TALES OF THE DEMON by Dien Alcyone
Hullo! This is my DC Comics fanfic, written for DC Anthology, which can be found at: http://danthology.cjb.net/ Due to hints from friends and readers, I am diversifying in the places where it's featured at... hence, this! I hope you enjoy.
Summary: Etrigan/Jason Blood fanfiction, in an 'issue' format.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The Demon and certain characters in these pages are owned by DC Comics. I'm just playing.
TALES OF THE DEMON #5 ~ "A Night to Remember, Part Two: Fire And Ice"
by Dien
Story notes: Angelina briefly quotes from Psalm 119. Also, much thanks to Drew; he can now have Freeze back. See? I didn't kill him.
Freeze watched first in growing disgruntlement, then the beginnings of fear as the.... creature generally demolished his men. They were all thugs, of course, and he didn't really give a damn what happened to them, but still--the evening was not going well.
On the very loose network that existed between Gotham's many criminals, Victor Fries had heard word of the Joker being up to something on the other side of town. Good. If that maniac kept the Bat busy, he could do what was needed tonight. It would have been perfect.
And then this. This thing, this monster, this... demon? was literally tearing up his henchmen. Well, whatever the thing was, it'd soon learn that Mr. Freeze was not a man to piss off. Freeze drew his favorite gun from his personal arsenal.
"Eat ice, freak," he muttered under his breath, aiming and firing just as the demon punched another of his men into unconsciousness, if not death.
The chilling beam shot forth with concussive force to hit Etrigan, advanced science meeting infernal flesh. The Demon snarled in annoyance as it struck, then in real anger and surprise as he was encased in the abnormally hard ice. It spread quickly and soon his entire form was lost to ice. Mr. Freeze frowned; it was supposed to actually turn the target to ice, but perhaps this demon had some invulnerability going for him. Whatever--he was now invulnerable under three feet of ultra-hard frozen water.
"So much for poetry-spouting freaks," Freeze muttered into the suddenly quiet room as the citizens warily looked up from the floor and his dazed men found their weapons and/or held their wounds. Freeze pursed in lips as he did a quick count of the remaining men left to him.
The thing had killed seven of his men. Fine; twenty-three was more than enough to get on with it and get the hell out of here. Well, twenty if he didn't count the badly wounded. His calculations were interrupted by one of his men.
"Boss... uh... what the hell was that?"
"Not Batman, that's for damn sure," one of them muttered to himself.
"What's it matter?" Freeze snapped. "It's not going anywhere right now, is it?" he said, gesturing to the large block of ice in which the figure stood frozen. His men laughed nervously.
"That's for sure, boss."
"Glad we've got that settled. Okay, this was an interruption--and one we didn't expect--but we're still here to do a job. Let's get back to it."
"Man, we lost some friends to that... thing," one of his ski-masked henchmen muttered, fingering his gun. "Seven or eight guys, and we just let it go at that, huh?"
"That just means you get a bigger share of the profit, doesn't it?" Freeze retorted. "And if you have any suggestions about getting rid of him beyond his current status, feel free. I notice your guns weren't doing a lot of good.
"Now come on. We still have many pretty diamonds and such to... hmm, liberate."
That was the needed impetus. With a few dark glares at the ice-bound and quiescent figure, the men nevertheless returned to collecting jewelry and wallets from the frightened people.
Freeze sighed and looked around for the little director. If the man had gotten away in the chaos, he was going to be irritated. But no, there was the curator, standing still and staring at the formerly demonic ice cube.
Victor Fries walked over and snapped his fingers in front of the man's face and unblinking eyes. Dipsas started and looked up at him.
"Sorry to interrupt your moment of deep philosophy, friend," Freeze growled. "You still have a few diamonds to gather for me. Get back to it."
He was unprepared for the look of pure, cold venom the small man shot him, but Dipsas turned without comment back to the diamond cases, leaving Freeze wondering if he had imagined it. Then the curator said conversationally, "You really have no idea what sort of hell you're in for, do you? I almost pity you, you over-muscled, larcenous piece of--"
Freeze casually swung out with one armored fist and caught Dipsas on the side of the head, sending him sprawling to the ground. "Listen, little man. I came here to rob you, not get insulted by you.
