A Horror Story 2: How To Make A Monster
Writer's Note: Like last year, this story is a peek into a planned future world I have for Danny Phantom known as Danny Phantasm (which I WILL write. Someday). So if you're wondering why things are like this, and what certain things are, well…you'll just have to be curious, won't you?
Unlike last year, where I tried to do more of a straight up creepy ghost story vibe, this year I'm going to try and examine a different type of horror. Maybe it won't scare you…but horror doesn't always need to scare. After all, as you will see, it comes in many stripes...
What is a monster? Well, thereby hangs a tale…
Holy Cross Cemetery. Yeadon, Pennsylvania, just south of Philadelphia.
It had started to rain. Of course it would have started to rain, as the heavily modified chassis of what had once been an RV pulled up to its front gates. The vehicle would have drawn attention in New York City, let alone an out of the way place like the small town of Yeadon…but no one was around.
It was probably best that way.
The fingers blurred as they rapidly typed some commands, and then hit a final key as paper began printing out.
"This should give you a good idea of the layout…though I have a feeling considering what we saw back there you'd be able to find it with a skill hunting dogs would envy without any outside sources." Tucker said, as he looked at Danny, as he darkly snapped his sword sheath over his back. "Danny, are you sure you want to do this alone?"
"Yes. For everyone's safety." Danny said darkly, as he reached into his coat, which was hung up against the side of the mobile command center, poking his hand into one of the pockets and extracting two trinkets. He did not put the coat on: he did not need it now. "I need you to plot the quickest trip back to Chicago we can muster. Ghost zone warps, unless you absolutely can't manage it. Time is not on our side." Danny said.
"…It's ok. They're tough. That piece of garbage never had to deal with the likes of them."
"He's had plenty of time to learn. A lifetime, and more." Danny said, as he headed for the door. "Please hurry Tuck."
"What, no goodbye?" Tucker said, trying to lighten the mood.
Danny looked at his best friend, and Tucker felt a slight chill go down his spine. For lack of a better term, despite his still firm, determined front…Danny looked haunted.
Then again, that was common, considering the things they were encountering now. Human beings weren't meant to deal with such things…and Danny was still human.
"I'd rather not, Tucker." Danny said, as he grabbed the shovel, opened the door, and stepped out into the rain. He did not say the rest of his sentence.
He did not say goodbye…because after what he'd just seen, Danny has a sick feeling of the chances it could be his last.
What makes a monster?
Well, let's start with the simple ones. Some things are just born monsters. Or rather, the way they exist means they cannot be viewed as anything else.
That's why we're traveling around the world, sealing these holes. Not just because we're the good guys doing the right thing, though that's definitely part of it. But another part is the simple sense of violation these things stir in your heart and soul, merely by their looks, their presence, their very existence. The fact that we were able to adjust to the existence of ghosts without an inkling of the sensation we get in the company of these entities only drives the point home further: ghosts can exist in our plane, but these things cannot. It is a desecration of the natural order, a blasphemy. They are evil, and they cannot be tolerated.
And if you'd like to argue that people once thought that way of black people and homosexuals and the like, well yes, perhaps there is some tentative link. But believe me, we have some of the softest hearts you'd ever know working with us at times.
And the opinion is unanimous. Send them back where they came from. Destroy them, annihilate them, purify them. They do not belong and THEY MUST GO.
Of course, just because this is a universal human opinion doesn't mean it's a universal solvable problem. That's where we come in…
Twintouch, New Mexico. A tiny slice of human life once a few dozen strong, tucked away in the middle of nowhere, so out of touch with the rest of the world it doesn't know it's dead yet.
Far too perfect for some…and as unimportant as it may have been, tragic all the same.
The strangest thing about the arm (which is female, probably late forties, and had probably been wearing a long sleeve blouse when the…problem had come) is that it seemed so…out of place. The end lacks a speck of blood, and hardly the slightest trace of dirt. It's as if a mannequin arm suddenly became flesh while simultaneously warping out of the store and into the street. The nails, painted a light pink, are undamaged. No sign of a struggle. No fight, even in one brief burst of desperate fear. Just normal one moment…and this the next.
Danny leaned town and, with a very gentle hand, touched the limb.
And it crumpled, the pink of the flesh flashing gray before it disintegrated into windblown ash. Danny recoiled as the arm suffered this abrupt change, as if it were just waiting for one final touch of the world it had known before revealing its true self. No wonder it seemed so out of place. It wasn't even a severed arm. More like…a brief echo of a flickering of life that had been debauched so horrendously it has ceased to exist in the way casual death could never match.
Danny knew what did that to living things, and a flicker of rage followed his sickened horror, as he reached behind him and drew his blade.
The flash of a shadowy creature that had a mouth filled with fire flickered across his eyes.
"Most likely." Danny said, and tapped the ultra-small knob that was placed in his ear. "Danny here guys. I'm still not sure what breed of creature's skulking around here, but do NOT let it get close. And another thing…no mercy."
"Roger that." The voice of Danny's mother replied in his ear. "RBD's armed and ready. And if you're feeling that way son, I'm sure none of us have any moral hang-ups over the use of extreme force."
"No ma'am."
"No ma'am."
"If it comes to that Miss Fenton."
"No, mom." Danny said. "Keep your eyes peeled. These things are most likely sneakier then…"
And then he saw it.
At first, he almost thought it looked like a moose…albeit one turned inside out. Then he thought it looked like a gecko lizard whose head had been replaced by some meat that had spent some time in a food processor. Then he thought it was a lobster, albeit one that was a bizarre goldish-gray then red, and also having arms with mouths filled with razor sharp fangs rather then pincers…and even as it started changing AGAIN, he realized it didn't really matter what it was, because its shape was so against what humans could comprehend his mind couldn't properly register it, hence the shifting.
And when it shrieked at him, Danny didn't hear it in his ears. He heard it in his nerves, as if someone had shot an injection of hot wax straight into his cerebral cortex.
"I have a target." Danny said, as he reached behind him and drew his sword, as both green and purple energy exploded on the blade. "I suspect a group attack."
He wondered why he was so calm, considering the escapee from a piece of Lovecraftian horror he was facing, but the truth was…this was in your face. There was nothing hidden.
There were worse things…because they were more subtle about their aberrant status.
The thing charged, running on the legs of a quadruped one second and then a twisted cross between a spider and a centipede the next, opening a mouth that did worse then bite and tear, it poisoned flesh and corrupted the soul, the poor people of this town had had no chance when these things had slipped through…
Danny closed his eyes as the thing leapt.
A flash of green and purple.
And the thing split, right down the middle, the pieces flying past Danny.
He opened his eyes again. Locking vision with these types of creatures was asking for trouble. Better to let oneself be guided by one's other senses.
Danny turned and looked at the twitching mess. His eyes narrowed in disgust.
Green fire exploded on his blade, and he thrust it at the remains, burning them away, leaving nothing but scorched ground.
"I got one." Danny said. "How many are left?"
"Scanner said six before you got one, but I'm not…"
And then a low thud of noise came from a few streets over.
"Hey, that sounded like a RBD being detonated, but why wasn't there a confirmation of…" Tucker began
A muffled curse tore through the radio.
"Mom?" Danny said, as his nerves suddenly screamed. He couldn't forget his advantages, advantages his mother didn't have despite her skill…
But he didn't get a chance to go help.
As the ground erupted beneath Danny, and purplish-brown tentacles lashed up and seized him, and before he could even yell out in alarm it yanked him beneath the ground.
