Rabid *HF* Chapter 11
By Gene
This had happened progressively more since he left Siberia, starting as an occasional thing - like a temper flare-up - until now, when he almost felt like a sleepwalker. He hated the feeling, and thought he was either hypnotized, drugged or posessed. What made him feel worse was, he didn't think he had enough control to do anything about it. Any time he wanted to tell someone about it - Alice, Mufasa, Grover, even Gomurr - his mouth wouldn't work. He couldn't even write it down on paper.
Now he was aware that something in him was trying to share the driver's seat of his body. He couldn't see it, could rarely hear it, but he could feel it, and sometimes fight it. However, it was so strong, Gene was fairly sure it could destroy him if it gave him its full attention. He could shove it aside for brief moments, but in an extended fight for control, he thought he would lose.
He walked down the hidden corridors of the shopping mall, leaving through a fire exit on the roof. He ran across the roof, glancing at the other end of the mall, where firefighters put out the fire that ravaged the remains of the Sears store he had blown up to defeat Rune. He felt himself smile, then he turned away and jumped off the roof, landing on the pavement two stories below.
Skaters did tricks off a concrete planter, a railing, steps and a bench near the entrance to the mall, between Gene and the car he had brought. Gene ignored them and walked toward the car.
"Check it out," a tall, thin skater in shorts and a basketball shirt said. "Dude, are you Rambo or somethin'?"
"No, man, I think he's Blade," a shorter skater said. "Lookit the sword on his back. Yo, you goin' t'kill some vampires?"
"Blade don't carry no bow and arrow," a third skater said. "And that guy's white. Hey, whassup wit' you, man? Why you..."
FsssssssssssSHWUCK!
The arrow struck the boy in the mouth before he or his friends could even see Gene pivot, load, draw or fire. The broadhead burst out the back of the boy's neck and poked through his hair like a mole coming out of the grass.
"Jesus!" the tall skater said. "Hey dude, we was just..."
Thak!
THAK!
The tall boy and his short friend hit the ground almost at the same time. The former had and arrow through his Adam's apple, the latter through his breastbone. The tall boy writhed on the ground and made choking sounds as he grabbed at his throat.
Gene felt himself smile again as he continued walking toward the car. He turned his head and saw the boy struggling, then forced himself to walk over to him. He stood next to the boy, who looked up and opened his eyes wide with terror when he saw Gene. He began to shake his head wildly from side to side.
Gene grabbed the boy's wrist, turned him over to the side, and pinning him down by the wrist, plunged his bayonette into the boy's temple. The struggling stopped. Gene wiped the bayonette off on the boy's shirt, sheathed it, and walked back to the car - a black mini-van with tinted windows. He got in and drove away while the firefighters continued to work and the boys went on to the afterlife.
It was time to move on, break the pattern, the others were getting too close.
***
Brownland, Florida, 2 days later
It had been a productive day. Gene came here after watching a Nightline story saying this was America's largest speed trap. Even AAA motor club warned members that this small town gave out more tickets than any other place in the country, and it handed out harsh monetary penalties and even jail time with them. Town police and officials claim the speed limits may be low, but it's for the safety of the town, and safety comes first. However, as much as 60% of the town's income comes from speeding tickets. Clearly, this needed handling.
Gene left New Jersey and drove for a day and a half before arriving in Florida. On the way, he stopped in Maryland and paid a visit to his old office, where he killed his old boss and her boss while they were heading out to their cars. Both worked late and were alone, not that it would have mattered. He skinned his old boss and staked her hide to a wall to dry, while he quartered his boss's boss, removed the top of her skull, and pulled out her brain, which he unceremoniously tossed in the dumpster. Entering the building, he showered in men's room, changed his clothes and went back on the roard.
In Florida, he abandoned the mini-van and rented a new Mustang convertible, which he drove straight to Brownland. Brownland was on a main state highway, which ensured lots of traffic from people passing through, but little from people actually living there or coming to stay. It was, from the town's standpoint the perfect speed trap.
Gene was pulled over less than 5 minutes after crossing the border into town. A middle-aged, short, cop with a graying mustache walked up to the car and asked for Gene's license. Gene told him to fuck himself and asked if the cop had any confiscated liquor. The cop told Gene to give him the car keys and get out of the car, and Gene was handcuffed and arrested.
At the station he was fingerprinted and asked for a statement. Gene said his official statement was "Fuck you. It's too bad you keep all the confiscated liquor and drugs for yourself." Two cops led Gene, handcuffed to a cell, but they were sloppy, as he expected.
He twisted out of the grip of one and spun around to deliver a knee to the groin. He then headbutted the other cop before he could draw his gun. Tai chi knee sweeps brought them both to the ground, where quick kicks broke their necks. A few seconds later, he unlocked his handcuffs using the key on one cop's belt. He was now free and armed with two nightsticks closely resembling his tonfa, two handguns, extra ammunition, two cans of pepper spray, and two pair of handcuffs.