"I don't like you. I really don't, and I can't figure out why. However, I'm really not in the mood to think about it much when it would be considerably easier to leave you as cool as Caped Crusader: the Freaky Version over there. Right now, you're alive because I'd like you to unlock the diamond cases, so I don't have to break them open and set off alarms. Don't trespass on my goodwill."
One of the curator's slim, clever hands reached up, almost in disbelief, to touch the blood at his temple. Silently, Dipsas got back to his feet and resumed unlocking the cases, looking anywhere but at Victor Fries.
The criminal smiled, glad he had gotten his point across. He turned back to the rest of the room, then stopped at a noise from the direction of the frozen demon. A faint cracking noise...
"Not. Possible," he growled to himself, turning.
But, of course, it was. Hairline fractures began to appear over the icy form, then widened to larger and larger cracks, steam hissing and escaping from the openings. Freeze's men looked nervously between their boss and the captive demon. Freeze just scowled and drew a bigger gun.
The ice finally erupted in an explosion of fire. The yellow figure of Etrigan burst forth, his eyes burning with crimson light. Little tongues of flame escaped from the corners of his mouth as he grinned at the leader of his enemies.
"A bard of your kind, mortal, once wrote a phrase
"That I've often pondered the wisdom of.
"'Twas, 'Lord, what fools these mortals be,'
"And truly, the hand doth fit the glove.
"Think you that ice, that chill and frost
"Can hold a demon, damned and lost?
"Still, your toys amuse, you make me smile...
"Humans. Such clever gnats, with so much guile!
"Why, I salute thee, mankind!
"With your tricks and plots you shine!
"Hell need not strive to slay you--
"On you own, you do just fine.
"Of course, I still shall fight this battle--
"Begin! Enough of this prattle!"
Etrigan laughed and once again emanated hellfire in a devastating arc.
In fury, Freeze backhanded one of his own men who was trying to run from the flames. "All of you, get back here! You think I'm paying you to run at the first little fight?!" His words had no effect, and his hired thugs, if anything, ran faster. Etrigan seemed to enjoy this, leaping after the nearest one to land with taloned hands and deadly force.
"I guess it's like the man says: you want something done, you just have to do it yourself," Mr. Freeze said grimly. He aimed carefully with his new weapon and sent a barrage of needle-sharp, foot-long icicles towards the rampaging demon.
The first round hit the big-eared head accurately enough, for all the good it did as they bounced off and shattered. Etrigan shook his head to clear the stinging, then turned and gestured with one clawed finger. A wave of flame shot out and consumed the second volley of missiles mid-air.
"Sir, your first attempt was much the better.
"This try smacks of desperation.
"But chin up! Stay strong! Be of good cheer!
"And use your imagination."
To his credit, Freeze tried to do just that, wracking his brain for any other way to attack. Fighting the police and even Batman is one thing.... but what the hell is a guy supposed to do against something that is a) invulnerable b) superstrong and can c) breathe magical fire?
"Boss..." one of his men said next to him, tapping him on the shoulder. "This thing's insane. We need to get the hell outta Dodge, boss."
Freeze nodded absently, watching morbidly as the Demon neatly decapitated yet another one of his henchmen. He shook his head again. Tonight was not a good night...
"Cut our losses. You're right. Men!" he shouted to his remaining troops, most of whom were already at the doors. "Retreat! Meet back at the base in twenty!" Victor Fries then began to take his own advice, heading for the door.
"Ah, ah, such bad manners, my icy friend
"To crash a party, then leave prematurely?
"It will not do. You must stay 'till the end
"So we can get acquainted, surely." With that, Etrigan picked up a nearby table and casually flung it at Freeze's back, revealing the couple beneath it who had been cowering in relative safety: Mr. Haight and companion.
Etrigan grinned broadly down at them as the table hit Freeze's body armor, the furniture coming out the worse in the confrontation. Freeze stumbled, however, and turned to face his attacker, realizing with fear that he might not be able to escape after all.
"Good evening, Mr. Haight!
"I hope you're enjoying the fight?
"Well, you'll get to see it all up close...
"You really should have stayed home tonight!"
Etrigan lifted the banker one-handed and sent him, screaming, in the same direction as the table.
Freeze might not be the equal of the monster he faced, but he was no slouch either. He quickly brought one of his special weapons to bear, and froze the man flying towards him in mid-scream.
The block of ice formerly known as Charles Haight hit the ground and shattered almost as spectacularly as the ceiling had.
