LIMBO
DISCLAIMER: this story is based on the NWZ series. It is a non-profit project intent for entertainment purposes only. All copyrights on the characters belong to Zorro Productions Inc. except the supernatural ones, of course. They belong to the collective consciousness. Ha.
A.N. - This story takes part in the Halloween Challenge, and it's inspired by films like "Ghost", "The Sixth Sense", "Dogma", or the TV series "Torchwood", borrowing some elements from them. It starts at that critical moment in the last episode of the series, "The Discovery", when Risendo is about to kill Diego. Many ff authors have written stories about this episode, and especially, about what could have happened afterwards, to give a more satisfying end to the series, but… I'll take it for a spin, giving you something new. Or at least, I hope so. If there are other stories out there similar to this one, please let me know, because I haven't read them.
Most of the maiming (well, if I can call it that, because… well, you'll see. No spoilers here) happens in the first chapter, in the spur of a mad moment for Risendo, and only a little bit more in the next three. Things will be quiet on that front after that, so don't be put off by it. To begin with, it's just a lesson Diego has to learn, something to do with Karma…
It contains quite angsty, supernatural stuff, with all the associated drama, but with funny moments at the same time. I hope you like it.
Enjoy the reading, and please, review if you can. Thanks.
(*) Update October 2021
Some readers got confused with the supernatural characters' names and genders. I'll explain all about them in the A.N. in Chapter 12, but not now. For any new readers, I think it will be even more confusing if I explain those characters in more depth at the start, before you read anything about them. And it could also be a spoiler. So, I'll give you only the different names now, for clarity:
AZRAEL (AKA Angel of Death).
DEATH (AKA Grim Reaper/La Muerte/La Catrina/La Parca/Baron Samedi…)
LUCIFER (AKA Satan/The Devil/ El Diablo/ The Fallen Angel/ The Dark Angel/ The Dark Lord/The Prince of Darkness/The Diabolical Dragon, and… "Grumpy").
METATRON (AKA The Voice of God).
Azrael, Lucifer, and Metatron appear as males. Death can appear as male or female.
One thing you may notice in this story: sometimes, when ghosts and people talk in the same scene, I write the ghosts' dialogue in Italics because the living can't hear them, and the ghosts don't take part in their conversations. I do the same for Felipe's sign language or when people whisper or think with inner dialogue, because other people can't hear those words. (I also write most of the Spanish words and expressions in Italics, so they stand out.)
Chapter 1
At the De la Vega courtyard, Gilberto Risendo reached into his boot. Out of the blue, he pulled out a pistol to aim at Diego, who had got distracted by the mind-blowing revelations.
How can such an incredibly evil creature be my brother? Diego thought when he saw that gun. How can we share the same De la Vega blood? It's impossible!
It was absurd. Unconceivable. Or, if using his father's favourite term: preposterous.
The Spanish Emissary, the vile man Diego despised so much, had turned out to be his twin brother, and even more disturbingly, he had discovered his secret. Gilberto knew who was the man behind the mask of Zorro, and, as he already said, the secret was out. Soon, everybody would know Diego de la Vega was Zorro, including his father and Victoria, and he would very likely hang from a noose the next day, unless his brother killed him right then, at his own patio, saving himself the hassle of building the official gallows for the occasion.
Diego stood still for a moment, with his shocked, stupefied mind not responding, not taking any action, paralyzed in disbelief while looking at that barrel's end. It all felt like a very bad joke, the stuff of nightmares, and… it could not be happening!
"Say goodbye to your beloved son, old man," Gilberto Risendo said. "And I have one more secret for you: when I kill Diego de la Vega, I'll also kill… ZORRO!"
BANG!
ZZZ
De Soto got Dulcinea, hoping he could escape from that miserable pueblo before Emissary Risendo would execute him by firing squad at sunset, as he had promised to do, along with Mendoza.
Like a cowardly chicken, Sergeant Mendoza had refused to escape from a certain death, taking his chances with De Soto in the hostile, eastern wild territory. As a result, the fool would now face an even more horrible death because the alcalde had refused to go easily and without a fight. De Soto felt sorry for the sergeant, but… it had been his choice, and no-one else's. Although Mendoza, loyal as he was, would not be in that situation if he had given the order to dismember "su alcalde" in pieces instead of refusing to kill him…
Dammit, Sergeant, you should have come with me. I'll feel guilty about this for the rest of my life!
