Chapter V: Greed
Previously: 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?"
A man stood atop a high cliff overlooking a lake. A most high cliff, the rock face towering taller than any man made structure over a body of water bigger than any ocean. A most terrible lake, water stained black with the rot of an innumerable amount of sin and desire. A testament to the color that greed taints the soul with.
A more fitting border to the circle could not be devised, the souls condemned forced to carry their possessions with them wherever they went. Any man, woman, or child would sink with their treasures the second they fell into the water. And yet this would have to be traversed if he ever wanted to descend deeper into the abyss. An impossibility that was confirmed just by looking at it.
The punishment for Greed reminded him heavily of the Christmas Carol where the ghost of Marley had to carry chains everywhere he went, their weight a constant source of shame and agony.
He had always been able to understand the greed that some people possessed, not everyone was blessed with superpowers or a practically limitless inheritance. Some people had to work their entire lives just to survive on their own, a tragedy in a steadily shrinking economy. Some hoarded valuables, shoring them against the oncoming tide of poverty. Some stole as the only solution for survival, the main reason he had a job as defender of the law.
He never understood the need to hoard possessions, keep them safe and away from prying eyes. Sure he knew how to prepare for hard times. He had turned into creatures that hibernated, giving him the subconscious urge to eat more during the fall season and store food for later, but it was a means for survival. He had been a magpie for a short time, finding shiny trinkets to make his home a bit prettier. Nothing in the natural order of things forced any kind of race to see who had the most. The trait was only found in humanity, the hole that could never be filled.
"You won't be able to swim across it. Not without losing everything."
Beastboy nodded absent-mindedly, a great many thought rushing through his head. The green lemur staring over the edge wasn't much cause for worry as his doppelganger made appearances rather frequently.
"That isn't just water. It's been sitting around for millions of years, stagnating and absorbing the dead flesh of millions thrown in without a second thought."
Beastboy had a hard time believing that he had reached a dead end after all this time. He had gone through too much to just be stopped by a bit of water. He trained for a week in one of the most hostile environments in existence, struck a deal with a Satan-worshipping cult, and stole a priceless and limitless artifact from one of the most secure facilities on the planet.
He brushed a finger over the metal object concealed in his pant leg. The item was impossibly cool amidst the intense heat and humidity of the abyssal plane, radiating an aura of power and individuality. He sat down on the ledge of the mighty cliff and took it from its resting place.
The handle was short and cylindrical, a dead giveaway that it was supposed to be attached to a stick, but was long since removed. It gave way to a long, thin blade, more than a foot in length, narrowing to a sharp tip. The edge of the blade was unmarked and the length unmarred by any stains or dents, as if it was forged a mere moment before. A pale representation of what its true nature was.
While researching the entirety of what he could expect to find in all nine worlds of Hell, Beastboy looked into items that could help him should any unfortunate situation arise. He had the Horn of the Herald to open portals to the different worlds below, he had the medallion that Raven used to keep the demonic influence away, but he would be helpless if attacked by any of the hordes of demons patrolling the depths.
The bulk of his searching led to dead ends, any weaponry known to combat demons were found to be purely mythical or fictional. Any items claiming to have divine purpose or providence were useless or fragile. A rock, shroud, shard of wood, or cup would have next to no use for a man going through Hell. There were plenty of magically oriented swords and shields, but none had effective use against anything immortal.
There was one item he came across on several searches, but initially dismissed it as fantasy, too good to be true. Reports continued to crop up, so he decided to check it up on the Justice League's database. After confirming his identity, he was able to fully investigate it.
The Spear of Longinus was quite possibly the only true divine weapon on the planet that he could effectively use here. The legend went that the spear of an ordinary soldier was used to pierce the side of Christ. The divine blood endowed the spear with immense power and a destiny that would be unmatched.
There were several pieces of information that linked the current whereabouts of the spear to a museum in Vienna, but a footnote in the database stated that it was a fake. An item with such history attached to it could never be left in a simple museum, it had to be co9ntained where it would be safe and secure.
No actual resting place was listed on the computer he searched through, so he went into the archives of the space station and looked at the inventories of the most secure facilities the planet housed. The storage on the station itself had nothing suspicious in its contents. Neither did the presidential bunker in Washington or the archives under the Vatican. He was about to give up until he saw a small logo on the page he looked at. On it, he could make out the letters A.R.G.U.S..