"Oops. My apologies, dear girl, it seems I've robbed you of your date.
"Well, I somehow doubt you'll miss the late great Mister Haight.
"Now, if you'll excuse me...? I mustn't make the iceman wait."
The demon gave the blonde a parting, toothy smile, then once more attacked.
But Mr. Freeze had taken advantage of Etrigan's pause to admire his handiwork. A nearby supporting pillar and what was left of the roof above it were now gleaming ice. Freeze pulled out the handgun he still held and fired its remaining bullets into the ice.
Even more property damage ensued, as the pillar splintered and broke, bringing down the remaining portions of the roof and burying Etrigan under a mix of ice, cement, and rubble. Freeze knew a good thing when he saw it, and ran for the exit amid the chaos of the final collapse.
Struggling under the falling rubble, Etrigan snarled as he saw his foe escaping, then shrugged. It had been fun, but hardly worth pursuing further. His work here was done, especially considering he had helped contribute to some $6 million dollars worth of property damage...
"Gone, gone, o Etrigan,
"And rise once more the form of man!"
The transformation was hidden by the cloud of dust and debris filling the air. Etrigan left this mortal plane to make way for his human jailer, who found himself back, once more, on Earth... in the middle of falling ceiling, ice and masonry. Coughing in the dusty air, Jason silently cursed the Demon and dove for cover under the nearest of the tables.
Eventually, as the hail of detritus slowed then stopped, the chaos quieted down to mere disorder. The dazed Gothamites crawled out from under furniture and other semi-safe places to stare at each other. Fine suits, tuxedoes, and three-hundred dollar dresses were covered in glass (or ice) shards and cement dust, or, occasionally, blood where the wearers of the garments had been injured in the crossfire. The Museum's beautiful inlaid marble floor looked like a war zone.
Angelina Capella had been one of those closest to the ruined area, yet was relatively unharmed... for one simple reason. As the ceiling had begun its rumbling, icy collapse, Emilio had thrown himself on top of her, knocking her to the floor and shielding her with own body.
Her protection had not been bought cheaply.
Angelina struggled to sit up, the limpness of the body on top of her not registering. A quick glance behind her showed Francisco and Gianni managing to stand, both wounded but not severely. Who knew where Jason was, but she couldn't deal it right now. She turned her attention back to Emilio.
A piece of cement the size of a man's fist had hit the back of his head, and as she touched his dark curls, her fingers came away wet. Sudden apprehension set in, and she said softly, "Emilio?
"Emilio!" An edge in her voice, panic. She struggled to turn him over, refusing to look at the dark stains that spread over much of his tuxedo. When she did get him onto his back, his head lolled loosely. Too loosely...
"Emilio!" Her elegant hands felt frantically for the pulse, for the signs of life, but came away with only more blood.
"Dona?" Francisco asked quietly, his single word carrying dreadful trust; begging her, as the angel they all admired, to assure them that their friend and comrade was all right, that he was going to be okay. She heard the words as from a distance, her hands still searching quickly, stubbornly, for the beat of his heart. Behind her, her guards' silence as they realized the reason for hers.
Angelina's eyes were burning and watering. The dust in the air, of course. The dust, still settling, that made the world a nightmare of ghosts; the wounded... and the dead.
Mechanically, she placed her hands on Emilio's unmoving chest at the juncture of the ribs and began the sharp thrusts of CPR, designed to get the heart pumping again.
"Clear his airways," she snapped to the two behind her, lifting a hand to wipe at the hot tears that squeezed from the corners of her eyes and made their way down her face. She was unaware of the blood and dirt she left smeared on her cheeks, nor would she have cared. They mechanically moved to obey. Ambulances could faintly be heard in the background now.
Gianni's face was pale as he carefully opened the mouth, then hesitated. Angelina's voice cracked as she yelled, "Damn it! Do I have to do everything myself? Help him, God damn you!"
"Dona.... it's too late," said Francisco softly. "He's gone."
"No! No," she snarled, continuing to pump the chest. "He's not... going anywhere... not while I'm... not Emilio." Dear God, not Emilio. Not the youngest. Please, Mother Mary, not him...!
She shot her eyes heavenward. Through the jagged hole of the ceiling, she could see the brilliance of the stars, shining unconcerned on the world below as they had hours ago... as they would continue to do so. "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handiwork..."