When he was saddling up the mare, De Soto heard voices at the hacienda's courtyard, and then, the unmistakable, metallic clink-clank noises made by swords engaged in a furious fight.
What the hell?
Curious to see what was happening, and how it could affect him, when he finished getting the mare ready, he got his pistols and approached the hacienda De la Vega, looking over a small gate into the patio. He had heard them arguing, but when he got there, he could not believe his eyes: the Emissary sat on the ground, apparently defeated by Diego de la Vega in a swordfight, as the clumsy caballero held a blade over Risendo, aiming the tip at his neck.
Suddenly, when everybody was distracted, Risendo pulled a pistol from his boot. He stood up quickly, away from that sword, and aimed at Diego.
You, filthy snake… De Soto thought. It looked like that deranged man was about to kill his former schoolmate in cold blood, nearly at point blank. Right then, the alcalde made a quick, bold decision, taking Diego's side. He lifted one of the guns, aimed at that wicked man's back, and pressed the trigger.
CLICK!
Nothing happened, not even the faintest recoil. The pistol had misfired.
Shit! he cursed to himself, tossing away the useless gun. He had missed the opportunity. However, Risendo didn't.
"When I kill Diego de la Vega, I'll also kill… ZORRO!"
Risendo fired his gun, and then laughed like crazy. De Soto could not believe what was happening, and especially, what that man had said.
Diego is… Zorro? Dammit, I should have known!
ZZZ
Immensely grateful to his guardian angel because that bullet had missed him, Diego jumped forward and ran his sword through Risendo's chest.
"NOOOO!" Don Alejandro screamed.
"Why? He tried to kill us, Father!" Diego cried, trying to justify his brutal action. For him, it was self-defence, and self-preservation. But Risendo didn't fall. He was laughing. Laughing, of all things!
Diego stabbed him again, mad. The whole blade went through that chest, up to the hilt, but that man still didn't fall.
"No! Diego, no!" Don Alejandro cried again. "What have you done?!"
Ignoring his father, Diego tried a third time, and with the impulse, he fell forward and face-landed on the ground, behind Risendo, who carried on laughing viciously.
What the…? Diego thought, baffled, getting up. He had the odd awareness that he hadpassed through Risendo's body; a disconcerting, ridiculous idea.
"Are you surprised, Padre?" Risendo said. "Well, now you know how it feels to lose the most valuable thing in your life."
"Damn you, Risendo! Maldito seas!" Don Alejandro cried.
Diego grabbed the sword he had dropped, but it suddenly disappeared in his hand, as if it was never there. He looked back at his father, perplexed, and then, he blinked in disbelief. Lying there, in his father's arms, he saw… himself.
If the sword was still in his hand, he would have dropped it again, paralyzed with shock, with his mouth wide open, his jaw hanging so low it almost reached his feet.
No… It can't be!
Don Alejandro sat on the ground, holding Diego's inert, floppy body. Felipe was at his side, frantically trying to stop the torrent of blood gushing from a gunshot wound in his chest, right in the middle. The sword he no longer held, lay discarded on the ground beside them.
"Father, what… what's going on?" Diego said, coming closer very slowly, with short, wary steps, unable to take the eyes off that man… Off… him, Diego. Off his own, lifeless face.
Was that really him? He looked down at his chest. His shirt was clean, he didn't have a huge blood stain expanding in the middle. No, he wasn't shot. It couldn't be, it didn't hurt at all!
"¿Por qué, Gilberto? ¿Por qué has hecho esto?" Don Alejandro wailed, cradling his son's body. "Why? He'd done nothing to you! Nothing!"
"Father, I'm here!" Diego said, placing a hand on his father's shoulder, but his hand didn't touch him: it went through that body as if it wasn't there.
"Felipe!" he cried then, frantic, trying to touch him and get his attention, but the result was the same: he couldn't touch them. They didn't feel his contact, and they didn't seem to be able to see him, or hear his voice either. He was invisible to them. Like a… ghost. The realization was truly shocking.
It must be true, then. I must be dead. Holy shit!
He looked at Diego de la Vega again, at the unconscious body in his father's arms, and tried to touch his own face, but his fingers one more time didn't touch flesh. His hand bounced back instead, as a magnet repulsing another with the same pole. He looked closer, baffled because that unconscious Diego seemed to be breathing, still alive, when he was supposed to be dead. He tried to touch himself one more time, but his hand got rejected again, this time producing a sparkle that hurt a bit, like a mild electrostatic discharge. The third time he tried, he received a full-blown discharge, the equivalent to a lightning bolt, and that took away the will of trying for a fourth time. At least, his father didn't seem aware or affected in the slightest by the powerful energy that got discharged so close to him.
