Chapter IV: Gluttony
Previously: With that, the demoness left the room, leaving Beastboy to his lamentations. It took a while for him to recover, but it wasn't long before he was on his feet. He knelt down on the floor and retrieved what was left of his pants. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the sharp metal object concealed in his pants.
He gathered his clothes and left the room in a hurry. He knew his destination now and he had to make haste. It was a long journey to the ends of the Nine Hells, but he had to do it. He had to save the Raven who sacrificed herself for them. He had to rescue the Raven who resigned herself to damnation. He had to join with her again, to see her again, even if it were only just once more. Now it was onto the third circle, to face the sin of Gluttony straight in the face.
A gruesome scene unfolded before Beastboy's eyes. A scene of horror and dread. A scene that made him tremble in fear. A feeling arose in him, one of pain and anguish. Even though he wasn't anywhere near the slaughtering grounds, he could feel himself being right in the thick of it.
He knew that this dimension was inhabited with all manner of dangerous creatures. They all were. The universe he left behind was filled with monsters that beggared belief. Even the dimension that the Herald called home was populated with beasts unknown, archaic beings that couldn't be compared with anything else.
Natural order and evolution had no effect here. There was no circle of life to follow, only to be predator or prey. There was a food chain to follow with only two links, a system that made travel through Hell all the more foreign.
He knew he was entering a circle dedicated to the punishment of the gluttony of others. He knew the most effective punishment of the guilty souls was to be feasted on themselves, but not like this. Not to trip over fallen bodies of others in a feeble attempt to escape. Not to have their bone wrenching screams lost in the buffeting sleet and hail. Not to be helpless for the entirety of eternity against a malevolent foe whose hunger was never satiated.
He had to watch in horror as a thousand hounds were set upon the helpless, as they systematically tore limb from limb and moved onto the next victim in line. Flesh torn by the canines quickly mended and they were set on again by the terrifying monstrosities.
As much as he wanted to help the weak and suffering, he couldn't. It wouldn't be his place to deny the punishment that the condemned brought upon themselves. He wouldn't even be able to begin without bring set on himself.
His heart froze. His ear twitched. He drew a long breath through his nose and realized that he just entered something's territory. The smell of possession stretched as far as he could make out. It smelled big. And dangerous.
Out of nowhere, the hair stood on the back of his neck and his survival reflex kicked in. He somersaulted forwards, narrowly dodging the outstretched paws of the massive creature that tried to pounce on him. Immediately, he shifted into a massive saber tooth tiger and spun around, stretching into the most intimidating stance he could.
The action stunned the attacker for a moment, allowing Beastboy to identify it. Razor sharp claws, thick black fur matted with blood and chain marks, a forked tail, six rows of razor sharp teeth, six nostrils flared in anger, and six eyes filled with nothing but fury. Every attribute pointed to one possible answer. Cerberus.
It stood its ground and made it clear that Beastboy was not supposed to mess with it. It glared at the green man with harrowing eyes, trying to identify it, place it into the only categories it knew. The Hellhound sorted things three ways, what to kill, what to obey, and what to avoid. The only problem was, this creature before it fit into all three. One defining feature it could determine about the green feline was that it didn't belong in the third circle.
Beastboy reverted back into human form and just stared at the beast, trying to understand it. As with any animal he read about or encountered, he could become it.
His eyes quickly ran over the beast, taking note of everything that mattered. The way it breathed determined how big the lungs were, the way it stood determined bone structure and muscle density, the amount of depression in the ground determined overall mass, and the heat rolling off it determined a general idea of how its metabolism worked.
Changing into a new creature always felt slow and drawn out, as if the form was burrowing its way into him rather than the other way around. Once he held the image in his mind, it worked itself out, instinct guiding the way. Sometimes he was extremely grateful for it. If he could control every feature of transformation, who knows what chimeric abominations would ensue. He'd have died of some mutilation-related accident long ago.
He started the process as he normally would, imagining being the canine. The change came almost immediately and Beastboy had the familiar feeling of fur on his body and dirt under all of his padded feet. The tail was non-existent though, a rarity amongst most kinds of dogs.
