Dream
The snow is a pure white for a night like tonight. It wasn't new fallen either, just another layer to already growing sheet. But it was white, unstained by pollution and under marred by treading feet. All but in one area of the forest was aglow with moon light. Black and Green Ash trees along with the White and Black oaks all covered in a glacial sheen of permafrost, refracting the light of the moon creating a somewhat peaceful yet ghostly appearance.
but the peace did not stay that way, a sharp Crack interrupted the calm echoing across the forest shaking the crystal veil of the trees ever so lightly until they settled down to the peaceful silence. But on a particular decrepit ash tree a good group of icicles sat patterned on the end of the tree, near them was a soft snow icicle that became loose, shaking from its harden cluster and falling to the snow covered ground below. It punctured deep into the blanket below seamlessly adding to expansive white sheet below. But the shock dislodge the soft coating instead exposing a crystal clear icicles just as hard, cold and sharp as the others it came from.
Not very far from the fallen icicle was the origination of the sharp sound. A large tree, wrapped in chains, black as space with large white markings and little red veins running down its side had lost a branch with three small healthy limbs attached to it. Upon hitting the ground did the small blimbs broke off. They fell a fair distance from each other landing In deep pockets of snow. The lightest of the three sticks, red like the veins of the black tree was soon picked up by a pure white Owl and taken far off In the distance to an unseen location. The other two were almost identical in shape and formation as the other though one was smoother than its counter part in exchange it looked the most beat up marred by a large crack that ruined it's other wise soft features.
A bat almost as dark as the tree came and plucked the limb from the ground, gently sinking large fangs Into the branch. It flew in the opposite direction of the Owl, off to an eloquently formed tree that sat short to the black behemoth that produced the stick. The last stick sat beneath the shadow of the tree and quivered. Below it popped a gnarled inhuman hand with four digits, three fingers and a thumb. It searched for the limb without truly giving itself away pawing viciously for the limb before nudging it ever so lightly. The hand snatched it up before attempting to drag it down below. The tree did not like this, unraveling it's chain it hit the ground striking the hand sending it down below and the stick up high. The single hand became several as they all went to the stick well the chain coiled like a striking serpent intent on protect this limb that in its tussle to be captured was becoming battered and bruised and was starting to break.
Dream End
"Marcello wake up! You'll be late to see Mr. Maulfick." an elderly female voice called from across a small house in Syracuse, New York. The room was bare, Spartan really. A few Journals and notebooks laid on a tiny dresser. Some clothes in a wicker basket. The bed was a large twin covered in Dark Purple and Grey sheets and covers. The occupant of said bed was lazily wrapped in his blankets, a mushroom of black curly hair spewed from the haphazard cocoon. The door opened revealing a elderly woman more on the weighty side in a lime green dress under a yellow apron her attire ended with black rain boots. Her curly snow white hair bunched around her hair like sheep's wool. On her face was a pair of small round yet incredibly thick glasses that hid what her eyes even looked like. She called again-
"Marcello Wicke if ya ain't outta this bed, You're not gonna to have enough time for breakfast. I made pancakes." she offered up. The mound moved around so excited wiggling slowly before comically exploding open. A young teenaged body streched. His body, slightly wider than average , cracked and moaned while bones realigned and muscles flexed. Shaggy neck length curly hair flopped around.
"OK(yawn)...I'm up." The elderly woman nodded his direction.
"Good now get up, get dress Mr. Simmons will be in shortly to pick you up."
"Yes Ma'am." He confirmed before laying straight back down. The snow haired woman sighed heavy reaching behind her back pulling a rolling pin from nowhere. She quickly smacked the dark skinned teen in the shoulder eliciting both a loud THWACK and a shrill Ow. Marcello rubbed the reddening spot. "What did I do?!" he whined.
"You're being a lazy bum, now move your hindquarters." she spoke with a heavy finality. The 15yro roared in a tired, mostly exaggerated way. "I'll have none of that now, get up." she left this time leaving the teen to dress for his meeting with the ultimate evil. He wished that was a joke. He got up from his bed and looked to his standing mirror and looked to himself. Marcello grabbed his hair and started making it pose see how to wear it settling in a wild afro ponytail. He flexed his muscles(the small amount that showed) then looked down to his stomach pinching it ,measuring, then frowned. But he stopped when he looked to the thing around his neck. A golden green skull badge with shining green pupils in pits of black. As creepy as it was it kept him calm and happy he flashed a smile to the mirror.
"Marc!" the Elderly voice rang. He rushed off now grabbing articles of clothing every which way which way till he settled on a light red shirt with black stripes and off white pants and white red tennis shoes. "Marc!"
"Coming!" he ran out the room. He moved quickly to the joint living room and dining room occupied by one sweet (yet violent) little old lady and a large 6'2 black man with a muscular frame and muscles for days. He wore a white t-shirt under a black jacket and a pair of black pants and boots. He currently sat down eating a stack of pancakes and a cup of coffee.
