Spawn: The Recall
by TheStrangerThatCameFromNowhere
Heaven and Hell. To the perception and understanding of human beings, they are fiction. Delusions of the mind created for the sake of having something to believe in. Something to avoid or seek. It is why cultists perform sabbaths and acts of savagery. It is why preachers speak of the bible and abdicate sins.
However, human understanding is flawed, for human beings, by nature, are foolish.
Hell is real. There are no words that can describe it. Movies that retell the horrible stories of this accursed place could never hope to do it justice. It is a place beyond human understanding. It goes beyond concept and thought. If a human were to gaze upon it, weak of mind and spirit, their eyes would surely boil and burst into gooey remains.
Heaven is real. It is a paradise that one cannot begin to comprehend. A shining city among the stars, celestial hosts flying about and bringing order to it. However, such grand splendors are not without dark reflections. In the reflection, a dark face is revealed. One veiled by beautiful concepts such as "justice" and "righteousness." What mere mortal could ever hope to comprehend the minds of such great beings who perverse these meanings?
The supernatural world is real. Mythology has always been apart of mankind. Ghosts wander the world together with other such malicious beings. Everyone must take sides, for though the ignorant populace of man does not understand it nor capable of seeing it, it is approaching.
The Grand Finale. The Be All, End All. The Final Battle.
Armageddon.
Before long, the conflict began. God had lost many to The Forgotten Ones, but he rallied his forces and took the souls of those who yearned to step inside the pearly white gates. Satan had amassed numerous soldiers and called upon his Four Horsemen, bringing destruction and death. Before long, the ignorant humans were left teetering on the brink of death.
But… There is one among their number who possessed the power to change all of this. He was a human. One most exceptional at one of the most well-practiced arts humanity was best known for.
Killing.
His name was Al Simmons. He was a soldier. And when he died, he became apart of Hell. The deal was thus: in exchange for becoming a general of his army and his Hellspawn, he would see Wanda again. Simmons agreed to these terms.
As I said before… Humans are foolish creatures, for they accept things they do not understand.
When Al Simmons returned, it was not what he imagined it. His memories were nothing but fragments and pieces, given to him when Hell deemed it so. And when he returned, it was five years after his death. By then, his beloved wife Wanda had found love again. And with his own best friend no less.
His face was nothing but monstrous. Charred, rotting flesh. There was nothing human about him anymore.
Indeed, for the human known as Al Simmons died on the battlefield. Now he had been reborn from hellfire. Remade into Hell's image. Made into their destined soldier.
He was remade as Spawn.
~ Spawn: The Recall ~
...Armageddon had arrived. And it came without mercy. Just as there was no mercy for Spawn.
Below was the world that had given him birth. That big blue planet that told so many stories. Some that came before his time. A giant battlefield of conflict, hate and despair. His form had changed considerably. As Hellspawn, he was the epitome of human terror. Eyes that glowed like embers, foretelling one's fate before it even began. And that was to say nothing of what laid underneath that black living suit of his. The red shroud that encircled him was like a cloak of blood for it served the purpose of both shield and sword.
Now, however, one might mistake him for God. A divine entity. His green eyes glimmered with blue magnificence. No cloak was on his person, for it had been replaced by the beautiful white wings that shined with untold brilliance. A shining light that became a beacon for any that yet lingered in the dark.
But none of it suited him. These wings. These powers. They were all wasted on him.
As Hell's Destined Soldier, it is their duty to keep them confused. For their lack of memories makes them yearn for them. To search for it and reclaim it. And in pursuit, their power grows. They begin to understand. To learn. To slowly fulfill their role as Hellspawn.
Al Simmons had reclaimed his memories in all their entirety.
...he wishes he hadn't.
He stares at Earth, devoid of life with no emotion in his gaze. Soon, he gazes at his hands. There was much blood spilled on these hands, long before he became a Hellspawn. He remembers it clearly. His first kill when he was but a teenager, looking after his brother. Then the countless deaths at his hands when he became a soldier. And there was, of course, the blood of the people slain by his hands following his recruitment into Hell.
But that blood seemed more like thin film now. The memory returns to haunt him, ruining whatever face he might have underneath that mask as they began to shake. Soon, he breaks down into uncontrollable sobs, covering his face and bowing his head in shame.
A soldier is a man who protects the people of his country. A patriot who defends what he believes in. Al Simmons was a family man. He loved his wife more than anything.
But at the same time, he was a monster. One befitting his status as a soldier. For what family man would strike his dearly beloved? For what good man would dare raise his voice against his beloved spouse? For what man upon this Earth would kill his child before it ever had a chance to come into the world?
The wings upon his back curl, wrapping him into a ball. For days, months, maybe even weeks, Spawn weeps and damns the man he was born from. He curses Al Simmons and wishes he had chosen to remain in Hell rather than become who he is. The identity he once craved so dearly had become a stigma of damnation now.
Al Simmons was dead and gone.
Spawn wishes he could have killed him himself.
Spawn now stands at a crossroads. He was not a mere Hellspawn any longer. He could not even be considered a denizen of Hell. Nor a human fledgling. No, he was much more than that. The Mother of All Creation had granted him the powers of a God. He was now taking the role of Satan and God for himself. He could reshape the world however he liked. Create a new history for the world. So many possibilities…
...yet none would lead him back to Wanda. His dear, beloved Wanda.