"Oh crap! I just lost Danny!" Tucker yelled inside the command center. "Maddie, reply! Are you still there?"
"I'm…occupied…" Maddie growled, as she tried to keep the multi-jawed mouth away from her head, her staff the only thing keeping the snapping horror that had pinned her to the ground away from her. She snapped her head to the side as a dollop of thick drool dropped down, barely missing her ear (well she had her hood up but it was still right next to her ear) as it hissed and began to eat into the ground, and she had to get out of his problem she was a sitting duck…
But well prepared, as the toe of her boot opened and an electrified blade sprang out, and she kicked upward, feeling the blade enter and rupture something: if the thing she was facing had been a normal animal and male perhaps she would have hit the testicles, maybe she had, as the thing shrieked, like burning knives being driven into her brain, but she didn't let it overwhelm her as she twisted and threw the thing off, as she rolled up, grabbing her sidearm, and as the thing rolled and tried to get at her again she fired, its head exploding like a ripe melon, as it reared back, thrashing, even as Maddie kept firing, blowing its body to pieces. It collapsed in a gory mess, bleeding blueish-blood into the ground.
A shadow fell over Maddie, and she jerked around.
The thing was utterly silent as it flew, on five mismatched wings that should not have been able to catch the air properly, its stomach opening up like a Venus flytrap…
Maddie fell backwards, the thing swooping over her, its mouth snapping shut.
It missed catching Maddie.
It did not miss the explosive she had tossed into its gnashing maw.
It exploded into a raining, fiery mass of gore ten feet away, as Maddie twisted back out her feet, her bo staff at the ready…but there seemed to be no current threats…
To her.
But to Valerie Gray, the threat was obvious, as unlike with Maddie, the corrupting entity had chosen to approach her face to face from down the street, clearly underestimating her capabilities.
That just pissed her off.
"So, you think I'm just some bitch to hump?" Valerie asked, as she opened her black glove to reveal a small, circular device.
She threw it on the ground.
A low "WHUMP!" noise came from the mechanism, as green energy exploded from it and washed over the surrounding area, including over the entity facing Valerie (at the moment its 'shifting perception nature' made it look like a dog)…as the monstrosity shifted, its body suddenly becoming more clear and visible (though it still kept changing around), its feet seemingly pressing down more on the ground. If the creature noticed this, it gave no sign, as a vicious grin passed over Valerie's face, clearly visible through her clear faceplate. Damn, she loved RBD's.
"Be advised, you bastard, I'm not. I'm mean, nasty, and tired. I eat concertina wire and piss napalm and I can put a round through a flea's ass at 300 yards. So why don't you hump somebody's else's leg, muttface, before I push yours in." Valerie taunted.
The creature charged at her. She knew it was going to, had fully expected it, as she opened her other hand, as the small square cubes floated up in it.
They did not shoot lasers though, oh no, Valerie had a MUCH better idea, as the thing closed in and leapt…
As twin cubes flew from her hands and right into two of the creature's eyes, piercing right through them.
Valerie leapt and rolled out of the way as the creature went crazy, as the cubes flew on. As much as the thing's flesh changed around, Valerie tended to notice that if something had eyes attached to something that even remotely resembled a skeletal structure, its brain wasn't far behind.
And she was right on the money here, as the cubes ripped through the open tunnels into the twisted skull and began bouncing around inside, reducing the matter within to pudding, as the creature did its horrible silent but not scream and collapsed, unpleasant fluids leaking from its head.
The cubes flew out and back to Valerie, and with another gesture several powerful lasers shot out and burned away the thing. Perhaps she could have done that to begin with…but where was the fun in that?
Unfortunately…pride did go before a fall.
The barbed tongue grabbed her from behind, catching her completely by surprise, and before she could properly dig in her heels or activate a defense she was yanked backwards through the air, as the creature's mouth yawned open to devour her, body and soul…
The tongue exploded as a bullet tore through it, snapping it clean off, and even as Valerie fell to the ground and the frog/insect/unsure but maybe it was a goat thing shrieked another bullet flew through the air, fired from the distance at great accuracy, striking the monster and then exploding, blowing the thing into a splattered mess that sprayed all over Valerie.
Valerie blinked, still shocked at how flat-footed she'd been caught.
"You said something about being able to shoot a flea's ass at 300 yards Valerie, perhaps you should have found another movie to quote." Came a voice in Valerie's ear. Valerie's eyes narrowed as she gritted her teeth.
"Oh shut up!" She snarled back. "Stupid spoiled little…just because you…if you didn't have your precious ghost bonding you couldn't do sh…"
"Valerie." Maddie said, as she hopped down from a nearby roof. For a moment Valerie thought she was going to be chastised for her comments, but she quickly realized Maddie didn't sound cross, but worried.
"Yes Mrs. Fenton?" Valerie replied: she may have had trouble with SOME female members of the group but she respected Danny's mother.
"Have you seen Danny?" Maddie said, sounding worried.
"…No…not since we split up…" Valerie said, and then engaged her own radio. "Tucker, where's Danny?"
"I don't know guys, he went right off the radar over a minute ago and that's not easy to do unless…" Tucker said…
And then he became aware of the shaking beneath his feet, as he looked away from his screens and around at the inside of his vehicle. Was that an earthquake? Did New Mexico get earthquakes? He turned back to his screens and pressed a few buttons, trying to get a reading…
He got one all right. And it wasn't an earthquake. It was something that made Tucker damn glad the command center was parked outside of town on a small desert dune overlooking it.
Because since Tucker was getting a vibration even from so far away, to Valerie and Maddie it was like being inside a giant shaking can, as the town shook and began to collapse beneath him. Valerie leapt into the air, her glider appearing beneath her as Maddie jumped up and grabbed on, flying away.
As the street erupted, and IT emerged, and as it reared up before the two, even as more of it emerged from beneath the town, as the roads and buildings were torn apart by its coming, the entity that had spawned the others. It looked like a giant squid…if it had been crossed with a bear. And a wild boar. And a platypus. And a few other animals Valerie couldn't even begin to describe, and worse, as it rose up…
Its noise was so loud it even affected Tucker and the other members in the command center, and Maddie and Valerie briefly felt, as it screamed, like they were taking a bath in molten plastic…
…and then suddenly a great wound erupted on its form, and green light streamed forth, as another wound tore through its flesh, and another, and another, and it reared back and bellowed its unholy roar…
And then it exploded in green fire.
When the light died down, there were no remains of the unnamable thing that had slipped through a crack in reality and ended up in this small town. Only Danny, floating there, his eyes closed and his blade held before him.
"Danny?" Maddie called, as Danny took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He HATED it when they ate him.
"It's done mother." He said calmly, already banishing the horrors from his mind. He didn't have time to dwell. Others would surely come. Worse then this. "The bigger they are."
Of course, such things are not much different from rabid animals. They cannot help what they are, and can't change. The concept of change is anathema to them. They're evil…but in a sense, that's understandable. It's all they could ever be, as disgusting as we may find them…
We speak of worse…and there is worse…The rain was cold, a bone-deep chill that quickly spread through Danny, but he ignored it. He'd felt worse colds. At least this one was natural.
Though the pouring rain also made it immensely hard to read the makeshift map Tucker had printed out, and in the end Danny only got two good looks at it before it was snatched from his hand and blown away. In the end though, that was enough. Tucker had been right. From the way Danny had felt since he entered the cemetery, he probably could have found the spot eventually even if he'd been blindfolded.
He could sense it, and what radiated from it, a poisoned taint that was beyond human ability to feel on anything on the deepest, most primal levels.
