Author's Note: Another insanely long chapter but I want to get to the good stuff next chapter. So what could reasonably be two chapters, is now one. Hopefully this makes up for the time. Anyway, poll's still going on so get your votes in. Who is the most popular OC in this story? You can vote up to five times so you don't have to stick with one. Right now, I foresee only three more chapters. So yeah, this is coming to an end quickly. Enjoy.
CrownedSoldier: Which scene is so beautiful that it brought tears to your eyes, if you don't mind me asking? I chose that song in particular because someone once told me it was about a guy burning metaphorical bridges for a girl and I thought that Jay was doing the same thing, burning bridges that is. Besides, Ghostbusters are awesome.
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.
Warning: language, violence, death
Insert Name of Apocalypse
"Christ," Michael moaned, rubbing his forehead. This was completely out of the blue. No one here had even thought that this could happen.
The microwave was broken.
Oh, and their hired help to get the Book of Nemesis was half dead.
But what would you consider more important? With the microwave, they had read to eat meals in just a few minutes! Now they had to take half an hour to make something tasty. It was inhumane!
However, the microwave would have to wait. Right now, he had to deal with the other less important, but not totally unimportant, development with their search and seizure team. That was something that, like the microwave breaking, had not been anticipated. Most of the mortals that had accepted the task had been murdered, no assassinated, and their souls most likely in Hell where they would undergo horrible interrogations.
All they had left were four and their Second Coming had deemed it necessary to bring them back to Heaven for their safety, screw the fact that unnecessary mortals were not supposed to be up here for extended periods of time. The Second Coming was becoming too independent for Michael to control anymore; Gary was second guessing him! How was Michael supposed to retain his position of power when he was being undermined by this guy, albeit he was outranked by him.
It wasn't fair! This was his time to truly shine! Who around knew how to deal with Satan and his unholy minions better than him? No one, that's who! But now the guy who's supposed to be their Second Coming was using his administrative powers that were more for show than anything and was doing things!
"So where can we keep them until this blows over?" Gary asked, bright and cheerful as always while he held that golf club that he had brought back with him the last time.
"Gary, you have to understand, outside of you and Kenny, mortals are not supposed to be here in Heaven for prolonged amounts of time," Michael said. "It goes against the order that we have here, as well as very unfair to the souls who spent their whole lives being good and nice to get here."
"But their lives are in danger! And we're in part responsible for it!" Gary protested. "We have to accept what we've done and live with the consequences."
But he didn't want to accept the consequences of his choices! That was for mortals to do whether they liked it or not.
"Michael, please defer to the Second Coming and let him have what he wants," Gabriel advised. "Remember, he outranks you."
Yes, yes, thank you for reminding him of what he already knew! He didn't need it rubbed in his face, thank you very much! Ugh…he didn't really have a choice in this, did he?
"Do as you will, though I strenuously object to this," Michael said. "Whatever they do, you're responsible for them. They break the rules, you have to suffer the consequences." Ha! He's using your own words against you!
"Thanks!" Gary said, agreeing to his terms.
"So how are the army preparations going?" Kenny asked from beside Gary. "We won't be unprepared for the next battle, will we?"
"They're going along as scheduled," Michael said, grateful to go to a topic he knew all about. "In a couple mortal days, yes, your days not ours, we should be ready to mount another attack on the Gates of Hell. To think I would see the day where our own creation is used against us."
"Well, the Gates of Hell were supposed to keep things in as well as out," Gabriel said helpfully.
"Yes, yes, I know that," Michael grumbled. "Anyway, we're digging out some much more effective weapons of mass destruction from the armory. I will admit we haven't used some of them in millennia but after we blow the dust off them and polish them up, they should be as good as new."
"They'll work, right?" Kenny asked. "I don't want to have to use one of those things only to find out that they're broken due to disuse."
"We're making sure they work appropriately," Michael said. "All goes well, we'll really be able to throw the full might of Heaven."
"Yeah!" Uriel cheered, pumping a fist in the air.
"Thank you for that, Uriel," Michael said somewhat sarcastically.
"Michael! Everyone!" an angel whose name Michael couldn't quite remember barged in. His name began with an O, he thought.
"What is it…Origami?" Michael asked.
"Ongkanon!" Ongkanon corrected, peeved. Then back to business, "This just came in. Hell has made a move. They're on the surface of Earth and they're setting up camp!"
"They're what!" Michael exclaimed.
"When did this happen?" Kenny demanded.
"An hour or so ago," Ongkanon said. "I've been…watching their movements to see what they were doing before I came to tell you—"
"You should have told us the moment they entered Earth," Kenny reprimanded. "We could have stopped them!"
"How are we going to stop Hell when a piece of Hell is part of the landscape now?" Ongkanon wondered.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding! That old, unoriginal ploy?" Michael scoffed. "Still, it's alarming that they're on Earth. They're advancing before we're ready."
"Or maybe Damien has selected the next battlefield," Kenny said grimly.
"Battlefield Earth?" Gabriel said.
"Horrible movie but not what I mean," Kenny said. "Damien wants the next battle to be on Earth, away from the Gates of Hell and he's preempting us. We have to meet him on Earth before he accomplishes whatever he's doing."
"This could be it," Michael gasped. "The Apocalypse started early! The Antichrist has succeeded! First he routes us on his home turf, then he assassinates our trump card, and now he's going through with his plans. Does his ambition know no limit?"
"I have not been able to find out," Ongkanon said, referring to Damien's ambition.
"Well get on that then," Michael ordered. "And keep track of troop movement. Gabriel, Uriel, get the troops ready to march on Earth. It's time for some divine intervention."
"Is it me or does that tower look like a dick?"
"Leave the Tower of Phallic Pride alone," Stan said wearily, lounging against a railing with his arms crossed.
Cartman, though, could not take his eyes off it. "How many things are sexual innuendos here?" the plumber wondered.
"My guess is everything," Brittany sighed. Looking towards the doors that Kenny and Gary and entered a while ago, she asked, "What do you think's going on in there?"
"A lot of ass kissing and a lot of pleading I bet," Stan answered. Glancing at Cartman, he added, "I'm surprised we managed to get him past the Pearly Gates. He wasn't allowed in last time."
"Aha! There's something that's not a sexual innuendo!" Cartman crowed, pointing a finger Stan.
"What about precum? It's pearly when it comes out," Stan said.
Cartman opened his mouth to retort then closed it. "Goddamn it."
"You just took the Lord's name in vain. Guess like you're going to Hell," Brittany said.
"I don't care what anybody says, I'm going to Heaven!" Cartman declared. "I mean here! I'm coming here!"
"Already?" Stan teased.
"Fuck you Stan!" Cartman snapped at him.
"No thank you," Stan quipped.
"Aw! Aww! You son of a bitch!" Cartman yelled.
"You know what the best part of this is?" Stan said to Brittany. "He can't say 'screw you guys, I'm going' wherever. He can't go home because there's a homicidal maniac that might be trying to hunt us down and he can't go anywhere else because he might get kicked out of Heaven."
"He's turning red," Brittany said.
"Nothing alarming yet," Stan said before looking over to Kyra. "You want to say something too?"
"I just want all this to be over with," Kyra said. "I don't care if Cartman's a closet homosexual for you Stan. All I want is to get back to my life."
"Ey! I'm not gay for this dickwad!" Cartman exclaimed.
"Kyle then. Whatever," Kyra corrected herself.
Cartman made choking sounds as if the very idea repulsed him so much that he was going to be sick.
"Nice," Stan said, holding out a hand for a hi-five. Amazingly enough, though without looking at him, Kyra returned it.
Brittany, though, just sighed and continued to watch the doors. "What's taking them so long?"
