would land atop Dash's, he
willed himself to relax completely, an old meditative trick kicking
in and allowing him to focus only on a minute point of Dash's thick
throat, completely ignoring the shock as they landed square in the
center of the pool, water rushing to encase them, displaced by their
meteoric impact...and the sickening squelch as the Troll's single
bone, jointless and rubbery, took the full impact.
Valken awoke to screaming, his own and the Demon whose
power he had coveted, craved even. Tariel gibbered insanely within
him, and he wondered for a moment if the much-vaunted strength of the
Daemon Magia users were, once again, more myth and fiction than any
matter of truth.
Groaning, his voice still a new mystery and wonder to
him, he slowly worked his way to his knees, happy to be alive still.
Crawling out of the crater, he immediately recognized the hotel he
had crash-landed through, tearing out a chunk of the rooms closest to
the outside of the complex, apparently doing no damage save
superficial, before landing next to the pool itself, one that was
strangely out of water.
Staggering away from the crater, his new eyes took in
the strangely 360 degree view all around him, turning his head this
way and that to marvel at it all.
He had survived. He had WON!
He alternated between hysterical laughter and coughing,
waving a hand about to clear the smoke that had erupted from the
impact. With his new senses he clearly tracked the treacherous new
Daywatch as Magus Tanelin burst from around the hotel, calling out
orders to other Magi nearby. Dispelling the smoke and dust with a
simple cantrip, he grinned to himself, already relishing the look of
shock and surprise on her pretty face.
So it was that he found himself rearing back as the dust
cleared and directly in front of him, standing tall, Dash cracked his
knuckles and grinned wickedly. Slightly in front of the troll, the
Holy Diver silver knuckles equipped onto his right hand, Frank tilted
his head, popping it slightly before looking back at Jerome.
He made a wet sound as he ran his tongue slowly against
his teeth, relishing the look of shock and surprise on Jerome's face
and uttered, "Yeap."
For all her years ahead of her, Daywatch Tanelin knew
she would never again see the spectacle of the gruesome twosome
suddenly disappearing, the Demonsidhe attempt to reach towards her
only to flip head over heels, slam to the ground, something invisible
slam him further into the ground, creating yet another crater, before
rising up as if held by the head, two chairs appear out of thin air
to slam against either side of him before the two Shopkeepers
rebounded from his form, both landing hard as if they had performed a
dual drop-kick.
To the sped-up perception of the two Shopkeepers, they
both activated the ki ability "Combined Force," allowing
them to share the same speed and strength for exactly one second.
That single second stretched to eternity and, within this space of a
second, were able to slam their favorite techniques into a single
target.
It was exactly the technique they had rehearsed for just
such an occasion, both realizing instinctively the need to do a
psychotic amount of physical damage in order to shock the
Demonsidhe's system and prevent it from emergency regeneration or
reinforcement of it's already incredible defenses.
In quick succession, Frank slipped behind Jerome to aid
Dash's drop-kick, sending the creature to the ground. Frank, moving
quickly, grabbed the creature's clawed feet as Dash leapt into the
air. Frank leapt up slightly and brought his own feet in front of
him, slamming them into Jerome's groin as Dash landed hard at the
same time, his knee breaking the armor plating around the
Demonsidhe's neck. Frank spun to his feet and grabbed Dash's
outstretched hand, yanking him to his feet and the other side of
himself. Dash, in turn, yanked Frank back, allowing his arm to
stretch a bit as Frank dug in and rushed forward, allowing the troll
to slingshot him overhead and directly down into Jerome's stomach
with the points of his knees, the sheer force of the Human Hammer
technique smashing the creature further into the ground.
Getting up quickly, Frank grabbed the creature's head as
Dash caught his feet, the duo heaving upwards and sending Jerome
flying only to suddenly snap back down, pancaking him deeper into the
hole. Grabbing him by the scrapped remains of his cloak, Frank
forced the creature to his feet, ignoring his own violent pains as
Dash swiftly handed him a metal folding chair.
Slamming his face into it twice, the clean, bright pain
driving away the fog of fatigue and the far duller pain of the
Overdrive within him, Frank turned Dash as the troll slammed the
chair twice into the ground with wicked glee.
Spinning, the duo slammed the chairs against the front
and back of Jerome's head before leaping up and drop-kicking the
chairs simultaneously, breaking both the creatures' head and the
Combined Force technique at the same time.
Jerome groaned once, fell to his knees then onto his
back, his joints exploding in a fan of greenish blood, unable to take
the strain dealt to him anymore. He gazed upwards dumbly, both the
man and the demon within him completely stunned by the attacks they
had suffered.
Frank grunted, getting to his feet slowly at first until
Dash landed next to him sprightly, helping his smaller friend up with
a series of stupid chuckles. Frank looked at him strangely at first,
then joined him in the stupid chuckles until both suddenly did a
little jump and stomped onto the ground, turning to face Jerome's
prone form.
Stomping the ground to a beat and clapping their hands,
they did their ritual troll dance of victory, ending it by slapping
their own chests once with an eruption of sound before leaning down
to jam all four of their middle fingers at Jerome's insectoid face.
"FUCK YOU, FUCK YOUR MOMMA, AND FUCK ALEJANDRO
FERNANDO FOR NO RAISIN!!!!! SHOP, BITCH!"
Laughing, Frank turned as Daywatch Tanelin rushed to
their side, panting, "I, I...that was...eh?!"