The wind picked up as he walked through the headstones, the whistling turning to a high pitched shriek as Danny came to a small, blank space. There was no headstone, no marking of any kind to indicate that this was more then ground between the graves…but Danny knew.
It was under here.
And so, even as wind whipped his water-soaked hair and needles of ice pounded his form, he took a firm grip on the shovel and then rammed it into the earth.
And promptly felt like someone had set off a firecracker inside his chest, as he was hurled backwards, flying through the air and crashing through a crumbling gravestone, as the wind shrieked again, as if in warning. This is beyond you boy. Flee before we destroy you.
But Danny had never been good at listening to advice that told him he couldn't handle himself, as he pushed himself off the wet grass and dirt, coughing violently for a bit as he wiped his mouth and checked the glove. No blood…yet.
He checked his pockets. Both trinkets lay crushed within. And not because Danny had fallen on them. Danny had a feeling that if he hadn't been holding them, as well as the sword on his back, it would have been a lot worse when he'd plunged the shovel into the ground.
"…Sorry." Danny said to the broken headstone, as he got back up and stalked back over to the spot, the lone mark Danny had made in the earth almost seeming like a festering wound.
Danny looked at the ground with a baleful glance. He knew that what had happened would have only happened to him. A normal man or woman digging up the ground would have experienced nothing except the fatigue associated with such an action. They did not have the…facilities Danny did, that let him see, feel, and experience such things. Were they blind or lucky? Danny could honestly not say.
But he didn't care HOW cursed this ground was. Nothing would stop him.
And so he raised the shovel and brought it down again.
The impact came, but far less fierce, though it did cause Danny to be forced back several feet in a skating motion, but he recovered much more swiftly, as he stalked over and rammed the shovel in again. This time the blow felt like a punch to the chest, but a half-hearted one, as Danny was finally able to get the proper leverage on the shovel and pull it out of the ground, disgorging a chunk of wet dirt.
In went the shovel again, as Danny was faintly aware of more impacts trying to occur, to crush him to a shattered pulp, but failing now.
But Danny had a feeling that was far from the last trick he was going to see. Not for something that had been so carefully placed, and has festered in shadows for so long, saving its energies if one such as him had ever come along.
Yet another example of the bitter humor that made up much of his life, Danny mused. Grave robbers of the older days would have encountered considerably less difficulties beyond the trouble of the actual dig and being caught, and they were committing illegal acts. Then again, so was Danny…but the reason he was digging up this grave, this featureless grave that bore no mark and seemed blighted from all but the most buried records, was far more virtuous then any larcenous intentions the old body snatchers had had. And for that he'd encounter trials that would have sent the most hardened criminals screaming for their mother.
As he rammed his shovel into the wet earth again.
And blood began issuing forth from the ground.
Is evil a choice? Well, for some it is…and yet…some monsters really have no control over the environments that shape them. They come into a place that has known nothing but failure and despair, to the point where it resists change on the principle that it had grown proud of its hopelessness, lacking anything else…some escape. They are lucky. The rest either cower through life…or give into weakness and embrace the darkness of the place. Perhaps others spur them along, perhaps ignorance keeps them of being aware on some level of what they are doing…but one can only extend so much courtesy before one remembers that everyone has personal responsibility.
Maybe they're not wholly responsible for being monsters, of all stripes.
But that, most tragically, changes so little…
St. Louis, Missouri.
Fissures tended to do one of three things. They either spewed forth terrible things, or attracted them like a magnet, or both. In a way, they worked a lot like the Hellmouth from Buffy The Vampire Slayer…except there were only a few Hellmouths. And they connected to just one plane of hell. When it came to Fissures, despite attempts to acquire such information, the file on how many there were, and just how many 'bad places' they had and could lead to.
Danny didn't try and think about that. He focused on the task at hand. Find them and close them. He knew that if he kept pressing forward, he would eventually have them all locked up. Reality would resume its normal path, without outside influences being so high and strong.
He'd though this one was a good one. He'd seemingly found it early. Only a few shards of dark-dimensional trash, easily taken care of, was in the vicinity of what Danny had assumed was once a crack house, now dilapidated to the point where no one would even squat in it any more, or maybe the Fissure had just driven that unfortunate aspect of society away. He'd found the Fissure and locked it up, and had been content at a job well done…
He'd yet to learn that there were times to feel such emotion in tasks such as this, and immediately afterward was asking for it.
Though they just sounded like faint pops to him, they got Danny's attention, as he still hadn't 'come down' from the completed task and still had his senses on full alert. And as Danny realized, they were coming too fast to be something like firecrackers or cars backfiring.
Those were gunshots.
Danny headed for the wall and phased through it just in time to see the figure flee into the alleyway, his pursuers fast on his heels.
And that's where he made his mistake: he jumped.
The mistake being, he should have flown. He moved a lot faster, and he might have made a difference.
Instead, he jumped.
And hence was still in mid-air when the figure tripped, and just as he was getting up his pursuers stopped and opened fire.
And for all Danny's efforts, death came. His unique connection to the world of the living and one aspect of what could come after it gave him a unique sense of when such a crossing occurred. It took various forms depending on the death…and cold blooded murder was not a pleasant one, a fierce bitterness on the back of his throat.
He should have flown.
Too late now, as he landed, as light as a feather, unseen in the alleyways shadows. He grit his teeth slightly. He was not used to dealing with purely human matters, but that didn't mean he wouldn't.
His hand found his blade, and he drew it, as he walked forward. He couldn't pull off the intimidating 'creature of the night' routine that most urban vigilantes needed to strike fear into their targets. He was too thin and lanky to impress with size (though that didn't mean he wasn't strong or tough, oh no, but image mattered despite that) and the fact that his black coat color-reversed when he transformed made it difficult to hide in shadows. But Danny had a few tricks.
Bright glowing green eyes for one. And a flaming sword.
Unfortunately, his attempted intimidation game was lost on him as he stepped forward and got more of a look at who was in the alleyway.
Specifically the victim…no more then twelve.
Danny's heart sank. Kids. He HATED it when it was…
"He won't be talkin' now." One of the assassins said.
…kids…
"Hell no."
…Oh dear god, any benevolent god there was, the killers were kids too, they couldn't be any older then fourteen, they looked like they hadn't even started shaving yet…
But they all had guns.
And, as Danny stepped from the shadows, as they saw him, as he looked down at their victim and then back up at them, still not wanting to believe it…they had eyes worse then any ghosts. They were living, but their eyes were dead.
Childhood lost…more like childhood annihilated at a molecular level.
"SUPERPIG!" One of them yelled.
And then they were shooting at him.
Danny was almost too stunned to defend himself…until images flashed before his brain. The sword, his, in his hand, shining forth light, breaking down the shadows before it and forcing them away.
And there was no distinction between the shadows. Darkness was darkness.
He got the message.
His body phased out again, the bullets going through it as he walked towards the child killers, keeping the glowing green eyes.
None broke and ran.
In the end, that perhaps broke Danny's heart the most.
The sword slashed out, tearing through the guns, and that was when they ran, but Danny didn't let them go. He knocked one out with a love tap to the head. The second he seized with ghostly energy and pinned to the alley wall, a trick that was hard to do with humans but the child was so small it worked this time. The last he caught with a tie-up bolo he'd forgotten he'd had in his coat until two seconds ago. He was amazed that he hadn't tied himself up by accident instead.
And the children cursed him, used foul language that would have made Danny blush in less terrible circumstances, but he ignored it, as he looked at the dead child.