Oh, how much he wants to hold her in his arms. To kiss her with human lips and raise Cyan with her. But knowing what Al Simmons had done, Spawn knew that it was impossible. He no longer had that option. He didn't have the luxury to lead a normal life anymore. He didn't deserve it.
He sure as shit didn't deserve these wings, either!
And thus, the crossroads. What path was one such as him to take? Earth was damaged and ruined. He could restore it to its former glory. Make it better. But he felt he no longer had a place left for him in that world. He would never be able to look Wanda in the eyes again. Even if he could, the mere sight of her would remind him of Al Simmons and haunt him.
After centuries of debate, Spawn had fallen from his pity. His wings straightened, and he stretched his limbs. He stared at the desolate globe, and then back to his bloody hands.
"...this had better work."
Slowly, he closed his eyes. His arms were raised high in the air. The universe around him began to dance to his will. The Earth slowly broke apart into pieces. Fragments and pieces of a giant round puzzle that would become pieced together very soon in a new shape. A memory danced in the back of his head. One from his early days as a mere fledgling Hellspawn.
He clung to that memory. His will began to branch out into the universe. It listened to his will, but resisted. He pushed. It gave. For what he was to do, simply restoring the world and barring Heaven and Hell from interfering wouldn't work. He needs something else. Something greater. Something that would help them learn.
Earth began to piece itself back together. Light began to sew away at the seams. Spawn opened his eyes, uncaring that his body was breaking apart into motes of light.
This would be his only act of mercy.
He wanted to burn Al Simmons alive. Purge him from his mind. Erase him completely. Make it so that he never existed!
But somewhere, deep down inside Spawn, he knew that Wanda still loved him. The man who killed their unborn child. The little girl that was to be.
He didn't deserve this. He should rot in Hell forever, in the back of his mind.
But Spawn kept seeing Wanda's face. For her, he would do this.
Spawn sighed and closed his eyes, his form breaking apart and floating away into nothingness. He wished the boy the best of luck and gave his regards. He would need them for what he was to do. Of all the souls he looked at, the ones who could learn from history the most, he showed the most promise. If he were honest, he felt like he was playing God. It pissed him off.
Even so… He wanted to do this.
For Wanda.
And thus, the Godly Being that was known as Spawn disappeared from the world.
~ Spawn: The Recall ~
In a small general hospital in Massachusetts, New York, a young teen with messy brown hair and bright red eyes woke with a startled gasp, throwing his body upwards. His mind is shattered and left in a frenzy. His body can't function properly. His lungs burn, trying to remember how to send oxygen through his body. His heart was shaking and bouncing, threatening to burst through his chest.
"Jesus!" a man cried, leaping away from the teen who grasped his chest in shock and pain, trying to calm himself down. His body wasn't listening. Something was wrong. He couldn't breath. It hurt. His chest felt like it was going to be torn apart. "S-Somebody! Call the Doctor!"
The teen heard the man flee the room, but he couldn't focus any longer. He tried to pry himself out of the bed, but he felt too weak. His body crashed to the floor. He cried when he felt his shoulder smash into the tiles.
It would be at least four minutes before the doctors arrived to sedate the poor boy. And it would be another two hours before he woke up again, this time with his body remembering how to function properly and his mind pieced back together.
Alex Mars was finally awake.
- CHAPTER 1: THE HELLBOUND -
It was the late summer that Alex regretted wearing a long-sleeve shirt to his part-time job. "Christ, it's hot." the brunette swore, tugging at his collar as he parked his motorbike to the curb. His skin was clinging uncomfortably to the fabric of his favorite orange Rob Zombie shirt. He knew he should have listened to his roommate's advice and switched out for a t-shirt.
It had to be at least 80 degrees out, for fuck's sake. Sure, it was the death woes of Summer for the year, but did whatever deity in the world have to make it so damn hot today?
Sighing, Alex placed his helmet over one of the handlebars of his bike and turned on his heel, approaching the rather warm home in front of him. Like other houses in the area, it wasn't anything fancy. It was big enough for three, four people tops. A white picket fence wrapped around the whole thing with a mail box out in front, flag down. A decently-sized lawn sat on the right side with a small slide and pink flamingo standing guard.
Alex would never admit this, but he had something of a grudge against that flamingo. About a year ago, when he was playing with that little bundle of joy and mischief that caused him grief to no end some days, he found himself tripping over its leg and smacking his head against the fence, smashing a board in the process. They told him it was fine, but he still felt horrible about the whole thing and wanted to fix it by himself.
He blamed his misfortune on the flamingo and swore, one day, he would get his vengeance.
He tapped his finger against the doorbell. A small buzz shot by before fading to silence. "Just a minute!" a woman called out. Seconds later, the door was pulled to reveal a beautiful dark-skinned woman with brown eyes and wavy hair, tied back into a small yet spiky ponytail. "Oh, Alex! I didn't think you'd show!"
Alex smiled sheepishly. "Well, I'm a bit low on rent this month." he admitted with shame. "So I've been pulling all-nighters with my other jobs. How are you doing, Miss Fitzgerald?"
"Oh, stop it! I told you, just call me Wanda. Hell, my husband is still trying to get you to call him Terry." Wanda Fitzgerald, law attorney, wife and mother of one child stepped back, allowing him to step inside. Alex felt relieved soon after when he felt the cold air of a very-much needed AC blow into him. "So, how's Mako?"
