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Retribution
New York is considered by some to be "the Great American city". The place where art flourishes and ideas are created. To Spawn this is "the Great American Sh*t-hole" a place where sin is so commonplace it is accepted and ignored. The Police are abusive, the Priests are sick and demented, the politics corrupt, and citizens victims. Some people try to find a bipartite solution to the problem, to Spawn there is none. There is no such thing as justice except for that which he delivers. When the police caught the gangster "Handsome" Frank he was released in six hours (no questions asked). When Spawn caught the gangster "Handsome" Frank he ripped off his genit*ls and fed them to him. But you would hope Spawn would enjoy a time when the streets were clean and the people kind and friendly. No, Spawn was born in violence, he was born in Hell, he lives for it he thrives in it, and without it he is nothing.
* * *
"Push! Push! Come on you can do it," squealed his fifty thousand brothers.
George pushed. He was almost there! He had to do it quick before his mother eats him. She already ate his father for God Sake. George could smell his rotting carcass. The thought of preserving his own life gave him strength, he pushed with all his might and broke free. His brothers followed after him as they celebrated their new freedom from that ivory prison. That celebration was soon ended as their great fearsome mother came to devour her children. George couldn't move, he was petrified. He was telling his legs to move but the horrible act of infanticide was too much for his young naive mind to take. A mind that never witnessed evil, a mind that had only existed for a few hours, which soon comes to a thought. A simple impulsive thought that all beings come to in times of crisis. The thought of flight. And flee he did.
Down hanging threads, through dusty passageways, and past falling xenoliths. Finally he came to a stop. "Safety," he thought, but not just safety his first victim. He crept on top and planted his fangs into fresh meat.
Spawn was sitting on his throne when a small spider dug it's fangs into his skin. When he was alive Spawn would have found this to be quite a nuisance. But Spawn's nerves had been incinerated in the flames of Hell. His veins and internal organs were gouged out and replaced with pure necroplasm. So Spawn "the walking corpse" watched with mild amusement as George turned into a bubbling puddle of pus.
* * *
Detective "Twitch" Williams was the first to arrive at the scene of the crime. He always was. He walked around the perimeter of the room a few times to get the feel for it. He memorized every detail every , every blood stain, every way the objects in the room were positioned, he was even careful to avoid ruining the foot steps that settled in the dust. Finally the cavalry arrived and the blood stains were smeared, the objects were shifted, and the dust rose up and settled again.
"What can we do for you sir?," said a nameless officer.
"Oh nothing you've done quite enough sir, thank you," replied Twitch.
"Should we begin dusting for finger prints sir?"
"That would be a good idea," answered Twitch.
It would be a few hours before William's partner Sam Burke arrived. He was slug of a man. A very fat, stupid, and sloppy slug. Twitch on the other hand was skinny, well dressed and very neat. Their relationship would be funny if it wasn't such a cliché.
"Nice of you to show up," commented Twitch, "Did you stop for donuts?"
"First of all: Shut up Twitch! Second of all it was pizza," yelled Burke.
"Ah I see you discovered a meal between breakfast and brunch."
"Yeah, yeah, don't preach to me just tell what happened."
"Well at Midnight last night, screams were heard from this warehouse and at 5:00 a.m. this morning a girls body was found. But nobody saw anybody come in or out of the building."
Sam had a deep moment of absence of thought, "So obviously," he said with deep concentration and conjugation, "the killer is still here!"
"Uh sir..."
"Not now Twitch I'm having a brainstorm."
"Oh god," said Twitch shamefully.
Sam had cornered a box. "Okay Twitch I'm going to jump him, cover me." Sam jumped and crushed the empty box. Twitch took a quick moment to relish in his partners humiliation in front of the other policemen then went down to the morgue.
* * *
"Well she's obviously dead but there are no signs of beating or marks of any kind."
"Do you think the attack could have been internal?," asked Twitch.
"Not from what I could tell," said Mortimer, "If she had a pulse I'd say she was a perfectly healthy girl."
Suddenly the door burst open and Detective Sam Burke emerged.
"All right I got back ground information on the victim," he said proudly.
"That's great sir," said Twitch with obvious sarcasm.
After the mortician told them all he could find out he said he had another "patient" and left the room. The closing of door was followed by the dull rattling of chains and the stench of burnt flesh.
"Spawn, Hello," said Twitch meekly.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa this is police work Spawn we don't need your help," said Burke.
Spawn's eyes suddenly began to illuminate the room a bright emerald, "I never offered my services, I came here out of my own interests."