"Who knows?" Stan shrugged. "They'll come out when they come out unlike Cartman here who just came out."
"Screw you Stan. Seriously. Screw you," Cartman muttered. After a moment of looking around, he unexpectedly exclaimed, "Gawd, this place is boring!"
"Is it? Hadn't really noticed," Stan said.
"How can you stand it?" Cartman ranted. "It's all quiet and peaceful and…and…ey! Is that a Mormon? Jesus Christ, there's a swarm of them!"
"Them? Yeah, they're all over this place. You get used to them. Maybe," Stan shrugged uncaringly. "Just be careful You might get invited over for dinner. Maybe have to do macaroni pictures or donate blood. Volunteer work maybe. You know, stuff you're allergic to."
"Oh ha, ha, Stan," Cartman sneered. "The only way this could get worse is if there were…there…were…Jews. Oh my God, there are Jews in Heaven. Jesus killing Jews!"
"That one angel said that all Jews go to Heaven," Stan said.
"How did I forget! Oh Jesus Christ, this can't be Heaven! It's Hell! I'm bored to death in Hell!" Cartman wailed.
Before Cartman could breakdown any further, the doors that the foursome were waiting before opened and traffic streamed out of it. Foremost was Gary and Kenny and Stan brightened up at the sight. Finally, now they'd find out what was going on.
"Remember, they're your responsibility," the archangel Michael said for some reason that Stan didn't understand but he dismissed it anyway. Something he didn't dismiss, though, was how the two girls, excuse him, women also brightened up when these two guys showed up.
"Come on guys, you're coming with me," Gary told them. Shrugging, Stan followed after their present day messiah as the blond led the way to wherever they were going now. "Michael and the others agreed you could stay but you have to stay out of trouble or it's on me. I have to warn you, though, that you're not going to be seeing a lot of me for the moment because Hell just showed up on Earth and we're going to meet them there."
"Wait, what?" Stan exclaimed.
"It's like he said," Kenny explained. "A piece of Hell is on Earth and Damien's using it as a base of operations. He's forcing us to fight him on Earth instead of the Gates of Hell like last time. We can't let him go any further."
"So if you're going down to Earth, are we going to be stuck up here?" Brittany asked, catching on quickly.
"Sorry but that's what it sounds like," Gary said.
"Oh no, you can't do that!" Cartman protested. "It's so fucking boring here!"
"Cartman!" Kenny reprimanded.
"No, seriously! I stay up here any longer, I swear I'll hang myself!" Cartman exclaimed.
There were a lot of gasps and various angels were looking at the obese man in horror. "Is something troubling you son?" a random, elderly looking angel asked. "Suicide is never the right choice. It's a one way ticket to Hell and you still have the problems you had when you were alive."
"It's an expression, dumbass," Cartman huffed.
"Ignore him, he just wants attention," Kenny said loudly, hoping to assuage the distress of the angels. "Cartman, are you fucking stupid," he hissed next. "These guys take life too seriously. Suicide is practically unheard of to the point that they commit you for hinting about it! It's like a swear word."
"Well excuse me if these sensitive assholes can't handle anything taboo," Cartman spat out.
"Can you just keep out of trouble?" Gary asked, voice slightly strained. "I'm really going out on a limb here, not that I wouldn't do it anyway."
"We'll try to keep him under control but I'm not promising anything," Stan said.
"Ey! What am I? Some kind of pet that hasn't been housebroken?" Cartman demanded, glaring at Stan. When Stan didn't reply, "Don't ignore me asshole!"
"Do your best will you?" Gary said and was it Stan or did this guy look tired? Maybe the stress of all this was getting to him.
"No promises but we'll try," Stan nodded.
"What did I say about ignoring me?" Cartman bellowed at them.
The unexpected then happened. Kyra spun around, grabbed Cartman by the front of his shirt and yanked him forward so that their faces were mere inches away from one another. "Everybody is tired, stressed, traumatized, and all around we want to go back to how things used to be. You yelling and complaining is not helping anything. If you can't say anything that would be helpful then don't say anything at all. The next time you say anything that doesn't help or move things along, I will rip out your intestines through your ass, hanging you with them from that fucking tower of penis then rip your heart out through your mouth and force you to eat it. Are we clear?"
Cartman nodded, face as white as a sheet. Kyra shoved him away and returned to her place by Gary's side, looking like she had gotten something off her chest.
And you wonder why Stan was trying to get her back.
The situation had been explained to Satan that Agent Smith was currently being possessed by the recently found soul of Bain Cynis and so far he had been taking the news well. For about five minutes. Charlie hated being in this position but every time she looked at Agent Smith—um, Bain, she found him toying around with Winslow, not in the least bit bothered by what was going on.
He could at least help her out.
"This is just perfect!" Satan exclaimed dramatically. "The only thing we have to take care of Heaven's Keanu Reeves is now possessed by a sexist Commandment Breaker who doesn't know the first thing about using his Anti-Keanu Reeves powers. We might as well give up now because there is no way we're gonna beat Heaven now!"
"You always did 'ave a talent for making zings more difficult zan zey ought to be," Christophe told Bain.
"You're not the first to tell me that," Bain replied disinterestedly.
"How did this even happen?" Satan bemoaned. "An hour ago, we couldn't find your damned soul and now here you are possessing Agent Smith. Stop possessing Agent Smith!"
"Yeah, stop possessing Agent Smith," Zazul agreed.
Bain's eyes slid over the demon, looking at the red-skinned fiend with disinterest before sliding back over to Satan. "Your guess is as good as mine as to how this came about. I was busy being an inanimate object when the next thing I know, I can move again."
"So creepy," Satan shuddered at Bain's voice.
Charlie, meanwhile, had been listening to Bain's every word and something about what he said caught her attention. What did he mean by being an inanimate object? The hellish light reflecting off Winslow drew her attention to the blade and she began to get a sinking feeling.
"Are you saying that your soul was in Winslow?" she asked, voice almost cracking.
"Who the hell is Winslow?" Satan wondered.
The Bain-possessed Agent Smith shrugged his shoulders in such a Bain-esque way that it hurt.
Charlie shook her head. "It figures," she grumbled. "You love that fucking knife more than anything else."
"That might explain this missing soul business," Satan butted in. "Sometimes, if a mortal in life is too attached to something, their soul sticks close to it even if the thing is portable."
"I pulled it out of his heart," Charlie told the Dark Prince.
Nearby, Dilan muttered, "Sick." That might have been a compliment.
"That ought to do it," Satan said. "Right in the soul container. Works better if you get a demon's blood involved."
Amazingly, Winslow stilled in Agent Smith's hand. "I stabbed a Satanic fetus in the head with this."
Charlie blinked dumbly at that. With the reports of what she knew about Wolf, she was surprised that Bain managed to accomplish that.
"You should have tried a wire coat hanger," Satan said.
"I'll remember that for next time," Bain said dryly.
"Sure, you do that, now get out of Agent Smith," Satan ordered.
"If I knew how I got in, I might be able to do that," Bain answered.
"You don't even know…? Somebody get this guy remedial lessons on possession," Satan commanded.
Charlie was jolted out of whatever stupor she had fallen into. Now, she wasn't as opposed to Bain's new ability to possess others as you might think and she didn't want him leaving anytime soon. Who knew when would be the next time she'd speak with him? She needed to act fast and act fast now.
"Maybe this isn't such a bad thing," she said.
"What do you mean it's not a bad thing? Your creepy boy toy is possessing our Anti-Keanu Reeves," Satan asked. "How is this not a bad thing?"
"He has…um…oh, I know! He has experience with fighting Heaven's Keanu Reeves!" she all but exclaimed.
"Experience? You don't say," Satan drawled out. "This makes it better how?"