"Ah, you know. Still a nerd."
"Big bhro!"
Something small tackled into Alex's leg. It nearly throws him off balance, much like every other time he came here. It was a little girl, no older than three or four with similar features to Wanda, but with chubby cheeks and a small that could make your heart flutter. Alex grinned and bent down, hoisting the girl up to his shoulders.
"Hey, Cyan. How's my favorite little devil?"
"Is that Alex I hear?" A man peered out from the corner. Like Cyan and Wanda, he had a dark skin and brown eyes with dark hair that was cut short, though slightly curly. As soon as he saw the teen with Cyan up on his shoulders, Terry Fitzgerald smiled widely. "You should have told us you were coming! I would have taken up Wanda's offer to cook dinner tonight!"
"Oh, no. You don't have to do that!" Alex said, feeling a bit abashed. "I mean, I'm just here to babysit the tyrant-in-the-making who's bouncing on my shoulders and making a fool of my back."
"Big bhro! Big bhro!" Cyan giggled, absolutely giddy as she hugged his head.
As with the many times Alex Mars has come to the Fitzgerald residence, he feels at home.
~ Spawn: The Recall ~
My name is Alex Mars. I'm 21 years old. I would have graduated three years ago, but I dropped out. I never got along with my parents. As in, at all. Every time I had done something wrong, I was either on the receiving end of a lecture or glared at like I was some kind of animal. I got fed up and just left home one day, taking to the streets.
I can't say it wasn't all bad. The worst I got into was becoming a drug transporter. In my defense, I didn't know what I was carrying until the guy came to collect. I quit being a delivery boy and just stuck to small-time crap to make ends meat. It's kind of scary what you can learn in the alleys of New York these days, especially if you don't have a place to call home.
Nine months after I fell out of my parents' life and dodging attempts to bring me home, I screwed up. I was just walking back to that ratty old house that a bunch of homeless schmoes were squatting in when a little shit ran by and snagged my wallet. I had over $500 in that thing – the spoils of my latest conquest – and thought about manning up to heading down to the Red Light District.
Hey, a man has needs.
I chased after the brat, but I never saw the car coming. It was so fast, I didn't think about what happened. One moment, I was running after a little shit, and the next, I was lying facedown in the concrete.
When I woke up, I found out it had been a year since then. A whole year of my life went by, just sitting by in some hospital bed. The weirdest part is, though… The doctors didn't expect me to wake up. Like, at all. My injuries were so severe, it was a miracle I was even still kicking by the time I was under the knife.
I had no idea what I was going to do with my life after that. I wouldn't be able to pay for my medical bills, especially since I didn't have any money on me, and there was no way in hell I was allowing these guys to call my parents. A year of being asleep doesn't change anything about how I feel. By some strange twist of fate, though, I met two wonderful people.
You guessed it, the Fitzgeralds.
I know what your thinking. Why would an attorney and a guy with a corporate desk job want anything to do with a troublesome kid? Well, Wanda didn't start out as an attorney. Before she entered the justice system, she was a leading activist in a "troubled youth program." When she discovered my record and my many, many visits to Juvenile Hall, she decided she wanted in my life.
I would say that it was some cliché moment where I wanted nothing to do with her, but that wouldn't be the truth. The truth is… I didn't know what to think or how to respond when she asked me if I wanted help. I pretty much knew the answer to this whole thing anyway. She was going to help me, regardless of whether or not I said, 'yes.' No one ever butted into my life like that. Especially not with that sort of concern.
Eight months into the program, and I was back out on the streets. I never finished my school, but I started taking up part-time jobs. Small local convenience stores, courier services, deliveries and the likes. Hell, I even took on a baby-sitting job.
Before you ask about the last one, I was desperate for some cash. My landlord is a bitch.
Didn't expect to run into Wanda.
The day I found myself in that house, looking after the little shit that was Cyan three days a week, I felt like things were back to normal. Like there was finally some stability in my life again. I still had to worry about my parents calling me up, but other than that… I felt happy.
If there is a "god" in this world, he must be taking pity on me or something if he's giving a piece of shit like me a second chance at some honest life.
~ Spawn: The Recall ~
[[...in other related news, Metropolis has had the brunt of this scorching heat wave! Going up as far as the upper 90's and scheduled to be in the 100's by next week, it seems like New York might finally get some well-deserved cooldown. And speaking of hot weather, Wayne Enterprise CEO Bruce Wayne has recently made a statement in regards to the announced BonFire antivirus program that is scheduled to be released. Stated to be the latest technology in defense against cyber terrorists and even the best protection of standard computer users, it is surely going to be putting some pressure on other corporate rivals.]]
[[If we're talking about politics, let me remind the fact that the United States has gone to Hell this last year. In 2017, we upstanding citizens elected Donald Trump in office, but so far, what has he done? That Mexican Border Wall he promised? I don't see a lick of construction over there, do you? And those taxes he kept talking about? What's that all about? Yeah, sure. Congress and the Senate might keep stonewalling the bastard, but can we please talk about the fact that, even after ten months since the bastard got put in office, there are still rumors that the only reason he got in that seat is because of Russia?!]]
