Post by Khaos on Oct 25, 2021 21:09:39 GMT -5
Hecate… the “Light Bringer”… the immortal Goddess that was a constant thorn in his side. She had marked him with her sigil, left him to the devices and torturous intentions of her students for years. He would’ve died in that conclave, had it not been for Erebus’ diplomatic solution. He wondered what the “Shadow Lord” had to give up on his behalf to free a puny mortal such as himself. Damien gritted his teeth against the pain as the fire spread from her mark over his heart, flowing through his veins, rendering him immobile. He saw Arcana step forward but their words were ineligible, the pain making his head feel like it was split in two. And just like that, she was gone once again… summoned back to her deity’s side, like the good little sorceress she was. The tone in Cate’s voice had made it seem like she hadn’t known where Arcana had been or, rather, who she was with. Damien wasn’t exactly her favorite person in the world, and the feeling was mutual, but he couldn’t shake the thought that he had gotten off easy compared to Kaiya. Sure, all Gods and Goddess had a temper; he had experienced Cate’s first-hand, after all. But, for the most part, we all seemed beneath them, just tiny ants scurrying across the sands before it got squashed by the mighty titans that towered above. Damien had only ever encountered two of their kind; the “Light Bringer” and the “Shadow Lord”, but he knew others existed, if only from the tales that were told. In retrospect, he was grateful to be beholden to someone like Erebus; at least he hadn’t tried to flay him alive, at least, not yet…
With “Echo” having restored his powers over the darkness, Damien hadn’t quite come to terms with what this actually meant for him. Was he sworn to Erebus once more? I mean, this whole adventure had been put in motion by him to begin with but, still… for someone who’s moniker was “Khaos”, he sure didn’t like being out of control. As he wandered the dirt path by himself, the night had long since fallen. He couldn’t see the werewolves watching him anymore, but he knew that they were still out there. Damien tried to ignore them, block them out of his mind, but damn if he didn’t turn to face a potential threat every time a tree branch cracked or the sounds of leaves rustled in the dark. His powers were coming back slowly, his night vision not completely restored. He had tried calling upon his obsidian blades, much like he done in the In-Between or, again, when he encountered Lycana after his resurrection, but they were painfully absent at the moment. Damien wanted nothing more than to reach out to the dark, let it envelope him and take him to the sanctuary of the Underworld, but he dared not… not when his powers were so unpredictable and unreliable. And so he trudged on…
As he walked, he tried to wrap his mind around all that had happened. Had it really been almost a month since he took what was, presumably, his final breath on this Earth? The time he had spent in the In-Between felt almost like years to him but, then again, Sister LaRosa had warned him that time moved differently. “Echo” also had said that the Crucible always showed you what you needed to see, is that why he was being shown the moments leading up to his death? Was there something about those memories, in specific, that he needed to focus on? If only Eadon hadn’t shown up when he had, then maybe I’d have some damn answers. He could practically hear the Lich King laughing in amusement at Damien’s recent dilemma. To be brought back to life by someone who was every bit his archrival as anyone else in this World, to then be immortally indebted to this very person until she decided to release him from his bond. It felt like a game of hot potato, with Damien’s life being passed from Goddess, to God, and now to one crazy psychotic bitch. However, if Eadon did somehow find another way out of the In-Between, then it appeared that Lycana was at the top of his list of victims. Damien had “defeated” him once before but would he even have reason to fight him this time around? If he just sat back and let things play out, then maybe the Lich King had a role to play in all of this after all…
Damien looked down at his palm, his fingers stretched out as he called upon the darkness once again, at least attempting to summon his obsidian daggers to his side. Again, nothing happened. Though his “Reaper” abilities had been restored, they had not been so by Erebus. The Charon, she had somehow allowed Damien to tap into that supernatural power buried within; a soldier of pure death and destruction that he had happily been a part of the within “Shadow Lord’s” ranks. In normal circumstances, he might’ve been agitated to have this blackness a part of him once more, staining what was left of his soul. But without it, he wouldn’t have survived his encounter with the Lich; would’ve never made it back to the land of the living…
Which leads him to the next mystery… how had he died in the first place? Who had been the one to deal the killing blow, send him to the In-Between in the first place? He was always led to believe that fate had a very specific path for him. But like all prophecies, they don’t make it easy to translate or understand. The “Nightshades”, with their cognitive foresight, always seemed privy to that type of information but they, like Damien, were bound to Erebus – the three “sisters” sworn to secrecy, under penalty of death. They kept alluding to this “woman” that Damien would need in order to survive the coming storm. He thought they had meant Arcana, but now he wasn’t so sure. Could it be that it Lycana, his sworn rival, he needed to make amends with? After all, they were linked together now. Or what about this mystery woman he saw in the Crucible? Who was she? What was her story? What world did she come from? Or did they mean HER…? He hadn’t spoken her name in years but he had seen her, right? It couldn’t’ have been illusions, vampires don’t possess such magic. She had to be real…
“Can we pick up the pace a little?” a gruff voice from the shadows asked, causing Damien to pause.
