CONJURATIONS OF CONDEMNATION: THE FITTINGLY BAWDY BANISHMENT OF BAYONETTA
By Quillon42
(NB: I am using the USA release years for this story; hence, Bayonetta is "2010" as far as we are concerned, and Bullet Witch is so 2007 in contrast).
SOMETIME IN 2010
Just weeks after the Creator had crashed into the solar system's center, that magisterial monolith of immodesty who embodied the Left Eye had already had had erected a temple of titillation in her own honor. It was at the end of the sinuous superhighway known as the Route of the Triple-Six that this plague of a place of worship could be witnessed, a monstrosity more threatening and terrifying than any distorted depiction of this world's quartet of cardinal virtues. The alleged lady's ego had inflated to the width and depth of her caboose-slinging swagger by this point, and it showed in the way that she made those angels toil for her, day after day, in erecting a shrine for the sake of her endless idolization.
Even those who had known Bayonetta personally were summarily scandalized, but no one dare dally in the way of her insatiable demands. It wasn't as if anyone had the stuff to stop her anyhow: as always was the case with these characters, Rodin was too aloof to the situation, Enzo of course too incompetent, Luka too lovestruck. Even Jeanne, that erstwhile blonde belligerence who struck a murderous yet magnificent pose in semi-shadow, back in the day and half a millennium ago in blood-red chiton and bleached-Princess-Leia hair buns…even she was too circumspect to act with thoughts of the trouncings she received at the hands and feet of this cancer in charcoal follicles. There had to be someone, somewhere, who would contain the threat of this atramentous termagant.
Then, as if to answer the pleas of the populace by a divine sign, it was one evening in which the overbearing Bayonetta had been gallivanting most grandiosely, again and again upon that ramrod-straight glistening shaft upon which she danced daily, that
[SNAPPP]
said ten-foot-stake had shuddered, then staggered out of its muck-mired moorings, taking the swarth-shrouded shrew by surprise and
[PLUNNNGGG]
pinning her to the filthy floor, right through the medallion that nestled at chest level. As the wanton matron made like a moth just seconds ago nailed down into an entomologist's frame, the source of the unthinkable apostasy made herself overtly known.
The acolyte in alabaster, still known to the world for the most part as Jeanne, had attempted to interpolate herself between her queen and this unwelcome upstart…
…but she was brought down by a bevy of Ravens rallied on by the appropriate Panic spell, the plumed nightmares plunging into the place and swirling all around the Umbran underling, spinning her round and round where she stood…
…then driving her down abruptly onto her back on the cold stone shrine floor.
And before the thought could even jaunt through the mind of Jeanne to right herself back up…
[SSSHHHTTTHHHUUUNNNKKK]
the piercing pump of a most vicious yet unfamiliar witch pounded onto, punctured between the pair of grandiose guardians atop her chest cavity.
Then hunkering onto the hussy altogether, said invader, a lady decked out in the short skirt and suggestive blouse of a secretary—and with sultry spectacles to rival those of the virulent daughter of Balder herself—she addressed the latter, archly:
"2007's calling, you sleazy escapee from the corral for prostitutional anthropomorphic cows…"
And then, tap dancing all over the figure of Jeanne with unforgiving abandon, just as said tramp of a tramplee had herself done upon the pate of Sapientia…the incomer converting BayBay's BFF from curves, into a corpse, in mere seconds…
"…it wants its game back."
Utterly aghast at the abrupt evisceration of her cream-coiffed cohort, Bayonetta could but watch from her abject supine position upon the floor, she impaled—or rather, impoled—by the very kind of long slick support upon which she would cavort for pleasure, or otherwise activate switches in the course of her seraph-slaughtering business.
"You're probably wondering where you other fiendly friends are," said this most aggressive secretary-costumed soldier to the virtual streetwalker in stygian who was her target.
