THE AWFUL TRUTH

-x-

Four

-x-

It's over. It's all over. And here you are. At the end of everything, sitting doing nothing.

Presto tried to reason with himself that it wasn't the end. It was the biggest fall-out within the group he'd ever witnessed, but it wasn't the end. They had been through so much before, they could get through this.

No we can't. Not this. Not this.

Presto remained still, his arm frozen around Sheila's shoulder.

Look, Presto! Look what's happening to them! Look! Look!

He opened his mind.

BLOOD! BLOOD AND BLOOD AND SCREAMING AND BLO…

Gasping, he closed himself off again. The blood and the filth was everywhere – it contaminated them all. It filled his mind with a thick, foul ooze.

'What is it, Presto?' Sheila was staring at him, her honest eyes full of concern.

Presto concentrated hard and opened himself up again – only a tiny way this time.

Spinning… the mire and the blood were spinning, swirling. Mist. Fog. Confusion. Isolation. A single dark figure. Wings of fire, of fire, of fire and a fury to match at the centre. A whirlpool. A tornado. Fear! Fear!

'Something's coming,' he whispered. 'Something bad.'

'No.' Sheila shook her head with a false calm. 'It can't be. Because it can't get any worse than this.'

Him. Him! And a new servant. Venger was the darkness, Furnus is the flame. And the Knight… the Knight is the blade. Human brutishness, human rage. The dark figure walking forwards, coming so close, so close, almost upon them, his face beneath so much steel, can't see, can't look, can't look into the eyes.

'He's gone,' murmured Presto to himself. 'He's never going to be. He can't…'

Sheila laid a soft, slender hand over his. 'Who? Who's gone?'

Presto stalled, running a dry tongue over the roof of his mouth.

The eyes. The eyes. The eyes are the key. See. See into that gash in the steel that covers the face. See them. The eyes, the eyes… are blue. His eyes are blue.

'Presto… speak to me. What is it?'

…but the Knight has Eric's sword, wears Eric's armour. How…?

'They're stolen,' Presto muttered to himself, 'taken… trophies…'

'What are? You're not making any sense…'

Presto stood up, suddenly. 'We gotta go.'

'Somebody's in trouble,' worried Sheila, getting to her feet, 'aren't they? Who is it?'

Presto walked forwards, then stopped, then looked around at the overgrown marsh surrounding him. 'Where are you?' he whispered, 'where have you gone?'

'It's Hank, isn't it? Hank's in trouble.'

'Hank's in trouble, yeah…' muttered Presto.

'Oh God…'

'…and so is Eric. So's Diana, and Bobby, and Uni and you and me. It wants to destroy us.' Presto shot Sheila a brief, worried look. 'It wants to destroy us all.'

-x-

…sniff…

There was a rustle and a snap behind Eric. He snapped his head around, peering furiously into the thicket.

'I told you to stay the fuck away from me, Diana.'

There was a long pause. Silence. Nothing happened. After a while Eric tired of glaring into the gloom and turned back.

…sniff…

This time, the feet approaching him were more careful. This time, they trod lightly, avoiding any noise. Still the Cavalier didn't look back. He was caught up in his own thoughts. He was… sniffing.

'I… I made you cry…?'

Eric sat up a little, recognising the voice, but didn't turn to look at the speaker.

'Don't flatter yourself, Hank.'

'You're crying,' continued Hank, keeping his distance. 'You're crying because of what you saw… what I did.'

Eric snorted, contemptuously. 'Does that make you proud, Hank? Yeah, you screwed the woman I love, you wrecked our relationship before it even began and it's upset me. Does that make you happy?'

He finally turned around and looked at the Ranger.

'Jesus,' he added, 'what happened to you?'

Hank reached up unconsciously and lightly touched his bloodied face. He smiled a little, bitterly. 'I got beat up by a kid.'

Eric nodded, objectively. 'You deserved it.'

'Ever had the crap beaten out of you, Eric?'

'Many a time.'

'Hmm. I don't find that too hard to believe.' Hank walked towards the spot where Eric was sitting and crouched down next to him. Eric watched him warily, but didn't flinch away. 'Back in the old days, back when we were just kids… do you have any idea how much I wanted to pop you one? I mean, every single Goddamn day?'

'If it makes you feel any better,' replied Eric, poker faced, 'the feeling was more than mutual.'

'And then along came Janapurna, and all that restraint it took to keep me from wringing your neck just floated away,' added Hank, 'only I had no idea you were such a dirty fighter.'

'You don't get away from a gang of kids all twice your size with your shoes still on your feet and your wallet still in your pocket by using the Marquis of Queensbury rules.' Eric turned away from Hank. 'So is that what Christmas was about? You decided to play dirty yourself.'

'Now who's flattering himself? What happened wasn't about you, it was about me and Diana.' Hank got to his feet, slowly.