One thing was for sure though. This was no ordinary dog. The bones were thicker, the eyes filled with indescribable and unreserved rage, muscles bulging, fur standing up as if every follicle was as sharp as a claw. He could feel unnatural energy seep into him from all around, only empowering his already deadly form.
He stamped a paw firmly on the ground to test his new strength and see his body without even opening his eyes. The image shocked and frightened him. Every part of the body was designed to kill. Every organ had a purpose to inflict more pain and suffering.
He opened his eyes onto the world and gasped. Every creature had a different way of looking on the world. Cats and birds could see even the smallest of movements, accentuating them to determine if they were prey or predator. Creatures of the sea relied on surfaces, figuring out where they could go and where to avoid. Not for this one.
Everything was identified. Everything was scrutinized. Every mammal was judged: If it moved, kill it. If it had energy within it, obey it. If it didn't do either or if it did both, avoid it. He seemed to not fit into any of the categories, and yet all of them at the same time.
Even the mind itself was terrifying. Usually Beastboy could communicate with other animals, or at least make it known that he wasn't a threat. He couldn't do the same with the legendary canine before him. It was impossible.
Cerberus was no animal. It was a machine, a representation of every desire to kill, mutilate, and maim the deserving. It hadn't even been broken or trained by its demonic masters, they didn't need to. It was already the most vicious creatures in existence, why alter it?
It looked at the snarling hellhound and every instinct told him to back away slowly. He was hopelessly outmatched and the best result to hope for was a standoff. Beastboy bristled his fur and resisted the urge to run away yelping, standing his ground.
Another moment of consideration was all that it took to satisfy the Hellhound and it retreated back to the roiling plains, eager to return to dismembering all in sight.
As it pounded away, Beastboy felt something missing. He realized almost immediately that he only had one head, vastly different to the three headed beast he just encountered. Three heads wasn't something that was easy to mimic, but the proof of the possibility was standing in front of him just now. Why was it that he didn't have the same attributes?
He was able to replicate the forms of some of the most difficult creatures, ranging from prehistoric to alien. Some of them had a dozen legs, others had none. Some of them had were creatures of the sea and others could survive in the vacuum of space. Never before had he encountered an animal that he wasn't able to mimic perfectly and the fact shocked him to the core.
The threat was now gone, so Beastboy turned back into a human and walked over to the bag he dropped as he transformed. The horn inside was undamaged, a source of comfort for the green hero. He doubted that an object of such immense power could possibly get crushed or destroyed, but he didn't want to take any chances. It allowed him to enter Hell and it may be the only way to leave it.
The Herald was a generous and benevolent addition to the superhero network and Beastboy was increasingly glad that they knew each other. He had made a sort of deal with the honorary Titan, something to prove his ability to use the Horn. It had been easy enough to find him, a call through the Titans network provides nearly instantaneous connection, used in cases of substantial or dire need.
The situation he was in certainly warranted the nature of the call. The Earth was tearing itself apart and need was widespread, extraordinary or otherwise. Every hero was on-call in their respective sector, a testament to the effectiveness of the superhero network.
He came directly to Beastboy, one of the benefits of being able to create a portal to anywhere in eight dimensions. The greeting was brief but welcomed. It was always nice to see a friendly face after so long. It hadn't been since the events of the brotherhood that they had seen each other, a travesty when considering how well they worked together.
It didn't matter though, Beastboy wanted only one thing from the trumpeteer and he would do anything to get it. He had to explain everything to the Herald to get him to know the situation and for the most part he understood. It was quite shocking to hear the chain of events that followed a single eclipse, including the deaths of so many of his compatriots. As a hero, the Herald understood that the life they lead was full of sacrifices, mortal and emotional.
A deal was struck: For the sake of their history and status, Herald would allow Beastboy to learn how to use an interdimensional trumpet, after which the deal would be done and they would go their separate ways. A deal that the green hero readily accepted. He was desperate to learn and if everything fell into place, journeying through Hell would be that much easier.
