IV
He plummets, not into a world of light this time…but into one of darkness, darkness so thick he can't even see his nose in front of his face. He crashes down, landing on his back, crying out as his body is subjected to further abuse by the jagged and unevenly milled earth. With some effort, he sits up, peering around, looking for some indication as to where he is. It doesn't take but a second to realize this place, wherever he is, is most certainly not Purgatory…for while his eyes might not be working too well in this chancy half-light, his nose is another matter. Broken and blood-clogged though it may be, he still registers the stink of sulfur and some other malign odor so alien he cannot put a name to it. His eyes water and he sneezes, blood and mucus spattering the ground before him, yet still the smell lingers, polluting his mind with its foul stench.
"…C…C-Central…?" He calls hopefully, his voice sounding small and scratchy in the empty vastness of this nightmare realm and he's helpless to repress a shudder as the sound echoes around him hollowly for a moment or two before fading away.
A dry breath like a death rattle from directly behind him. "No one by that name here…"
An iron curtain of mingled shock and terror falls over him, turning his limbs to lead and his heart to stone. He tries feebly to turn his head, bloodshot eyes widening in disbelief. The voice…yes, he knows that voice, knows it well…but how? And why? He'd been freed, this…this thing had been driven away…so how–?
"Seems she's abandoned you after all…." A chuckle. "How…predictable."
A bony hand closes over the scruff of his neck, the ragged talons protruding from each of the five fingers punching through his tender flesh like a dull blade, drawing more blood to stain his already matted hide. He is lifted effortlessly; his broken body dangling limply, as a lifeless as a rag doll's. "So much for Faith, eh?"
The hand pivots, turning him inexorably around – slowly, so slowly – and already the smell of Hell – for that's where he is, no fool is he – is being overtaken by another, more primal one. He tries to close his eyes, willing himself not to see the demon that's hounded him relentlessly all through the years, not wanting to behold the source of that hellish, raspy voice. There isn't time however and before the command is even finished forming in his mind, he is face to face with the demon…his demon….
A dull crimson light burns from the eyes in Kane's ancient, leathery face and in their core Ash sees flat murder spliced with the blackest hatred. In their dull glow, he can make out a shaggy mane of hair sprouting from the monster's head, though the color is all but lost to the darkness. The twisted jack-o-lantern mouth stretches into a grin of perverse delight, exposing half-rotted teeth – a cannibal's smile. He is drawn so close to Kane that their noses nearly touch. The slack, liver-colored lips move, spraying spittle into his face. "Welcome back, Ashley…I've missed you."
His stomach gives another involuntary heave as a nightmare tide of death and desecration assaults him as Kane's foul breath washes over him, clear snot immediately beginning to run from his nose, his eyes streaming. He coughs violently, gasping for breath, his eyes and throat burning, twisting his head involuntarily away. "…D…Don't…" he coughs again. "Don't…c-call me that…."
The other snorts, his grip tightening, grin shrinking to a disgusted smirk. "Oh that's right…I forgot…you only like it when she calls you that."
He looks at Kane, his eyes blazing with blue fire, his brow furrowed. "…H…How…? Sh-she…she turned…turned you out…." His voice has once again been reduced to little more than a dry rasp – it's really a wonder he can speak at all, given the extensive damage done to his vocal cords.
The Demon laughs, unleashing another of those rancid tidal waves. "You know what your problem is, my devout little buddy? You've got too much faith." The hand tightens its grip, drawing more blood. "Makes it harder for me to get into that thick skull of yours…and then of course, there's that guardian angel bitch of yours to contend with as well…but the sad truth of it is…she's just been stringing you along this whole time."
The smell…dear God…this close, it all but smoothers him; colors flash behind his eyes and it's all he can do to keep from passing out…yet he somehow finds the strength to speak, his lips barely moving, the words coming out in a barely audible whisper.
Kane jerks him closer, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "I'm sorry, Hell's a noisy place sometimes and I'm a bit hard of hearing…did you say something, Preacher Boy?"
"…C…Cen…Central…." He swallows painfully, a corner of his mouth quirking as Kane blinks in surprise. "…H-her…n…name's….C…Central…a-and s-she'd…she'd n-never…never l-leave m-m-me…."
Pain, sharp and hot, explodes in his head as the talons of Kane's free hand sink into his stomach and squeeze. He cries out breathlessly, instinctively trying to jerk away, but the fiend will have none of it and only tightens his grip for an instant before releasing him entirely. He falls to earth, his agonized body giving another shriek of pain as he lands on what feels like a nightmare concoction of broken glass and rusted metal. Those eyes move lower, narrowing dangerously as the monster stoops and jerks him into a sitting position, his hand now biting into the tender flesh of Ash's throat.