"Everyone from Tekken-Raven-ripoff Rodin…to Joe Pesci/Danny Devito lovechild Enzo…to your cherished Cheshire, yes, Luka himself…they've all been taken into custody, courtesy of my own personal emo tool. Compared to all the prats you pal around with, my Maxwell, he's a real man…
"…sexier, even, that much more compelling a Cougar than the five-hundred-year-old farts that are…well, that were…you and Jeanne."
Bayonetta could not bear to stare any longer at the laid-out, lapsing form of her ally any longer, so she shut her eyes an instant…
…then swept her eyelids open a second or two later to view the same enemy approaching her, but this time clad in unbecoming wrappings, not unlike some comely war-refugee-cum-mummy or some such.
"Thisss," hissed the vituperous visitor, as she pretended imperiously to hobble, then lean upon a marathon-long monstrosity of a machine gun, "is what's to become of alllll you Umbrans, in good time, when my mission is accomplished.
"I'm already most of the way there, really, in fact. It doesn't hurt, despite our witchy ways…to have a helping hand from Heaven, after all."
Just as the gunrod-laden guest said this last…
[THRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM]
the ceiling of the shrine, it had given way to a fusillade from the firmament, Bayonetta's base bungalow blown wide, wide open as an upside-down countenance leered vindictively from above.
"Fortitudo and all his blessed buddies…I harrowed all of them from Hell. From all those grabby, grimy hands that dragged them all down."
The mummy-maiden's face loomed large into Baywitch's field of vision now.
"Of course, I didn't need any of them, to take you all down. Just did it all out of spite, to confound the copycat."
Upon hearing this, the other lady indeed found her composure to be compromised. "You fucking frumpy man with boobs," Bayonetta whined, she still seething upon the most suggestive pinprick of the pole posted through her. "You will never be able to truly be rid of…"
[THNNNNNKKKKKK]
And then the noxious nag found her address interrupted by a pesky projectile full to the face, just as she herself had perpetrated upon so many bawdy bosses before.
As the other adventuress's signature gunrod faithfully flew back to her beckoning hand:
"I'll be the one with all the witty, witchy banter round here, you impious, insufferable tart.
Clearing her bandage-collared throat: "Where was I…ahh, yes. I'm well aware that your attention has been arrested by the return of this most courageous of Cardinal Virtues, just over-and-invertedhead. But I think you should know too about a certain other someone, who's about to assume a most authoritative office."
Then the menacing mummy backstepped a pace or three, to allow her enemy to behold the beatific babe whose teardrop-turbanned visage embodied the entirety of that expanse of sky, that instant…
"Yep!" the chapel-crashing lady went on yet again. "You did a good job, in deposing Jubileus…
"…which gave a witch the opening to lead the way for JOY to assume the throne!"
Sensing that the pole pinning her had given a bit in the course of her foe's harangue, Bayonetta of a sudden shuddered, then shook herself snakily from out and under the snare. Reaching her feet, the unctuous Umbran then attempted to break into a frantic funk, her own badonkadonk-busting dance to summon some familiar of follicles to ingest this interloper, posthaste.
But then, just as this paladin of prurience started into her first pirouette…
[BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTTT]
a Gatling Element Shot spouted out from the other maiden of magicks, the ensuing electricity exploding upon the shrill evil and plunking her down once again, the prostitute now in a prone state.
…
…
…
When Baybaycakes came to, she found that she could move nary a raunchy inch of muscle.
"The Rose Spears have wrapped you up in themselves rather effectively, I have to say," said the Umbran's adversary, the latter now lavished in sapphire follicles, the tightest of tartan skirts, and a clean white top to oppose diametrically the darkness of her soul.
The other, earlier-in-time witch now walked leisurely along, allowing Bayonetta to envy fully a derriere much more developed and perhaps dignified than her own preposterous pendulum bum.
"Next, in keeping with my current costume, and to the delight of everyone in attendance—especially Joy, the newly christened Goddess of Recreation—we're all going to learn, we're all to be schooled in just how infinitely the punishment upon you is to be meted out."