The questions came, those terrible questions. Why was he facing such evils, if this is what humanity would produce? The Fissure may have had some influence in the events Danny had just witnessed, but much like a magnet needed to be charged to work, it couldn't attract bad stuff if there was no bad stuff to begin with?
How…why should he defend something like this, as he looked at the one he'd tie up, still cursing at him. So young…yet so angry. No compassion, none whatsoever. They'd been willing to kill Danny as soon as look at him, and Danny had a sick feeling that may have been the case even if he'd hadn't stumbled onto their crime.
Why suffer so much for…
New shadows fell over Danny, and he turned around.
And he had his answer, as he saw the three men who had entered the alleyway. Assumingly the 'handlers' of the child assassins, and with eyes just as dead, their ice polished to a refined shine by greater years of experience, revealing a more 'cultured' rage and sickening contempt that radiated from them as they looked at Danny.
"Shoulda stayed on the rooftops, hero. Should have stayed off our streets." The leader said with a sneering lip, as if his outrage at being told his version of life and all he had to destroy to get it was virtually divine, and how dare you tell him different by acting as you had. "You've disrespected the 18th! You got to go down!"
And a new gun was aimed at him.
Danny narrowed his eyes. He had his answer. It was a familiar one.
As much despair as the concept of defending the world that could produce this could bring, giving up was worse. The only thing evil needed to truly win was for good men to do nothing.
And Danny was good.
The gun fired.
And Danny smacked the bullet from the air, sending it flying into the wall to his right side, sparks flying from his sword as the impact rang through it.
In more then a few ways.
Danny didn't let them fire a second shot, as he swung the sword up, even as it went clear, the blade transparent, and came down, cutting through the gangbanger's wrist.
His hand did not come off in a spray of blood, indeed, he didn't suffer any tissue damage at all.
But he sure didn't feel that way, as it felt like every single nerve in his arm was suddenly on fire, as he screamed and dropped the gun, falling to his knees as he clutched his arm.
The second swung a chain at him. Danny caught it on his sword and gave the thug a modified version of his Ghost Stinger, as even as he flew back and hit the ground, twitching violently the third came at him, swinging a baseball bat, shards of broken glass glued onto the end.
Danny ducked, and in one smooth motion, as the bat swung over his head and caused the third man to inadvertently turn and expose his back to Danny, Danny grabbed him by the shirt and hurled him into the wall of the alleyway. He bounced off with a muffled curse, landing on his feet and staggering back…and Danny put an ectoplasmic blast into his back, sending him back into the wall with a thud, this time knocking him unconscious.
But the first one, the one that had had the gun, was going for the gun again…
Danny's sword slashed out and carved it in half moments before his fingers could seize it again. He looked up at Danny with naked hate.
"MUTHA-!" He screamed as he swung a fist at Danny.
Danny caught it with his free hand, stopping him dead.
"No." Danny said.
And green power began crackling on him, as he brought his surprising strength to bear, as he once again drove the gangbanger to his knees, as the man yelled and shrieked in anger, pain…and under that fear.
Perhaps some would have accused Danny of being racist. What they failed to realize was that the men and children in the alleyway could have been any color in the rainbow, Danny would not have acted differently in the least. Deeds mattered, not what covered them.
"Disrespect the 18th?" Danny said calmly. "Look beyond me at what you've done. Look. If you can. How could anyone respect it in the first place if that is what defines it."
Danny tightened his grip, just a touch above the pressure needed to break bone, even as his power coursed down and through, causing a painful, paralyzing effect. Normally, he hated doing this with people…but at the moment, such kindness was rather low in his heart and soul.
"What happened? Did you give him a beeper and a gun and tell him what a man he was, but when a mistake revealed the child he remained, you decided he was too much of a risk? Or maybe this was just some random initiation. Prove your worth to the family. More like sign away your soul." Danny said. "I don't pretend to be an expert in the complicated socioeconomic problems that are probably at work here. But there are some things that are always simple. And one is, murder is murder."
And with that Danny relinquished his grip.
"Maybe someday you'll realize that the suffering that I inflict on you and yours is what you should feel for what you've done. Maybe someday you'll realize I'm offering you back your humanity."
And with a powerful punch, Danny sent the last of the crew into unconsciousness as well.
"Sadly…I have my doubts." Danny said, and sheathed his sword.
"YOU DEAD MOFO!" One of the kids screamed again, the one pinned to the wall, his rage freshly ignited again at Danny's 'victory'. "NO ONE DISSES THE 18TH AND LIVES! YOU'RE DEAD…!"
Danny gestured, and the ghostly power pulled the child killer off the wall and brought him to Danny, who managed to muster a baleful stare, one that actually managed to silence the boy's vitriolic tongue.
"I am dead?" Danny said calmly. "Well, I'm afraid you and your group are a touch late. You see, one could say I'm half-dead already. As for completing the equation, well…worse has made that promise then you. Much much worse. And I, as you can say, am still here."
And Danny tossed the boy back against the wall. The impact this time finally sent him into the sleep of his fellows. He said nothing else, as he left the alleyway on foot.
He could hear police sirens in the distance. He did not question their origin, as he walked on.
Less then a minute later, she came, swooping down on her glider and landing next to him.
"Wow, equating your ghost powers with being half dead, we'll made you hardcore yet Dan-"
"No. Not now." Danny replied quietly. Valerie blinked. She'd seen most of the incident, had been the one who called the police, using a few tricks she knew to ensure a swift response, and she knew what she'd seen.
"Danny…"
"I know. Whatever you say, I know." Danny said, as he walked on, leaving the closed Fissure and the small thing it had managed to work behind…the thing that didn't really seem small to Danny.
Perhaps the worst part was, compared to what might yet come, he might one day long for this.
"That doesn't always help." Danny said.
They walked on. Other evils awaited.
Much worse then this. Much, much worse.
Though I'm not dismissing the tragedy of this. It's in a way the worst of evils, because it seems so…negotiable, so dismissible, we can't change it, why bother. Why even try to interfere in the process. You see how they act, they like it, they think it empowers them. Never mind that in getting them young, and giving them a false family, a bad attitude, and permission to do the worst seemingly without consequence…and you're not making them powerful. You're just making them monsters.
Yet…part of the tragedy is in the end how small it seems. How petty, how pointless. Maybe they're monsters…yet their teeth only seem so big. Perhaps in the end, that makes them more heartbreaking then anything.
But if one cannot define that as the acts of monsters…then really what is?
I wish I didn't have more options to list…
The blood seemed impossibly warm as it splashed on Danny's feet, as he stopped and stared briefly at the wet earth. However, there wasn't a trace of shock or horror in his eyes.
"You'll have to do better then that." Danny said tersely, and rammed the shovel in again. Moore blood sprayed forth, spraying on his shoes and legs, splattering on his body, steaming in the cold air, but Danny ignored it (though he kept his mouth firmly shut, just in case, he didn't want THAT going in). He was starting to make progress, blood considered…
As a skeleton hand tore from the earth and seized his ankle.
Danny looked at that for a moment…and then ripped his leg free with a powerful jerk.
"If someone else's bones were disturbed from their rest, rather then want I believe, you have my solemn and most deepest apologies." Danny said under his breath as he kept digging.
More hands erupted from the ground, their bones clearly not human, but Danny kept digging, even as more blood soaked him, as he battered at any of the hands that tried to grab him with the shovel and kept hurling the earth aside…
And then abruptly it was all gone. The hands, the blood, everything, vanishing into thin air.