'You and Diana…' Eric snarled, his face still turned. 'There is no "you and Diana". And now there isn't even "you and Sheila". Best thing that could happen to the poor kid.'

'That why you split us up?'

'I split you two up? How's about you take a reality check, Ha…' Eric turned around to face Hank, and froze, mid sentence.

Hank had drawn, loaded and aimed Big Sally silently, and had it pointed square at Eric's head. He smiled a little, hollowly.

'What the fuck…?' Eric's muscles tensed. He briefly considered jumping at Hank, or making a dash for the cover of the thicket, but decided against it. Instead he remained where he was, waiting for Hank to waiver. Even after everything that had happened – even after the years of the resentment, the growing tension and the night's eruption, he was still Hank. He couldn't actually shoot him, could he…? Could he?

Hank didn't respond. He stayed perfectly still, his finger curled around the crossbow's trigger, as tense and unmoving as his smile.

'Hank?' Eric swallowed, as discreetly as he could. 'Quit pissing around, would ya? Put that thing down.'

'Why did you want to split me and Sheila up, Eric?'

'Jesus, Hank, you screwed the woman I love…'

'Is that why? You were jealous?'

'Put the fucking crossbow down, man.'

'You were jealous of me and Sheila, is that why you did it?'

'Put it down!'

'I want the truth, Eric.'

'Oh,' sneered Eric, 'so that's what this is all about. Well, you know what?' He pulled the large pearl from his belt and held it out to the Ranger. 'Take it. You're welcome to it. I hope it brings you as much happiness as it did me.'

Hank just shook his head. 'What would I want with that? It's not gonna tell me what I want to know, just what it wants to tell.'

'You… then what do you want?'

Hank paused for a moment before speaking again. 'You've seen the damage Big Sally can do to a person, haven't you, Eric?'

'Jesus Christ, Hank…'

'You've already had one hole punched through you this week,' Hank continued, 'I daresay you wouldn't appreciate a second. After all, who can say if the new DM'll come to rescue you this time.'

Eric blinked up at Hank. 'What…?'

'That's how you got away the other night though,' said Hank, 'wasn't it? Our elusive new Dungeon Master finally crawled out of the woodwork and carried you off to safety, didn't he?'

Eric didn't answer.

'Did you see him? I bet you did, didn't you.'

Eric held out the Truth again. 'You want the answers? Take it. Go on, take it.'

'Why do I have to ask some bauble, Eric? You know the truth.'

'I can't tell you.'

'Of course you can. Get up.'

'No…'

Hank lunged at Eric suddenly, the crossbow still aimed at the other youth's head. 'GET UP!'

'No. No, I won't…'

'Get up, you COWARD!'

'Fuck you!'

Hank squeezed the trigger. There was a pause that seemed to last an eternity, and then there was a scream.

-x-

'Where are they? Where are they?'

'Presto…' managed Sheila as she panted for breath, 'I don't understand. What are you talking about?'

'They were here.' Presto slowly paced a circle around the small clearing, watching his feet as they glopped through the mud. 'They were right here!'

There was the sound of a vine crunching underfoot off in the thicket. Sheila span around to face it, gripping her dagger nervously.

'It's only Bob,' Presto muttered, absent mindedly. Something in the mire caught his eye. He stooped, pulling his sleeve over his fingers to pick it up. 'Oh no.'

Bobby pushed through the undergrowth into the clearing. He looked pale and shaken.

'Hey,' he murmured.

'Bobby,' gasped Sheila. The redhead sheathed her dagger and ran over to hug her brother.

Presto barely nodded an acknowledgement as he carefully wiped the small object, taking care never to focus his vision on it. 'They left it,' he breathed to himself. 'They… they just left it…'

'I heard yelling,' said Bobby quietly, 'is everything OK?'

'Somethin's got Presto all spooked,' Sheila explained, 'he wanted to try and find…' She trailed off, noticing the dirty red colouring of her brother's hands as he returned her embrace. 'Bobby. Is that blood?'

'What…?' was all that Bobby could manage.

'On your hands.' Sheila grabbed his hand to inspect it. She gave it a quick sniff. 'It is. Why… why do you have blood on your hands?'

Bobby faltered for a moment before speaking in the same quiet, trembling tone. 'S'like I always said, Sis. I just won't stand for any guy treating you like dirt…'

Sheila shook her head, slowly. 'Bobby, no…'

'…and if he wants to hurt you he's gonna have to deal with me.'

Sheila pushed his hand away in disgust. 'Robert O'Brien. How dare you?'

'I just wanted to…'

'How could you do that? In my name?' she stumbled away from him. 'I feel sick.'

'Sheila, I'm sorry…'

Sheila turned and tried to run from Bobby, but Presto grabbed her.