"I don't give a blue fuck what her name is," he snarls contemptuously, his eyes turning the color of a nuclear sunset in his depthless rage. "She can't help you down here, my friend…" a hand scarred by fire pats at his cheek, making his skin crawl, "…but…maybe I can…if you'd be willing to–"
"…N…no…no th…thanks." He tries to shake his head, but doesn't even have the strength for that.
Kane chuckles, his eyes flashing a neon-red for a brief instant as his temper flares up again. "Tread carefully, Ash-slut…it's not polite to turn away someone who's offering you a helping hand without even hearing them out first…." The hand in question tightens its grip on his throat ever so slightly. "Take a moment to consider this; remember you're in my house now, you little shit…and the rules of that 'Heaven' you keep babbling on about don't apply down here…and you should know better than anyone that I don't take kindly to refusal…."
"M…my answer…st-still stands…."
The monster sighs resignedly, rolling his eyes. "Come on…do you really think that God STILL cares for you?"
"…You…know the answer…to that…Kane."
A derisive snort cuts through the gloom. "Look around…look where you are…if He really loves you so much…why the fuck are you here…instead of up there, fucking your little angel's brains out?"
His lip curls in disgust. "I…I'd never...v-violate her…like that!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I offend your virgin ears?" Another soft chuckle rings out, accompanied by another waft of putrid breath to sting his eyes. "You certainly never had a problem with taking what you pleased on your first trip…."
A shadow passes over his heart and for an instant he considers the possibility of truth in this statement…then shoves it roughly away. "…Liar." He growls, but a seed of doubt touches his heart all the same. "I…I could never do that!"
Kane laughs, harder this time. "Oh boy, if I had soul for every time I heard THAT one!" A grin splits his ugly face. "But, you do have something on the ball…lust was never one of your stronger vices…no, you were geared more towards…wrath."
A hand of ice grips his heart and he feels a sudden chill in the air. "…Wh…What're you t…talking about…?"
Kane's grip tightens and he leans in close, his grin shrinking to a satisfied smirk. "Haven't you ever wondered why I'm the one who has the master key to your mind? Why I've had such a fucking hard on for you all these years?" His eyes narrow to slits once more. "I can see that bitch has still left you in the dark about all this, so allow me to shed some light on our little situation…. You killed me."
"…Wh…what?"
"Surprised?" The Sin chuckles…and then releases his hold on him before driving a fist straight into the other's unprotected face, sending him flying through the air to land face down on the blasted ground. "Not nearly as much as I was, you cock-sucking piece of shit, I guarantee you." He is seized by the hair and jerked backwards to lie once again on his back, starring up at Kane through eyes that burn and smolder like magma.
He swallows, throat working, forcing himself to speak, each word clearly costing him a dreadful effort. "I…don't…believe you…LIAR." A pause as he labors for air, his face turning an ashy gray. "I…I never…."
Kane merely laughs into his face. "Ha! Defiant to the bitter end, eh Preacher Boy?" He smirks. "Well then, I suppose there's nothing left for me to do…but give you some PROOF!"
Before he can so much as utter a sound, the monster's hands descend, planting themselves over his eyes like hellish starfish, blocking out what little sight he has and driving his head deeper into the ripping, biting mess beneath them. He struggles, horrified, his own scarred hands flying up to grab at the Sin's wrists. A blinding flash of violet light explodes behind his eyes and another cry rips itself from his tortured throat as he feels himself being drawn into that unholy flare, drawn like ship to a whirlpool. His struggles intensify, body convulsing, his own razor-sharp claws flashing out to burry themselves in the hideous hands plastered over face. He snarls in effort, trying desperately to will away that darkly alluring cloud, even as he continues to sink into its unknowable depths. Vertigo overtakes him and he dry heaves, nearly choking as he tries involuntarily to twist his head to either side only to be held fast by his captor.