Danny gave no indication of his satisfaction. It hadn't been a great leap of logic to consider the kind of tricks that could be played on a human's sight and sound and mind, and the kind that would most like be found here…
He kept digging.
"Hey, what are you doing! Stop that! HEY! STOP!" Came a voice nearby, and Danny did stop, for a moment, to look at the middle aged man in a rain slicker who had appeared, staring at Danny's digging. "STOP! I'M CALLING THE POLICE!"
"…Then do so." Danny said, and resumed digging. The man in the slicker (the graveyard caretaker, perhaps? A mourner picking an odd hour to visit? Or…something more sinister…?) stared in gape-mouthed shock.
"Sir…if you are really there…" Danny said, as he kept throwing earth aside. "You'd best call the police, because I am not going to flee into the rain having been caught in this ghoulish task, and while I do not want to do any harm to you, I cannot let you stop me if you decide to do so personally. Please, just keep that in mind."
The man in the slicker stared a bit more…and then he did run, fleeing back through the graves. So maybe he was real, and maybe Danny was on a timeline.
He ignored it. Police, he could deal with.
He'd had bigger prob-
The shovel struck something solid.
I suppose some monsters aren't so bad. I mean, haven't most of us in our childhoods read Where The Wild Things Are?
But this is not a life where such benevolent entities are given such. No.
There is a theory in some mindsets that all creative work is not creative at all, but a unique form of perception. That the writer somehow sees past the boundaries of this reality into another, and writes what he sees there. The interesting note of such a theory, of course, is that means somewhere, all forms of fiction, all forms of creative expression, really exist.
Including monsters.
Frankfurt, Germany.In the 19th century, a German physician named Heinrich Hoffman, attempting to buy a book for his child, became dissatisfied with the options available to him and instead purchased a notebook and wrote and drew his own stories. Said stories were called Der Struwwelpeter, and in modern times they would probably send most parents into a state of shock. Many have forgotten what children's tales, long sugarcoated by changing opinions on what was right for a child, once were: cautionary tales for growing adults to warn them of the world's dangers. They were often cruel and immensely gruesome, at that.
And Der Struwwelpeter wasn't any different…including one brief poem that warned a child not to suck his thumb, or a 'great tall tailor' would come for him…
The door flew open, in he ran…
The great, long, red-legged scissorman…
The shears snapped closed on the spot where Danny had just been as he dove over the table in the office, rolling again and flipping to his feet. The juxtaposition was not lost on him: here he was in a gleaming, tall skyscraper…and here was a creature out of the dark era of hamlets and straw hats, a great tall tailor with red pants and three foot long scissors. And it didn't matter that Danny hadn't sucked his thumb since he was two, apparently the Tailor wanted to make up for lost time, as he smiled a toothless smile over thin lips, raising his giant, bloody shears. He'd already claimed three victims before Danny had arrived, and that was three too many.
"Come on then." Danny said, gesturing.
The Tailor charged. Danny leapt up onto the office table, and then leapt again as the scissors closed where his ankles had just been, as he kicked the Tailor away upon landing and drew his sword. The Tailor swiftly returned, stabbing his snapping blades at Danny's stomach, but Danny flipped off the table and over the Tailor, whirling around even as the Tailor did. His giant shears yawned him, and Danny met them with his blade, as the two inhuman weapons clashed.
"Come on Danny!" Came Tucker's voice in his ear. "You can do this, easily! Take it like a man!"
"Like a man?" Danny said in confused, as his eyes glowed and he blasted the Tailor backwards with ectoplasmic energy. "Are you serious? How exactly am I supposed to do that? It's one thing to take a bullet like a man but exactly how does one take three foot long razor sharp scissors…!"
The snapping blades bit at Danny's head, and he brought his sword down to intercept…
As the shears closed on the blade, and with great surprise Danny found his weapon being yanked away and tossed across the room.
Again, that sickly grin.
"Oh no." Danny said.
The scissors tore at him, and Danny half stumbled half ran backwards, trying to keep away from the scissors (he couldn't go intangible this was a evil entity who'd slipped across dimensions even if he went into that state he was afraid he'd still find the scissors affecting him and cutting him to pieces), as the Tailor gave vicious pursuit, the shears bloody and giant, thirsting for more, as Danny ran, ran from the creature…
And leapt to the side as the Tailor lunged.
And crashed out through the window behind Danny.
It may have been a monster made manifest, but it still had to follow the rules of gravity, as it fell.
It was hard to take a multi-story fall like a man too.
Danny peered out the broken window, looking down at the splatter that had been the Tailor, as he held out his hand and his blade returned to him.
"And that's why you shouldn't run with scissors." Danny said. "Sorry buddy. When it comes to fear, I'm afraid Grant Morrison and Human Entertainment already beat you to the punch. Or the scissors, rather."
"Danny, there might be more then one thing in there." Tucker said in his earpiece.
"Really? It better not be Der Kindestod…" Danny said as he turned and went back into the building.
Then again, that's really a case of paint-by-numbers. If it looks like a duck and talks like a duck…in a way, perhaps it is as much trapped by its nature as it is in its description. Is that a true monster?
No. A true monster comes from choice…He hadn't dug down six feet, but Danny wasn't surprised to have come across something at such a shallow depth. The opposite, in fact, from what he'd heard of this grave and who was buried here…and what'd he done. In life and in death.
Danny kept digging, getting rid of more dirt, keeping an ear open for the police if they came…
Which probably explained why it caught him off guard.
It was the force again, except this time it transfixed him in place as it pummeled him with immense fury…and that was the lesser of the sensation, as even as Danny's body was barraged with blows he felt like at the same time he was being sliced with razors, like piano wire was being pressed and torn into every inch of his skin, like someone had rammed drills through his eyes and corkscrews through his ears even as they rammed a bladed jackhammer into his gut.
He would have screamed, but the pain had stolen all his air.
Do signs of intelligence denote choice? If the monster shows cunning, shows joy in its task, is that the final indication of it being a monster?
Toronto, Canada.
Supposedly a safe place.
But there are exceptions to every rule…and some are quite exceptional indeed.
What exactly it was was uncertain. It looked partly like a human woman, partly like a bird, and it had some lizard characteristics in a long furless prehensile tail, but whatever it was, it was clearly hungry, depraved, or worse, as it swooped down into Nathan Phillips Square and made a beeline for the fountain placed there, and worse, the several children splashing about within.
Until Danny came crashing down on it in a powerful tackle, driving it prematurely to the ground in a rolling crash as people screamed and fled, as Danny tried to keep his sense of place working as he tried to hold down the creature's thrashing form…
The tail grabbed him by the neck, yanking him backwards, and as Danny gagged the tangle turned and suddenly a clawed bird foot seized him, as the flying creature surged off the ground and back into the air, dragging Danny with her as he tried to get to his sword.
The air went out of him in a whoosh as the creature slammed Danny into Toronto's city hall.
"Well now…" The female whispered in a breathy tone, as she traced Danny's face. "Aren't you a cute one…I could just eat you up…"
A long tongue flicked out of the female's mouth and traced Danny's face, as he tried to recoil…and yet…there was a strange…attraction…
…Which settled what the creature was. A succubus.
"Come on boy…I can see the dark thoughts you've had…come with me, I'll show you things you never imagined…" The succubus cooed.
Danny punched her in the face.
"Sorry, but when it comes to women, I'm more then compensated." Danny said, as he yanked himself free and drew his sword.