Two hours later, every cop in town was dying or dead. Some he hunted down as they monitored roads in and out of town. One was sitting in the squad car with his dick out of his pants, playing with himself as he aimed his radar gun at traffic. After a few kills, the cops came to find him. Now reinforcements from neighboring towns were coming in to hunt him down as he ran about the town, tearing down speed limit signs and shooting out traffic signals. He was armed with a shotgun and a rifle now, as well as the handguns, and the police he encountered were scared shitless. A few managed to fire shots at him, but the bullets where stopped by dense clumps of solid shadow. An occasional bullet or bit of shot got through, but was ejected from his flesh almost as soon as it hit, the wound healing without a scar.
Next on his list was City Hall. That fat bureaucrat from the interview was going to die slow. He represented everything that was wrong with the world. He was the epitome of every stupid piece of crap humanity had generated over the past 6,000 years, and now he'd pay for it.
Gene drove the squad car through the city's streets, marveling at how nice it was to drive when no one else was on the road. If only every day could be that way, everywhere. Suddenly, the car was in the air. He felt it flip over once, twice, then crash upside down. Stunned, he heard the screech of tearing metal and suddenly the door was gone and he was being pulled through. Shaking his head, his eyes focused on a dealthly pale face and blood red eyes.
"Hello, Gene," Diablo said. "Play time is over. Now it's time for your lessons."
Diablo threw Gene across the street and into the side of a bank. Before he could get up, Diablo fired a blast of hellfire that knocked Gene off his feet again. He felt the fire burn him, but marvelled as it was sucked into his body. He suddenly felt ten times as strong. And he was grinning again.
"You'd throw Hellfire at me?" he heard himself say. "Fool. I live for the stuff. Give me some more!"
Diablo sniffed the air. "I know you, demon. The scent is so old. You've been missing for a long time. Time to return to Hell."
Gene stood and heard himself speaking in the shrill, mocking voice.
"Diablo. Always the tough one, with the heart of a romantic inside. How is Byron, by the way? As a romantic you should remember, I'm not a demon. I'm half-demon. A demon spawn you could say. Not unlike yourself. Trapped for too long by a well-intentioned soul."
"Demon or half-demon, I know you, maggot," Diablo growled. "And you're coming with me."
"Really?" the demon said through Gene. "Don't you want to see my face or know my name?"
"It doesn't matter," Diablo said. "All that matters is your...no. Not you!"
"Yes. Are you ready to face me Diablo? Bear in mind, my operatives are now holding what's dearest to you. Perhaps you'd like to free your heart's desire before falling before me."
Diablo took two steps back, steam billowing from his nostrils. His wings extended from his back as his sword appeared.
"You WILL fall before me. Soon," he said. His wings began to beat and he took to the air and was gone.
The door to City Hall opened and a man walked out. Still in shadow, he spoke.
"NIcely done, my friend," he said. "A bit of mental suggestion, making Diablo see the face of his greatest enemy. Preying on his greatest fear? If you can't defeat the man, let him defeat himself." HE stepped forward into the mid-day sunlight. It was Shaman, dressed in the robes of the Sorceror Supreme. Beneath, he wore black jeans and boots.
"Shaman," Gene said. Then, the voice of the demon said, "The Sorceror Supreme. Yet I sense no power in you, wizard. Why do you face me? Tired of your long life?"
Shaman smiled. "Piotr, I put you in the ground long ago because I was tired of you then. You're no less amusing or useful now. You're a pest, not a menace. A mid-level demon spawn with aspirations for things he'll never achieve. Get with the picture, son. You'll never be anything. Leave the torturing of humans and races to those fit to do it."
Gene's teeth extended from his mouth once more, creating a mask of sharp bone around the lower part of his face. His ears began to harden and come to a point, and as his mouth widened into a sneer of hatred, acidic drool dripped from his mouth and sizzled on the sidewalk. His hands clenched into fists and the sharpened talons now growing on his fingers cut into his flesh.
"How dare you, old man? You call me only nothing when you are but a human."
"He's right, Piotr," came a voice from across the street. Gomurr appeared from behind a parked car, his staff in hand. "All you have done here is throw a tantrum to draw attention to yourself as a way to compensate for being so insignificant. You really are unimpressive, and this has to stop." He paused and his eyes locked on Gene's. "Look at me, hellspawn. Am I lacking in power?" Blue lightning extended from his head, then coursed all around him, crackling the air around him. "If you wish, you can compare your power to mine and learn what greatness is. I'm in no mood to play. You will be ash."