"Diego, hold on, you're going to be all right! You're going to be all right, you're going to be all right…" Don Alejandro said, repeating it like a mantra, willing to believe it himself. His hands were covered in Diego's blood now, as he tried to stop the haemorrhage by pressing directly with his hand on the wound, because Felipe had left to get help and rugs to do the job properly.
"You rejected me when you thought I would be a cripple, but against all odds, I grew up to be a healthy man thanks to the care of my loving, adoptive mother," Risendo said then, spitting venom, possessed by his irrational hatred. "And now, I deserve to be your heir, because I was born first!"
"What on earth are you talking about, you crazy fool?!" Don Alejandro cried. "I told you: if you were my son, crippled or not, nothing in this world would have kept me away from you. And if Diego was really your brother, you should rot in hell for shooting him down in cold blood! Mark my words: you are not my son, and you'll never be a De la Vega! You're nothing but an insane, deluded bastard with a viper for a mother! A monster, that's what you are!"
Enraged by those words, like a mad bull seeing red, Risendo grabbed Don Alejandro's sword and attacked him with it.
ZZZ
BANG!
Second time lucky, De Soto thought. This time, the pistol fired a bullet that hit its target spot on: Risendo got shot in the back, falling to the ground close to Don Alejandro, losing the sword before he could stab him with it.
"Gilberto!" Inés Risendo cried, rushing to his side.
From the ground, Gilberto extended a trembling hand, whispering his last, needy word:
"Father..."
"Alejandro, help him! Help your son!" Inés cried hysterically.
"For the last time, woman: I'm not his father!" Don Alejandro cried in denial, refusing to take that pleading hand because his own hands were already busy holding his son. His real, dying son, the only one he had, the one he was about to lose because of that hateful man, who deserved what he had got. Risendo could rot in hell for all he cared, the same as his mother.
Inés took that feeble hand instead, but Gilberto was already dying, and didn't clench hers.
A young woman with long, dark hair braided in twin pigtails and dressed in colourful clothes, stood by her. With a kind smile, she leaned forward to close Risendo's eyes.
ZZZ
"Of course you are my father, viejo estúpido!" Gilberto cried, slapping the old don to get some sense onto him, but his hand didn't make contact with that face. He tried two more times, and it felt as if he was zapping flies away.
"Leave him alone!" Diego cried.
Reacting on instinct, he jumped to tackle Risendo, forgetting he could not touch anybody. To his surprise, instead of flying through that Royal Spanish Army uniform to land on his face as it had happened before, this time he made contact with him, pushing Gilberto down to the ground, away from his father.
They rolled together along the patio, struggling with each other. Risendo punched his brother twice, but Diego managed to kick him away before the maniac could knock him out cold with a third blow.
The brothers got back on their feet as fast as they could then, like animals fighting for survival, ready to strike again. While circling each other, Diego took a hand to his bleeding, split lip, resenting it. Being dead wasn't as painless as he had initially thought!
"You! How come you are up?" Risendo cried. "I killed you! You are dead!"
"And so are you, Gilberto," Diego said, pointing at Risendo's lifeless body behind him. He imagined that the stupefied, astonished expression his brother displayed then, when he saw his dead body lying on the ground, was similar to his own only a moment ago.
However, Risendo reacted much faster than him to the bad news. Spurred by the intense hatred he felt for his sibling, he grabbed Don Alejandro's sword, that was once again lying on the ground, and lunged at Diego, who didn't have time to get out of the way. Diego could only hope that sword would just pass through his body as if piercing thin air, and then it would disappear, as it happened before when he stabbed Risendo with it, but… no. Nothing further from what happened next.
"Die!" Risendo cried viciously, stabbing Diego's chest.
Diego gasped, surprised by the immediate, sharp pain, because he had felt nothing before when he got shot. He looked down, at his now blood-stained shirt, and at the sword sticking out of it.
Risendo retrieved the sword, running the blade through Diego's body again, this time in reverse, causing another bout of searing pain.
"Die! Die! Die!" Risendo shouted, stabbing Diego with each furious cry, the blade running in and out of his torso as if cutting through butter.