"Bain, how many times have you fought with Mysterion?" Charlie turned to her deceased lover.
"I lost count," Bain shrugged. "Let's see…he saved the rainbow bitch from me a few times. There was that successful attempt I made on Rod's life. There were the times I went after him so that he wouldn't interfere with my business. Prom, if you remember that one."
She knew about a couple of those but she had always been under the impression that it was Christophe who always came to Rhiannon's rescue. Now that she thought about it, there were those times when those two weren't together and her rainbow friend was vulnerable. She was a bit surprised that Bain actually made attempts on Mysterion's life. Wasn't he Kenny, though?
"How many times did you beat him?" Satan inquired. Not a bad question there.
"Well, he attempted to stop me from killing Rod Woods. He failed," Bain stated, Agent Smith's lips curling upwards darkly. "He tried to stop me from ruining our Senior Prom. He failed."
"Huh." Satan, it seemed, couldn't come up with anything else to say to that.
"Well, since he has such a track record, maybe we can use it," Charlie hinted at the ruler of Hell.
"Use it how?" Satan asked, eyeing her.
"Maybe he can think of a way that can get Kenny, Mysterion, or whatever else he calls himself, removed from the battle. If he's not able to direct the troops, Heaven will be at a severe disadvantage," Charlie explained, coming up with some of her answer off the top of her head.
"That might work better than having Heaven's Keanu Reeves trapped in a vegetative state," Demonius mused. "But how long could he occupy Mysterion? He is, after all, a crime-fighting vigilante who stands for truth and justice. It's practically predetermined that he'll win."
"Then we'll have to antagonize predetermination, won't we?" Bain chuckled. Charlie had to repress a shudder because it had been so long since he had done that. Internet chatting just wasn't the same and didn't carry over the same nuances that only could be heard in person.
"Oh I see what's happening. It's that pride before the fall shit," Satan grumbled. "Don't get full of yourself. Charlie, he's your responsibility and if he fucks this up, it's on you as well."
Huh. That was new. It was rare that Satan decided something in which she had the potential to suffer consequences from. Well, all that meant was that she had an investment in whether Bain could follow through on his promises. He'd better for both their sakes.
"Take our possessed Anti-Keanu Reeves topside," Satan ordered, falling into the role of the dark overlord that he was. "It's only a matter of time until Heaven retaliates and we need to be ready. Demonius, I need you to help me get ready. I will be participating in this battle as well."
"Lord Satan! Are you sure about this?" Demonius gasped.
Yeah, was he sure about this? Charlie was once again caught off guard by the Dark Prince.
"Oh course I'm sure!" Satan stomped a hoof onto the floor. "Gawd, why do you always have to keep questioning me? I'm going because I don't want anyone else to suspect that there's something wrong with our Anti-Keanu Reeves. Is that a problem?"
"No, of course not sire," Demonius said, bowing slightly to his lord and master. "If that is your will, it shall be done."
Black, white, and gray crooked lines hissed for a second before a picture snapped into focus. A man with graying black hair and a thick mustache seemed to stare straight at you, his eyes quivering with fear and stress. In a bottom right corner, a set of digits held permanent residency, separated only by a colon. In the top right corner were the letters REC.
South Park native and veteran Randy Marsh was recording the proceedings.
"It's been several hours since the monsters first showed up," Randy spoke. "Right now, I'm on top of the community center, Sharon's right beside me. Sharon, say hello into the camera."
"Randy, will put that camera down for a minute?" an overwhelmed woman with short, whitening hair ordered.
"Sharon, you're going to thankful when we have this cool video to watch after this is all over," Randy told his long-suffering wife. "Now over here, we have the Stotches, Chris and Linda, and next to them we have Nelson from work and the Donovons. Say hello into the camera guys." The named group of people peered at the camera, some looking away while others just continued to stare without a word.
The camera jostles as it moves so that it looks over the streets of South Park where various demons occupy the sidewalks and roads. "Over here, we have these monsters that came out of the ground. There's a lot more now than there were an hour ago. What's that one doing?" The camera zooms in on one of the monsters tossing a brick up into the air and catching it, repeating the action again and again. Then without warning, it throws the brick into a window, shattering the glass and then leading the charge in. "Aw, that was the electronics store. I hope they don't trash the blu-ray players. I've been meaning to get a new one."
There was a pounding sound and the camera blurred for a second until it stopped at a door. "What was that?" Randy exclaimed. "What. Was. That?" It was silent for a moment, the camera's vision trembling from the unsteady hand holding it. "I don't hear anything so it could have been—there it is again!" There was the pounding sound again but this time one could tell that it was coming from the other side of the door. The camera lowers so that now it sees moving feet, soon lifting up again only now the door is up close.
There's more pounding and Randy says in a high falsetto, "Who is it?"
A muffled voice said, "I knew it! There's someone out there!"
"Crap! Um…no, there's no one out here. You'll have to go somewhere else."
"Wait, I recognize that voice! Randy! Is that you? It's me, Jimbo!"
"How do I know that?" Randy demanded. "You could be one of those monsters that's out there trying to pretend to be Jimbo!" The camera wavers as it was moved away from the door.
"Randy!" Sharon reprimanded, stepping into the camera's sight and opening the door.
"Sharon! Don't! You don't know—oh it's Jimbo. Hey Jimbo. Wave to the camera!"
"Randy! It's great to see you're okay!" Randy's brother exclaimed approaching the camera man while other South Park residents squeeze out from around him. The camera turns away for a moment, not recording the masculine bro hug before returning back to Jimbo. "Those things are all over the place! What are we going to do?"
"I don't know Jimbo," Randy answered, breathing deep and loudly. "There's just so many of them. They're everywhere! I…I am so startled."
"I know you are Randy. What kind of supplies do you have up here?" Jimbo asked, the camera following after the wide-girth hunter.
"We don't have much. Some bottled waters and some pop tarts. Strawberry flavored. I don't know how much longer we can last at this rate. How many people followed you here?" Randy informed.
"Just these guys," Jimbo said. Pausing, he stared straight into the camera. "Eh…Randy, are you going to put that down?"
"Put what down?" Randy asked.
"That camera," Jimbo said. "What if those things get up here and you're still holding that? You'd have to put it down so you can defend yourself."
"Nuh uh. You see, I already thought of that." The camera was lowered and soon all that it could see was the roof. It shuddered and twitched for a bit as there was a ripping sound of something being stretched, followed by some jostling and the appearance of a shotgun barrel was fixed into the picture. The camera was raised and directed straight at Jimbo. "You see? Think of all the shots I can take with it now! One of those godforsaken creatures gets up here and bam! I not only record the bastard dying but also the gunshot! Isn't it great?"
"Put that thing down!" Jimbo exclaimed holding his hands up in surrender.
"Pshaw, you can't appreciate genius. Hey guys, what do you think about my camera?" The view of the camera blurred until it stopped on a couple who cried out in panic.
"Don't aim that thing at us!" the pussy guy cried out.
"Hey, come on. You have to admit that this is freaking cool looking," Randy whined.
"If we say it's cool, will you not point it at us?" the woman asked.
"You hear that Jimbo? They think it's cool!" Randy bragged, the view of the camera turning to some of the other people who had shown up with Jimbo. "What about you guys?"
"I…I think it's awesome looking. Please don't shoot me!" one of them answered, on the verge of shitting his pants.
"I knew it. Hey Sharon. Take a look at this." The camera found itself pointing at Randy's beleaguered wife.
"Randy!" Sharon exclaimed. "Put that thing down before you hurt somebody!"
"You can't appreciate the genius of this Sharon. Trust me, you're going to appreciate this when we can watch all the good shots I get with it later." The camera jerks over to Jimbo who jumped back. "What were you doing Jimbo?"