It was incredibly hard to get the handle of the powerful horn. It certainly wasn't made easy by the Herald's method of training. His version of events consisted of dropping a completely inexperienced person into a dangerous situation they couldn't control and force them to fend for themselves. Vastly different to the rigorous training practices both Mento and Robin employed.
He went to the Herald in good faith, a genuine request from an ally against the forces of darkness. What he got was completely unexpected. As far as he was aware, the dimension he was dropped in had no name. The creatures had no name either, they couldn't after all. Whoever was unfortunate enough to get trapped there wouldn't stay sane long enough to name anything.
The creatures that inhabited the lost area beggared belief. To the untrained eye, it looked like giant floating jellyfish. Beastboy certainly wasn't untrained. He knew that inter-dimensional beings had to survive in extreme conditions and be able to fend for itself amongst terrifying beasts that shared the domain.
This was a common trait amongst almost every ecosystem and it was one that the changeling knew well. In most cases, he could become the form of the main predator of the place he was in and avoid most, if not all confrontations. If only that worked in the Human world.
Beastboy quickly discovered that his usual tactics of intimidation didn't work as well as he would have liked. His most fearsome forms had no effect on the multicolored life forms, doing nothing to deter the constant flow of creatures.
The usual reverie he employed had to change. This wasn't one of the safe training exercises used by the Doom Patrol or the Teen Titans. This was deadly and dangerous. This was survival of the fittest, eat or be eaten. Even one mistake could mean his end.
He reverted to the basics. Instinct would be his guide. It never led him astray, able to judge who he could fight and who he had to run away from. He was able to fend the creatures off, using the more agile creatures to out maneuver the mysterious floating tentacle creatures enough to escape their clutches. He used his larger flying forms to move quickly between the floating islands and find suitable hiding spaces, clutching the trumpet tightly in his talons. He used the cold blooded animals in his arsenal when he slept, as it seemed like the creatures were sensitive to body heat.
Every moment not sort fleeing the wildlife or sleeping in tight crevices was spent trying to blow the horn. Usually he'd be making cracks about it all day, but every sense was tuned towards sensing attacks or proximity to wildlife he couldn't survive. It didn't help that he was tone deaf and never used any kind of brass instrument previously. It also didn't help that the sound of his failed raspberries drew the attention of the local populace and was quickly on the run again.
By the third day of being stranded, he was exhausted. A grand total of four hours of sleep and constant fleeing does that to a person. His eyes were aching, his muscles quickly followed suit, and he was in a daze. One thing kept him together though. He had to live.
There was a reason for his being there. There was a reason that he allowed the Herald to transport him to another dimension with nothing but a metal horn to defend him. There was a reason he fought so fiercely to survive even in this den of horrors.
Raven.
He had a plan, an mission, and a promise to keep. He vowed to get his teammate back from the ravages of the underworld. How could he not? She saved him from dying countless times on the team as well as freeing him from the demon that possessed him. Mostly. It had been reduced from a full blown personality trying in earnest to make his life miserable to a calm and reasonable opinion in the background, but he only had Raven to thank. The half-demoness had been vital to how the world was now. If not for her, the Earth would be just a hunk of molten magma floating around an unforgiving sun. And since the people wouldn't save their savior, he vowed to do it himself.
This realization snapped him back into reality. He was able to step back and look at things from a distance. He remembered the time spent with the Herald against the Brain, remembered how he acted and fought.
The superhero spent all of his time there and his fighting style was designed to fend off these creatures. Beastboy had to be flexible and quick. He had to be able to leap small rocks in a single bound. He had to greet his adversaries as equals instead of running away with his tail between his legs. And he had to do this in his Human form.
The new tactic worked like a charm and when before a single jellyfish gave him trouble, a dozen could be handled with ease. His reliance on his real body also allowed more time to practice on the trumpet, and he found it much easier to summon portals when he remembered he didn't have to do a whole song and dance.