[[Let me tell you folks something. Y'all keep talking about politics and governments, but let's talk about what really matters. Namely, the guys that run around in motherfucking spandex on a daily basis and making the cops look like a bunch of useless desk jockies?! The Flash that runs faster than the speed of sound? More like a guy on crystal meth in a onesie! Batman? Some rich snob in pajamas with a blue diaper on! Superman? ...well, at least he's got some taste. Speedos are this year's fashion. But my point still stands here! We're living in a day and age where we're getting saved by guys who make a bigger embarrassment of themselves than they make out of the police! Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the United States! Land of the Free, Home of the Brave and its Department of Shame!]]
~ Spawn: The Recall ~
Alex spends one of his rare free days at the Fitzgerald's house. He doesn't have to work on one of his part-time jobs and instead spends his time with the people that he might consider to be his second family. Even after so much time has passed, he hasn't reconnected with his family. Perhaps he was just being a brat, but he honestly found himself unable to stand them. Their demeanor and controlling nature didn't sit well with him. It was like they tried to dictate what he was supposed to do. They had tried to visit him in the hospital in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, the car incident had changed him.
Tried being the key word here.
Alex was surprisingly agile in his lackluster escape. It was a wonder how no one had found him. He did feel bad for throwing the hospital into a frenzy, though. Especially since they were constantly working around the clock.
Back to the present, Alex was in the kitchen, the warm water washing over his hands as soap slipped through his fingers, soaking his tan skin while the sponge in his hand was furiously being squeezed and pressed against a plate. "You don't have to do that, you know." Terry said, standing next to him with his sleeves rolled up. He was currently doing the same thing, scrubbing down a rather disgusting looking plate, marked with sauce and gritbits that refused to leave and other such stains. "I'm more than capable of cleaning stuff up by myself."
"Have to earn my keep somehow." Alex replied. "Besides, it isn't like I've got anything else in mind. It's either this, or staying in a stuffy room watching Mako Maroon play OverWatch."
Mako Maroon was his roommate, on top of being a resident gamer. Every day, she spent her time in her little gaming chair, controller in hand and console booted up. She had headphones on, making it damn near impossible to actually talk to her. Add that to the fact that she also hardly ever went out, he had taken to calling her the shut-in. Of course, he paid the price with a controller to the face. Which, for some reason, he was forced to replace with his own money instead of hers.
He was still a little sore about that.
"Didn't she used to be in those e-Sports things?"
"Heck if I know." Alex shrugged. As he worked on the dishes, trying to pull his mind away from anything involving his parents and from the headache that was his roommate, his eyes drifted over to the small picture that hanged on the wall. He had seen this picture several times before, yet for some reason, he always couldn't help but feel drawn to it. The man in it looked so familiar to him, yet Alex was sure he had never seen him in his life. "By the way, Terry. Been meaning to ask this, but who's the guy in that picture? The one next to Wanda?"
Terry looked at the picture Alex was pointing to and his face turned somber. "Right... I forgot. You don't know." he said, his voice seeped in sadness. "That's Al Simmons. He was a soldier, and Wanda's first husband."
Alex blinked, looking back at the picture. In the back of his mind, he felt like the insides of his brain were being scratched out with a nail. A dull, painful throbbing shook through his being, making him wince slightly. "Did he...?"
"Yeah. Poor man was burned to a crisp while fighting in some hellhole, god knows where. The man was my best friend, so I knew him and Wanda pretty well." He smiled sadly as he looked up, thinking back to happier memories. "Let me tell you, the day those two got hitched was probably one of the few times I ever saw Al grin like a damn fool. Watching him being buried on that day, though..." He shook his head. "Christ. It took us both months before we got our heads back in working order."
"And let me guess. It was because you two had each other that you...?"
"We took it slow. We thought it would've been disrespectful towards Al if we did that. But yeah, because we had each other, we ended up finding ourselves with that little bundle of energy you know as Cyan." Laughing, Terry set a clean and crisp dinner plate into the drainer before working on another. "You ever thought about marriage, Alex?"
The brunette laughed. "I'm a little young for marriage, don'tcha think, Terry?"
As Alex was about to put another clean dish away, his body suddenly jerked, as if being tugged by some invisible force. The plate fell from his grasp, shattering into tiny pieces on the floor. "Alex!" Terry shouted in shock, finding the young man suddenly swaying, his eyes glazed. "You okay, son?!"
"I..." Alex couldn't hear himself. His voice was slurred. His head was hurting. The scratching, it was getting worse. His body felt like it was on fire. "I don't...feel so good..."
*a woman screamed, tears running down her face as she thrashed underneath him while the ugly fat man continued to thrust his hips into hers, sweat dripping onto her skin like filthy bugs*
*a boy watched helplessly, hiding away in the safety of his closet as he watched some deranged man screaming in his home, repeatedly stabbing his older brother with a butcher knife, splattering the walls with red paint*
'What-what is this?' Alex thought, hissing as he clutched his head. 'These-these voices my head! These images... What?! What am I seeing?!'
"Alex?!" Terry called out in panic as he caught the poor boy, who could no longer support himself on his feet. He collapsed into Terry's arms, still clutching his head and squirming and whimpering in pain. "Alex, what's wrong?!"