"I, uh, nothing? Just…what's going on over there?" his brother (in-law?) said, gesturing to another part of the roof.
"Yeah, that's a good idea," Randy said. "We have to keep a look out for those things. They might be—what the hell?" The camera jerked away from Jimbo and to two of the guys who followed Jimbo. "What were you guys doing? You almost startled me! Were you trying to take my camera gun?"
"Look, we don't it's safe for you to be pointing that thing at everybody. You might hurt someone," one of them said.
"Please, I know what I'm doing. It's not like I'm going to accidentally pull the trigger—shit!" The shotgun fired, practically annihilating the guy who spoke, blood splattering onto the camera lens, blocking all sight with red before abruptly going into a fuzz.
The fuzz cut away to Randy Marsh's swollen face, complete with black eye and missing teeth. Breathing deeply, Randy said, "My gunshot alerted those monsters below that we are up here but they haven't come after us yet. Everyone beat me up and took my gun away but at least I still have the camera. I am so startled. Seriously. What are we gonna do?"
"Randy!"
"Aw crud!"
The camera's view breaks off abruptly into another fuzz.
While Bain was playing uninterested automaton, Charlie meanwhile had something that needed to be dealt with.
"Glad you could make it," Satan greeted her, Demonius shuffling about to get the Dark Prince dressed accordingly for battle. So far she could only see gauntlets of a metallic quality fitted onto his large hands and it made her wonder what the rest of his battle suit would look like. And speaking of battle suits.
"I'm not going to wear that damn thing you put me in last time," Charlie stated, crossing her arms.
"Oh don't worry about that," Satan said, waving a hand dismissively. "It got fucked up last time." Yeah, Charlie knew that quite intimately thank you very much. She was the one responsible for the irreparable damage to it and most of that damage occurred after the battle. "I got a better one ready for you and I must say, those tailors know what they are doing. Had them up for days making it. I hope you like it."
That sounded encouraging but Charlie wasn't holding her breath yet. Satan's tastes were…not going to get into that. If that last degrading outfit was what he considered to be her "official uniform" (direct quote there), then what would he consider to be appropriate for combat? Since that "official uniform" was also meant for battle, what this new one would be like was anyone's guess.
"Let's see it," she shrugged, bracing herself for whatever may come.
"Hey Demonius, show it to her," Satan ordered his advisor.
"Very well, my Lord," Demonius said, stretching an arm out to snag a rope dangling from above and pulling down on it. A curtain that Charlie hadn't paid any mind to opened to reveal…
You know, that first outfit was starting to look real good about now. This one was…much more revealing if that was even possible!
"Nuh uh," Charlie said.
"Huh?" Satan looked at him. "What do you mean 'nuh uh'?"
"I'm not wearing that," Charlie stated. "I'm even more exposed than before! I thought you said those tailors worked for days."
"They did," Satan nodded. "You know how hard is to make a suit like that and with an evil flair to it? Not easy."
"My breasts are more exposed than before!" Charlie exclaimed, her crossed arms raising slightly so that it appeared she was shielding said breasts.
"Yeah, to take advantage of your feminine wiles," Satan said. "I am so jealous that you have those curves. What's your secret?"
"Good genetics," Charlie replied briskly. "But I'm not wearing that thing. Isn't there anything else you have? Something that doesn't expose my stomach? That's like putting a bull's-eye on my torso that says 'hit internal organs here.' The boots aren't even thigh-highs either! I don't even see the gloves!"
"I was going for a more punk look this time around," Satan said proudly. "The gloves are those things right there. See? Fingerless and everything."
"Actually, those gloves look cool but I'm not wearing the rest of it. Isn't there anything else? Please?" Right now, Charlie was attempting a bastardized form of the puppy dog eyes. Demonius was shielding his eyes while Satan looked as if he was seeing unspeakable horror.
"Well, if you stop giving me that look, I could show you this other one…but's it not in your size and isn't half as awesome as this one," Satan compromised. "Demonius. Show her the other one."
Demonius directed her attention to another curtain and pull-down rope in which behind this one was a black, skintight, one piece suit that covered the entire body and came complete with a belt and spiked high heels for that demonic look. Charlie couldn't be sure but it vaguely resembled a certain outfit from a superhero movie starring the ever charismatic Robert Downey Jr.
At least it covered everything.
"I'll take it," she said quickly. Glancing back at the other abomination of an outfit, she threw in, "I'll still take those gloves though."
"Combining two outfits together? What is this world coming to?" Satan bemoaned. "Your generation doesn't have any tastes."
"Here is the rest of your armor," Demonius said, bringing forth a large, black, metallic bikini top and customized helm that had holes in the top to allow his horns out.
"Now that is fashionable," Satan declared.
Craig blinked his eyes, disorientation making it hard for him to focus. Why was his body so sore? And that buzzing sound…what was it? It was just droning on and on and on…
Then everything seemed to click. Where before everything felt distant and numbed somewhat but now he could feel and hear everything clearly. The buzzing hum was just the sound of multiple voices all crying out in fear and uncertainty. Many of them were asking or demanding to know where they were or what was happening.
His vision cleared up soon enough and he found himself standing amongst a large crowd of people he had never met before in a dark yet fiery place. What was all this? Last he remembered he was…he was…
…being gunned down in a diner.
Looking down, he noticed that there were bullet wounds in his body though the blood that leaked out of them had stilled. That explained the soreness actually.
Where was he anyway? He didn't recognize this place.
"Craig? Craig!" a voice called out to him. Turning his head, he spotted Clyde pushing through the crowd and towards him. There was a bullet wound in his throat and head, telling Craig that his old friend was…well hurt at least. They couldn't be dead, right?
Right?
"Oh Craig! You don't know how good it is to see a familiar face!" Clyde gushed as he embraced him. Craig was uncomfortable with the public display of emotion. "Where are we? What's going on?"
Hey, those were his questions…
"Craig? Craig!" And someone else was calling out for him. This time it was Alice who was bloodied up but her face was still pristine. "Oh Craig, are you alright? What's going on?"
And then the pattern kept happening. One by one, others who had been with him at the diner zeroed in on him and soon they were like one big, fucked up family of bullet-riddled zombie people asking where they were and what was going on. They were zombies, right?
"Vat is this place?" Anna whimpered, looking around fearfully. "I vant to go home."
"Calm down Anna," Wendy soothed, both having gunshot wounds and some burns on her body. "We'll figure things out but we have got to stay calm. We can't afford to panic."
"Actually, I think now is a good time to start panicking," Clyde said. Pointing in a seemingly random direction, he asked, "Do you see that?"
Following his finger, the group spotted a monstrous-looking creature that seemed to be staring everyone down with a sneer. It was a vicious-looking beast and Craig found he did not want to draw its attention.
"Will you put that down?" Craig hissed, yanking Clyde's arm down. "You want it to see us?"
"Hello newcomers. Welcome, can everybody hear me?" an amplified voice spoke over the din of panicked people, drawing everyone's attention towards a…stage of all things were a normal-looking guy stood. Heck, the guy had glasses! "I'm the Hell director and it looks like we have about ten thousand more of you newbies today and for those of you who are a little confused, you are dead and this is Hell. So abandon all hope and yadda yadda yadda."
They…they were in Hell? You mean that after all this…they were finally in Hell? And they were dead? But weren't they working for Heaven? Why did they come here?
"We're all going to start the orientation process which will take—" the man on the stage continued but then someone felt the need to speak up.
"Hey wait a minute! I'm a devout and loyal Christian! I shouldn't be here!" someone interrupted, complaining to the man on the stage. "I've accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior so what am I doing here?"
A very good question. Guy on stage? What's your explanation for this?
"Yes, well, I'm afraid that you were wrong," the man on the stage said.