As what appeared to be a standing casket was readied beyond the too-thorny rose bushes binding the baleful Bay: "I know you've no…Affinity, for the angels who are setting the first of these trials in motion. But I have to say, these feathered friends…they're not so bad, once you get to know them.
"In fact, I appreciate that we all agree on a lot of things—including that we're all so sick of your CLAPTRAP!"
Then just as Bayonetta registered the Affinity's glaive gleaming into her peripherals, it was just a beat later than she was gashed across the kisser with it, she released in reverse from the roses and into the Iron Maiden waiting on her six.
The box then rocked as the trap indeed clapped crushingly shut, the spikes within sliding readily into the slattern, converting her from pompous-ass to porcupine in one triumphant trice.
A beat or three later, when the cramped container cracked open once more, emptying out its pitiful, punctured filly onto the floor…she found herself scooped up summarily by a Shotgun Element Shot blasted out by that schoolgirl of a sorceress, the windy shockwave shunting Bayonetta into the air anew, then around and around, then face first down upon what at first appeared to be a pillory sans its top half. She tried to ease herself off…
…but found herself forced back upon the rickety panels, again and again and again as a boot to the buttocks by the other lady banged her back repeatedly against the frame.
"I'm sure the Applauds gave you anything but an ovation after you brought this kind of beating upon them…"
Approximately six-hundred sixty-six kicks to the skank's stanky can later: "Can you hear them now, Bayonetta…just bawwwwwing and baying for your blood?"
Then
[PNNNKKKKKK]
one last pronounced punt to the poofy posterior as the Umbran was dumped frontward, her neck landing in the appropriate groove of the woodwork. As ass-sore as she was, the witch couldn't even begin to lift herself out of the device as
[SNAPPPPPP]
the grim guillotine blade came bearing down, biting into the back of her neck and breaking the connection most cruelly between Bayonetta's mind and body.
"Not that anyone would ever notice her noggin gone," said the other, far more sophisticated spellcaster as she watched the other's busty body billow to the ground. "As blowsy as she was…and with her head always having been more shrunken down than the googly-eyed guy in the afterlife office at the end of Beetlejuice."
More rigidly-rough rose petals—the kind that had been ushered across a screen situated on the fourth wall when those on the other side of it were informed that the witch hunts were over—these untoward effects whiffed past the agony-ravaged features of that fustian fuckeress who would style herself the next fetish for her world to worship.
Her eyelids fluttered upward to catch sight of that same accursed conjuress, she now bedecked in ashen linens, the white witch's hair the color of well-aged chianti.
"You missed the lesson just now, Scott-Baio-Netta-is-547…and-Skeezy," chided the other outcast of the occult, she allowing herself to lean back leisurely on an enormous equus cast from an ancient arbor. "Failed to catch Joy in all her jubilant glory. The Goddess of Recreation…and of Re-Creation, to boot, that's right.
"See, something of which your arrogant intellect was unaware…was that before you sent him solar-sailing…Jubileus had a bit of a relationship, he did, with the original Joy. Yes, the original one; kind of like how there was, for example, the original Sapientia, which you faced in the ocean and who has been brought back to life, along with the other Virtues and their underlings, all thanks to me."
As this grand governess of the gunrod went on, she whipped out a certain chain which was all too familiar to the woozy whorelock who still lay in her gory daze on the ground.
The speaking spellcaster continued: "Having been imbued with divine energy in the course of her love affair with Jubey, Joy sort of became the Biden to his Obama, the…Johnson to his Kennedy or Lincoln, take your pick between Lyndon or Andrew, whatever the fuck.
"In other words…now that Jube's jolting in the center of the Solar System (and believe you me, I can get that fixed up as well)…Joy, for now at least, she's got the power of Creation. And given the bodacious biddy's own BSDM tendencies…she's evolved some of her abilities to establish powers of Re-Creation…and on the side, Recreation, for kicks.