He hadn’t heard anyone approaching, even while lost deep in thought, he was always aware of his surroundings. Even now, he couldn’t sense any type of presence; nothing seen in the darkness, no sound of rustling leaves or branches breaking under their feet, no aroma or smell in the air, giving away their position.
“Who are you?” Damien cautiously asked, preparing for a fight.
He clenched his fingers into a tight fist, calling one last time on the darkness but to no answer.
“Don’t worry,” the voice responded, echoing off the trees and making Damien spin in circles. “You don’t need your blades, Damien. I’m not here to hurt you; I’m here to help you.”
Movement out of the corner of his eye made Damien spin to face the apparition, watching the man materialize out of the darkness, forming a silhouette against the night sky. The man’s face was shrouded underneath the hood of his dark cloak as Damien strained to make out something – anything – that would reveal to him who this man was.
“Help me?” Damien questioned, not letting his guard down. “How?”
“I am one of the Revenants,” the man stated, his voice void of any emotion. “Created as a result of the Lich King’s actions; only – I do not obey his commands, like the others. I serve her will.”
Damien took this all in, listening to the man’s words intently, still unsure if he were friend or foe. He recalled the burning boat in the In-Between, remembered how all those souls were swallowed whole by the unforgiving waters of the River Styx. Echo had sacrificed herself for him; gave him the power to fight off Eadon and return to this world, intent on righting his wrongs. Guess it was too much to hope for a moment to re-acclimate himself to the world he had left behind just a month ago.
“Is she still alive?” Damien asked the shadowy figure.
“That is not an easy question to answer,” the Revenant responded, tilting his head slightly. “The In-Between is a place that survives between two planes of existence; what you would refer to as ‘heaven’ and ‘hell”. Those that journey across that desolate land are neither living, nor dead. So what’s to say she was ever ‘alive’ to begin with?”
“You said you serve her will?” Damien prodded, looking for some sort of sign that this man was not what he seemed to be.
“I do,” the Revenant promptly responded, matching Damien’s gaze.
“Then what is it that she commanded of you?” Damien interrogated, daring a step towards the cloaked-figure.
“You must hunt down those that the Lich King has freed upon this earth,” the Revenant instructed, remaining steadfast. “Their journey from the In-Between was one of… unnatural… circumstances. They have been changed, and most not for the better. You will find them more creature than human, I’m afraid. However, this shouldn’t be an issue for someone with your… qualifications.”
Damien knew of what the Revenant referred but even now, with this mysterious figure and potential threat before him, he couldn’t draw upon the darkness to aid him. Something seemed off; he seemed… broken.
“So you mean for me to kill them?” Damien concluded. “To send them back…”
“None are ever supposed to return from the In-Between, Damien,” the man interrupted, his eyes growing bright red as if he had just been issued a challenge from the Reaper. “Those that do are nothing more than lost souls.”
“And is that what I am?” Damien sternly asked, refusing to back down. “Just one of these ‘lost souls’…?”
“No,” the Revenant’s eyes cooled as he seemed to relax. “You are… special.”
“Special, how!?” Damien asked, now mere feet from his target; if he wanted to, he could’ve reached out and pulled the hood from the man’s face, revealing his identity once and for all.
“I’m not sure,” the Revenant answered, truthfully. “But it was her will that you be the one to return to this Earth and hunt down those cursed by the Lich. If left unchecked, they would bring an unfathomable amount of death and destruction to this world.”
Damien couldn’t help but laugh as the man looked upon him, confused.
“Save the world!?” Damien barely managed to spit out, in between fits of laughter. “Boy did your boss bet on the wrong horse…”
“You dare defy the will of the Charon!?” the Revenant sneered, his eyes burning red once more.
“In case you haven’t been paying attention, defying the will of Gods and all-powerful-beings is sort of my thing,” Damien retorted, wiping a tear from his eye. “But no, I don’t mean to renege on my deal with Echo. She saved me back there, gave me back my powers…”
Damien paused, calling upon the darkness once more but still, no demonic power surged through him.
“Though it appears it wasn’t to last,” Damien solemnly stated, feeling strangely naked without the dark energy to fuel him. “What chance do I have against these Lichlings when I’m not even able to call upon the very thing that would give me the ability to combat them?”
“Though it appears it wasn’t to last,” Damien solemnly stated, feeling strangely naked without the dark energy to fuel him. “What chance do I have against these Lichlings when I’m not even able to call upon the very thing that would give me the ability to combat them?”