The succubus shrieked and then dodged away from the sword slash, flying away at high speed, but Danny was already in pursuit, running across the side of the curved structure of City Hall as he leapt after the monster, slamming down on her back.
"And as you may have guessed, I like to be on top!" Danny snapped, and sliced one long wing open, blood exploding from the feathered limb as the creature shrieked and plummeted, Danny riding it right down into the ground to make sure it didn't get away.
It made an eerily dry crack when it hit the concrete.
Danny, having pushed himself off at the last moment, glided down near the body, even as it began to burn, its ability to exist on this plane negated by death. It was a handy factor possessed by some creatures. Didn't leave evidence.
"…Heh. Women." Danny said lamely to the shocked spectators, and then turned and leapt away, flying off into the distance.
Well, at least some people would have a story to tell. That meant something…
…right?
Then again, perhaps that's little different from the first example, the only real choice being in the sophistication of the acts.
No, true choice is when you can be either, good or evil…and you choose purposefully…It was a horrendously potent defense, and it would have broken any normal man.
But Danny, as he'd long accepted, was not normal.
And so he fought it, gritting his teeth as hard as he could, as he fought back the pain, the sensations wracking his body for daring to touch this grave, as he knelt down, his fingers plunging through a thin layer of dirt and into the stone beyond, as he concentrated, his eyes shining bright emerald, as he brought his own power to bear, his own unique gift, battling back…
The power surged out, coursing through the stone beneath him, even as the wind shrieked and howled in his ear…
A shriek Danny answered with his own, as he pulled up and yanked the massive hunk of concrete up, tearing it up through the ground in one tremendous effort.
And just like that, all the sensation stopped. Even the wind died down.
He'd won.
This battle.
Danny set the massive block of stone down and then fell to the ground, his knees buckling as he gasped, sucking in air, even as rain continued to soak him.
This did not bode well for him, if this was the level of resistance he was encountering.
He looked at the hunk of stone he'd worked so hard to dig up. Even if he got what he needed from inside, he had a feeling it might not be enough. Even with the Magnus, and it…
A flash of shifting green came before his eyes. For a moment Danny was confused…
And then he got it.
"…Maybe." Danny said, as he stood up. "But first…"
Danny drew the blade, another reason he'd survived this. There was great power in the weapon, and in him as well…but pure strength did not so much matter here as strength used wisely.
And Danny had always thought he wasn't too bright. He had been a straight-C student before his life had changed so much, after all.
But there was too much at stake. Even if he was a dullard, he had to act.
But first…he needed what lay within.
Blackish energy sprang forth on the blade.
And as lightning flashed and thunder boomed, Danny slashed the sword up and brought it down.
Choice…and yet even for some, there seems to be no choice at all. Slaves to damaged brains, unable to go against strange and powerful urges no matter how much they want to. It is true everyone is responsible for their own actions…but when one is sane and faced with one who is sick, it can nearly impossible to understand how much responsibility one can seem to possess.
And if that failure of responsibility results in monstrous deeds, does that make one a monster?
I suppose it can…
But…you'd be surprised.
Fargo, North Dakota. A boarded up house in the middle of nowhere.
And a strong disagreement of opinion.
"How can you even think of such a thing!"
"Valerie, it's been 42 years."
"It could be 42 million years, it wouldn't be enough! Not with what he did!"
"Valerie, he's been trapped here ever since then, unable to move on, to whatever punishment he may have earned. He's suffered for it."
"I don't care! He should suffer some more!"
"Valerie…"
"No Danny! This is NOT a time to be soft! What does his pain matter for the pain he caused? What bitter legacies sprang forth from what he did? How can you suggest any kind of mercy?"
"….It's not right Valerie."
"It's DAMN right for once!"
"………."
"I know that look Danny, get that look out of your eye Danny, listen to me, you're not freeing that ghost…"
"….Yes. I am."
"….If you turn around and do that, then you can FORGET about us."
"…………………."
And with one last glare of rage, Valerie turned and stormed out of the house, leaving Danny alone.
"…Just go." A faint whisper said in Danny's ear. "She's right…I deserve it…"
"I'm not excusing what you did." Danny said. "A house that starts abandoned this long…shows how deeply you etched yourself in the memory of this community. But…the pain and regret I sense here remains sharp and fresh, while what you did once has long since faded in time. It is impossible to fake genuine regret…and for some, it's nearly impossible to think otherwise of such crimes…especially when it comes to children…but that didn't give them the right to march into your house and beat you to death. Everyone deserves a fair reckoning…even the worst of us. Because what better are we, if we don't extend such mercy? How are we different from the monsters then…" Danny said.
The room was silent, as Danny stood in thought, pondering it one final time…and then he raised a hand.
"I break the chains that bonded you to this place." Danny said as his hand glowed green. "I cannot guarantee what lies beyond. That's up to you to face. Go."
The final whisper was too faint to hear, as it passed Danny's ears…but he knew gratitude when he heard it.
He lowered his hand, alone in the room, the first person who had been alone in the house for a very long time.
And after a few more moments he turned and left.
She was sitting on the steps as he exited the place, her storming off apparently interrupted by something. She had her helmet off, and Danny could see the anger that was still fresh in her eyes as she looked up at him.
"I'd just like to say one thing. Allow me that, please." Danny said. "I know how you feel, and why. I understand. So please try and extend me some of that same understanding. It is true I could have been tricked. I never claimed to be omniscient. Maybe my choice to extend mercy will just cause more pain then end it. And if that is true, it will be my cross to bear." Danny said. "But you don't have the same sense of the world as I do Valerie. There are many kinds of sorrow and pain. Some are self-righteous, some are insane…and some are true. But they all end the same way. Suffer too long, and the pain and torment turn rancid. And the rage comes. And when that happens, any chance of redemption is lost. And that, in the end, is perhaps our hardest responsibility. Battling these foes, it's far from easy…but showing mercy to those who might squander it, ruin it…that's the most difficult task of all. But as long as I can pass muster, I will not shirk from it when I feel it is called for."
And Danny turned and walked away.
For a few steps anyway, before he stopped.
"…I'm sorry."
And he walked on.
Alone.
…For a brief period of time.
And then she was floating alongside him on the glider. He looked at her.
"I don't feel like kicking your stupid soft kind ass at the moment, so I'm going to hand around until I'm more in the mood for it. You idiotic stupid…" Valerie said…and then she zoomed off on the glider, leaving her words in the air.
They could have been tinged with more anger and malice then they had been.
In the end, for things like that…you took what you could get.
Choice.
The man who lived in that house once, a poor bastard virtually lost to history known as Jeff Kober, chose to sexually abuse five children…but from the very little medical knowledge we have, one suspects with the way his brain was damaged from the moment he was born how little of a choice it was in many ways. But perhaps the greater failure of choice lay in the community that learned of his deeds and instead of bringing him to the law chose to take the law into their own hands. Yes, perhaps they were angry, and outraged, and rightfully so…but it can only excuse them so much.
And after the spirit had lingered there, suffering not for his death, but as he had in life for his uncontrollable urges, Danny chose to make the fine distinction needed to know that, and then chose to set him free.
And despite how much she disagreed with it, and despite how much her anger and her disgust shaped her thoughts at the time…Valerie chose to look beyond it, to try and understand.
I expected nothing less. They're both strong souls.
But…strength does not always lie on the side of the angels.
I have spoken, at length, at what makes a monster. I've examined what many would call monsters of several stripes. I have mused on the factor of choice.
So…what defines a true monster?
In the end…there's no real system. But there's one factor that always stood out to me.