Then, quite suddenly…he starts to see things in that purple haze…. The vision is fuzzy at first, like an image on a TV screen whose signal is distorted by rain or snow. The fog, the mist, whatever it is swirls slowly and starts to change, starts to separate and mold itself into more distinctive forms. Slowly, the scene starts to take shape. The first figure to manifest itself is that of a human, and an old one at that. He wears a white lab coat, and as Ash watches, the man pushes the even whiter cloud of hair back from his high brow as he makes scribbling motions across an unseen surface. Now, other things start to come into focus. First, a pencil in the man's furiously working hand, then the desk at which he sits. Next, the clutter of papers and reams upon reams of calculations written in a clear, back-slanting hand. Finally, the room itself comes into view, everything white-washed and polished, made from either steel or some rigorously sterilized white material that looks like porcelain but isn't. The man sighs, a dry whisper of satisfaction as he lays down his pencil and looks at his work for a few seconds, then nods, a contented smile spreading over his world-weary face. He turns in his chair, getting to his feet and moving over to look at what Ash at first takes to be a moderately large glass box stowed against the far wall, away from the beeping and humming machinery that pervades the rest of the large room. The view abruptly changes, following the man as he stops before it, laying one arthritis-stricken hand gently over its top, as though fearing that even the slightest bump might disturb what lies inside and as Ash watches him, it suddenly becomes clear. No, he realizes, it's not just a box.
It's a coffin.
His suspicions are confirmed when an instant later, the whole thing comes into view…and nestled inside, its head resting on a navy blue pillow, is the perfectly preserved body of a wolf…a white wolf, to be exact. He stares, feeling as though the bottom has dropped out of his stomach, trying feverishly to wrap his mind around what his eyes are telling him. He can see every finite detail, every wrinkle and every shadow, right down to the tear that slips from the man's eye to fall on the transparent vacuum-sealed chamber below. The old scientist blinks and wipes it away.
The man begins to talk to the deceased lupine, his voice quavering not with age, but rather with a boundless sort of joy…and with a jolt, Ash realizes that he's heard this voice before…and to hear it again makes his heart practically burst with longing. He feels an indescribably strong urge to throw his arms about the man standing on the other side, to hug him close and to be hugged in return and…and to call him…Father.
This last thought puzzles him, but he has little time to examine it as the Demon's hands flex above him, talons digging into his fur and suddenly the scene changes, swirling, taking on a new shape. He cries out, sweat pouring from his body as a dull ache begins to spread through his head as the image before him materializes. A different room now, more people, men in white, clustered around instruments and control panels, monitoring the vital signs of a host of subjects suspended in what looks to be almost a full dozen life-size test tubes. There's a dog…a mouse…a rat…something that looks like a bear…a rabbit…and…
Kane chuckles from above as him as he looks fixedly at a chamber near the end of the row, air entering his lungs in a whoosh as he gasps at the sight…for the tiny white-furred pup he sees floating in that particular chamber, it's body connected by tubes to at least half a dozen different machines…is him. His steadily building headache intensifies with a sudden pulse and he cries out weakly, trying once again to free himself from the monster's clutches, but to no avail.
The hands tighten again and that violet fog swirls, first darkening, then molding itself into a new scene, only faster than before. He sees himself, a rapidly developing young wolf, kneeling over the body of the white haired man, tears coursing down his face, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably as he gazes at the slowly spreading patch of crimson staining his creator's shirt, the bullet wound in the chest all too visible in the glaring white of the room.
The vision changes once again, moving faster still. A forest green rabbit comes into view, he standing before him. They exchange names and the rabbit – Jack – asks why he's here. He promptly pulls a zippo from his coat pocket and lights up, spewing smoke like a dragon of old from mouth and nose as he replies that he's here to offer his 'assistance'. There is more talk, and after a bit, the two of them come to an understanding, he taking the butt of the proffered handgun with one hand while the other one grasps Jack's over a duffel bag filled with what looks to be a small arsenal backstage of an auditorium of some kind.
Another squeeze and the colors bleed together until only that swirling purple fog remains, only to be reformed into another vision…and another…and another…and another. He sees it all in a clear progression of increasingly nightmarish cruelty and bloodshed. Jack standing before an assembled crowd of furs, hands spread wide, his voice booming out, revving them up until they become a churning maelstrom of rage and bloodlust as he stands by, white fur glowing in the firelight, watching the rabbit at work. A moment later, Jack returns and draws him to his side, leading him into a tent in which a few others are waiting. They gather round a large map, Jack dictating their plans, indicating where each part will be sent. He stabs a finger viciously down on the right-hand portion of the map, looking to Ash and –
Now suddenly he's the one standing before the assembled soldiers instead of Jack, filling their heads with visions of blood-spattered glory and conquest. He pumps a fist into the air, rousing a cheer from them before they all charge towards a city, smashing through its defenses and overtaking its inhabitants in a flood, one of them ripping a red white and green flag from its stand and setting it ablaze. The scene jumps forward in time, after the battle, the remaining humans having been herded into the main square, pushed into rough approximations of lines. His troops, his boys, his posse, look to him for the signal, guns at the ready and oiled slides rack as he raises a hand and snaps his fingers. The air fills with the roar of machine gun fire.