*gunshots rung into the air, the last thing the stupid brat heard as he fell to the ground dead, clutching the bag of stolen money like it was his to begin with*
*the kid's screams were muffled as something thick and large was shoved into his throat, making him gag while the big man behind him shoved something into his rear, adding to the intensity of his screams and gags*
*the woman begged and pleaded as she tried to pry the straps off her wrists and ankles as numerous men wearing scrubs and gloves stood over her with instruments in hand, looming over like the angels of death*
*her mother was screaming at her, her fists coming down at her, raw and red and bruised and bleeding like the arms she was using to defend herself*
*he stared at the mirror, revealing his lifeless and helpless expression, the face of someone who looked as if they had enough before he brought the gun to his head and pulled the trigger*
"It-it hurts...!" Alex whimpered, squirming. "Make it stop!"
Alex's pitiful whines had earned Wanda's attention from the dining room as she dashed inside with a worried look. "Terry?!" she gasped, seeing the poor boy she had helped now in the arms of her husband, looking as if he were in agonizing pain. "What's wrong with Alex?!"
"I-I don't know!" Terry panicked. "He just suddenly starting flailing around! Kid! Hey, listen to me! Are you alright?!"
Alex didn't respond. The pain was growing worse with each passing second. It was starting to seep into his skin. He could feel it burning, like it was being peeled off, something stripping him to the bone.
*shackles held onto him tightly as he tried to reach out for her, but a yank of the chain pulled him back, the cuffs digging into his burned skin. it was an illusion, but he didn't care. he reached out for her, mouth moving as he screamed pitifully for her as he watched some disgusting, warped creature violate her while listening to her sweet moans. "Wanda!" he cried out in anguish. "Wanda! WANDA!"*
With a scream, Alex's eyes rolled to the back of his head and went limp in the arms of Terry Fitzgerald.
~ Spawn: The Recall ~
What Alex Mars did not understand at the time was that these were not merely hallucinations, or lucid imaginations of a fever dream.
No, these were the events that were transpiring across the world. Events of violence. Despair. Horror.
For reasons unknown to him, Alex Mars possessed the power to sense the pain of living creatures.
Soon, however, he would understand the meaning of these gifts. Or rather, the meaning behind this curse.
For Hell's Destined Soldier has a part to play...
~ Spawn: The Recall
Bruce Wayne, multi-national corporate billionaire and playboy, was not a social person in spite of the many fundraisers and parties he threw on an almost monthly basis. In fact, his social circle was very small, limited to a mere handful of people. Aside from Clark Kent, or rather the person hiding underneath the guise and his butler Alfred, one might say that the famous billionaire was a very lonely man.
They were only half right.
"This is a surprise." Bruce remarked wryly when he entered the living room, finding a young man sitting on the couch next to a boy. The older of the two boys had dark hair, swept neatly to the side while wearing a black muscle shirt and denim jeans, while the boy next to him had a messy mop of black hair, as if he had he only just gotten out of bed, wearing a bright red sweater with black shorts. "You should've called me if you were coming over for a visit, Dick."
"And miss surprising you?" Dick Grayson said with a smile. "Never. Besides, I wanted revenge for Timmy boy kicking my ass last month."
"Sorry, Dick!" Tim Drake grinned, showing off his pearly whites. "But I'm keeping my undefeated streak. Even Barbara hasn't beaten me yet!"
"Ha, ha. Laugh it up, short stuff."
Bruce smiled thinly. For a moment, the scene in front of him was replaced with himself and another boy, with rougher features and somewhat more tamed hair. No sooner did it appear did Bruce shake his head, slipping his hands into his pockets. The last thing he needed was for them to see his shaking hands. However, the action had not gone unnoticed by Dick, who caught him in the act and gave him a stare before he turned to Tim. "Be back in a bit." he said. "Need to talk to Bruce for a sec. And if you undo pause, so help me, you little shit, you are getting the claw."
"Be quick!"
Dick leaped off the couch. Bruce wisely moved further into the hallway, allowing them to speak outside of Tim's earshot. Despite his young age, he had excellent hearing. It also helped that the mansion was unusually large and allowed for everyone to hear pretty much almost everything if the sound was loud enough. "Your hands were shaking when you saw me and Tim together." Dick stated with a look of concern. "Were you thinking about..." He trailed off, wisely choosing not to finish his statement and shook his head. "Barbara told me you've pretty much left training up to her. And Alfred tells me you haven't slept in weeks."
"I'm fine, Dick."
"Bullshit." the young man rebuked. "Bruce, you look like shit. Coffee and meditation can only keep you up for so long. You can't stave off the nightmares forever, Bruce. Trust me, I tried. I asked Starfire to shock me and for Raven to scare the living daylights out of me for a week before Beast Boy and Cyborg managed to convince me to take a load off."
Bruce grimaced. "...you didn't see it happen." he said, voice low. His hands were trembling. "You didn't see the warehouse go up in flames."
"I remember seeing you holding Jason. That was enough." Dick said, tone equally as somber and sad. "I'm sorry if I sound like an asshole for saying this to you, especially since just about everyone in our family is grieving, but Gotham doesn't need Bruce Wayne right now. It needs Batman." He paused briefly. "I need Batman."
Bruce looked at his former protege, narrowing his eyes. "...I should have figured you didn't just come here to play games with Tim." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he leaned against the wall. "What happened at the Tower?"
"I got a visit from Doctor Fate." Dick said seriously, folding his arms. "He did try to contact you, but somebody's been experimenting with runes and wards lately. Never pegged you to take a shot at that kind of stuff, by the way. He said that something big's been happening in Rat City. Like mojo kind of bad. Enough to attract the Enchantress kind of bad."