As was said by Kevin Spacey in The Usual Suspects, the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.
The devils who learn to do that…
Who can chose from the beginning to do works of evil and do so, who make those choices without regret, and are so terribly subtle that the scope of their crimes remains hidden under the light of a microscope…
They are the monsters. The true monsters.
And we've found one.
And as I write this, I fear he will eat us alive.
The bag seemed surprisingly light, stuffed with its foul contents.
"Tucker." Danny said as he headed across the cemetery, carrying his hard-earned gains in one hand.
"Danny? Are you okay?"
"Okay being a relative term, yes." Danny replied. "I've got them…but the grave was heavily cursed. I'm lucky I escaped as I did. And you probably know what that means."
"What's the site going to be like." Tucker said, a chill stabbing in his guts.
"Yeah. So I have one final question Tucker. Please tell me you found a proper shortcut. If I don't have one, I'm going to be at a bit of a loss."
"I got one Danny. Just a few miles out of town…"
"Good. You are not accompanying me."
"WHAT?"
"You're going to stay here and use the manipulation equipment. Because if I fail…at least you'll be far away when it happens. This is a far reaching curse, Tuck. If it comes down to the factor of minimizing losses…that's what I'll do."
"Danny…"
"No time to disagree Tucker." Danny said as he left the graveyard. "Now listen up and listen good, I only have time to say this once. After that…it's a matter of hope. Even with all I have…I'll need all I can get."
Once upon a time, there was a man.
And from the day he was born, he inflicted cruelty and pain on those around him. He tormented animals and small children as a boy, and as he grew older he began to engage in a series of bold frauds, his inability to feel the slightest shred of regret surely aiding him in those matters. He married and abandoned his first wife, even as he committed bigamy by marrying once more, and once again, the unions merely attempts to commit more acts of fraud. Finally, in the late 1800's, he moved to Chicago…
And there began a crime so immense, it seems amazing it is not as well known as the name of the killer who was called Jack, as through more fraud, trickery, and in some cases cold-blooded murder the man built a hotel supposedly to serve guests for the upcoming World's Fair in 1893. He built it slowly, hiring and firing work crews every two weeks to ensure no one suspected the true purpose of the building. And no one ever did, as it was completed in 1892, opened just in time for the Fair.
And in this demonic structure, the true evil of this man came forth.
Chicago, Illinois.
The portal opened on the empty street, and Danny stepped forward. He was not surprised that there wasn't a sign of life. Rather, he'd expected it from the sheer waves of malignant energy emitting from the structure he approached. The one he was now returning to. The one he might never leave.
The building was not a hotel. It was a house of death, fitted with trap doors, hidden staircases, secret passages, rooms without windows, chutes that lead into the basement, and more. The rooms were not for accommodation, but for imprisonment, rigged with alarms should an unfortunate soul try to escape. Some of the rooms were asphyxiation chambers, rigged to suffocate prisoners with gas. Others were fitted with iron plates and had blowtorch-like devices fitted into the walls. Other were simple torture chambers, filled with devices to commit atrocities upon the human form. The building had its own crematory, as well as an acid vat and pits filled with quicklime to dispose of evidence.
And there was much evidence to dispose of.
It was a different time. Information could not be exchanged as well and as swiftly as it could be today. And this man was a true monster, who had hidden himself well, a spider in an invisible web of pain and suffering.
To this day, it was unknown how many victims the murder palace claimed. Dozens, possibly hundreds.
And the man enjoyed each one.
But even as he destroyed life after life, he continued his schemes of fraud, seemingly unable to be content unless he was committing fresh evil every minute. It was the exposure of one of those plans that eventually brought about his downfall, forcing him to abandon his house of death and flee. His unending malice would not stop there though, as he would kill others, including children, before he was finally caught and his crimes fully exposed.
The man went to the hangman's noose without a trace of repentance, changing and recanting his story even up until the trap door sprung. It took fifteen minutes of strangulation for him to die.
It wasn't even close to what he deserved.
Because humans didn't know, couldn't know the truth…
The Murder Castle sat empty for some time…and then, inexplicably, on August 19th, 1896, it abruptly caught fire and burned to the ground.
And that was just the beginning…
Dr. William K. Matten, a coroner's physician who had been a major witness in the trial, abruptly dropped dead from blood poisoning.
Then the head coroner, Dr. Ashbridge, abrupt did. Then the trial judge who had sentenced the man to death, as they had suddenly developed unknown, deadly illnesses. The superintendent in the prison where the man had stayed committed suicide, the reasons unknown. The father of one of his victims was horribly burned in a gas explosion. One of the priests who had prayed with the man before his death was found dead behind his church, some saying he died of uremic poisoning and some say he had been badly beaten and robbed. The jury foreman was electrocuted in a bizarre accident involving the electrical wires above his house. And although it took a few more decades, a train robber who had informed on the man and ultimately led to his being caught died violently as well…even as the office of a claims manager at an insurance company the man had cheated caught fire and burned. Everything was destroyed…except for two portraits of the man and a signed copy of his arrest warrant.
But even after all that…people forgot. They had to. They could not understand.
The lot where the Murder Castle stood empty for a long time, until a post office was finally built on it in 1938.
And even then…employees reported strange sounds and sensations in the decades since, and many animals were repelled by the site, snarling and barking at it.
And yet…the man's name was nearly lost, appearing only to those who would research the subject, never entering the lexicon like Jack the Ripper or Ted Bundy.
…Because that was how he wanted it.
Because the man was a monster, a true monster, and the greatest curse of true monsters is they cannot be defeated by death. He knew that, seemingly from the beginning…
That was why when he died he requested that his body be sealed in concrete, supposedly to defer grave robbers. The truth was far more horrific: the sealing was to make sure he remained tethered to this plane of existence.
And that's where he had been since.
With all his victims.
Ensuring their suffering even beyond death, the old faces and the new ones he had claimed after his execution before he finally withdrew to the site where the post office now stood.
Where he'd been given so much more power when Vlad knocked the world askew and allowed such terrible energy that had spawned and attracted the evils that Danny had battled across the world. A power that was like pouring gasoline on the man's fire.
Where he planned to use this new power to drag so many more into his own personal hell.
Where Danny and his team had gone to confront the terrible evil they'd sensed…and where Danny had been thrashed, hurled from the building, the evil in there far too deep for him to purge, and where the man had claimed more women to torment and kill and torment more if he was allowed his way…his mother. His friends. The ones he cared so deeply about.
And so Danny had had to go to where the man was buried. He'd gone to the corrupt place where he'd been laid, the evil so intense it tried to fight him off. But he'd bested it there and now he had the link to the world the man needed. And so he'd come back, and he wasn't going to be expelled this time.
If one would truly define a monster…this man would be it.
America's first serial killer.
Danny kicked the door open.
"H.H. Holmes!"
No voice came to answer him. Danny didn't need it.
Holmes had been subtle before, but with the opening of a Fissure nearby, the entire building was utterly overflowing with negative energy. Danny had closed it, but it was far too late: Holmes had been doing evil before Danny's grandparents had been born, so great he'd managed to escape any punishment and continue tormenting those he'd killed even beyond death, denying them any peace or mercy.
No more. It ended now.
Danny walked into the building, which almost seemed to mock him with its normalcy, the darkness and corruption hiding within.
"I know you can hear me." Danny said. "And you know what THIS is."
Danny held up the bag.