Capella brought her gaze back to earth, sweeping the room with its haze and struggling figures. People were still emerging from under the tables. Even as she watched, the tablecloth on the nearest table, some thirty feet away, lifted to reveal Jason Blood, standing to survey the carnage around him.
Her hands stopped their movements and her dark eyes fixed on him with as much warmth as the weapons of Mr. Freeze. He seemed to be completely unhurt. Not a scratch...
But of course not! He's been hiding under the furniture since this started, why should he be hurt? she mockingly asked herself. She looked down again at the blood on her young guard.
The tears began to flow more quickly, but now she ignored them, reaching up only to close Emilio's sightless eyes.
Jason shook his head as he took in the bloody mess around him. Damn it! He should have thought it out more before unleashing Etrigan... he might have been able to get rid of Freeze with a few choice spells, rather than let loose the Demon to do all this...
But, of course he hadn't been thinking. He had seen that creep go for Angelina, and that had ended rational thought. Where was she? He hoped to God Etrigan hadn't done anything to her.
There she was, kneeling next to a body or something, the ever-present thugs behind her. He shouldered his way through the still stunned people to reach her.
"Angelina! Are you all right? My God, when everything started happening... I was so worried about you," he said.
She was a mess. The perfect red dress was now stained with much darker red; the artfully crafted hairstyle looked as if a whirlwind had hit it; and when she slowly looked up at him, her sparkling eyes were dead and flat.
"Yes. I could see your great concern for my welfare," she said in an empty voice, then returned to stare at what lay before her.
Jason, taken aback, followed her gaze to see the guard's bloody form. "Damn! Didn't know one of your men was hurt... how bad is he? Let me see..." He began to crouch down next to the body.
"Get away from him," she snapped with arctic force. Blood blinked, taking a step back as she stood and glared at him. "He's well beyond any hurt, signore Blood."
Comprehending her words, Jason sighed. Jesus. Another death on Etrigan's hands... on my hands. It never ends...
"I'm sorry, Angelina," he said quietly. More sorry than you know. "The ambulances are here. I'll go get one of them to bring a stretcher... or something."
"Don't trouble yourself," she said with no small amount of venom. "My loyal, courageous friend needs no favors from a man whose position in a fight is under the table.
"Nor, may I add, do I. Good night and goodbye, signore Blood." Without a backward glance, she gestured for her two remaining men to lift their fallen friend's body and follow her to the door.
But... Jason closed his eyes in disbelief. Damn Etrigan! Damn him! Exhausted, Blood walked over to the nearest intact chair and collapsed in it, staring around the demolished Museum. I hope you're happy, Etrigan. Goddamn you.
He sat there staring as those able to left under their own power, and those not able were carried away in ambulances... sometimes with sheets on top of them. The police came, of course, but he had only to stare at them when they approached, and they always decided to get statements from others. The Museum eventually cleared of just about everybody. Jason leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes against the headache-inducing throb of the police-car lights outside. What a night.
The sound of rubble moving and glass breaking caused him to look up and around. Dipsas was crouching in the center of the trashed central room, absently sifting through the wreckage.
Probably looking for the damned diamonds, Jason thought tiredly, rising from his chair and preparing to go home. He passed the director on his way out.
"Nice party, Nicolas," he said sardonically.
"Shut up, Blood," the curator said flatly. "I ought to sue you for property damage, you know."
"Never get it to stick. How much would you like me to donate to the rebuilding fund?"
Dipsas's dark eyes scanned the remnants of his glorious Museum. "$4 million, I'd say. Repairs alone, then compensation... what a nightmare."
"I'll have my people send your people a check," Blood said wearily, heading for the door. He left the curator standing in the middle of the ruins, murmuring forlornly to himself, "Calculated risks..."
It had not been a good night.
Gianni drove as usual, but even his stoic attention to duty could not completely hide the grief and anger that emanated from him. Francisco, too, bore the same sorrowing air as they returned to their place of residence here in Gotham.
Angelina could only lean against the cool glass of the car's window and shut her eyes. So senseless. Such a waste. Anger welled up in her, violent and ready to smother her. She took deep breaths, but it did not help.
Who to hate? Who to blame? she thought in the darkness of her mind. Her fury reached out to all of them: first to Mr. Freeze, the uncaring fool who had triggered the night's events, who had fired to bring the ceiling down.