The portals formed were wobbly and unstable at first, but quickly stayed open for longer periods of time. He was soon able to use the horn while fighting, using the portals to banish the native creatures to a foreign location, whether in the same dimension or a deeper one.
A week had passed by the time Beastboy became comfortable with the horn and the use of it. The supernatural instrument was incredibly powerful and useful. If his theory about how to use it was correct, there would be nothing standing in his way. No human, no demon, and no deity of any kind could deter him from going forwards.
By the time that he used a portal to return to the mortal plane, his training was complete and he had to return the horn. The Herald was very understanding of his plight, but very insistent that he return the horn. Beastboy was reluctant to do so, but did so anyways. He'd have to figure something out one way or another.
He snapped back to where he really was: the circle of Gluttony, so far the most gruesome scene he had witnessed yet. He would have to find his way to the next circle down quickly. The last thing he needed was to get into a fight with even one of the hellhounds. That was one creature he could never get away from or triumph in one piece.
The city of Dis was an ever-changing metropolis of magnificent architecture and innovation. Every structure was designed to strike fear into the weak hearted and inspire the evil to do worse. There wasn't a single wall that was completely open and exposed. Each of them had some kind of devious contraption attached to it or some kind of torture device near it. It wasn't uncommon to see the skeleton of some poor, unfortunate soul adorning a doorway somewhere.
Raven made a point to go on frequent walks and admire the immense work that went into it, the blood of billions of slave working tirelessly to build a place where they would be tortured and humiliated in the way they deserved for a lifetime of sin. Her human self would probably cringe at the sight of most of the spectacles around her. It was a good thing she wasn't fully human or demon. She was more powerful than both.
She was the embodiment of Fury, a far cry from the human side that could smack two coconuts together and the demon that could inspire pride in her opponents. She was the heir to the nine Hells, princess of Rage and Beauty, master of everything beneath the red sky.
The time spent walking the battlements was always done cautiously, as even though a couple of years had passed for the hybrid demon, almost every other creature and being trumped her for overall experience. There were those that were at her every beck and call, eager to obey any command she even whispered. There were also those that would see her gone.
Her arrival in Hell wasn't widely accepted by adoring masses. If anything, she was regarded with a modicum of suspicion and disgust. A half-breed that renounced her demonic heritage who sacrificed herself to save the world by using a forbidden magic to return to Hell. Some residents of the infernal realms saw this as a travesty, an ungrateful relative of the boss who didn't deserve the slightest bit of attention. So when she was named inheritor of the Throne of Terror, it sparked a great deal of envy and hatred towards her.
Who was she to be eligible for such an inheritance? How does someone who defied Trigon the Terrible so much and so often get to be so powerful and so feared? Why does someone who has barely existed for a couple of decades get control of an empire that would last a thousand thousand generations? What right does a backwater half-breed have to take the rights from a proven, pure-blooded demon and a true child of Trigon?
Every ounce of interest in her shot either way. Either she was adored and feared or she was despised and hated. Not that it mattered to her in any way. Her many years on both Azarath and Earth had made her detached when it came to others opinions of her, both negative and positive. The occasional compliment was able to make her spirit soar a bit higher, but was for the most part ignored. She couldn't care less what others said about her, she was very sure of herself and she would be damned if she let a few words tear down the foundation she spent years forming.
A small blur passed in front of her face and embedded into the wall beside her. She was in enough battles to know the sound of a weapon colliding with a wall and immediately entered a battle stance. Her eyes, now trained around her, searched for the would-be assassins.
The outline of four shadowy figures were silhouetted against the walls, first disguised as gargoyles overlooking the alley. Now revealed, they quickly left the perches they mounted and dropped to street level.
Wary of the fact that she was outnumbered, she readied herself, gathering her black magic around her hands. They wasted no time and began their assault, each of them taking out small daggers and throwing them with precision. Raven put up a protective shield around her, stopping the weapons from reaching their target. She then shot forwards, eager to eliminate the competition.