Further searching led to the mother of all storage bunkers. The place was like Area 51 with registered equipment from over a hundred alien encounters and attacks from over a hundred year period. The more frequent attacks taking place recently only served to stockpile the already overflowing stores.
It took a relatively short time to locate the whereabouts of the facility and find the catalogue of items. The person who organized it was clearly a stickler for precision and Beastboy all but benefitted by it. The second he saw the number and location where the spear was kept, he logged off and rushed to the secret base.
The name itself was admirable. 'Advanced Research Group uniting Super-Humans' was a bit of a hassle to say and Beastboy suspected the acronym was decided long before the extended definition. The group was very secretive, completely contrary to the big show that came with most Justice League activity, probably why he had never heard of them before.
Geography was never his strong point, but he knew how to use a teleporter and he knew how to alter co-ordinates, useful since a short line of numbers was all that was given as to the placement of the base. He had gotten onto the station just past noon but by the time he got there, it was already nighttime. Perfect considering what he planned to do.
It was clear that an object that this solely unique object wouldn't be rented out to whoever needed to trim devilishly unwanted hairs. The reason it was there to begin with was to lock it up and throw away the key. Make absolutely sure it would never be used again. It was meant to be forgotten with the ages, to be just an object in myths and legends. Far from the reach of those who would use it for the benefit or hindrance of mankind.
Whoever held the Spear of Destiny could rule the world. Or became invincible. Accounts differed greatly on that subject. One thing all the stories shared was how it was coveted beyond logic and reason. The spear had changed hands countless times, carving a bloody path through a hundred different histories. The blade seemed to develop a taste for blood that could never be satiated.
Many great men acquired it and used in their quest for conquest and dominance. Men like Herod, Constantine, Charlemagne, Pope John XII, Henry the Sixth, Napoleon Bonaparte, and one Kaiser: Wilhelm, the last emperor of Germany.
The most recent and debatably most notorious proprietor was none other than one Adolf Hitler. He had many titles and positions over the decades he was in power. Intelligence agent, public speaker, politician, chancellor, supreme general, Führer, and member of the Thule society. He specialized in items of the occult, obsessed with objects with great power and separating fact from fiction.
His most prized possession was the spear, searching for it for two years before finally getting his hands on it. The acquisition of the weapon allowed Germany's power to grow exponentially and threatened to rule the world, the power of the spear was so intense. Once it left him, Hitler was quickly thwarted and defeated, the consequences of losing the most powerful weapon in the world. And now it rested in a box, waiting patiently to be used again.
Beastboy teleported on a hill overlooking the base, appearing crouched down with muscles bulging. All he needed were some sunglasses to complete the look.
If he didn't know what this place was, he'd easily mistake it for a forgotten factory or warehouse. He both knew and could see better than that. The simple fence surrounding the complex was sure to be titanium alloy and electrified, surrounded with a force field. The open field of the area had slight bulges not noticeable to those with ordinary vision, obviously containing hordes of landmines. The shabby guard station had what looked like a single sleeping guard, but it was either a fully alert mercenary or a robotic sentry.
Getting in would be easy. A simple shift to a dragonfly would allow him access to the facility, bypassing any anti-personnel traps and anti-vehicle barriers. The place was surprisingly well ventilated for a storage facility, but that afforded him very easy access into the main holding area.
His compound eyes gave him a very large survey of the building in a very short time. He was able to spot the number of the wooden box the spear was housed in and the path to the exit quickly and proceeded to fly to the destination he had looked for a long time.
Once in front of the box, he morphed back to his normal form and looked around. The situation he was in gave him a terrible sense of déjà vu. This reminded him of his earlier years, the ones he tried regularly to forget and leave behind.
From just a glance, he could tell that the twenty cameras hidden in dark corners and vents took a frame every six seconds. He knew that there were laser lines in the most common walkways throughout the complex that all fed back to a single inaccessible location. He knew that the box in front of him likely had a glass display case with pressure sensors lining the bottom. He knew all of this because he had seen these countermeasures before.
He never talked about the time he endured between the death of his parents and his admission into the Doom patrol, mainly because it would all but take away from his position as super-hero and upholder of the law. He was forced to break into all manners of secure locations, ranging from mansions to bank vaults. As much as he hated how the past affected the way he saw things, he never let it determine how others saw him or how he saw himself.
He pried the case carefully and like he suspected, it contained a glass case with an iron blade encased in a vacuum seal. The spear looked frighteningly normal but every instinct and sense of his told him that it was an incomparable force.