He had tasted the power again, after all this time, and it was intoxicating. He had gone over a year without it but all it had taken was one small sample size in the In-Between and he was right back in the thick of it. He was ashamed to admit that he yearned for it again; to feel the thrill of the hunt, the rush of adrenaline as his blade found flesh, the overwhelming ecstasy one felt when the light would fade from his victims’ eyes, their soul transferring to the Reaper.
“You have been marked,” the Revenant merely responded, looking upon Damien.
“Yeah, you noticed that did ya?” Damien scoffed, his eyes going to the mark over his heart.
“No, not there,” the Revenant responded, pointing to Damien’s wrist. “There…”
Damien looked to his right wrist, flipping it so his palm was facing up towards the night sky. In the moonlight, he could make out what looked to be a new brand that had been seared into his skin; the mark of a floating circle with a sideway-facing crescent moon underneath.
“The fuck…?” Damien stammered, his eyes turning upwards to glare at the cloaked messenger before him.
“You bear her sigil now,” the Revenant merely stated. “There is no doubt that you are her champion. The Charon chose you for a reason, Damien. You must have faith in her, and in yourself.”
Damien was quiet for a moment as he considered his options. What were the odds that he would come to bear a new mark from yet another Goddess? Is that what the Charon was, even; a Goddess of death? If so, is that why she picked him to be her Champion; a simple man turned into a killing machine, a Reaper of the “Shadow Lord”. Perhaps she smelled all of that death on him when he had first arrived in the In-Between, knew that he would be the one to carry out her will. But to what end? Did she actually care about saving this world? Did she really only want him to hunt down all of those souls that the Lich had recklessly set free, balancing the scales in the process? Nothing was ever what it seemed, especially when it came to this never-ending game between the Gods and Goddesses of ancient mythology. He now bore the mark of the “Light Bringer” and the “Charon”, but the one he needed was from Erebus. The “Shadow Lord” could fully restore his powers to him; make him into the deadly Reaper once more. But it would come with a price; these things always did.
“Very well,” Damien finally spoke up, staring into the void of the Revenant’s shrouded face. “I will do what needs to be done. But first, I need to return home.”
“Home?” the Revenant questioned.
“Yes,” Damien sighed. “I need to go back to the Underworld.”
The scene opens in an unfamiliar area, at least… for these two. Damien Carter scratches at the brand new threads he adorned, his partner-in-crime insisting he “dress up” for the occasion. She had settled on an onyx-colored, prominent wide lapel jacket, with double side vents in the back, as well as matching pleated pants. The crimson-red paisley pattern vest set on this black-and-red suit featured a matching colored tie that Damien thought was fashioned to suffocate its victim. Cerise, too, was dressed for a night out on the town. She wore a pleated silk mesh chiffon bodice, with a silk chiffon ruffle at the top of the bodice that featured satin-roped details throughout. The back of the dress was an open lace with an overfull skirt that trailed behind her, reminding him of more of what a peacock looked like when they ruffled their feathers. The two received multiple looks inside this fancy restaurant as Damien fought against the knot of the tie, valiantly fighting against its vice-like grip on his throat.
“Why did you bring me here again?” Damien groaned, finally able to breathe once more.
“What do you mean?” Cerise asked, her face buried in the wine menu. “This is a classy joint.”
“Exactly,” Damien responded, looking around anxiously, noticing all of the condescending stares that fell upon the duo. “I feel like we stand out more than Jessie Lee at a beauty pageant.”
“She’s not THAT bad looking,” Cerise mused, twirling her finger through her hair. “For a bow-legged giraffe, I mean.”
“Isn’t she Australian?” Damien corrected.
“Well… yeah,” Cerise rolled her eyes. “But she’s definitely no koala bear. Those things are cute and cuddly and…”
“Deadly…?” Damien interrupted.
“I was going to say 'squishable'…” Cerise scrunched up her face as the waiter came to take their order.
The pair wasted a good five minutes of his life that their server would never get back as they asked him a series of various questions, most of which had nothing to do with the food that they served. He finally stomped off, promising to bring them water, to which Damien asked ‘how much would that cost’.
“Again…” Damien began once more. “I feel like we shouldn’t be here.”
“Relax,” Cerise tried to calm him down, flouncing the train of her dress up and down. “I told you… we’re doing reconnaissance.”
“And what makes you think Jin Min-jun will show up at this place?” Damien’s eyebrows furrowed together, skeptical of her plan.
“Um, hello…?” Cerise put the menu down, pointing to the name of the restaurant. “It’s called ‘Busboys and Poets’, no way he passes up an opportunity like this.”
“Let’s say that you’re right,” Damien began to wrestle with his tie again. “And he takes the ‘man-bait’, what then…?”
“I assume we’d just invite him over for a leisurely dinner,” Cerise shrugged her shoulders.
“Wait, really?” Damien asked, not remembering this as part of her plan.