She stopped short as Frank held up his right hand to
her, the scene suddenly cold and vicious as Frank's eyes fastened
onto Jerome.
She bit her lip, recognizing this look. This was the
gaze of a predator, done toying with their food.
This was the look of a predator about to strike.
Dash tittered, pain and battlelust still raging through
him as he bit his own finger, drawing blood before chuckling out,
"You gonna do it? You gonna do it Frank? This is the guy,
right?!"
"Yeah, bro," Frank spoke evenly, calmly
despite the edge in his voice, "This is the guy. And yeah. I'm
gonna do him. Right here-" he knelt down, Jerome busted back,
the aura about his right hand becoming visible as something twisted
and wicked welled up within him, "-and right now. You're going
to die, Jerome. You're going to die in pain, and afraid - all full
of terror. Just what the assignment calls for."
"h-" Valken wheezed, his body broken and
busted beyond repair, even from a Demonsidhe's infernal engine,
"...how? How did...what..."
Frank grabbed him with his left hand, his right held
overhead and slightly behind him, the strange energy of the Overdrive
fighting with an even stranger, darker energy, alien to Jerome but
known to Tariel. His own eyes were closed for a moment as he hovered
on the razor's edge between life and death, exulting in the exquisite
feel of his own body wrecked, his mana reserves and mental faculties
on the brink of full-blown breaking. On every level, on every plane
he was aware of, he hurt. He hurt deep.
And he reveled in that pain, in this single moment where
he was ever as close to death as he had ever been.
Each time was always the first time.
Each
time was never enough.
Valken's eyes widened slightly as Frank's opened up, the
chocolate brown transformed into a bright gold. On the psychic
plane, Frank's humanoid aura slammed his Hookshot directly into
Valken's face, infiltrating the man's Ajna chakra and changing it's
indigo color to that of Frank's own aura.
Black, and sharp with violence.
"You never stood a chance, you elitist scumbag,"
Frank leaned in close and growled, devouring the sight of Jerome's
and Tariel's fear as he force-fed them his own memories, his voice
rising to a furious pitch thick with hatred and malice, "Neither
of you have EVER stood a chance because I have faced FAR WORSE THEN
YOU HAVE EVER KNOWN EXISTED!!!!!"
Tariel and Jerome, combined as they were, knew now why
neither could ever beat the Shop.
Through Tariel, Jerome saw and knew what it was Frank
had survived.
Perris County.
An endless night, unnatural and horrible, the very walls
of reality having been forcibly tainted by It's presence.
Eleven saintly shrouded men stood dark against the
blackened sky all about them, the charred remnants of houses burned.
Atop a midden, a pile of bodies so twisted and made
wrong by It's very presence, It sat and gloated, glutting on chaos
and violence.
Within this world, there are three types of known
Demons. Fallen Thrones of both fictional and non-fictional, yet
worshiped, variety. Interdimensional travelers, who may or may not
be malicious in intent. And then you had the ones who had the most
devastating impact on reality itself, the entire world shuddering
under the presence of one materialized in the physical plane.
Humans cannot become angels, but both humans and
angels can become demons. So it was, and so it had always been. But
there was none worse than a psychic human soul that had become
stagnated and bitter, trapped within this side of the Veil and unable
to move on.
Sometimes these pathetic souls were worshiped as gods,
or demons, tied to an artifact or a location.
Sometimes all it took was a sneeze, or a passerby simply
glancing at them and actually seeing them. Always, it was just one
little push that was needed to allow these poor, unfortunate souls to
slip into their own vat of bitter negativity and arise, twisted and
ascendant, able to destroy and warp every level of energy and matter
within their range.
The Psyker Demon.
The men turned and killed one another, and for a moment
Jerome was each of the men, his mind completely under the control of
the Psyker. Tariel gibbered madly, seeking to kill himself and
Jerome with him simply to escape the horror they underwent as their
perception altered.
They had become Frank Todd, shortly before becoming The
Generalist...but they were themselves, merely in Frank's place.
Unlike the real battle in Perris County, California,
during the Havoc of 2012 the battle was short-lived and horrible,
all-consuming in it's terror and hatred, tearing through Jerome and
Tariel both with a finality that nearly killed them on it's own.
But Demonsidhes were tougher than that.
Jerome's body relaxed, finally succumbing to the damage
wrought upon it on every level. For a moment he spoke as if with two
throats, the Demon and the Man within him whispering, "Please.
Please stop hating me. Please. Just...ple-"
Frank's right hand clamped tightly down onto Jerome's
transformed face, then he squeezed, crushing the creature's
mandibulae as his twisted quirk of nature began it's gristly work.
Frank's full lips twisted into a dark snarl as he said,
"Die."
And with that he absorbed Valken's life, his soul,
draining every ounce of the creature that was a strange combination
of Tariel and Jerome Valken and devouring every memory, every choice
he ever made. As he did so he felt his own life triple in size, his
aura enormous as he glutted on Valken's very existence.
Behind him, Dash roared his approval, shaking his head
and arms skyward as he triumphed in their victory, debris and flame
raining down behind them from above.
"ALL HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIL THE SHOP!!!!!!!!"
To Frank's heightened, abuse senses he stood up all too
slowly, slightly in front of the troll as he whispered far too loud,
"All hail the Shop."
****
The Generalist – Taboo 3:
Misfits and Mayhem (The Mayhem Arc)