That was all? Not a very good answer.
"But I was a servant of Islam," someone else declared, wearing something that suspiciously looked like a suicide vest.
Yeah, that guy was a servant of Islam.
"You picked the wrong religion as well," the man on the stage answered.
There was such a thing as picking the wrong religion? Huh, who would've guessed?
"But I—"
"You know what, I'm tired of having to say this time and time again. Okay? The fucking Mormons had the right one. It's like every single time, somebody has to say that their religion was right even though it should be fucking obvious right now that it wasn't. Sure, the Pearly Gates have lowered their standards a bit but you all still sinned more than enough to get here. Deal with it." The man on the stage looked like he had gotten a lot off his chest as he was taking deep breathes. Then he composed himself and returned to his more friendly demeanor. "Now, at this point in time, I would introduce your new ruler for all eternity but right now he's on his way to Earth for a big war so you'll have to make due with a short orientation ceremony. Apologies all around, blah blah blah, now please turn this way. Go to one of these tables and give them your name. You'll be given your eternal punishment schedules and accommodations and enjoy your eternal stay in Hell."
At this point, Craig and company were glancing at one another, each one worried and concerned. That war that orientation leader guy had mentioned, was it the one that Heaven and Hell were engaged in right now?
"We have to tell the angels that Satan's going to Earth!" Clyde exclaimed.
"And how do you propose we do that?" Craig asked with a drawl.
"Don't be such a downer Craig," Wendy said. "We have to do this."
"Alright, then tell me how you propose getting out of a place where we all are stuck for all eternity?" Craig asked.
"I don't…" Wendy trailed off, looking frustrated at not being able to answer him. Then she looked like she received a spurt of inspiration. "Hold on a minute. Damien comes and goes from this place all the time, doesn't he?"
"How do you know that?" Anna asked slightly meek.
"I'm assuming but he has to come down here every once in a while, right?" Wendy continued to outline her idea. "If we can find out where he goes, then we can use it to get out of here and warn everyone."
Not a bad idea except… "So you have any idea of where this way out is?" Craig asked.
"No idea," Wendy replied.
The group was silent, despair and yadda yadda yadda falling over them, blah blah blah, whatever.
"You know, since we're here to be damned for all eternity, I'm glad that it's you I'm with," Alice told him.
Well, when you have a beautiful woman like this telling you that, it made this damned for all eternity thing somewhat bearable.
Damien gazed upon the sight before him, taking in his forces as they milled about both around the designated area of their camp as well as the mortal town of South Park. Some of the demons were getting into some of the buildings and raiding them and at the moment, Damien had no care about it.
He could almost hear Kyle yelling in his ear, telling him that not doing anything about it would cost him votes in the next election. Like he really cared at this point. So long as no one saw him, he figured that it wouldn't be held against him.
At the moment, he had about a billion troops at his command and the power that came with it was intoxicating. He couldn't wait to use it all. The troops, the weapons, the strategy, everything. Once Heaven was dealt with, then Wolf would have to face the music. Heh, why wait for that? He could direct a battalion to find one of Black Market's stores and have them tear the place up without losing any military might.
Now that was an interesting thought.
"So this is it, Master Damien," Demonius said from behind him. "You have what you want. Hell's might on Earth and a battle with God. Is it all worth it?"
"I've grown up Demonius," Damien chuckled. "When I was younger, you'd be right that I would have said it was worth it. For centuries, this was how I believed my destiny would turn out. Funny how fate works."
"Introspective but now is not the time for that," Demonius said. "We must be ready for Heaven's retaliation. They will be coming soon. You know that."
"I'm just allowing the men to loosen up before they have to sacrifice their lives," Damien said. "They'll perform better if they're relaxed and not worn down by stress. But perhaps it would be wise to withdraw them out of the town. That way later I can say I negotiated their leave to the townsfolk and gain more popularity points."
"At least you are thinking about the real Apocalypse and not this dress rehearsal," Demonius said. "Your father should be up soon so I will have to attend to that shortly."
"You couldn't convince him to stay home?" Damien groaned. He just knew his father was somehow going to steal his thunder.
"You reap what you sow, Master Damien. Your deception to anger your father succeeded but at a price," Demonius remarked. "I know for a fact that Michael said none of those things at the parlay. That's not to say he didn't say them at one point somewhere else, because let's face it, Michael's a little backstabbing bitch who talks about people behind their backs. Hopefully this teaches you a lesson on being a better manipulator."
"Always trying to tutor me, eh?" Damien said, smirking.
"Pardon my bluntness but you still need it," Demonius replied.
"You're not pardoned, you ancient geezer," Damien retorted.
"Call me as many names as you want, it does not change the fact that you need to consider the consequences of your actions before you commit to them," Demonius said. Noticing a minor disturbance heading towards them, the demonic advisor asked aloud, "What is that about?"
"What is…hmm, so your eyesight hasn't abandoned you yet," Damien said as a beefy demon approached.
"Master Damien. There is a human here who is demanding to see you," the demon reported. "It's a loud thing but it did mention that it had your phone number. Do you want to see it or would you prefer that I pop its head?"
Damien glanced at Demonius then shrugged. "Bring the mortal over. It's best to see what this is about before making irreparable decisions, yes?"
The demon grunted and left to retrieve the human. The creature was back soon enough but with it was…
"It's you," Damien said blandly.
"Can you tell these things to let go of me? I bruise like a banana!" Brianna Tucker who was definitely not Brianna Vargas demanded, the mortal woman glaring at the two demons who were holding her by her arms.
"Is this not one of the mortals you brought back with you?" Demonius asked him.
"Unfortunately," Damien answered before addressing the demons. "Let her go. I will handle this."
Brianna was rudely shoved and she glared back though she was ignored at this point.
"Anything to report?" Damien asked as pleasantly as he could, arms behind his back.
"I just saw all this stuff coming out and thought that maybe I could help," Brainna said, ignoring the question. "I'm on your side."
"I know that and you are supposed to be spying on those flunkies Heaven recruited," Damien said. Leaning forward threateningly, he added, "Are you doing your job or not?"
Brianna hesitated for a second before saying, "You probably need someone around here and, I mean, it's not like you have anything to worry about Craig and those guys. There's no way they're going to get the Book of Nemesis or anything. I mean, that's impossible for them. There's nothing to worry about and wouldn't that be a waste of my talents?"
"What talents?" Damien interrupted. "You have a simple task. Why aren't you doing it? Don't tell me you lost them."
"Can't you get somebody else to do that? I can do so much more than that," Brianna babbled, voice cracking.
"You did lose them," Damien stated, Demonius snorting beside him.
"I told you about Wolf!" How cute, she was trying to make herself look good. "That has to count for something!"
"Uh huh," Damien grunted, giving the appearance of waiting for more. "Anything else?"
"Look, I can offer you so much," Brianna said, trying to bargain with him. "You're not going to be sticking around this place as mayor forever, right? You're going on to bigger and better things. Governor. Senator. President even. I can help you with all that. Really! I can!"
Damien shared a look with Demonius. "The plan for all that's already in motion and I already have assistance for that. I fail to see where you come in."
"Look, who's going to vote for someone who doesn't have a wife?" Brianna asked.
"James Buchannan, 1856 A.D." Damien answered her. "Only American president who was a bachelor. Does not mean it's impossible to not be elected without a wife."
"Times have changed," Brianna began to argue.
"I'm not interested," Damien dismissed her. "If a wife is necessary, I'll find one on my own. You're not qualified. Now, go make yourself scarce. Hide somewhere. Unless you do the job that's been given to you to preserve your mortal life, stop bothering me. I have more important things to look after."
"Is it that Kyle who is making you say all that?" Brianna demanded.