"Enchantress?" Bruce questioned, stunned for a moment before his posture became straighter and more narrow. His expression shifted and his eyes possessed a cold, hardened glint. The billionaire had just checked out. "Unless I'm mistaken, we had Brother Eye monitor her activities. I would have heard if she was on the move. What happened?"
Dick shrugged. "I have no idea, Bruce. But whatever's happening in that city to earn that hag's attention? It can't be good."
~ Spawn: The Recall ~
"Are you sure you're alright, Alex?" Wanda questioned him worriedly. "You looked like you were in a lot of pain. Do you need me to take you to the hospital."
"I'll be fine, Wanda. Really!" the brunette assured her, hiding the painful throbbing from the back of his skull quite well, all things considered. "If it gets bad enough, I'll run by the clinic. It isn't that far of a walk from my apartment."
"I don't know..."
"Trust me. I'll be fine."
It took a bit of doing, but he eventually got the kind woman to back off and assure her that he was fine. It was a lie, of course, one he knew that she didn't buy for a second. Wanda Blake was a sharp woman. If he wanted to get something past her, he'd have to be really sneaky about it. He got on his bike and made his way back to his apartment, trying his best to keep himself steady while ignoring the flaring pains. Even now, he could sense it. Nearby, far away. Several blocks away. Down the street. On the other side of the city. Underneath the streets.
Violence. Bloodshed. Death.
Somehow, he could feel it happening. And with each passing second, his body felt it. His fingers were twitching and his muscles were tightening up, as if sensing something that he couldn't. And the images wouldn't stop. He tried to block them out, or at the very least ignore them until he could get home. Back to the apartment.
As he turned the corner, wheels skidding across the sidewalk, he found his grip loosening on the handles. The bike swerved and he fell to the concrete. "Augh!" Alex cried as he grasped his head, body slamming against the ground. "Fuck! Dammit..." He pulled himself up, trying to push the pain away. It was useless. It was growing stronger by the second. The images were becoming more vivid. More violent. "What-what's going on...? Why does my head hurt? What're these images...?"
'Am-am I... Am I going insane?'
~ Spawn: The Recall ~
Insanity...would have been preferable, for this young man.
He does not know what is happening to him, nor does he understand the implications of this grotesque metamorphosis.
When he does... It could very well shatter his mind.
But, while Alex Mars struggled with these growing visions of violence, other forces were beginning to take notice.
Spawn's actions in remaking the world, by borrowing the power of another realm of reality, had not been without consequences, nor had his actions in rewinding the clock of time for this world.
Hell had become alarmed at the absence of Al Simmons - their newest pawn in their games - and Heaven was beginning to see it for themselves. While Malebolgia panicked and searched for his missing warrior, the Angels watched with wary eyes, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
As for the new inhabitants of this world, parallel warriors from the reality Spawn had used, they too were taking notice.
Soon... Yes, very soon, all eyes, be them eyes of good will or malicious intent, will watch as a new breed of warrior is born.
~ Spawn: The Recall ~
Mako Maroon looked at her roommate in worry, hazel eyes peering out from beneath her ebony bangs. "You doin' okay there, champ?" she asked, sitting leisurely in her chair, wearing only neon green shorts and a black shirt with dark blue-and-black strips around the sleeves. "You don't look so hot."
It had been a week since Alex began suffering these strange "attacks" and the results were showing. His skin was grown pale, his eyes were developing dark rings from sleep deprivation, and the sclera around his eyelids was red with irritation. He had been to the clinic, having made an appointment and received medication, but it didn't do a damn thing. All it did was get rid of these damned headaches and nothing more.
Try as he might, nothing would cease these the hell that kept coming to him.
"I'm fine." he said. Mako clearly didn't believe him. Alex sighed, rubbing his temples. "Okay, so... For, like, the last couple of days I keep hearing voices. Seeing this. I feel like I'm going nuts. I've been to doctors, taken all kind of medicine, but nothing's working."
"So, basically, you're going insane?"
"Think so... So, what do you think? Should I send myself to an insane asylum?"
Alex had been honestly thinking about that. On the one hand, he wasn't too keen on being put in a straight jacket. On the other hand, if things kept up, what was to say he wouldn't go crazy and snap? The last thing he wanted was to hurt the Fitzgeralds. They were the closest thing he had to a family since he parted ways with his old folks.
Mako pursed her lips, leaning in her comfy chair. "I honestly have no idea what you should do. Being a consultant isn't really my thing." she said. "Why don't you try going on walks? Helps me clear my head a little. I think it's still rush hour, so the streets shouldn't be too crowded if you go nuts."
"Gee... Thanks for the vote of confidence." But it was helpful advice. Maybe a walk would do him some good.
He had asked Terry if it would be okay to take some time off from his babysitting job. Cyan sounded very sad, but otherwise the Fitzgeralds approved of his decision. He just hoped he would get better soon. Whatever was happening to him had to pass.
It had to...
~ Spawn: The Recall
June Moon's mind was tearing itself apart, as it had been for the last few months.
Before, she was a simple girl and IT tech working at a small time studio, hoping to make ends meat while enjoying doing what she loved. Then came the day her friend invited her on that archaeological dig site and found that medallion and her life being thrown upside down. She had no idea of knowing that, at the time, the medallion was some kind of seal housing some evil spirit.