The demon in Gene began to growl, and a large swirl of shadow gathered around it. It coiled back its arm as if to throw something, then stopped.
"What's this? A ring? You've been keeping this from me boy!" it said.
Fire erupted from the ring and coated Gene, burning away the shadows about him. Suddenly, Gene tore the ring off his hand and threw it at Shaman.
"Now! Now! Take him while he's surprised!" Gene screamed. "Take me down!"
Shaman caught the ring with one hand and pointed at Gene with the other. "Now, Chastity!" he screamed. "Stop him cold!"
A young woman with white hair and blue/yellow eyes stood on the roof of a movie theatre across the street from the bank and extended her hands. Instantly, the temperature around Gene dropped far below freezing. Ice began to form around his feet, arms, and legs. As it did, Gomurr extended a hand toward Gene and blue light flashed from his palm. The weapons on Gene's body and at his feet disappeared, reappearing at Gomurr's feet.
Five seconds later, Gene was encased in a solid block of ice.
"See what the big dogs can do?" Chastity said from the roof.
"It's not over yet," Shaman said. "We have to see if it will hold him."
"If not, I am ready," a voice said behind Shaman. "He will not stop me."
Shadow began to coat Gene's body within the ice, until his body seemed to be painted jet black. Then cracks appeared in the ice.
"Chastity, try to refreeze him! Fill the cracks as they appear!" Gomurr said.
"I'm trying! The ice is breaking so fast! He's applying too much pressue!"
"Just a second more!" Shaman said. "Gomurr, my powers have returned. Continue with this plan, be ready for Plan B." Energy shield appeared in front of Gomurr and Shaman, and SHaman cast another around Chastity. "All right Chastity, let go!" Shaman said.
Instantly, the ice formation around Gene exploded and shadow poured across the street. Laughter was at its center.
"An elemental now, Shaman? How refreshing." Through the haze of shadow, they saw Gene raise his right hand and look at it.
"It appears my host was holding back from me. Not only did he have mild mental powers, but he used them to keep me from noticing the ring he wore. What does it do, SHaman?"
"For you, nothing," Shaman said.
"Why don't I believe that?" the demon said, smiling.
"Enough talk," said the voice from behind Shaman. "Now is the time for you to surrender or die." The man stepped out, dressed in green silk fighting robes trimmed in gold. He carried a kwan dao, and had a sabre hanging from his belt. It was Grandmaster Pan Qing Fu.
"Another mortal," the demon said. "Who are you?"
"You know who I am. You were my student. You have brought dishonor upon me and yourself. Now you will pay." Pan launched himself in the air and swung the mace end of the kwan dao at Gene's head. He ducked and rolled as Pan landed, ready for Pan to attack again.
The two combatants circled about each other, launching, blocking and dodging attacks without doing any real damage to each other. AFter a minute, Pan launched the kwan dao at Gene's head and drew the sabre, lunging in for an attack to the body. Gene stretched around the attack and rolled to the side, blocking the sabre attacks by pushing against the flat of the blade.
"Do you feel it, Gomurr?" Shaman asked.
"Yes. Deep in his knee. I'll cleanse the body, you remove the source," he said.
"Done. As long as Pan can keep him busy, we can end this."
The fight went on for several minutes, with neither combatant landing a blow until Pan faked an attack with the sabre, then followed with a crushing blow to Gene's forehead with Pan's legendary Iron Fist. Gene staggered backward and Pan did a tornado kick that caught Gene in the head, whipping him around. Pan kicked him in the back and Gene fell on his face. Pan landed on top of him, the sabre poised at the base of his neck. He looked toward Gomurr and Shaman.
"ARe you ready? CAn you do it?"
Gomurr nodded. "WE're almost done."
A few moments later, Gene's right leg shook and his jeans tore at the knee. Blood dripped on the ground as a large black sliver of stone floated in the air.
"There it is," Shaman said. "The black opal. Most powerful of the Opals of Luna." It disappeared. "Now dissolved in the heart of the sun. Goodbye Piotr. Wish I knew how to do that trick when last we met. Then we wouldn't be cleaning up this mess."
"He is cured now?" Pan asked.
"We think so," Gomurr said. "There's no trace of the demon or its magic left in him. The only thing to be concerned about is his mind."
"Let's head back to the Mansion and finish this," Shaman said.
Pan stepped forward. "I will come with you."
Shaman hesitated. "Grandmaster Pan, you..."
Pan grabbed his arm and squeezed. His eyes blazed with intent. "We will make this right."
End Part 11
Gene
Original and Longest-Running Editor
White Bastard/King's Pawn--HellFire Club
Knight of the Long-Necked Bottle
Forbidden by Law to Eat Onion Rings
Selectively Sterile
Wielder of Unbridled Contempt for Humanity