"What?" Damien frowned at the mortal.
"I bet it's him that's making you say that, isn't it?" Brianna continued. "It's okay. He's not here! You can be yourself with me. I won't judge! You're the Antichrist, what can some ginger Jew do about—"
Damien physically stopped her, seemingly teleporting to the space right in front of her and grasping her by the throat, choking her. "You can say what you want about me with your deluded little mind but refrain from badmouthing Kyle. That's something that I won't tolerate." He dug his fingers into her neck even as she grasped at his arms. "Now leave me before I hand you over to my men who won't be gentle in their treatment of you." His eyes were beginning to glow red, unobstructed by his contacts.
"Damien! Where are you? I can't find—oh there you are!"
Damien groaned and dropped Brianna, turning his back on her as he returned to Demonius' side where his father was also heading. He had no care for what the mortal would do as he had something more important approaching him. That something, a certain red behemoth, was tromping his way towards them as if he was on his way to a picnic. And he was wearing that abomination that could barely be called a suit of armor. Just a helm, gauntlets, and an expanded bikini top that happened to be made of the finest titanium alloy in Hell.
It was embarrassing just to look at the Prince of Darkness.
As the fallen angel began to open his mouth, instead of a litany of words spewing, an unexpected sneeze ripped out. Poor Demonius unintentionally was the victim of a large glob of mucus splattering on his face. Calmly, the demonic advisor reached into his robs and pulled out a small handkerchief with which to clean his face off.
"Sorry about that Demonius," Satan apologized, sniffing. "It's these damn allergens in the air. Why does the cedar count have to be so high? It's like nature doesn't want anybody to be up here this time of year!"
"It's quite alright Satan," Demonius said.
"Well, if you say so," Satan said dubiously before turning to Damien. "So how's everything been going sweetie? Are the troops obeying your every word and order? Because if they aren't, I can have a talk with them and say, 'guys, listen, I know you might not like it but you need to listen to me son this time around. It's his first time leading a war so he needs your cooperation. Okay?' They're sure to follow you to certain disaster after that."
"No thank you," Damien said slowly. Then some of what his father said reached his brain. "What do you mean by 'certain disaster'?"
"It's just an expression, honey bumpkin," Satan said dismissively.
"Father! Don't call me that in front of everyone!" Damien exclaimed, face reddening in embarrassment.
"Aw, but you'll always be the whiny brat who I had to read bible stories to at night, snot coming out of his nose and shit in his diaper," Satan reminisced.
"Father!" Damien exclaimed, embarrassment deepening.
"Don't be such a wet blanket. I swear, you act just like your father," Satan huffed.
"Huh?" Damien blinked dumbly at the Lord of Darkness.
"Ixnay on the atherfay," Demonius hissed.
"Nothing. So it seems like you have everything handled here. Ready for your second parlay?" Satan quickly changed the topic. "I can't wait for all the action to start. I got my hoofs polished and my horns sharpened for this. It's going to be so killer."
Damien eyed his father sharply. He was going to have to have a word with him about this.
That word would have to wait as on the other side of South Park, a beacon of light descended from the heavens. It was an awe-inspiring sight but it also meant that Heaven was arriving. They were moving their troops and weapons down. That meant their battle would be starting soon.
"Oh look, the flock of seagulls is arriving," Satan pointed out, using the nickname he had for the archangels as well as ruining the serious mood.
For the moment, Kyle was left all by his lonesome. From what he had heard, Wolf had ordered that they get their army reading for their highly original hostile takeover. Jay with his nuclear accelerator union buster proton pack and Nathan without anything had gone off to fulfill Wolf's wishes. Meanwhile, Wolf was absent. Conspicuously.
Without anyone to watch him, outside of some creepy spirits ordered to guard him, Kyle was free to attempt his escape.
That was going to take some time since whoever did these knots really knew out to tie them. Wasn't the first time he had been restrained to a chair and telling by the style of the knots, he had to say that the guy who tied them had a military background.
Explained quite a bit about that nutjob Jay.
Was it sad that he had been through so much in his short life that he had been restrained more times that he could count and could recognize styles of knots?
Well, regardless of that thought, it still didn't do anything to help him free himself. Since physical squirming wasn't working, he was going to have to try something different. Okay, think Kyle. You needed to get out of this and warn everybody about what Wolf was about to do. They were all walking right into his trap and without this knowledge, they would all be screwed. Look around Kyle; maybe there was something around here you could use.
Well…there was a lot around here but really nothing he could use right now. Over there was a sweet-looking yamaka that his father would be so jealous over but other than that, nothing. He had a sudden urge to ask how much that yamaka was and see if he couldn't get a good deal from Wolf—what was he thinking! The Black Market…it was bringing his Jewishness out. Must…resist! Bargain…deals! Must…buy…
Oh hey, what were those two spirits doing? They were hovering somewhat above him but they were chatting in hushed tones. At least, he thought they were hushed tones. Studying them further, he thought one of them looked familiar. No wait…he did know one of them. In fact…
"Bonnie?" he asked, capturing the attention of the blonde-haired one. "Bonnie Snyder? Is that you? But…but you had that accident…"
"You recognized me!" Bonnie exclaimed. "See, Krisa!" she told the other spirit. "I told you he would!"
"Uh huh. Right. And that does us any good how?" Krisa asked.
"What are you doing here?" Kyle asked Bonnie. "You're alive…aren't you?"
"No, I'm dead thanks to the bus driver falling asleep at the wheel," Bonnie sighed, slumping in on herself. "I was so looking to that reunion. But when the bus went off the mountain…the next thing I knew I was here."
"I'm not going to be questioning that," Kyle said. "But I need your help Bonnie. I can't get loose and I need to warn everyone. Can you help me?"
Bonnie bit the spiritual projection of her lip in uncertainty. "I'm sorry Kyle but I don't think I can. I want to, really, but I can't."
"What? Why not!" Kyle exclaimed. "Everybody we know is in danger!" Thinking about what he knew about her, he knew this was manipulative of him but it had to be done. "Kenny is in danger!"
"Kenny's in danger!" Bonnie looked torn in two. "Ooooh I want to so much…but I can't!"
"Wolf has complete control of us," Krisa stated to him bluntly. "He told us not to let you go and to watch you. I would be the first to untie you but it's like Bonnie said. I can't. We can't."
Kyle looked down in thought. Then an idea came to him. "What about loosening my knots?" he asked.
"What?" Krisa blinked at him.
"Did Wolf say anything about not loosening my knots?" Kyle pressed.
"He told us not to let you go," Krisa repeated.
"Did he specifically tell you not to loosen my knots?" Kyle reiterated.
"Well…not specifically…" Krisa said, uncertain.
"Did he tell you not to loosen my knots or not!" Kyle nearly snapped, shaking in his chair.
"No," Bonnie said.
"Alright, no he did not tell you not to loosen my knots," Kyle said. "Right now, I think I'm starting to lose circulation in my hands. Did Wolf say anything about not loosening my knots so I can get circulation back into my hands?"
"No," Bonnie said.
"No he didn't," Krisa added, eyes starting to widen in realization of what Kyle was up to.
"So…ladies, could either of you loosen my knots so that I can get some circulation in my hands?" Kyle asked pleasantly.
Bonnie looked at Krisa and shrugged. "We could try," she said as she floated around him. Kyle felt discomfort as he felt the spectral presence of Bonnie's ghostly hands brush against his own as they fiddled with the ropes restraining him. It was like pressing something extremely cold on your skin but then move it away for less than a second just to press right back again.
"How is that?" Bonnie asked as she moved away.
Sticking the tip of his tongue out, Kyle renewed his struggle with the rope wrapped around him. Yeah, it was much looser now. Okay…let's try this…maybe if he…whoa his hand was really moving around…and…ah ha!