Then again, perhaps "evil" was just her being biased for all things it did with her body. It was simply looking out for itself, using her as a means to survive. Yet how many people has she hurt in the process? How many people died because of her? To say that June wanted nothing to do with the Enchantress would be an understatement. Especially given all the wickedness that had been part of her life.
The Enchantress, of course, didn't care for the chaos. It was more concerned with everything to do with itself and doing however it pleased, always whispering cold words in her ear. At every point, it made sure she was reminded that whether she liked it or not, it was her partner. It kept claiming that it was looking out for her, but June knew better. Maybe at first, she once trusted the Enchantress, but that trust soon vanished after that night in the manor.
The screams never stopped.
Lately, however, ever since she had escaped the notice of the Justice League (or so she wanted to believe), she found that there was...something in Rat City. Something that was making the Enchantress jittery. Agitated, on edge. It had only reacted that way to the likes of the residents of the dark world. She wasn't sure how she should feel, but she kept feeling like there was something wrong. The Enchantress in this state was making her head spin.
'Maybe I should get out of the city.' June thought with an inward grimace as she walked through the streets. She looked around and noticed how there were more than a few unsavory characters lurking about. All with a dangerous glint in their eyes. A few looked her way and smiled in a way that brought shivers down her spine. She clutched her bag closer to her and sped up, trying her best to ignore them.
Whatever they would do to her would pale in comparison to what the Enchantress would do. At best, they would be catatonic husks. Worst case, they'd be bloody smears on the wall.
As she walked, she bumped into the shoulder of a young brunette. "I'm sorry." she apologized to him. "I wasn't-" Her apology was cut short as she gasped and clutched her head, a distorted growl rumbling in the recesses of her mind. The Enchantress was angry. Snarling and growling. Her brain was shuddering. What was this? It never reacted like this before.
"It's fine..." the brunette waved her off tiredly, not noticing her reaction. He walked away, seemingly addled by his own thoughts. As he was gone, June breathed a sigh of relief as the Enchantress' agitation ebbed away.
'Okay, what was that?!' she demanded angrily. 'Little warning next time you decide to scream inside my head!'
'Dangerous.' June blinked. If she could see the Enchantress' face, she would envision the malevolent entity to be scowling. 'That boy is dangerous. His smell is...putrid. Dark, wretched!'
'Like you have room to talk.' June snapped back. She wanted to strangle and find some way to rid herself of this wretch. Yet so long as it remained, she would be held in shackles. Her hands would be tied, unable to find a way to be free of this evil. Sighing deeply, she resumed her walk. As she passed an alley, a pair of rough hands snatched her and pulled her in. She opened her mouth to scream, but a rag smothered her face. A nauseous smell invaded her nostrils, and her mind turned hazy. 'Chloroform...?' her mind thought in dismay. Not for herself, but for the poor bastards who put their hands on her.
As she faded away into unconsciousness, the Enchantress cackled. 'How wonderful! I was looking for a way to vent my frustrations! Oh, how they'll scream...'
~ Spawn: The Recall ~
Another pounding headache assaulted Alex's head, far worse than before. He stumbled and nearly knocked into a woman walking alongside her four-year-old toddler and held himself against the wall. The scent of decay flowed into his nose, and with it, a cold chill that ran down his face. Cold sweat caked his skin, forming a thin layer while his head hammered against his skull. His body felt as if it were on fire.
Screams echoed. A wicked laugh was louder, drowning the screams as an unearthly pale light consumed the poor men, finding themselves being ripped apart by it as if it were a living, vicious thing. Beneath that wicked smile, however, was a face of anguish, begging for someone to help her.
"What the fuck!" Alex snarled. He fell to his knees, the pain growing worse. His mind was starting to turn dark. Unknown to him, something in the center of his chest, hidden beneath his shirt, began to glow green. Black strands of liquid crawled up his neck, swallowing flesh and turning it jet black. "What-what's going-"
He let out a howl of pain, throwing himself into an alley. Images assaulted his mind. Horrible images. Men being slaughtered by claws and fangs. Monstrous creatures were feasting upon them. Men committing atrocities and promptly pay for the price. They were swiftly killed, either by clawed hands or weapons made by men, all wielded by a single figure clad in red. A figure that slowly made itself known to Alex. It turned its head, and glowing piercing eyes gazed into Alex's own orbs.
"C'mon, soldier." the man growled. "Get your ass up. You've got work to do!"
Alex's eyes became consumed in green. Another howl escaped him, only this one far more primal. His face was consumed by the black strands, and soon became replaced by a face of black, mouth lined with sharp fangs and white markings over his eyes. Green, hate-filled orbs glared forward as Alex fell down to his hands and knees. Clawed fingertips dug into the earth, red straps of leather, armed with large spikes, wrapped around his hands and legs. Chains rattled in his ears and dangled around his body, floating ominously while a tattered red cloak began to unfurl from his back.
Something filled his head. Something over this screaming pain and damning rage. Information. Information that he didn't understand. All he understood was that something was wrong. Something inhuman was here. And it dared to make itself known.
Alex Mars was gone. And in his place stood a creature born of hellish intent.
One that would make this foul creature pay.
~ Spawn: The Recall ~
The Enchantress had taken control of June's body when the ruggish men drugged her and threw her to the ground. They were already upon her, lust and violence in their eyes and smiles as they began to tear at her clothing. The jeans were pulled down with her underwear and her shirt torn open to reveal her bra. "Fuck, look at this." one of them salivated, cupping June's chin and looking at her face. "She is fine!"