'Let me go, Presto…'

'We don't have time for this, Sheila.' Presto's voice had become dangerously flat.

'What?' Sheila blinked tears at him. 'Presto, I have to…'

'No, Sheila. You have to help me.' His hands still gripping Sheila's shoulders, he looked up at the sky. 'We need Diana.'

Sheila's eyes darkened. 'I don't ever wanna talk to that dirty, lying, double crossing…'

'You have to, Sheila. You have to work with her.' Presto softened his gaze, sympathetically. 'This takes precedent over your hurt feelings. I'm sorry.'

'Don't make me do this, Presto.' Sheila sniffed. 'Just give me time…'

'We don't have time.' Presto gasped suddenly, looking across to the west. 'He's awake.'

-x-

Eric was aware only of pain for a good while – pain and constriction. After what seemed like an age he was able to open his eyes. He closed them again quickly, reeling with vertigous nausea. There was nothing to the right of him but a sharp drop. It seemed that he was in a narrow cave in the side of a deep ravine. He turned his eyes to the left and was hit by a sight that turned his stomach even more.

Hank grinned at him – a sharp, wide, joyless smile. 'Pretty good fit, huh?'

'What are you…?' Eric squinted in confusion. 'Why are you wearing my armour?'

'I've decided I like it,' replied Hank, gazing down at the bright chainmail. 'It's shiny.'

'You're crazy…' began Eric, trying to shift himself forward. A wall of agony hit him as he attempted to move his hands, tied together above his head… no… not tied… he craned his head up to see his hands and screamed. His palms were pinned together and nailed to the wall of the cave by a single, thick crossbow bolt.

'Oh yeah,' added Hank conversationally, 'your hands. I just figured, last time you were skewered to a wall, the DM came along to rescue you, so maybe he'll show up again if I did the same thing… or at least, a variation on the theme. See, I don't actually want to kill you…' He leaned in to Eric. 'Not yet, anyway. First you're gonna tell me exactly who this new Dungeon Master is. Then I'm gonna kill you.'

Eric snorted a laugh, meeting the deranged Ranger's gaze. 'Well now, that's no incentive for me to tell you, is it?'

'Oh, believe me,' giggled Hank, 'by the end you will consider death quite an incentive indeed.'

'Hank…' Eric warned, 'this isn't you. I mean, I know we have our differences and all…'

'Don't you think I know a thing or two about pain, Montgomery?' Hank continued over Eric, ignoring him completely.

'…in fact,' added Eric, with growing desperation, 'I think I would be safe to say that there hasn't been much love lost between us from the off, but this…? This isn't Hank. Not even the Jackass Hank. This is someone else.'

Hank stepped away from Eric, toying with Big Sally. 'Tell me, Eric, have you ever heard of Saint Sebastian…?'

'That's… that's Santa, right?' guessed Eric.

'No, Eric.' Hank aimed the crossbow at Eric's left thigh and fired.

-x-

Fire. Fire! So much fire and blood and pain… and the pain of others blotted out his own. His own pain becoming unrecognisable until the shrieking of his soul was just as gratifying a sound as the screams of his victims. And then with fear comes control, and with control comes the lust for more and more… Power became a greater goal than blood and fire. And always there was the glorious voice of the Nameless One, forever within him, guiding him, whispering in his ear…

Hank blinked himself out of his daydream. Eric had passed out again. He had made sure not to hit any main arteries of vital organs with the five bolts that were now sticking out of Eric's body, but that damn coward kept on slipping in and out of consciousness anyway.

'Hey. Hey!'

Hank struck the other young man in the face. After a couple of slaps, Eric blearily opened his eyes.

'Are you gonna tell me yet, Eric?'

Eric just gazed through him.

'C'mon,' goaded Hank, 'what's a little secret between friends?'

Eric murmured something illegible.

'Say what?'

'I said,' croaked Eric, slightly louder, 'we were never friends.'

Hank couldn't help but laugh a little at that.

'But, you wanna know something?' continued Eric, 'despite that, I would have trusted Hank with the name of who rescued me from Kosar. You wouldn't have needed all this, I'd have told him straight up.'

'So what's the problem? Tell me!'

'I said,' Eric hissed, 'I'd'a told Hank. And you're not him. Hank's dead. Died years ago. I don't know who the fuck you are.'

Hank grinned. 'Oh, that's it. Stickin' stuff in you's not working. I think I'm gonna start cuttin' stuff off you instead.'

He drew Eric's sword. The moment he did he was hit by a heavy, powerful force, rushing in from the entrance of the cave. He ducked and rolled, and somehow managed to find his feet almost instantly. He span around towards his attacker, the sword still raised, but the black shape shrank back. From behind him, he could hear Eric breathlessly pleading for the interloper to get out as fast as possible.