Images and visions flash past his eyes at an insane speed, no longer forming from the fog, but rather continuing in an insane and never-ending stream. He sees machine guns rip through the ranks on both sides outside the smoldering ruins of a city whose streets appear to be made not from concrete but from water. He watches with horrified fascination as a young woman is dragged out of a crowd and thrown on her knees before him, a mewling child cradled against her bloody shirt. He listens with a detached expression to her pleas before finally dispatching the two of them with a bullet to the brain before turning his gaze to the rest of the assembled 'human scum'. His mind reels as he sees himself standing among a crowd of uniformed furs, all of them watching as he strikes a match and sets fire to a building full of wildly shrieking children, his face expressionless in the orange light. He feels his stomach lurch as watches himself beat a young man to death in the street, his nostrils flared, drinking in the putrid odor of the blood flying through the air as the butt of his gun smashes against his adversary's head again and again and again. He sees a hundred shootings, a thousand murders and cold-blooded killings, even more burnings and rapes…it seems to last forever, yet still, it goes on and on…and on.
It is too much, far, far too much and he is screaming. Screaming and screaming as he writhes and twists in Kane's grasp, trying desperately to free himself and put an end to this all-too-real horror movie where he is the slasher star. The monster laughs gleefully into his face as he continues to fight with no effect. He gags; the smell of Kane's breath is ghastly beyond belief, a whiff straight out of an open grave. His body burns like the fires of Hell itself, sweat pouring from him in rivers. What claws he has left he must now use, if only to save himself from madness.
His right hand shoots out, the clawed fingers burying themselves in the shaggy, filthy hair, gripping tightly, pulling the twisted face hanging above down closer to him. The other hand curls and flexes, and before Kane can retaliate, a fist is driven into his face with the force of a freight train striking a VW Beetle. A grimly satisfied snarl of primal satisfaction twists his muzzle as he feels the nose beneath his knuckles snap with a dull, wet crunch, a fountain of blood filling the air and spattering his face. Kane bellows like a moose, lurching away, hands flying from his prisoner's eyes to clutch at his newly broken face, blood gushing from the crocked nose in spurts.
It is all the opening he will ever need. Heart pounding, muscles thrumming with a sudden rush of adrenaline, he seizes the opportunity with an iron fist. He turns, pushing himself to his feet as he faces Kane, his body laboring with the effort. Bloody hands plant themselves against a hairy torso and push, toppling the monster over onto his back with another cry. Kane rolls slightly on the ground, moaning in pain, and the sound ignites in him a hot stroke of pure, bright anger. Eyes narrowing, lips pulled back in a predatory snarl of hatred, he forces his body to act, his pain forgotten as he springs, landing hard on his enemy's chest, his knees pinning down arms that have suddenly gone slack. He grabs another handful of Kane's hair, forcing him to look, wanting to see the helpless expression on his bloody, disfigured face.
Instead, the Sin lets out a dark chuckle of satisfaction, more blood dribbling out from between his liver-colored lips as he meets the other's furious gaze. "Th…There you are…was wondering when…you'd s-show up, Butcher." He lets loose a dry chuckle. "Like I said…you ain't changed one bit since–" Another blow to the face silences his prattle, knocking loose a few teeth as well. The beast lets out another of those maddening chuckles and he feels his blood begin to boil in response, his jaw locking in another snarl as he hits him again and again and again, fist crashing against Kane's face, more blood staining his already dirty fur.
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"
His hand goes numb, the knuckles split and he can no longer clench the remaining fingers tight enough to do sufficient damage. Kane's face is a swollen mask of gore and swelling flesh, the red eyes burning dully in their sockets and still that infuriating chuckle comes from him like a dry crow's croak. A dark red mist clouds the edges of his vision and, driven by a blinding rage, he searches the ground around them. His seeking hand finds something…. Something heavy with jagged, unforgiving edges…and it is much bigger than a fist. He seizes it in both hands, hefting the long flat stone above his head, letting loose a howl of rage and pain so loud it echoes out across the barren, rocky fields for miles.
Down comes the stone, smashing flat against his quarry's face, eliciting another of those dull, wet crunches, the sound of a rotten pumpkin smashing against a sidewalk. It is not enough – still not enough! Muscles burning, heart racing, he hefts the stone again, bringing it down with another snarl, screaming out his plight through a swollen and bleeding throat, the words punctuated by successive blows, blood pounding at his temples as he rains down blow after blow after blow.
"ALL…THESE…YEARS…SONOFA…BITCH…DON'T...YOU…EVER… SHUT…UP!?!"