Now swinging the chain wildly, rapidly over her head, this sexy red-velvet-cake of castigation locking irises oozing with indignation upon her trollop of a target.
"Joy's got the power to put back together anything that's broken…and she'll play with such things for as long as she pleases!"
Bayonetta was able to bring herself to her feet and spin her onyx arse around just as she ran almost tiny-head-first into the Ancient Wall that blocked her path, just as the frosted floral flail encircled her, hefted her up, dragged her onto the horse in the other lady's place.
Then the harshest of harnessy sensations beyond this as the boner that was B. had delivered upon her that same dreadful draw-and-quartering that she visited upon every instance of Joy whom the alleged heroine encountered between eviscerating Virtues.
"AWW…AWWWWWW…
"AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"
[BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM]
Then came along the cascade of chrome rings from the bod's blasting, enough shiny trinkets to sate sixty-nine shrewdnesses of Sonics.
From this juncture, two more torments trailed behind to trounce Bayonetta…at least in the land of living Vigridians. The penultimate punishment involved a pink-follicled pixie iteration of the newcomer necromancer, she pinning the pitch-clad witch to a chain, then casting a Tornado spell, gutturally from the ground up, to take the tethered bother up and around and around, up towards a gold-plated pulley…until
[FLASH] [FLASH] [FLASH]
Netta was once again nullified and ringed-out most raucously, the scene stylized by freeze-frame camera clickings that would make effing J Geils jealous.
One more time it was that the lecherous magicienne was aroused into awakening…
…this time by an impromptu impetus, a nibble of sorts that was rather vicious for the vixen.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!"
"Yeahhh," said the other protagonist of the preternatural, she most comfortable at last in her default blackish-bluish leather getup, while she addressed her foe with facial features largely gnawed off now. "Fortitudo's owed you that for, oh, several months coming.
"And he's gotta make way in a second, too…there's someone else who wants to drop in and say 'Die'!"
Because Bayonetta owned no eyes at the moment, she couldn't see the tanks of fuel that crowded around her, couldn't notice the three precious artworks plunked down, one atop each container.
She could hear the sound of these things, though, as they were gathered around her position on the shrine floor, as well as the
[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM]
of a side wall of her place of worship, the barrier blown away by missiles fired from the flagellating arms of yet another Cardinal character.
"The true, original Temperantia's been wanting to get even as well. You could say he's been quite…constipated for your comeuppance.
"He and I're in agreement: first of all, these things'll have to go."
Next to the witch here who wasn't a complete wholesale hooker, there were situated the blasted fragments of a most vulgar sculpture. With a wave of her winsome hand and yet another SNAPPP, said stone icon up and reconstituted itself, just as Bayonetta had done with so many fragmented figurines when attempting to activate Witch Time outside of engaging the angels in battle.
"If you could still fancy your face right now, you'd see that I put back together that urinating cherub which you so glamorously employed to evacuate Temperantia from this plane of existence. Your will be undone, Our Motherfucker.
"But nevertheless, as I said a second ago…Tempy and I aren't too wild about these little babies anyway. So…"
[SNAPPP]
"There. The impish infant's been erased out of existence…along with every other one like it.
"What we've put in their places…is that with which you're about to be acquainted with very intimately.
"(I perfected this trick with help from the most wondrous of Walnut Heads, a few years back…)"
[FLIKKK]
The trio of Willpower-wafted shrouds that shot from the speaker's hands breezed past the three tampered trophies, one of which was atop each fuel tank…
…but it was enough to make each break the seal on its bowels, a yellowish fluid bursting forth from the bottom of each upon the face-fucked Bayonetta now.
The platinum cast of a little-girl-version of her own self, other than that separate Cereza with whom she interacted on her first adventure, was discharging diesel prolongedly onto the living lady's legs. The palladium little-girl Jeanne was tinkling kerosene continuously along the contours of the ebony awfulness's considerable chest.