Beastboy thought that the people who constructed the warehouse were either too confident that the outside security was impenetrable or too lazy about structural designs. There were small windows lining the walls made of nothing thicker than a half-centimeter of sheet glass. It was clear that they were for lighting when the sun was in the sky, but there were plenty of light fixtures, more than enough to keep the whole building lit.
He estimated that there were about fifteen meters to cover between the case and one of these windows as well as a steep drop after he broke through it. It would be impossible to break the glass with his hands, take the spear, and sprint through the window. The glass wouldn't break, the alarm would be triggered, and he wouldn't be able to fit through the small window, assuming there weren't metal covers that shut into place after the alarm went off.
He had a different plan. He had to be fast, strong enough to break through glass, big enough to hold the spear, and small enough to fit through the window. The only form he could take that fit every requirement was a jaguar. The added bonus of which was that his catlike reflexes would allow him to land on his feet from the window to the ground.
The plan had to be enacted quickly if he wanted to escape with his life, dignity, and position intact. Beastboy became the feline and positioned himself a short distance from the case and tensed his muscles. It was now or never.
He sprang into action, pouncing through the display case and grabbed the spearhead in his jaws. Upon hearing the almost instantaneous alarm, he twisted around and sprinted for the nearest window. Loud metal banging was heard and he saw heavy metal doors slamming across each of the accessible entrances in quick succession.
As the sounds grew closer, he dashed close to the window and burst through it, glass shards following his sleek form to the ground below. The sentry house was clearly occupied by a trained soldier, instantly alerted to the break-in. He knew this because the soldier was now leveling a rifle at him.
Beastboy heard a telltale hum from the force field, which was unmistakably surrounding the majority of the complex. The only way out was the roadblock he entered through, guarded by a very angry looking man.
He sprinted towards the man, making shallow zigzags along the way, dodging the vast number of bullets barreling his way. His fur shivered as displaced air whizzed past him, the bullets grazing but not touching him. He made sure that his paws never touched the small bumps on the ground, as to avoid triggering a mine, but there was some need for distraction, as a single bullet could fell him.
His impacts grew harder against the ground, sending greater shockwaves through the ground. The mines long since buried in the ground exploded from the vibrations, sending shrapnel fifty feet into the sky. A line of explosions followed Beastboy as he ran to the soldier, closing the distance every second. His fur ruffled uncontrollably from the force of the explosions, but the one most affected was the soldier.
A combination of the bright lights from the gunpowder and the lack of bullets in his rifle caused him to raise his arm, momentarily changing his focus from the intruder to the prevention of permanent eye damage. Beastboy reached him a few seconds after and pounced on his shoulders, using them as leverage to leap higher and further than he could normally.
The soldier recovered quickly and drew his pistol from its socket, whirling around to get one final chance to down the green blur. He stared down the sights and leveled it to the ground, only to find that there was nothing to shoot at. The ground was untouched, there were no holes or ditches to disappear into and nothing in the sky flying away. It was as if the green jaguar leapt through time and space.
What really happened was clever programming on Beastboy's part. Just before he teleported down, he rigged the machine to teleport him away as soon as he left the area protected by the force field. He had to escape detection before the theft was linked to him, so he disappeared into the distance, ready to deal with a group he would never normally associate with.
Beastboy was so caught up in his reminiscence that he neglected to notice the eight satyrs galloping in from the distance. The half-goats were known for their own greed and took great pleasure tormenting those who shared in their plight.
Their approaching running alerted Beastboy to the imminent danger and he sprang to attention, ready to take on any attacker. The first satyr to reach him jumped and swung from above, eager to dash the brains of the unwanted intruder.
Beastboy easily dodged the attack and grabbed the spearhead in his hand, plunged it into its now exposed back. The blade bypassed the fur, skin, and bone of the goat man without any resistance and almost instantly killed it.
The rest stumbled from seeing their comrade dying so easily, but regrouped and rushed at the changeling with renewed vigor. Two swung at him simultaneously from different angles, forcing Beastboy to jump back to avoid the attacks. He used the spearhead to slash at the one trying to flank him, cutting through the axe it held and straight through its arm. It fell to the ground clutching the bloody stump in agony.
He deflected one blow after the other from the six remaining satyrs, parrying for his life. Even though using weapons wasn't his strong point, he was fighting them off with stunning precision. A blow came from below the belt, seeking to cripple or injure him. He swung the spear down with such force that it clanged against the incoming weapon and tore it free from its owners hand.
