A/N: yes, Black is twisted. Don't be too freaked out by his weird way of talking - most of his references to 'grace juice' and stuff will be somewhat answered in later chapters...but in all honesty, you're supposed to not entirely understand so you'll be sitting here thinking, "Okay, Black is a genuine loony bird with a black heart made of stone!" :P
Also, like I said at the end of the last chapter, this is where the story gets really dark - don't worry, I don't kill Hardys, though, but I do tend to bring them to the brink of death...but that's not the same. :)
Thank you Ozma, iluvjoe, MCR-1993, and BlueEyes444 for the reviews! ;o) Please review this one as well and enjoy!
Paradise Broken
Chapter Seven
Paradise, Colorado
June 3, 2010
About 15 Minutes Earlier
Joe felt something touch his shoulder and for a moment hoped vainly that it was Frank; his brother had already found him and come to save him! But then he remembered the sadistic chuckle he had heard not a minute before and knew that this was not his brother. Besides, the person's touch was not warm and familiar like Frank's, but cold, distant, and evil.
The hand ran down his shoulder and felt its way across his spine until it reached the point where Joe's hands and feet were hog-tied together. Still the person said nothing but if he would have been able to, Joe would have shrunk away from the person's touch; their mere presence.
He knew without a doubt that this man was Marsuvees Black.
The hand tested the bonds and Joe felt pain radiate up his spine as his stretched limbs were yanked mercilessly. His muscles screamed in protest and his spine felt like it was about to snap in half. He was hog-tied—except instead of his hands and feet being tied to each other in the front, they were lashed together at the back and Joe never thought he could be so uncomfortable. The hands released his bonds and Joe breathed heavily through his nose, not able to breathe through his mouth due to the gag.
Without warning, Joe felt himself being dragged across the floor, his arms and legs literally stretched to their breaking point. Now he knew what Black had been doing with his bonds—tying another rope around them so that he could pull Joe along, dragging him across the ground by his already strained arms and legs. Joe thought he might pass out from the pain when he felt his shoulder pop out of its socket.
He screamed into the gag but no one could hear him. But Marsuvees Black could either tell what had just happened or could read Joe's mind because he instantly stopped dragging the boy and slammed his boot into the boy's right shoulder, popping the shoulder back into place.
Joe let out another silenced scream and this time he couldn't help but acquiesce to the foggy blackness that succumbed his mind. He passed out from the pain.
Black didn't seem to care or notice that his captive had blacked out. He continued to haul the boy with the rope tied to the bonds behind his back. Out the basement door. Around the side of the church. Into the churchyard, where many of the inhabitants of Paradise stood restlessly, murder in their eyes.
Joe barely even noticed that he'd regained consciousness. After all, he was still in the pressing darkness, due to the blindfold and the hood over his head. His limbs were surely about to snap in two; the pain was that unbearable. He was exhausted, bruised, and twisted and stretched like some sort of human pretzel. The only thing that truly told him he was back in the real world were the voices—angry, murderous voices.
"Kill him now!" a woman screeched and Joe recognized her voice. Sally Drake? He felt sick in his stomach.
Marsuvees Black's cold voice silenced the other voices. "This boy came to Paradise to steal away the grace I've brought this pitiful town. Should we kill him now or make him suffer?"
The throng of voices answering was so loud that it hurt Joe's ears. "Suffer! Suffer! Suffer!"
These people had turned into mindless zombies; shells of themselves, Joe realized.
The hood was suddenly ripped off of his head and the blindfold removed. Joe blinked slowly in the bright light, his eyes aching from meeting the sun after what seemed like an eternity in darkness.
What looked like the entire town of Paradise was in the churchyard, looking more like an angry mob than anything else. The looks in their eyes were crazed and Joe knew instantly that they had no control over themselves—but Marsuvees Black had complete control over their every thought, every action.