Blood spatters his face, his hands, his chest, his hair, feeling sickly hot down here in this place of eternal fire as it soaks steadily into his fur. Slowly, the adrenaline fades away, his muscles turning to lead once more and bringing his pain back to full force. He tries to lift the stone again, to raise it high for one, final, decisive stroke... His heart pounds like a drum, lungs burning like those of a winded racehorse, head reverberating dully with the sound of his own screaming. Teeth locking, lips writhing in a growl of effort, he manages to lift the now crimson stone one last time, his broken body shaking violently with the effort, black spots jumping in and out of his vision. This is it, the last one! He will be free, free of the demon forever, free to –
A hand closes over his wrist, the fur beneath it feeling smooth and silky, sending a rush of warmth spreading throughout his body. An instant later, the scent of Lilacs penetrates the marsh of blood and snot clogging his nose. A voice like the coo of a Dove speaks from his right, the sound seeming to douse the hot fires of his anger like a bucket of cold water, banishing the red mist from his eyes.
"Ash…Oh, Ashley."
He turns his haunted face to her, the bloodshot eyes tearing at the familiar sight. The stone sags limply in his hands to come to rest on the chest of the monster beneath him as he looks at her, transfixed. Central sits before him, angelic plumage folded behind her, body sheathed in an envelope of soft white light. Her dress is a simple long blue skirt and a matching shirt rolled to the elbows, but still she is fair beyond description, with fur that seems to outshine even the sun itself. Her expression is one of utter sorrow and a love deeper than any he has ever known and her eyes, those dark warrior's eyes, glisten with unshed tears that threaten to overspill and go running down her lovely face.
"…Please…." His voice is broken and jagged, robbed of its former soothing richness by the blood that now coats his throat and trickles steadily from the corners of his mouth. "…Please…. Let me…" He chokes slightly, his throat working horribly, visibly forcing his thick, stupid tongue to form the words. "L-let me…f-f-finish it…." Tears of anguished desperation well in his eyes, carving deep furrows in the mess of blood and dirt that now stains his alabaster fur as they leak from his eyes.
"…No…." She says, and the word is filled with heartbreaking tenderness. "No, dear…no more." Now tears of her own begin to drip slowly onto the folds of her dress, but she pays them no heed, her eyes never leaving his. Her velvety paws slide upwards, gently cupping his soiled face, the thumbs wiping at the tears that continue to spill from his tortured blue eyes, fingers burying themselves in his fur as she weeps for him.
The stone made greasy with blood and hair slips for his relaxing hands and falls with a dull thud to the rocky floor. Below him, Kane gives one last triumphant, gurgling chuckle and fades slowly away, his body turning to smoke that escapes into cracks that litter the blasted land around them. He doesn't seem to notice, not even when the land itself begins to follow after the Sin, darkness slowly giving way to that wonderfully warming white light as they enter that holy rose patch again. His bloody, trembling hands somehow find their way to hers and he clutches at them weakly, his eyes streaming, lower lip quivering as he abruptly breaks down completely, first crying and then, sobbing hoarsely, great watery wails of despair pulled up from the deepest, darkest pockets of his mutilated body.
"C…Cen-Central…." His shoulders slump as his vision blurs, and he finds himself pressing against her for the second time, blindly seeking shelter and comfort in the warmth of her embrace. She holds him to her as tightly as a mother does her chap, scooping up his exhausted, feather-light body in her arms and folding her great wings about him in a blanket of her love. "I…I…It's-s t-true…E-ev-v-very w-word he t-t-told m-me…" He buries his face in her creamy fur, trying frantically to drown out the stench of his bloody past life with her heavenly musk. "Oh G-g-god…I-it's a-all t-t-true!"
Author's Note:
My...that was certainly...powerful. Ash seems to be in dire straights here...can Central help him see the Truth? Tune in next time to find out!
This chapter was a lot of fun to write, but I struggled with it as well in some areas - mainly Kane's awakening his surpressed memories of his former life. It was a bit of a challenge to present what he did in a way that wouldn't drag on for a thousand years, but I don't think I did too bad. Just in case I might not have painted a clear enough picture for you, Ash was in charge of conducting the genocidal assault on the human race in Europe - hence the mention of Venice and the Italian flag. For those of you who don't read Jack, let me explain how the concept of a 'second life' works: even if a person goes to Hell after death, they can still redeem themselves in the eyes of God by aknowledging the evil in what they did and admiting that they were in the wrong, thereby being granted passage first into Purgatory, and then back to Earth once more to take another stab at life - only their second trip is much, much harder than their first.