The move forced him to take a half second to recover, allowing one of the enemies wielding a mace to strike his back with crushing force. He tried his best to roll away from the blow, but was unable to avoid the full strike. He knew that it would leave a nasty bruise.
He tried to go on the offensive, eager to whittle down the high number of demons against him. Using the spear as a thrust weapon, he struck at the satyr closest to him and succeeded to penetrate its chest. He pushed the dead body away, trying to get the demon to not fall onto him.
Beastboy crouched down and lunged at one a short distance away. He tackled the goat man straight to the ground and plunged the spear into its skull, slicing one of the horns in the process. He rose quickly and turned to face three moving towards him, weapons in hand.
One of them attacked him almost instantly while the other two split around the side, tightening the noose around him. He dispatched his attacker by sweeping its hooves from under it and backed up, trying to keep the remaining patrol within his vision.
They advanced on him slowly, forcing Beastboy to pay full attention to their slightest move, ready to defend himself if they did anything. The satyrs stopped and glanced at each other, as if they knew something he didn't.
Just as Beastboy was about to dash forwards, they jumped towards him with frightening speed, heads forwards as though trying to headbutt him. He stepped backwards in an effort to avoid the incoming assault, but was unable to find his footing due to the dead body almost immediately behind him.
He was unable to stop himself from falling backwards, bashing his head onto the rocky ground. His vision became blurry and grew dark, telltale signs that he was lapsing into unconsciousness. The last thing that registered before going completely blank was the feeling to stones being dragged beneath his head. He was being taken somewhere else for God knows what.
"Azar?"
Raven could hardly believe it, her mentor, her role model, her very reason for being the woman that she was standing right in front of her. The goddess was in her prime, tall, sleek, head high in the air covered in a flowing, golden river of hair.
She was the perfect example of a person, a paragon of virtue and purity and the first person Raven truly admired. The only woman she even considered to have any sort of maternal connection to.
She was strong, confident, fearless. A leader that singlehandedly ran a civilization with an almost frightening ease. She hated the monks of Azarath with a passion, they shunned every action she took, every move she made. She hated the people in the streets, they spoke harshly behind her back, whispering curses and threatening harm at every turn. She hated her own mother, despised her inaction, loathed the woman who didn't have a single good action towards her own child. Raven never knew a kind touch, a reassuring word, a peaceful comfort, even from her own blood.
Azar was the only person she could never hate, only because there was nothing to hate. Raven couldn't find a single flaw to exploit. She didn't see any behavior that was duplicitous or backhanded. The woman's eyes weren't filled with disgust when she looked at the demoness. She didn't sneer at any mistakes made. She didn't hold any animosity in her presence. Even Raven's undeveloped empathic abilities couldn't detect any ill feelings or false hope. Azar never saw her as the child that should never have been, but as a potential for something great.
Raven was born and raised in the great palaces in the center of Azarath, overlooked by the leader herself. For as long as she could remember, Azar was present when she woke up and departed after she fell asleep. She took personal charge of Ravens upbringing, directing the studies as the child grew. She advanced the material Raven mastered quickly and explained thoroughly what she was still unclear of. The woman was the most influential person in her life.
The eyes though. The eyes were wrong. They were always caring, understanding of her faults and shortcomings. They never sneered or looked down on her. Her soul was pure and untouchable and shone with an unmistakable radiance. This was wrong.
What she saw was a shell, a flawless shell to be sure, but a shell nonetheless. the image was perfect but with no substance to back it up. The body was right but without personality to hold it together. Now that Raven thought about it, even Azar's very existence was impossible.
Trigon destroyed Azarath and all of its inhabitants when Raven turned sixteen. Like Earth, he didn't leave a single building unscorched or a stone unturned. He would never have allowed a single soul to escape his rage, Azar being at the foremost of his destruction. There was no way that she could be here. It had to be a trick.
She gathered a small amount of her power and released it, meaning to make the apparition stumble. An action that wouldn't harm her if it really was her mentor but would reveal any treachery.
The black magic burst forth and struck the woman, energy spiraling off her body from the impact and taking parts of an illusion with it. The second she saw it, she knew. Deception was an unforgivable act.
She readied herself for battle once more and summoned a Raven's claw to attack the imposter before her. Any light or brightness in Azar's face disappeared and was replaced with an angry scowl, dodging the attack with barely an inch to spare. The illusion dispersed and a figure clad in roiling shadows leapt from her range.