She knew that the best way to defeat a large number of attackers was to take out one at a time while doing your best to not get killed in the meantime. The attacker at her front had little time to react as she ran towards him and sent a punch in his direction.
The fist connected with his chin and sent him flying to the opposite side of the street, head colliding with the stone of a wall. Unfazed by the removal of their companion, the three remaining demons dropped the small appendages and drew three nasty-looking blades concealed behind their backs.
Raven turned to face them, four violet eyes blazing with Fury. She smiled with teeth bare and hungry. She missed this. A black tendril shot towards the attackers, hoping to impale one unfortunate enough to be caught in its path. The demons dove out of the way too quickly to be struck and rushed towards her, blades at the ready.
As they closed in on her, she withdrew the dark energy surrounding her. She was going to make the most of this, facing them without weapons or powers. The first edge to reach her swung high and she gracefully ducked to avoid it. The next one fell towards her right side, aiming to hit her right arm. She dodged left, making the sword miss and hit the floor with a shrill thud.
The first one recovered quickly and thrust the blade at her, skimming the edge of her leotard and catching in the fabric of her cloak. She brought her elbow down on the exposed hand , shattering two metacarpal bones and forcing the demon to drop the sword. It staggered back, clutching the injured extremity as Raven snatched the handle of the blade before it could hit the ground.
She used her new weapon to parry the blade of the third attacker, who just joined the battle. Her expertly honed skills allowed her to spar with the two armed demons with lightning speed. The movements were fast and powerful, the result of both intense training and a weapon that was considerably lighter than she was used to.
The outnumbered assault turned into an even match, a shower of sparks falling from the many clashes of steel against steel. The demons fatigued as they were not expecting a lengthy battle, movements slowly getting weaker and sloppier. In a final attempt to gain the upper hand, they synchronized their blows.
She quickly found it impossible to defend against blows coming from completely opposite directions, so she jumped up into the air, boosted by her powers, and landed on the terrace where her attackers once occupied.
As soon as they jumped up to join her, the one closest to her found out the hard way how being kicked off a rooftop felt when landing face first. Raven faced off with the last one left, circling the demon weapon in hand. She rushed forwards and used both hands to grasp the blade. The extra power given to her by the better grip pounded down on the demon, creature desperately trying to deflect the harsh blows she rained on it.
As Raven advances, the demon stumbled back, eventually tripping on its own feet and falling on its backside. In one fell stroke, she hit the sword with so much force that it was torn from its grip and flung down into the alley she was just patrolling. Stepping firmly, she strode in front of the fallen enemy and held the sword above its throat.
"Who sent you?" She demanded. Someone tried to kill her and she needed to know who to crush.
It didn't move from its defeated position and squinted at her, making it clear it wasn't going to admit anything. She withdrew the sword and plunged it into the demons chest, blood trickling from the wound and moans from the mouth.
"I won't ask again."
The creature clutched at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding and numb the pain. Raven laughed at the feeble attempt and dug the blade even further into the wound. It grimaced and looked at her with hate in its eyes. While staring at her, its eyes darted ever so slightly to her left.
She swung the blade in a full arc, twirling around to kill the demon sneaking up behind her. The blade sank deep into the ribs of the creature, burying itself so far into its organs that she couldn't rip it out again.
Raven panted from the exertion of the fight and turned back to the one she was interrogating before, only to find that it was dead, eyes shot and ears bleeding. She looked around, trying to find the one who did it, but found nothing.
"What the..." She muttered. Raven was puzzled. The fight ended almost as quickly as it began and she was no closer to finding out who was responsible. A slight fluttering was heard from behind her and she whirled around, powers at the ready. A gasp came from her throat as she recognized the figure that appeared behind her.
"Azar?"
This took way too long to post. The only good thing to come from it was the plot line. I was able to make the events in the following chapters concrete as well as a possible 'Trilogy of Chains' if the stars align. Greed to follow in a timely fashion.
I originally intended to put someone from Garfield's life in every chapter, but I quickly discovered it would be very difficult if not downright impossible. There will be a few people vital to the storyline, but no one else.