“Of course not,” Cerise grumbled. “We pop his kneecaps and watch ‘Minnie’ crawl his way into the main event at Legacy.”
Damien stared at her blankly as she returned his look, confused.
“What?” Cerise finally spoke up, growing tired of their staring contest.
“Sorry,” Damien blinked away the visual. “I was thinking back to the bow-legged giraffe.”
“Creepy, right?” Cerise reiterated.
Begrudgingly, the waiter returned with a pair of waters for the duo as he then tried to take their order, which resulted in a five minute conversation about why weekend brunch wasn’t served on the weekday. Once they finally got past that hiccup, it was another five minute argument about why breakfast wasn’t served for dinner. Eventually, he was able to get them to settle on half-a-dozen appetizers, all of which were featured on an appetizer platter, but was vehemently refused because they didn’t think they’d have enough food. Cerise also ordered an assortment of wine bottles, wanting to sample each one and then, subsequently, take the ones she liked with her. Damien, on the other hand, asked for a cake platter, wanting a chance to sample all of their desserts on hand. By this point, the server was so defeated that – though no such thing existed on their menu – he promised to deliver as the customer wanted.
“He seems nice,” Cerise commented as the waiter walked away, wiping the tears of exhaustion away.
“Seeing as how I don’t see any sight of Erky and Perky,” Damien began, glancing around one last time. “I think we’re wasting our time here.”
“At least we’ll get a good meal out of it?” Cerise winced, worried about how her partner might react.
“That’s all well and good,” Damien shrugged. “But we need to focus on Legacy. It’ll be the first time we’ve been back on our old stomping grounds. We need to make sure we send a message, not just to Lee-Jin, but the rest of the roster. If we want to get those tag titles…”
“Let Jin and Juice run their mouths,” Cerise growled. “That’s all they’re good for, anyway. You could fill up a hot air balloon with the amount of trash that flows from their mouths.”
“I know they haven’t been a team as long as we have,” Damien cracked his neck. “But they are still someone we shouldn’t take lightly.”
“Who else has done more than us?” Cerise asked, rhetorically. “We carried Legacy for months. We saw the threat that the Left Hand posed and we dealt with it. You think people like Jin and Jessie, with their egos as big as their egg-shaped heads, could’ve done what we did? How many times did you put that title on the line? Against me? Against the Left Hand? How many times did you endure every hit, slap, punch I threw in your direction? And yet, after all of that, here we are… back together, where we belong.”
“We did what had to be done,” Damien acknowledged. “Did what no one else was willing to do. The Left Hand was only a flash in the pan because of us, because we snuffed out their fire before it could grow into a full-blown inferno. Revo1 still exists because of our deeds, whether Jin, Jessie, or the rest of Revo1 cares to acknowledge it. Their existence has become blight on this fed, one that everyone seems more than content with just brushing under the rug. Better to forget, I guess. But for two individuals that suffered at the hands of these people, you’d think they’d show a bit more gratitude for what we sacrificed to eliminate them.”
“I still think you should’ve let Anya finish Jessie when she had the chance,” Cerise blurted out.
Damien narrowed his eyes at her, as if saying to her “you don’t really believe that”.
“What!?” Cerise countered. “At the very least, maybe Anya manages to sever her vocal chords and we don’t have to endure another one of those dreadful promos.”
“We don’t need their gratitude,” Damien declared. “Nor anyone else’s for that matter. We do what we always do – whatever the fuck we want. I’ll admit, it was weird to have fans chanting and cheering for me all these months, as if I was some ‘savior’ or Revo1. I played the role that the Left Hand forced me into. But this past Tuesday, I heard the all-too familiar boo’s from the crowd. I go out of my way to acknowledge Sara Pettis as a potential true #1 Contender for this title and what does she do, after I build her up? She lets me down. Just like everyone else in this world. She gets it in her head that she deserves this. That she is ‘owed’ this. Just like Jin, just like Jessie, and just like the Cowgirls from Hell. They win a few matches, put together a streak of victories, hell… maybe even capture a title, and they think they are fucking invincible. Yet since I’ve been here, I’ve defeated all contenders. I went out there and beat Cartier so bad that no one has seen her since. I took her title from her and dared anyone and everyone to take it from me. And no one could. I should’ve been the #1 Pick in the draft and yet the Diamond’s chose Jin and Jessie over you and I. This is a mistake that you and I must rectify on Legacy.”
“Waltzing into the Capital One Arena in Washington, D.C. and beating Jin and Jessie on OUR show…” Cerise began, smirking. “It doesn’t get much better than that. Actually, it does. Because once we’ve dealt with Lee-Jin and put them in their place, we can focus on the Cowgirls from Hell and those tag titles.”
Damien and Cerise clink their water glasses together as they eagerly wait for the expensive meal that they, ultimately, wouldn’t be paying for. It was a good thing these outfits came complete with their running shoes…