Joe was lying on his side, still tied up painfully. He forced his eyes upward and met Black's gaze. The man's eyes were dark and full of hate and malice. He grinned a toothy grin with too many white teeth. Joe involuntarily shuddered as he thought of the gleaming white skull lying just beneath the bronzed skin, those pearly whites leering at him from the mirror with no lips or skin or any kind of flesh around them. Black laughed when Joe shook.
"I believe it's safe to say you've worn out your welcome," Black said to Joe. He reached down and yanked the gag off of the boy's mouth.
"W-why are you d-doing this?" Joe rasped. He stuttered, his head spinning crazily and unable to think straight.
"Why not?" Black grinned. "Y'see, boy, there's something you need to know. There are no shades of gray. There's Black and there's White. Good and evil. Night and day. Get it?"
Joe blinked. What on earth was this man babbling about, he wondered.
"Joseph, I know you're in serious pain here, but I need you to focus," Black said in the tone of a happy-house nurse talking to an extremely stupid patient. "All these stupid people think they can hover somewhere in between. But they can't. It's my way or his way. Better yet, my way or no way. Comprendo?"
"What the heck are you talking about?" Joe mumbled.
Black rolled his black eyes. "It's all about Grace Juice, baby. Power. You want to be on the losing side of this ball game, you choose 'good'. But with evil, you've got more power than you ever imagined. I call it suhupow. Short for super human powers. You like?" He gestured to the townspeople around him. "They like. See, Joey—it's okay if I call you that, right? I really am here to bring Grace to the town of Paradise—Grace and so much more. My Grace. Power." He stuck his hand in his pocked and wiggled it around, bringing it back up with some sort of translucent gel on his fingers. "Truth.
"It's all about the Truth, boy." He began sucking the gel off of his fingers. "Believe it or not, there's something more outside of this reality. Something that will change the course of the planet forever. And Paradise is where it all starts." He chuckled and ran his finger under Joe's nose, who recoiled at the musty, old-sweat-socks smell. "The sweet smell of Truth." He licked the last bit of gunk off his fingers and went on. "That monastery holds great and powerful secrets. You know what else it has? Worms. Giant worms—bigger than you can imagine. Worms—and worm sludge. This stuff right here will make you see the world in a whole new way, my friend."
Joe had no idea what the man was talking about, his head was fuzzy, and he was on the verge of passing out again.
Then Black said, "But you've angered me and that means you have to be punished. The jury—" he gestured with a flourish at the townspeople, "—have already declared you guilty as charged—a liar, a hypocrite, a sinner, trespasser—we hate you because you intruded on our Grace and Truth and worm sludge and suhupow." He grinned. "You're punishment is death."
A huge man Black addressed as Claude stepped forward with a length of rope in his enormous hands—a noose on one end. Joe felt his stomach drop all the way down to his toes. They were going to hang him?
As if Black could read his thoughts—and he probably could, Joe reminded himself—the evil man said, "We aren't going to hang you, don't worry."
Claude knelt down beside Joe and fitted the noose snugly around his neck—leaving just a little slack. Then he slung the other end of the rope over a gnarled tree branch on the old beech tree in the middle of the churchyard. That's when Joe realized what was going to happen to him—he was being lynched.
In panic, he yelled out but was cut off as Claude yanked on the rope and Joe's air supply momentarily cut off. Then he gave the boy a little slack. Breathing heavily through his mouth, terror rippling through his entire body, bruised, his neck in a noose, Joe lay on the ground, his entire body quivering, anticipating the moment when he would leave the ground.
Slowly, Claude began to pull on his end of the rope looped over the tree and Joe felt the noose around his neck tighten and pain screamed through his body, up and down his spine, arms, legs, and neck. Then he was airborne as he was slowly pulled from the ground by the neck, resigned to his fate—a slow, painful death dangling above a churchyard of savage villagers, his neck and spine in unbearable agony from being hung by the neck, slowly suffocating to death.
Across the yard, Marsuvees Black was smiling.
A/N: Hopefully I haven't scared you off yet! ;o) Please review and I'll update soon! :D
~Emachinescat ^..^