"Great as always Muriel." he compliments cutting once more into the stack for another slice.
"I'm glad you like it Mr. Simmons." she gave a sad smile. "No one but Marcello has been able to enjoy my cooking much since my late husband." Simmons nods sadly before cocking his head to the side.
"I never asked before but what's that kick at the end? I feel like I should know that taste." Muriel smiled widely.
"That's my secret ingredient." she announced proudly.
"What's the secret?" he asked amused.
"The secret is a drop of Vinegar." The buff black man stopped his jaws' menstration to comprehend what she said. He chewed a bit more before swallowing nodding at the small discovery. He noticed the teen come and sit down at the small square table, Muriel soon following with a golden stack of pancakes.
"Morning brat."
"Old Man."
"Marcello!" Muriel chided.
"Mr. Simmons." he loathed. "you're early." The older man nodded.
"Wanted to ride around about before taking you to Maulfick. Needed you to have a heads up on the meeting." the larger man starting getting up, waving to the Kindly old woman who began moving the plate. The teen did not move though instead he started digging into his stack of pancakes. "Coming brat?" Simmons questions stone faced.
"Eating." was the curt reply. His reward a sharp crack of a rolling pin over his knuckles. "Really!?" Marcello croaked rubbing his knuckles in comfort.
"I told you to get up earlier."
"He came early!"
"No excuse, grab the plate and go." blank faced he quickly cut up the cakes and drizzled some syrup over it. Before he left he did stop and give a quick one armed hug before following behind the man. The Morning sun hit his face like a slap arresting whatever sleepiness he had left and brutally seizing it from his mind. He observed the streets filled with so few people going to work and school. He himself didn't go to school... ever. He was considered a risk early on not that he ever minded. The fewer people he'd been forced to interact has left him lax and happy.
"Kid." Simmons called pointing to his car. A rather nice four door BMW series 6 coupe, colored black with red hub caps and white tribal marks. Rushing forward Marcello balanced the plate in one hand, opened the passenger door and slid right in, slamming the door in one fell swoop. "Watch it!" He yelled. Brat has no respect for anything, Just like the Clown. He felt a niggling in his head.
"That's mean." Marcello comments through a bite of pancakes. Simmons growled in annoyance.
"I told you not to do that."
"You pretty much broadcasted that, I did nothing wrong. Any psychic could pick that up like street trash." Marcello remarks a fairly innocent smile adorning his face. Innocent if any normal human beings smile stretched as far as his did.
"First, you're not a psychic. Second, you're face is shifting." Marcel stopped smiling and tossed a half empty plate into the back seat. "Watch it!" But the older man was ignored as the teen began flipping the visor to expose a mirror in which he started messing with his face seemingly pushing and trying to mentally concentrate on making his mouth a normal size. "You still having an issue with shifting, really?" He started pulling from the single story house that was similar in design to a small farm house.
"It's instinctual ok, my body wants to change but you know the necklace stops most of it." He argued. Messing with the tail of his lips,he pressed them into a small curve, his face settled in a friendly smile. "Better?"
"I guess. You still have that thing?"
"Yes, it comes with fond memories." The teen said wistfully.
"You gave those up remember, in exchange for a happier life, you even got a nice little size stock in Mammon's little company, plus a place not having to deal In hell's bullshit." Simmons growled at the very mention of Maulfick's real name.
"Then why do I keep remembering Shit!" He yelled eyes glaring fiercely his eye even shifting to a solid purple even oozing a purple vapor. "I had a dream about-" Marcello stopped his triage midsentence. His eyes cooled back to dark grey and the vapor faded to nothing around him. "Why-"
"I know the feeling Marc." Simmons comforted, the car stopped it's motion a red light blaring it's command of ceasing motion. "You get a bite, a nibble of who you once were and it gets yanked from you." The older man's face got steely. "You had a choice were as I didn't. Every time you're given the option of getting them back you back down." Light turned green "Now either take them back or accept the situation." Marcello smiled wearily.
"I'll pass."
"Good."
"Simmons?"
"What brat?"
"Can I have a Unit?" The teen asked. Simmons looked to the teen actually turning the car in the same direction. The car then sped up.
"Why would a "Phlebiac" need a suit?"
"Cause I wasn't allowed to develop my psychoplasm since I'm not directly a lined with hell. The only thing I can do is make claws and mess my face up. I can't change...I don't think I ever could. The necklace don't help either" He said in a forlorn manner. Then he immediately smiled. "Plus Leetha is awesome!" He said reaching to Simmons arm, touching his jacket that seemed to squirm under his touch. "She thinks it's a good idea."
"She said touch her again without permission you'll lose your hands." Simmons told. He laughed while Marcello snatched his hand away. The older man did frown though. "She did say that it be an interesting experiment to see what happens." The young man gave a pointed look.
"Experiment?"