'Well,' Hank grinned, 'is it a bird? Is it a plane?' He cocked his head, lashing a hand out at the dark shape. 'Or is it just some pushy Black Bitch who can't keep her tits out of her best friend's guy's face?' His hand received a sharp peck, but he managed to grab the swan's slender neck and pin it against the wall of the cave.

'What's up, Gorgeous?' He asked the swan, 'back for an action replay, huh?'

'Get outta here, Deeds, he's crazy…'

The swan just hissed at Hank.

'Back for another fuck?' Hank continued, 'Think Eric'll like that?'

'No!' From behind Hank, Eric found a reserve of energy and wriggled painfully against the crossbow bolt through his hands. 'Fuck you! Get the Hell out of here, Diana…'

'Don't worry about keeping the feathers,' Hank added, 'it doesn't bother me…'

'Stop.'

The voice was calm and flat and, strangely, did cause Hank to feel compelled to stop, if only temporarily. His hand still grasping the swan's neck, he turned to look at the young man standing perfectly still in the cave's mouth.

'How did you get here, Presto?'

'No,' replied Presto. 'How did you get here, Hank? And where do you go from here? That's what you really need to ask.'

'Don't you dare,' Hank seethed. 'I can't go back now, now you all know what I did, how can I?'

'What you did was idiotic,' Presto replied, 'and hurtful and weak and selfish. But it wasn't evil. You don't want to succumb to evil. You don't want to become that person.'

Hank squeezed the swan's neck a little tighter. 'Don't act like I haven't already stepped over the edge, Presto.'

'You haven't. Your feet are still on the ground. Stop this. Come back to us.'

'I can't stop,' Hank breathed. 'What about you, Presto? What are you gonna do to stop it?'

'He doesn't have to,' replied a female voice by his ear. 'Cause, if you don't end this right this moment, Hank… I will.'

Hank felt something cold and sharp press against his throat. He swallowed, frowning into the air in front of himself. There was the faintest whisper of shifting fabric, and Sheila dissolved into view, her right hand unwaveringly holding her dagger to his neck.

'Sheila. What…? What are you…?'

'I flew in with Diana,' Sheila replied in a tight voice. 'Now, her and Eric might not exactly be on top of my Christmas card list right now, but you'd better not think for a second that I'd let you carry on like this. Because then…' Sheila wavered for the slightest moment, before steeling herself yet again. 'Because then, you wouldn't be Hank any more.'

'It's too late, Sheila…' cried Eric from behind her.

'No,' she answered, 'it's not.'

Hank faltered, loosening his grip on Diana's throat. 'After all this… you still believe in me?'

'I believe…' Sheila shrugged. 'I believe you're a jerk. But you think you're beyond redemption, and I know you're not.'

'No?' His hand loosened a little more.

'No. Because that would make you even worse than Venger.' Sheila still didn't move, didn't drop her weapon. 'And I'd have to kill you before letting that happen.'

'Worse than Venger?' Hank felt Diana slither out of his grasp to collapse on the cave's floor, but he barely noticed. Something was coming. A voice in his mind, a face behind his eyelids… something had come to call for him.

Something was coming. A voice in his mind, a face behind his eyelids… something was calling. Calling. Oh God. The agony…

'Presto…?'

Eric's voice… the cave… in friends in danger… it all whirled away from him. Everything was spinning, spinning so fast. And the noise! And the light! And the pain! All of a sudden, all of his many senses, all of his many sights, were filled with bright, screeching static. It was chaos. It was Evil. It was Him. He was calling. He was calling, He was calling! But He wasn't calling Presto.

'Worse than Venger?' repeated Hank, again. 'Even worse than Venger.'

'I just can't let that happen,' Sheila told him, her knife still raised. 'Because I love you.'

'You love me,' whispered Hank. 'You still love me.'

'Until the day I die.'

Hank took a deep breath in, then out. He reached out, very gently, and laid a hand on her shoulder. 'I love you,' he told her.

The pain! The pain! Blinding, burning… His voice was so clear now, so loud, so loud…

Sheila sniffed, and allowed the dagger to fall by her side. 'Hank, she began, 'I…'

In on firm, fluid movement, Hank used the hand on her shoulder to throw her against the cave wall. Her head hit the stone hard, and when he pulled her off it she left a stain of blood spattered against it.

Blood, and screaming… they're screaming… they're bleeding… they're dying. He's going to kill them. He's gong to kill them all…

'I love you, he repeated. He threw her again so that she fell flat upon the floor. He felt Diana's hand grab his boot as he walked towards the prone Thief, but he kicked it away. He reached down and picked Sheila up yet again. He couldn't even hear the voices screaming at him to stop any more. All he could hear was that mantra. Even worse than Venger. Even worse than Venger.

'I love you,' he told the blood smeared Thief once more.

And with that he hauled her up in his arms, and stepped out of the cave, and into thin air.