"Your bones. Your link to this world. Nice trick, getting buried so far away and hence hiding your tether so well. But not nice enough." Danny said, as he drew his sword and pointed it at the bag. "Now here's what we're going to do. One, you can release my mother and friends, and the spirits you've tortured here for so long, and you can leave this place and take your chances…or I can burn these, cut the link entirely, and send you straight to the hell you've so richly earned and so brilliantly denied. Your choice. Pick swiftly."
Dead silence.
Danny's eyes flicked around.
And then it started, an infernal whispering, as the walls and floors began to distort around Danny. He grimaced.
"Why do they always want to do the hard way?"
The floor erupted in an explosive line, and Danny leapt out of the way as the building tore itself apart around him, as the shrieking rose up again, an unholy sound of self-righteous fury and terrible sadism as Danny was pelted with wood splinters.
And there were words in the screaming, words Danny could barely comprehend.
YOULITTLEPISSANTILLEATYOURSOUL……….!
The force seized Danny and hurled him backwards, smashing him violently through the wall, as the bag was torn from his hands, as Danny was slammed into the floor, as the ground erupted in fire and consumed the Halfa.
For a few moments.
Then Danny leapt up from the flames, discarding his burning coat, as he brought his sword before him.
Furniture flew at him. Danny slashed it to pieces. His mind was assailed by horrible scenes of torture starring the people he cared most about. Danny fought the false images off. The air burned and froze, reality turned into the evil soul that had lurked here so long's plaything. Danny took the battering and did not falter.
And the rage somehow grew, as Danny was seized again and battered against the walls and floor, and finally hurled through another wall where he bounced across the ground and lay still.
Blood began to leak above his right eye.
Danny got up as a black mist began to gather, manifesting itself before Danny, a mass of violence and pain forged by dozens upon dozens of years of work, a work that even death could not stop.
"Right, I think I saw this effect in House On Haunted Hill." Danny commented.
The mass surged forward and impaled through Danny, piercing through his heart. Once again, there was no tissue damage: this force wanted Danny's energy and life, not flesh and blood, as Danny was rammed against another wall with a shriek of pain. He tried to bring his sword down, but another tendril seized it and tore it from his grip.
KILLYOUBREAKYOUMAKEYOUSCREAMDIEDIESCREAM…!
"Door." Danny rasped.
And suddenly, behind him, a green line split the air, opening into a plane of shifting green illumination.
The manifest evil, caught off guard, tried to recoil…
As Danny seized it, and finally bringing his power to bear, he yanked backwards and around, hurling the concentrated evil through the rip and into the dimension beyond.
The Magnus returned to him, an image of a thumb pointing up coming to Danny's eyes.
"We're not done yet." Danny said, and leapt through.
And though he did not speak the works, they were clear on his expression.
Thanks Tuck.
To be a general, sending your troops off to die…surely it couldn't be much worse then this. Tucker had done what Danny has asked, had stayed behind to manipulate the ghost portals so no only would Danny be dropped off at the evil place's doorstep but would also be able to move that exit in so Danny could go back through it with a guest (there was some advantage to all the soft spots between Earth and other dimensions that existed now, Tucker mused…then again, it had been much better days when the only portal to the Ghost Zone had existed in Jack Fenton's basement). But doing that put Danny off Tucker's radar.
And quite possibly meant he'd never see Danny again. This wasn't some thug with a gun. This was a man who had been born soulless and gotten worse. That kind of evil was more poisonous then cancer.
In the end, all Tucker could do was what Danny said.
Hope.
Once, Danny would have been very hesitant to dump something like what Holmes had become into the Ghost Zone…but the days when there were beings it in Danny would not wish harm to were gone.
But he couldn't dwell on that, as he emerged from the hole, even as the shrieking black mass turned towards him.
"Welcome to the Ghost Zone. Don't worry, your stay will be brief." Danny said, as he hefted his sword. "Because the only way out, and back to the little hell you forged, IS THROUGH ME!"
The mass screamed again, exhaling a seething ebony mist that swept over Danny. He stood his ground, even though he felt like he was being frozen, electrocuted, and poisoned all at the same time (poisonous freezing electrical mist? How in the hell did THAT work? Now THAT was scary!), and cut through it with the Magnus as he charged, slamming into the wretched entity.
It tore at him with claws and fangs, and battered his body with extradimensional forces that attacked his body and mind, but Danny did not back down, would NOT back down. There were those who deserved mercy…but this was not one of them.
He would not yield, even as it seized him again and pierced through him with more corrupting tendrils, trying to tear his soul apart as he screamed…
As back out through the ghost portal, in the now calm post office, its dark master removed…the biggest mistake of the creature once called H.H. Holmes became apparent. With it not there, it couldn't maintain the hold it had. Including on the living prisoners it had taken.
And on the ground lay Holmes's scattered bones, briefly forgotten.
Danny hadn't announced what he had to be dramatic.
He'd announced it because he'd hoped he'd be overheard. And he had been.
And so they emerged from the room, battered themselves, but with a cold determination in their eyes as they saw the portal, knew what Danny was going through on the other side.
"…You heard my son." Maddie said,
Valerie made an angry snorting noise and raised an arm, as her once again working suit extracted a wrist mounted flamethrower.
"Hasta la vista, asshole."
And the manifest entity in the Ghost Zone suddenly screamed in agony as its mortal remains burned in the real world, as Danny tore himself free from his grip.
"That's something your kind never understands. Working with others." Danny said.
Even as it burned, the creature still lashed out, as it fired a midnight black ray at Danny, but Danny thrust out a hand and with a blast of his own power shattered the attack, blowing away a piece of the shifting, furious mass. It shrieked again, sounding all too human, a human that was finally realizing nothing lasted forever.
As Danny raised the Magnus, and it too ignited green.
YOUREDEADBOY…!
"Yeah I get that a lot." Danny replied.
And he slashed down, as a tremendous blade of green energy flew from the sword and struck the manifestation of the evil that had lived, tormented, and survived beyond the mortal frame of H.H Holmes, but no more, as it gave one final agonized cry, and then disintegrated, leaving nothing behind.
Danny lowered the sword, taking deep breaths, as he usually did. It helped to calm him down, as he looked at where Holmes had been, now sentenced to whatever punishment he had earned.
Danny was sure it was a doozy.
"…Heh. Ichigo, eat your heart out." Danny said, and slid his sword back into the sheath.
And that was it…for that, anyway.
I reunited with my mother and friends in the post office, which was nice. Got a kiss. Which was quite nice. The other two were jealous. Not so nice, but they all agreed to work together. And then we all went back into the ghost zone, returned to the mobile command center, and decided a few days' break would be nice.
And here I am this evening, finding Tucker fast asleep over this file he'd been working on. I'm not sure if it's an essay, a personal journal entry, or what, but since it's all about me anyway I figure I should offer my two cents.
Tucker was right about monsters. Was Holmes truly one? My still aching wounds would agree.
But Holmes was once quoted for something.
"I was born with the devil in me. I could not help the fact that I was a murderer, no more than the poet can help inspiration to sing – I was born with the 'Evil One' standing as my sponsor beside the bed where I was ushered into the world, and he had been with me since."
Then again, evil making excuses for itself is nothing new. But it once again makes murky the waters of the question: what is it that truly defines a monster?
In the end, we may never know.
But I know this.
Whatever it comes from, it will find me.
So take comfort, those who read these words, in your false monsters, in costume and in print, on pictures and in film.
I'll handle the real ones.
End file.
CLICK.
THE END
And for those who think H.H Holmes is made up, well…try plugging his name into a search engine.
Because, as Danny says, the worst monsters…are the real ones.
See you next year.
Maybe.