"Bet ya she'll be fucking tight." the other sniggered, already undoing his own pants. "Remind me again why we gotta clock her ass out?"
"Because if we don't, then those fucking cops will be on our asses!" the first rapist growled. "You know what's been happening lately in this neighborhood! Now hurry up and fuck her! I want a turn!"
"Yeah, yeah!"
The Enchantress couldn't help but giggle in amusement. Before the man could take out his pecker, she had already assumed full control. June's eyes, or rather the Enchantress' eyes, opened to reveal white irises and pupils, dark autumn-burned hair turning jet black and murky veins crawling up her neck. A wave of power erupted from her body and threw the two rapists aside, their bodies smashing into a brick wall and dumpster respectively. Wave a flick of her wrist, June's clothes were replaced by her own. Green strips of cloth wrapped around her chest and covering up her naked bosom while green robes shielded her lower half. Similar bindings wrapped around her calves and forearms, only they had metal attachments in the form of stylized ornaments resembling the letter "e".
The Enchantress stood up and rolled June's neck. "Oh, that is so much better~"she moaned before she looked at the two men, who recovered from their predicament. They stared at her in shock, as if unable to believe their eyes. She grinned, showing off her pearly whites. "Now then, what to do with you? You tried to take my precious June's innocence, didn't you? Shall I take something of equal value from you in return?"
Before any of them could properly react, the Enchantress waved her hand. A ghostly apparition slithered up from the ground, grabbing one of June's would-be rapist by the neck and pinning him down. It vaguely resembled a skeleton, but its bones were wrong. Spikes jutted out from its joints, its teeth were like knives and the tips of its spider-like fingers were sharp claws. The thug even let out a muffled scream as the fingers dug into his skull, piercing through its flesh and broke through his skull, dangerously close to his unprotected organ. The Enchantress laughed as she watched the phantasmal demon snarl and thrust its free hand into the man's nether regions. The scream intensified as he felt sharp blades cut into his genitals. Then, with a tug, both phallus and sac were ripped out. Blood gushed from the rapist's groin, soiling his jeans and the floor beneath him.
"Oh shit!" his partner screamed in terror, watching as the ghostly apparition didn't stop. It's next target was his insides, digging into his stomach while its bony hand remained clamped over his mouth, preventing anyone from hearing its screams. "Oh shit! Oh, fuck!"
"Oh, what's the matter, darling?" the Enchantress cooed as she sauntered over to him, a wicked smile playing across her pale face. The thug was petrified. He couldn't move. She leaned down and traced a finger along his cheek, leaving behind a trail of green smoke. "Didn't you want a taste of this body? You were so roaring to go earlier. Did you go soft? I could make you hard again." Her smile turned malicious. "Hard. As. Stone."
A jolt ran down the thug's spine. The lower half of his face suddenly felt heavy. His neck nearly snapped from the newfound pressure. Collapsing, he clutched his mouth, then his eyes widened in horror as he felt only smooth marble. He couldn't move his lips. He couldn't breathe. Everything was starting to blur. He couldn't see clearly. He tried to scream, but no sound came. He looked up at the Enchantress, begging and pleading for her to undo what she had done, only to find her smiling cruelly down, a hefty blush on her cheeks.
"I wonder what kind of nice statue you'll make~"
Realizing just how screwed he was, the thug made a beeline for the mouth of the alley. He didn't care of the police were going to arrest him or shoot him. He just wanted to escape. He had done nothing to deserve this. He was entitled to taking that woman's virginity. It would have felt so good, dirtying her. Just like all the other whores he's ruined. Oh, how it brought a chill down his spine just thinking about it. Their teary faces as they went limp, accepting what he was doing. The thrill was brought to an all-time high when he released everything he had while he was inside them, thinking about how wonderful it would be if they were carrying his child.
There was nothing pure about this worthless waste of skin. This was a human that he was allowed to kill. This man deserved to die.
He made it only halfway before something pounced and killed him instantly. The weight that crashed down upon his back snapped his spine in two. No - it wold be more accurate to say that the spine was demolished in the center, reduced to shrapnel that tore and dug into his internal organs. One fragment had sliced into his heart, spilling blood by the gallons. The man felt little pain, which in itself was more mercy than he deserved.
The Enchantress suddenly let out a hiss, recoiling from the sight of the creature standing in her way and atop what was supposed to be her kill. It was a demon clad in human skin, wrapped in jet black with white markings etched into its body. A red cape floated and curled and twisted around its body, chains flowing together with the fabric. Shadows covered the upper half of its body, yet the burning green glow of its eyes pierced through the darkness and glared back at her with malice and killing intent, enough to make an ordinary man die of fright. Faintly, she could see two rows of sharp fangs agape, a tongue slithering out.
"Wretch..."the Enchantress snarled. "I know not what you are, but you will rue this day!"
The response she received was a shrill shriek. One that damned this unholy spirit to hell for all eternity.
The Hell-Spawn was born.
TBC in "Hell's Destined Soldier"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Special thanks go to Starlight's Poet, who gave me this story with his blessing. He was beneficial to bringing this story to life.
Word of warning. If you haven't yet figured it out, this story is gonna get get REAL quick. The source material would demand nothing less.