"Oh yeah child murder that's always interesting. That kind of stuff turn you on Spawn."
Spawn ignored Sam and began to inspect the body.
"What do you expect to find that the doctor's couldn't."
"She's alive," said Spawn.
"What, impossible!" said Twitch.
"Hey dingus there's no pulse and no brain activity, I flunked kindergarten and know that's a dead broad."
"And pregnant."
"So what does that matter," said Sam.
"The child was conceived less than twelve hours ago," said Spawn in his cold rasping voice.
"How can you tell?" asked Twitch in disbelief.
Spawn expression changed to one of confusion, "I don't know."
"All right I've had enough of Mr. mysterious's bullsh*t if you want me I'll be at my place getting drunk."
Right before Detective Burke could leave the room there was a new voice, a voice of innocence and ignorance. The voice came from the "dead" girl laying on the table.
"Oh where am I?"
* * *
Her name was Stephanie she lived in the Bronx with her father (who was a minister). The detectives, the morticians, and Spawn did not ask her any questions they just let her walk away. Everything seemed perfectly normal and there seemed nothing to worry about. Except Spawn knew this mystery was not solved and when it finally is, and he knew it would be, he would not like the results.
* * *
Cog is Spawn's teacher and mentor. He is a hellspawn himself a very old and fabled one. If anyone could help him find the answers he wanted it would be him.
"Spawn, you come seeking guidance. I only hope in the wisdom I have gathered over the countless years I've been alive I can help you.
Cog was sitting on a turned over trash can stroking his cat. He looked like a regular homeless person. Except for his eyes, those black eyes that have seen innumerable kingdoms fall and prophet's prophesies come true.
"A mysterious gestation has occurred..."
"Where the girl died and was resurrected, yes this not unheard of it is usually when the unborn child contains such a powerful life force that the mother's own life force goes through a short shut down period to adapt to the new internal environment."
"I see, so you're saying this child may have potential for extreme benevolence and nobility..."
"Or potential for great malice and hatred, tread cautiously Spawn there may be more to this than we suspect."
There was a brief pause.
"So what are you going to do?," asked Cog.
"I'm going to switch fields with the child," said Spawn regrettably.
"What? That's insane you can't."
"I must."
"Then I'm coming with you."
* * *
It was a hot sticky night in the Bronx. If Spawn or Cog had sweat glands it might have bothered them. As they entered Stephanie's room the smell of perfume and polyester clashed with the stench of death and disease coming from the old man and his protégé.
"I don't like this Spawn."
"I didn't ask you to come, now make yourself useful and keep the girl asleep while make the mind transfer."
Cog obeyed and put his hand over Stephanie's head, she shifted a little then went back to sleep.
"Done, are you ready?"
"Yes I'm going in."
Spawn eyes went blank and his body collapsed. Cog began to fear something went wrong. Then his body rose and stood up straight. A voice came from it's throat but not the cold rasping voice of Spawn. It was a younger voice, a more childish voice.
"This was not the body I was promised," it said.
"Who are you?," asked Cog.
"I am nothing, I am the absence of being, I am the killer, the r*pist, and the thief, I am not the mischievous cartoon character called Satan, or the giant omniscient Santa Claus you call God. I am simply the end. If you want to call me something you can call me End."
"Are you here to destroy the Earth?"
"Fool!," yelled End and a wave of his arm Cog was thrown against the wall, "I said I was the End. Were you not listening? The end of all things, every thing ever created. When I am done ideas won't exist. And that end starts with you, you fungus."
End raised "his" fist, which metamorphosed into a knife, but before he could strike the body went limp and collapsed onto the floor.
"Cog?"
"Spawn I thought I'd never be so happy to hear your voice."
"The Creature it calls himself..."
"End, I know."
"No that's not all, the creature is the spawn of the Malebolgia."
"No that can't be true," said Cog in disbelief, "Malebolgia's been dead for years."
"Yes but his seed remained in the form of an incubus."
"You mean it infested the girl during..."
"Yes, this is all a back up plan he had in case he died and now there's only one way to end it before it begins."
Spawn placed his hand over her forehead. "It ends now."
Nothing happened.
"Well do it already."
Nothing continued to happen.
"No not like this, it's not right."
"Right and wrong don't matter right now all that matters is the fact that we exist. Think of your loved ones for God Sake."
"I won't do it."
"You naive Sonuvabitch, do you really think this one act of kindness will stop what's going to happen."
"It's to early to tell, but what will come will come and we'll be ready when it does.
And with that he turned into a storm of bats and disappeared into the dark Manhattan horizon.
The End?