Some even to Emilio; loyal, conscientious Emilio... the one who had been in love with her, of course, and never said a thing because he would have known her answer in advance. Stupid boy, she cried sadly in her mind. Did I ask you to save me? Did I ask you to die for me?
He had been doing his job.
Then there was Jason Blood. She couldn't figure out why, exactly, her anger burned so bitter against him, except that he was alive and unhurt and Emilio was not. Because as the boy had shielded her with his own body, the man had been safe... hiding. Intellectually, she knew it was foolish to hold this against him--he had only been doing what was sane, under the circumstances--but she grieved, and would not permit herself understanding and forgiveness yet.
God was next. God and the saints and the Virgin Mother above, who smiled mindlessly from the stars and cared nothing for the humans beneath who lived and died pointlessly. Her hand reached up and gripped the crucifix around her neck tightly, the metal digging sharply into her palm.
Death had rarely touched her so before. Her father had died when she was seventeen, but they had not been close and she had not cried then. But here and now, when the dead man was one she had been responsible for... Was it true, the words she had lived by her whole life? Was Emilio in a world free of pain now? Or was this also a lie?
Lies. The province of devils... In her mind she saw the figure again. Terrible in its strength, its savagery. This, then, was the enemy. The demon... Her mission had been given to her in Rome, only months ago though it seemed longer now. The records of the Vatican bore mention of this demon through the centuries, but until a few months ago, he had been a creature of history only.
Then the monks of Assisi had reported it. A yellow monster, breathing fire and rhyme to wreak havoc in the famed monastery. Rome had listened, and with trembling hands, searched her dusty archives, comparing the new reports with the old tales. To learn that the demon known as Etrigan was back.
And then sent her to kill it.
She opened her eyes. This, then, was a fitting target for her anger. The devil had helped to bring his death, and so he would pay. Angelina Capella swore it to herself, in the dark back seat of an expensive car, sitting next to a dead body and finding targets for her rage.
But the heaviest portion of her wrath was aimed at herself.
Jason stepped out of the elevator, exhaustion playing across his features as he unlocked his apartment and stepped in. He wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and go to bed. Maybe when he woke up things would look better.
The apartment was dark except for the glow of the television, which Harry had on. But he wasn't looking at it. Instead, his eyes were turned to Blood as if he had been waiting for his friend to get home.
"Uh, hey, Jase."
The demonologist muttered something back, shutting the door behind him.
"So... uh... have a nice time with the diamond thingy?"
Jason turned and stared at the pillow. "Harry. Look at me. I'm covered in cement dust. Do I look like I had a nice time?"
"Um. Well. Just asking."
"Right. Well, don't."
"Gotcha."
An awkward silence ensued as Jason took off the tuxedo jacket to drop it on the floor, then headed into the kitchen to make a stiff drink.
"Ummm. Jase...?"
"This had better be important Harry, because right now is really not a good time."
"Oh. Um, well.... it's just that... uh..." The pillow trailed off quietly as Jason came back into the room, but stopped to look at the balcony sliding glass door--which was shattered open, the curtains blowing gently in the night breeze.
"Harry... I'm almost afraid to ask... but why is the door broken?" Blood said quietly, first taking a large swallow from his glass.
"Well, that's what I was getting to... y'see... I guess we have a guest again." Harry was unable to gesture, having no limbs, but used his eyes to look into the shadows behind him.
Now that he was looking for it, Jason could just make out the figure standing there, arms crossed in the universal position of impatience. The figure shifted, and moved into the light, his wings spreading slightly.
Zauriel's eyes burned like twin flames as he gave the demonologist a hard stare. "I'm only going to ask nicely once, human.
"Give me back the sapphire."
Jason stared at the angel for a long second, then finished off the rest of the glass in one gulp. The night was just getting worse.
THE VANILLA-FLAVORED NEXT ISSUE BOX: Poor Jason. Poor Angelina. Poor Emilio! Freeze didn't even get away with any diamonds. Anyhoo.... Next month, two very special characters enter the brouhaha: Klarion the Witch-Boy and his pointy-eared friend, Teekl! Also, I may convince John Constantine to pop back up; it depends on his mood when I ask him.
What, exactly, happens? Well then. There will be a bit of philosophy... magic... and a fight scene, kinda like maybe. I dunno.