And none other than the bronze of Cereza herself was pissing gasoline incessantly into the basin of Bayonetta's faceless brainpan.
"Don't you worry yourself none," said the other broomstick babe as she and Temperantia turned their backs to her. "You'll have the feeling of that all over an actual face, again and again and again where you'll be going a few minutes from now, all thanks to Joy's powers of Re-Creation and Recreation…
"Which apply on Earth as well as in Hell!"
This just as, sighing nonchalantly, the pair aimed with gunrod or asphalty-arm-blasters over the shoulder, each firing the most inoffensive of pellets to pierce through the air, then plug up the piddling pudendum of each statue eliminating upon Bayonetta. More particularly, Temps scored on platinum and palladium, while his coven cohort had nicked the bronze just in the right spot.
PISSSSSSSSSS PISSSSSSSSSS PISSSSSSSSSS PISSSSSSSSSS PISSSSSSSSSS squirted the threesome from their eyes above the Baystardess, a second more…then
[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM]
as a trinity of blasted heads made of precious metal listed through the air.
Back on the shrine floor, an instant following, the telltale gigantic purplish circle of perdition began to unspool around the witch who might have owned the world, but for the clandestine cadre that precluded this.
Sensing the circle all around her, in utter desperation, the Umbran ulcer: "No! NO! I chose to Continue!"
"We already ruined the Continue," came the strident reply from all the way across the temple, with stress on the end of the sentence. Bayonetta knitted her brow as the infernal arms, writhing wrists, and hellish hands came up all around her, reaching to trap and drag her down.
Then she realized that the last three beats of the other lady's retort were not the tri-syllable "Continue" as the Umbran herself had uttered…but rather the three one-syllable words that were homophonic to it. Indeed, the enemy had demolished that part within her, the mojo-making engine of intimacy which did in fact give her the power to pick up where she left off, when picked off.
(Technically, it was not Bayonetta's own baby cannon which was blasted, but rather that of the three statuettes…but Joy's sadistic whimsies had deemed there be a voodoo-doll effect upon the witch, when the trophies were so tenderly truncated).
At any rate, Temperantia and Fortitudo were now joined by the crabwalking crisis that was Sapientia, as well as that multifaced botanical blowjob, that fright of chloro-fellatio that was Iustitia…all while the witch between them watched the real enemy being hauled down to Hell, ever so slowly, in the terrifying traffic of lurid limbs massing all over her wickedly-wrecked form.
"You Sega sluts got nothing on us Atari empresses," said the intruding illusionist, who only just now introduced herself to her compatriots as Alicia. Meters away, the Umbran couldn't proffer anything nearly so suave.
"Grace you…Damn you! Grace you…Damn you! GRACE YOU…DAMN YOU!" she cried, waffling in her warble like some moribund yet overly libidinous James Thurber. (NB: Look up "James Thurber's last words" on Google sometime).
The other, prevailing witch walked closer to the circle now, as the condemned call girl that was the Umbran was receding further, further into the abyss.
"Good-bay, Bye-onetta. Looks like, despite the title of my own, ill-fated game, I'm the one who's the true Wiccan…
"And you're nothing but a Bullshit Bitch."
This just as the wretch-sans-face shrieked one final time, and the satanic three-sixty finally slithered shut. Satisfied, Alicia turned just in time to see a gangly cannon-hand of Temperantia descending down…
…to offer a high-five, which the lady duly returned.
Peacefully she then assumed the role of representative and herald of the divine Joy. Yea, she who was known honestly as Alicia Claus kept watch over the world, and ever so true to her surname she made her list regarding whoever else was snotty and snide, and was set to serve up any other witch or such being who acted out of line.
In any case, what befell this emasculating universe now had scandalized those unintelligent designers, those pandering manginas (panginas?) who made Bayonetta's game, those for whom this author can give anything but a panegyric. With the haughty now humbled, this reality, this rendition of the earthen sphere had just become that much more sufferable.