"You'd be the first." Marcello smiled at the potential for the demonic suit. Then something clicked in his head.
"Wait, what did you want to tell me?" Simmons smiled while his eyes glowed with an eerie emerald.
Wolfram&Heart Development Corportation Top Floor
Mammon or Mr. Maulfick for mortals was a careful being. A fallen angel who gained much power within the realms of Hell and the expansive Multiverse when he had the time to reach for it. He was intelligent and manipulative to a T and grabbed for power only when it was certain it was his. He was not a chance taker, he rubbed the three scar marks over his left eye. A reminder from Albert Simmons, his chosen Hellspawn to bring forth the apocalypse instead brought forth a forced truce between Hell and Heaven. And while most Demons (and definitely quite a few Angels) were wrought with rage, Mammon sought this as a opportunity to expand pass this simple realm and enter new heights of power. He just needed a few good agents to explore these realms. The Fallen walked to an intricate silver mirrior.
Looking to his own reflection, sweeping back his oil black hair, brushing down down small pencil mustache and straightening his black suit. His pale skin shined with a lustrous glow. He could feel the runts rage approaching miles back. It made the the old fallen feel good inside when he elicits such reactions from those below him. Far below him. The rage suddenly skipped a few levels of the building slowed to a, halt skipped a few more then stopped again in a few moments. The rage was significantly less as now it seemed tired. Mammon frowned when he felt AL approach the teen from about 20 stories below. The Fallen felt the Hellspawn's Magic before he appeared in his office, teen held in hand by the collar of his shirt like a hand bag. The teen was breathing heavily, face while not perspiring, was red in color.
"You should practice more." Mammon adviced seriously. The fallen tilted his head to the older man. "Simmons." He got a nod in response.
"You...bastard." Marcel wheezed.
"I assume Simmons already told you of the school." He stated already knowing the answer.
"School!? Fucking School why!?" Marcello tore away from Al's grip, pulling himself up from the man's hand. The teen took several deep breathes. Mammon turned from his mirror to stare at the boy.
"Please watch your language, it's unnecessary." He chastised. He grabbed a few papers from his desk and handed them to AL. Sweeping through the stack, the spawn nodded before leaving the office door. "I simply have an assignment for you." Marcello smiled warily. An actual assignment? Now while Mammon was aligned with hell, he was all about personal gain. Meaning anything he did wouldn't lead him to the brothers. "Personally some school would be beneficial for you." The Fallen told the teen.
"I'm smart enough!"
"What's 4 times 13?" The ancient being asked.
"I said I was smart not a genius." Mammon put a hand to face. "What?"
"Look-" Mammon started. "Unlike your "Phlebiac brothers", you actually have something they don't. Do you know what that is." Marcello gave a questioning look. "You can adapt and grow. While yes your older brothers are strong and their overall teamwork is complimentary, they're honestly too stupid to be of any use, and Violator is too much of a loose cannon to even consider." Mammon walked to the teen who now stared hard at him. "And while more human than they ever were, you are unique."
"Unique?" Mammon gave a small smile.
"You have heart, which is more than enough to do almost anything! Even Simmons proved that."
"What does heart matter when I don't have the power to back it up?" The teen raged. His eyes turned blank white.
"I'll make you a deal. The memories you gave us have been producing some wonderful samples of Psychoplasm and Necroplasm. I'm willing to not only give you a good unit amount of both but even allow you more access to your natural power, But restricted."
"So I can use magic again?"
"Are you going to turn a city block into a Hellscape again."
"Accident... no I won't."
"Good. But I also have another stipulation." Marcello groaned. "I'm opening a Japanese branch of Wolfram&Heart while heaven gets a branch inside is being built nearby per the agreement between Hell and Heaven."
"What's that got to do with me?"
"You will be helping on the weekends when not in class." Mammon told. The dark teen glared suddenly.
"Wait Japan? I can't speak Japanese, you going to impart some knowledge on me? The language? Some Universal understanding spell? A magical maguffin?" The Fallen pulled out a Cigarette. Placing it in his mouth it lit itself, the smell of burning flesh spreading across the office room.
"Nope."
"Then how?"
"What does that Heart tell you?"
"Magic?" Marcello watched Mammon pulled a Grey backpack from behind his desk tossing it to the teen. "Ow shit!" Reaching into the bag he pulled a yellow book title "Japanese for Dummies" "I hate you."
"Noted, now go see Simmons. He'll fill you in on the school." Mammon turned around to his desk to grab some papers, feeling a piercing gaze on the back of his neck till the door slammed behind him.
"Smartest of them all and still stupid." Mammon groaned lowly. Kid had a good future if he could mold him right. He just needed him to learn certain things at some appropriate times and Bam, instant bloodshed and souls plus power. Mammon looked at the little flier that stated an invite to one Yokai Academy. He probably should have given it to the brat. Then again his discovery should be most gratifying.