He managed to slip a hand out then got to work freeing the other hand. Yes! Success! He was halfway home now! Once both of his hands were free, it was only a matter of time until he was freeing himself from the chair, no longer bound. Yep, it was almost like old times. Yeah…like old times…damn his childhood sucked.
"Thanks," he told Bonnie, rubbing his legs to get the blood flowing through them.
"How were you…?" Krisa trailed, somewhat surprised at this turn of events.
"I always look for loopholes. You gotta keep on your toes when you live the life I have," Kyle said. "Most antagonists I face have a streak of stupidity and it's just using that. Wolf's an uncreative asshole who's trying hard to be a bad guy. He'd say something about not letting me go but wouldn't think about what would happen if something like the ropes holding me were loosened. Then again, most people don't think of that."
"Wow…maybe you could help us escape his control with these loopholes of yours," Krisa exclaimed.
"I don't know how he has control over your souls but I think the best thing to do is tell someone who can do something about this," Kyle said. "I need to tell Damien or Demonius, maybe Satan himself if I have to. Don't worry, I won't leave you here to this aborted freak's mercy."
"Hey, you can't leave us here!" Krisa exclaimed. "We helped you!"
"I'm sorry Krisa, I'm just a normal guy," Kyle said, looking around the room one last time, searching for the exit. "I don't have supernatural powers or any…or any…thing…"
Because he hadn't been looking at the spirit he was talking to and had been looking around, he spied out something that had slipped his mind altogether. Having not expected him to get free, Wolf had left the Book of Nemesis nearby, completely open for anyone to take. Personally, if he had been in Wolf's shoes, he wouldn't have left the Book anywhere and carried it around on his person.
Still didn't change the fact that it was laying right there.
Approaching it, Kyle marveled at this seemingly innocuous book that you wouldn't think had the power to alter the future. With a stroke of a pen, you could change fate itself.
This was what this was all about. The power of this Book. The power to do whatever you wanted. So long as it remained in the possession of someone like Wolf, no one would be safe.
"Kyle? What are you doing?" Bonnie asked, peeking over his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be trying to get out of here?"
"Huh? Oh yeah." Kyle tightened his jaw in determination. Somehow, he had known from the beginning of all this shit, no matter what happened…he was going to be the one that cleaned up the mess. Wasn't that always the way?
Picking up the Book of Nemesis, Kyle knew that it was time to start cleaning shit up.
"I hope you know I'm going out on a limb for you," Charlie told the Bain-possessed Agent Smith as she adjusted the really tight leather outfit. At least she thought it was leather. Didn't feel like it and it didn't behave like leather either. "You're lucky that Satan wasn't dead set on you getting out of Smith."
"Is that so?" Bain said was still fiddling with Winslow, not in the least bit paying attention to anything.
"Hey! Snap out of it!" Charlie reprimanded him, fixing the long v-line of her collar. She balled her fists when Bain glanced at her then resumed what he was doing. Jesus, what was up with him? "Hey asshole, I'm talking to you!"
"That you are," Bain replied.
"Why aren't you more concerned about this?" she demanded. What was going through that psychotic bastard's head? She had never really seen him like this, especially when she happened to be nearby. It was like he was…he was out of it or something.
"Why should I be?" Bain drawled out, sparing his green eye to look at her. "I'm already dead Charlotte. There's no changing that. Anything I do now have no consequences."
"I thought you'd be thrilled or something to be in the driver's seat of Agent Smith," Charlie said. "Not just anybody can say that. And don't say there're no consequences. If there's any place in existence that can make you suffer despite the fact that you're bound to that knife of yours, it's probably Hell."
"Point," Bain acknowledged.
"And if you do a good job, they might be nice and bring you back to life," Charlie continued. Now if there was anything that she could be pulling out of her ass right now, that was it. She didn't like the way Bain was behaving and she was trying to bring out the one that she knew all too well. The easily irritated and homicidal Bain.
"You know they'll do that?" Bain asked and it looked like he was perking up at that.
"They'll have to if they know what's good for them," Charlie replied, almost lying through her teeth.
"I assume you're taking care of my body in the meantime?"
The image of Bain's rotting corpse still in City Hall, flies buzzing all around it as it lied in a pool of blood popped into her head. Yeah…she had kinda forgotten about it.
"Do you even have to ask?" she retorted, making a mental note to get her hands on that body as soon as possible.
Bain was eyeing her, as if looking for any falsehood from her. Oh what, after all they've been through, he didn't trust her? Not that she didn't blame him or anything. No one alive knew her like he did. Crap, that was insensitive. He wasn't alive anymore, idiot.
Somewhat to her relief and concern, Bain shrugged and dropped the topic. There was that disinterest again. Is this what death did to a person?
"You know, you're going to have to show more liveliness than this," Charlie told him. "You're going to be doing whatever it is that Agent Smith does to take on Kenny or whatever he's going to call himself. If you suck, we're both screwed. And not in a good way."
"If you are worried about me jeopardizing your position in Hell, do not fret," Bain said. "I've handled McCormick before. I'll do it again. All you need to do is annihilate the forces of Heaven while I deal with that pathetic excuse of a vigilante."
"Don't get a big head," she told him. "It's like Satan said, pride before the fall."
"What does it matter? I'm already dead," Bain shrugged carelessly.
"Until we can get you back in your body," Charlie said. "And we will."
"That's great," Bain said.
"Oh will you snap out of it!" Charlie snapped and threw a punch at him. She would have decked him but Bain caught the punch with ease. Wait, he had never been able to do that before. Heck, even Bain looked confused at what his possessed hand was doing.
"It seems though I am in control, the body will still act on its own," Bain said.
"You did that without thinking?" Charlie pulled back her fist if only to make sure Bain didn't try to rip it off. She gave the retrieved arm the task of inserting an unholy knife into a holster that was sewn onto her upper leg. "Hey, maybe you think Smith's mind is influencing yours so that's why you're acting more of a prick than usual?"
"Possibly," Bain shrugged.
This possession stuff was complicated. "Hope you're ready. We're going topside," she told him. Clenching and unclenching her fists to make sure that the fingerless gloves weren't obstructing her normal hand maneuverability, she led the way as Bain followed, still fiddling with Winslow like it wasn't going out of style.
A change of venue was in order after Melanie made it back from her attempt to drive out the creatures that were roaming about the streets, driving down the housing values. It wasn't a successful attempt and somewhat fearing that those monsters would try to come in here, Conner spirited Melanie to his and Dilan's place to try and wait this thing out.
You have no idea how hard it was to get Melanie to consider leaving her home. You also have no idea how hard it was to get her to lay down so that she could recover from that gash on her forehead. Had he forgotten to mention that? Yeah, she got a battle wound or whatever you called it after trying to bash a monster's brains out with a baseball bat.
The bat broke before the creature's skull did if you were wondering.
Peeking through the closed blinds, Conner said mostly to himself, "We should be safe here. Hopefully they won't try to break in."
There was a groan from the couch where Melanie lay but other than that, no verbal response that had words in it came.
"What are we going to do?" Conner muttered to himself as he pulled his hand away from the blinds and allowed his view of the street outside to be covered up. "Why is this happening?" Damn it he was scared shitless and anxious as shit. If he smoked, he would have already lit up. Too bad he cared too much for his health and everything.
Where had those things come from anyway? Just by looking at them he didn't feel safe, even in his own home. He wasn't cut out for this kind of thing! He just made wedding dresses, that so happened to be for some A-list celebrities and the like, and had no idea how to survive whatever apocalypse this was. It didn't look like a zombie, a Mayan, or a robot apocalypse. Gasp! What if it was THE Apocalypse! Was this the end times?
And it had to happen now?