Diego cried every time, feeling the unbearable pain exploding in his chest and abdomen, going backward and forward, in crescendo with each new hit. He tried to stop the sword, holding the blade with his hands, but his palms got sliced as well while his brother kept goring him mercilessly. The pain was very real, and excruciating, but he didn't feel weak or faint, or in any way felt the need to lie down to die… Of course not, because he was already dead! His stunned mind reckoned that, if that was a small glimpse of eternal pain in hell, he really, really, didn't want to experience it.
"Stop, please!" Diego cried, desperate, but Risendo carried on, recklessly. "Para, por favor! Déjame, te lo ruego!"
"Die! Die! Diiiiieeeee!"
As that insane man kept goring him ruthlessly, like a butcher cutting a carcass in tiny pieces, Diego dropped on his back, feigning to die, lying in a pool of blood. Only then Risendo stopped. But Diego wasn't dying. He was gaping in agony, still fully conscious but struggling to breathe with that savaged thorax, that got totally mangled by that blade, ripped and pierced so many times his shirt resembled a sieve pouring blood through the holes. If he had not been dead already, he would have fainted with the pain a million times, but he didn't have the luxury of avoiding the intense, insufferable torment, by passing out.
When he saw his brother struggling like that, in so much pain and distress, Gilberto laughed again. And then, they came for him.
It started with a distant, frightening noise of grunts, shrieks, and wails that chilled Diego's aching soul, an ominous sound of vile creatures coming out of the ground, into the light, getting closer and closer. Although struggling so much, Diego lifted his torso a bit off the ground, using his elbow for support, trying to see what was approaching them. Then, he saw a bunch of black, shadowy little demons surround Gilberto, who had stopped laughing and now cried in a blind panic, terrified, trying to get away from them. The demons grabbed him and hauled him along quickly, away from Diego, who could do nothing but to watch his brother hopelessly cry for his help all the way, shrinking in size until he was as small as the evil creatures.
"Diegooooo… help meeeeee!"
The demons dragged Gilberto to a dark recess in the patio and pulled him with them under the soil, that seemed to swallow them whole, and then there was silence, only broken by Inés Risendo's cries.
Diego looked at the living. They didn't seem to have the faintest clue of what had just happened, totally oblivious to the grim scene. Of course they were, because they couldn't see them. And, unfortunately, although he was suffering so much, writhing in pain, they couldn't help him either.
De Soto had joined them now, apologizing to Don Alejandro for killing his other son, and he was trying to help him to stop the haemorrhage, using his own jacket to press on Diego's wound.
His father kept holding his now empty, soul-less body, crying over it, while Diego was in so much need of his help in the afterlife. What he wouldn't give to have his father holding his torso up to ease his breathing, just like he was doing with his corpse, to give him some comfort in that hour of need.
"Father…" he called faintly, but of course, there was no use. He couldn't hear him.
Another black demon, slightly larger than the others, lingered by Diego as he struggled to breathe, spooked and terrified by what he had just witnessed, an unable to run away from that vile little creature, because he couldn't even shuffle on his arse like a baby to put some distance between them.
"Don't worry, Diego, you don't need to stay, there's nothing for you here. Your lady will find another fool to love soon, and she won't even remember you... Or maybe she'll kill herself with the grief… One or the other, who knows, but I prefer the second option, because then she will come down with me. Oh, I love the pretty young ladies… they roast so well," the demon said, looking at Diego with his malignant, glowing red eyes, teasing him. "Yes, she'll commit suicide, and then I'll take her."
Hearing his words, threatening to take his Victoria to the underworld, Diego's fear and pain morphed into anger.
"The hell you will!" Diego managed to say, gathering all his courage and strength for that last, defying act, although he knew he was at that diabolical creature's mercy.
"You said it: to hell," the demon said, letting out a sinister, spine-chilling laugh. "I'll be back with my little friends to get you too. Soon, don't despair."
The demon disappeared, and then the young woman with the twin pigtails came closer.
"Don't pay any attention to him. He's just cross because he can't have you," she said, oozing compassion, taking one of his bleeding, sliced hands in hers. "Don't worry, sweetheart, Azrael will be here soon."
Stunned by the events and fully immersed in that cloud of pain and fear, Diego barely registered that the woman could see him, and talk to him. And what it was even more amazing, that she could touch him, alleviating some of his suffering on contact: his hand had healed immediately, but he hadn't even noticed.
"What…?" he started, already feeling a bit better, but she took a finger to his lips.
"Shhhh… It doesn't matter. Rest now, honey. I think you had enough."
She combed his sweaty fringe back, like a mother would do, caressing his forehead, and he fell asleep more or less peacefully, forgetting the pain.
ZZZZZ