Raven wouldn't allow the creature to escape so easily, barreling after it with her cloak whipping around her heels. The figure saw his pursuer and added a quick dash to its movements, cutting through side streets and alleyways with hopes of losing its tail. Whenever it passed a stack of crates or any kind of bulky object, it threw it to the floor in hopes of tripping her up. Raven paid no heed to the obstacles and utterly pulverized everything in her path.
Every glimpse of the imposter was used as an opportunity to snare it, sending her powers forth with the intent to grab or trip it enough to catch up. Her attempts were in vain though as the creature that tried to trick her was abnormally fast.
The chase went on for a mile before she could feel the fatigue seeping into her muscles. The same thing seemed to be happening to her prey, its movements were sluggish and the corners not as sharp. She would have to end this chase soon or risk losing the mastermind behind the botched assassination attempt.
The shadow darted down yet another sideway and as Raven followed, she recognized where they were. Her many trips in Dis gave her an idea of where everything was, doubled with the fact that she had traversed this area before.
She slowed down ever so slightly, allowing her attacker gain more and more of a lead. It quickly happened that she lost her target entirely, but it was all part of her plan. She sprinted past the small alleyway that she knew it darted into, giving a false hope to the now hopeless creature.
Using her powers, she phased through the nearest wall and created a portal through to the side it was leaning against. Her hands lunged forwards and grabbed her assailant roughly by the shoulders, dragging him through the portal and slammed him against the cobblestone road she stopped at. She then used her powers to envelope her captured prey, preventing any movement or thought of escape.
The figure she was chasing was male and demonic by the form he possessed, but still shrouded in darkness. In one quick stroke, she dispelled any illusion that would bar her from seeing her attacker, Azar or otherwise.
The shadows parted and the blackness that cloaked his form parted to reveal a surprisingly human like demon, dressed in very casual modern civilian clothing. His quartet of crimson eyes gave his true nature away and his energy gave away his heritage. He was a son of Trigon.
She raised both of her hands and thrust them forwards, making the demon slam against the wall opposite them. A quick flick of her wrist snapped his head upwards and she drew a blade to his exposed neck. "My brothers have unique powers. Jesse inspires lust, Jared inspires wrath, and Jacob inspires envy."
The demon scowled at Raven, but kept his mouth firmly shut.
"You attacked me, something that has only two outcomes. Either you successfully kill or imprison me and gain supremacy over my troops and land, or you fail miserably and are left at my mercy. That you would attempt it at all means that things are desperate enough to force you to do this."
His eyes glinted with understanding but remained silent.
She continued. "Lust would seduce me in a room alone and Wrath would meet me in an open battlefield. You take the form others to distract and disarm. But why Azar? I never envied her."
His brow furrowed and his lips curled. "The Azarathian was always someone you admired, a short step from envy. Obviously it wasn't short enough."
Raven smirked at her success. "Whatever your plan was Jacob, it didn't work. You failed and I ought to kill you for trying to kill me."
She bared razor fangs and brought them to his neck, ready to rip his throat out. She hovered a half inch above his exposed skin, but her expected bloodlust didn't fill her mind as it should have. It shouldn't matter if he's her brother or not, he deserved to die.
But then, he could be more useful alive. A pair of eyes that knew what to look out for was worth more than a thousand followers with no will. That and a tiny nagging abhorrence of violence. It was just the shock of seeing Azar after so long she reasoned. It would soon pass.
Raven withdrew her fangs and glared at him. "Against my better judgment, I'm letting you live."
She ignored the confused look on his face.
"There will be some changes though. Every servant and soldier of yours now answer to me. Every scrap of dirt you control is under my control. You will do nothing without my express permission and will report only to me. Everything that you have and everything that you are belongs to me, do you understand?"
He glared back at his sister, trying to make her flinch, but she wouldn't budge. Lowering his head in defeat, he muttered "Yes, Raven."
She slammed him into the wall. "You will speak louder and you will call me mistress!" She demanded.
"Yes, mistress!" He practically shouted.
A knowing grin crept up on her face. If anything unexpected did happen, she wouldn't be caught with her pants down. Her power would continue to grow until not even her father could stop her.
To Be Continued
A new chapter will be released every second Friday until the epilogue on December 20th. That way, I follow the plan to have this complete in the case the world 'ends'.