He was backed up with orders and everything and had a show to do in San Francisco! This could not come at a worse time. And let's not forget he was fulfilling his promise to Melanie to make her dress for her Big Day.
Speaking of which, where was that fat bastard that agreed to be her husband? Knowing his luck, things were only going to get worse from here on out and the only way that would happen is if that fat plumber showed up.
He heard the sound of a key fitting into a lock and he wondered briefly if Melanie had somehow given that homophobe the house key.
Much to his relief, it was not that plumber; it was someone much better and preferable.
"Dilan!" he exclaimed, glad to see a friendly face. Yep, it was his housemate, long absent but finally back. Wow, he looked excited about something. Hadn't had a look like that on his face since the day he, Conner, agreed to help him pay the mortgage. "Do you know what's going on out there?" he asked instead. "Everything's going to hell!"
"I know," Dilan said excitedly, catching Conner off guard. "Isn't it amazing?"
That had Melanie sitting straight up; you could hear the sounds of her bones grinding together as she did that, her neck almost creaking as it turned to face the Satanist. "Amazing? They're driving down the housing values!"
"They are? What can you do?" Dilan shrugged.
"Those things are everywhere!" Conner exclaimed, trying to get things back on track. "What are we going to do?"
"They won't hurt you if you don't provoke them," Dilan shrugged, pausing as a thought occurred to him. "I think."
"You know what these things are?" Melanie demanded.
"Demons from the bowels of Hell," Dilan shrugged. "They have a big camp set up outside of town and they're getting ready for a showdown with Heaven which…" he headed towards a window as he trailed off, opening the closed blinds to reveal a large pillar of light beaconing down from the sky, "…should be happening real soon."
Melanie stared at the Satanist, mouth opening and closing until finally huffing out, "Don't tell me you're involved with all this."
"Yep," Dilan confirmed cheerfully.
"What?" Melanie stared at him aghast. "You mean…? What?"
"This is why you've been gone so long?" Conner asked, voice small as he stared at Dilan with a lost expression.
"Sorry about that but things have been so exciting," Dilan explained, not really paying close attention to Conner. "I got to meet Satan himself! You wouldn't believe the things I've seen. I just came back to see if you guys were all right. Looks like you've been handling yourselves."
"Damn right!" Melanie thundered. "Do something about those things before they make the neighborhood next to worthless!"
"Well, if they win the battle, then they'll be gone off to the Pearly Gates," Dilan mused. "And I don't think they will listen to me despite being a follower of their dark ruler."
"So we have to wait this thing out?" Conner asked.
"Pretty much," Dilan said as he headed over to the kitchen. "All this biblical shit is making me hungry. Do we have anything?"
"This is possibly the end of the world and you're going to have a snack?" Conner asked incredulously.
"End of the world? Who told you that?" Dilan asked, sticking his head back out into the living room. "This is a big misunderstanding cause by Heaven because they think this is the apocalypse but that thing won't be happening for a while. Who told you it was the apocalypse?"
Conner shared a look with Melanie, recalling what Cartman had told them.
Quick, I need to find something that can kill aborted spawns of Satan!
This wouldn't happen to be related, would it?
Due to what happened last time, it was decided that a smaller parlay team would be sent. You know, in case someone needed to flee quickly.
Not wanting his authoritah—excuse him—authority disrespected any further than it already was, Michael had convinced the Second Coming to stay behind while he, Gabriel, and Uriel met up with the representatives of Hell.
Apparently under the same thinking, there was only half the number on Hell's side but one of those members was a surprising sight.
"Lucifer," Michael hissed as he glared at the red abomination. "I should have known you'd show up sooner or later."
"Yeah, nice to see you too, Mikey," Satan said, rolling his eyes.
Michael narrowed his eyes. "I thought I told you to stop calling me that! I'm the one you kicked your red ass out of Heaven. You should show more respect!"
"Puh-leeeze, as if you've done anything since that would make me do that," Satan scoffed.
Michael narrowed his eyes at his eternal nemesis but preferred instead to address the demonspawn at the Prince of Darkness' side instead. He ignored Demonius and that Zazul character as he said, "All right, let's get this over with Antichrist. Make your offer."
"I'm surprised you don't have my counterpart here," Damien said, red eyes boring into the archangel who was unaffected by the stare. He was made of sterner stuff than mortals, thank you very much. "He's not running late, is he?"
"He has more important things to do that chitchat with you, demonspawn," Michael sneered. "Get on with it or do I have to?"
"You're beginning to overstep yourself Michael," Gabriel warned. "Parlays are supposed to be civilized and—"
"And can we get on with this?" Demonius interrupted. "We all know how this is going to turn out so let's go through the motions and get this over with so we can get busy killing one another."
"Demonius!" Satan exclaimed, shocked.
"I apologize, my Lord, but this specimen of angel tends to bring out the worst in me," Demonius apologized.
"Don't we all," Damien replied and then spoke to the archangel. "Like he said, let's get this over with. We're a billion strong, we have a lot firepower, surrender and all that and get out of our way. How's that for an offer?"
"Your offer sucks," Uriel blurted out. "Sorry," the archangel said when Michael glared at him.
"That's my line," Michael reprimanded. Then, "Your offer sucks."
"Still unoriginal," Satan sighed.
"Screw you, you red-colored tub of lard," Michael snapped at the devil.
"Better than being a bland cereal mascot," Satan retorted. When he got puzzled looks, the fallen angel huffed. "Don't you guys remember? Those old commercials? Life cereal. There's those kids who don't want to eat it and decide to give it to another kid who won't eat anything and he does eat it and he likes it. Mikey likes it."
"I remember those," Gabriel said. "We teased Michael about them for…well we still do."
"I am so glad I inspired those," Satan said.
"That was you?" Michael demanded. "You made those commercials?! Do you know what hell I've had to put up with because of those?"
"A lot?" Uriel answered helpfully.
"We get the idea Uriel, thanks," Michael snapped in disgruntlement. Back to Hell's parlay team, "You know, for that alone I'm tempted to go straight to the battle."
"It was already a forgone conclusion that a fight was going to start," Satan shrugged. "You could never stand to be teased or proven wrong. You're the biggest Debbie Downer I've ever known."
"Shut up!" Michael said after a moment of struggling.
"Sucky come back aside, what's your answer," Damien asked, getting back to business. "Will you surrender and spare this town the apocalyptic destruction it's about to face?"
"No matter what, we will always stand for good and against all evil," Michael stated, drawing himself up straighter. "If anything, this is your last chance to give up on this insanity, spawn of Satan. This won't be like last time because we won't be holding back."
"What do you know, neither will we," Damien replied.
"So that's the way it is, huh? War," Michael stated. "Have it your way then. We'll kick your asses and send them back to Hell, Fedex."
"More like the post office," Damien chuckled.
"Nice," Satan commended.
"Hey, don't twist my awesome, sure-to-be quotes," Michael hissed. "For that, I'm not going to hold back any of this ass kicking."
"More like ass kissing," Satan retorted. "You haven't kicked any ass except your own when I successfully conned a bunch of rednecks out of their hard-earned cash, including you!"
"You didn't!" Gabriel gasped.
"Hey, you did the same after finding out he'd been working out," Michael defended himself. "Your treachery, Satan, has not diminished in the thousands of years since your banishment. These negotiations are over. Next we meet, we fight!"
"Finally," Satan said. "We almost parlayed for too long. If we hurry, we can still catch the beginning of that show that's big right now."
"Oh, that's going on? Fine, after we watch that show that's big right now, then we'll fight," Michael declared. Raising a fist up in the air, he yelled out, "Kaplar!" Gabriel and Uriel responded in kind.
"Freaking geeks," Demonius muttered as the parlay ended.