After some time, finally I finished another chapter for Perfect Insanity. Hope you sick guys enjoy another chapter full of Délarbé's finest...

We left off at the point where Délarbé fainted within the Russian bar. What is the plan and how is Délarbé gonna fight his way out?

Chapter 6: Trash talk

He can vaguely hear the rain plummet down on the black stone paved street everywhere around. He slowly opens up his eyes to see he's standing upright on the street. The red dots within his pentagonal pupils light up for a brief moment as he looks to his right, seeing the LCD clock in the distance displaying 23:19. The bar is somewhat further away and more to the left then it was the first time he came around. He's standing right next to an old style street light while light is pouring down on him from a large open window.

*Fucking great. The Exorcist? Geh... those Russians finally know what I'am.* thinks Délarbé. He looks at this hands, as if there were things that were attached about a second ago. All claws are extracted, like Wolverine. Feeling returns as soon as a rain drop hits the tip of nose, burning off immediately.

*They don't feel right. Still to... mortal I guess.*

Feeling returns as soon as a rain drop hits the tip of nose, burning off immediately. He realizes that his backpack is gone and that he's dressed in a dark shaded red cape. He doesn't mind the red cape, even though it covers his entire body except for his feet. He is more, well, 'worried' about his backpack.

*Nevermind, he'll come back soon. Hmmm... I'm pretty thirsty. *retracts claws* That Black Russian, *smirk* I think I'm gonna change that to a WHITE Russian.* he thinks as walks towards the door. Right before the door, he looks up in the air. He doesn't hear the sign shrieking anymore; something is hanging in the air.

*Those guys can never leave me alone. They lost someone... a child, a son. *looks at the door* I wonder if...* he thinks as he opens the door. Within the second of him stepping in, he's greeted by at least 10 gun barrels pointed at his face accompanied by cocking noises. He rises his hands out of pure pleasure as he sees the Ivan the polar bear holding a Cuban cigar between his fingers as he stand proudly behind the table, that stands on his feet again. The cards are distributed, literally. The prize? Probably whatever is hanging above the table. Either a block of heavy lead, that falls upon whoever loses, or a cage covered by a black curtain.

'So... finally found out what I'm?' remarks Délarbé as if they should have known that already.

'*pours in some whiskey* I thought that those eyes of you were simply decorations.' answers Ivan.

'*points that them* You think these symbols(?)... are fake too?'

Ivan shrugs as he starts to walk around on his spot. Délarbé starts to look at every person to his left and right.

'Geh... you got it all figured out. You wanted me to return, but then in Russian style... eh? Haha... but of course. *looks and points to his right* 5 here. *looks and points to his right* And 5 more over here... all... pointing... guns at my face. Your... loyalists? Do you what the problem is... with loyalists? *looks at a guy to his right, aiming the gun while squatted.* Like this guy.' points Délarbé. 'Young... enthusiastic... *comes closer to his face* and fucking scared!' bites Délarbé.

'Your point?' asks Ivan.

'*suddenly grabs the barrel of they guy's gun* THIS(!) is my point! *places the barrel to his forehead* PULL THE TRIGGER!' he commands screaming. 'PULL IT! *pause* FUCKING PULL IT YOU WHIMPY BITCH! P-U-L-L I-T!' he spells out.

He starts staring down in the guy's soul, seeing nothing more then happiness and dreams being turned into terror and nightmares.

'Pull it.' he states soft before repeating that, but without saying anything. He just moves his lips to form the words. For 10 seconds, it remains awkwardly quiet. Everyone is astonished by the sudden action Délarbé made.

'And that(!)*pulls his head away*, is the problem... with loyalists.' says Délarbé as he crushes the barrel and walks towards the table. *insert bad ass music here* His fingers grab the knot at his chin, holding the cape together at the front. He stops in his tracks as the moment is ruined when the knot doesn't open in one go.

'Sorry. Urhm... excuse for a moment.' he says as he turns away from the polar bear. Restrained cursing is heard coming from him. 'Son of a fuck... bitch... fuck it!' is heard coming from his as he lifts his right hand, extracts the claws and cuts the knot off entirely. As the 10 armed men still standing at the door are horrified at the look of the naked front, Délarbé turns around to face Ivan.

'Thanks for the cape. Not my style, but fits the situation perfectly.' he grins as he sits down at the head of the table. He waves the cape up over the back end of the chair. Ivan sits down as well, not minding the nudity Délarbé has shown. Ivan signals his that six of his loyalists are to sit on the side of the table. Those close to Délarbé, do it but are anything but happy with it. Délarbé doesn't mind them. Instead, he glares at the bartender and the wall of pictures behind him. Ivan turns his head to the bar as well.

'Ah... of course. Our guest is thirsty. A Coal Mine for our friend Sergei.' commands Ivan. Sergei comes from behind the bar with the drink already made.

'Don't go easy on the Black Russian. *restrained laughter*' adds Délarbé before the glass is put in front of him.

'You still haven't learned anything, do you?' asks one of the loyalists on Délarbé's right. 'We knocked you out, remember?'

'Nope. *grabs the glass and takes a sip from it* For one, you didn't knocked me out. I know who did, but I'll take care of those two in a moment. Hmm... *takes another sip* interesting... *starts to rinse and gargle with it* *swallow* Egh... you know what's wrong with it?' asks Délarbé.

'What?'

'*looks over to the brave loyalist* You got a light?' he asks nicely.

'You smoke? *grabs the light from his pocket* You don't like a smoker to me.'

He hands over the light and Délarbé snatches it out of his paws. 'I don't smoke. You said it yourself; I don't look like one. *inaudible* Dumb shit. *normal* No, I need this to spice up of my drink.' he says as the ignites the lighter. A larger flame then usual sparks up, but Ivan doesn't see any danger in it. Délarbé haggles and spits inside his drink. The saliva forms a small layer of foam like a glass of beer. Délarbé lights it up and jet flame erupts from it, leaving a black spot on the ceiling. The flame reduces into smaller flame.

'Now... I'm becoming a smoker. I guess my intolerable behavior is caused by my inner flame. I need a chimney, something to let it all out. *points his left index finger upwards* Here we go.' says Délarbé as he sticks his index finger in the flame. A high-pitched hiss is heard before it starts to spark.

'Uuuuurgh...' moans Délarbé before pulling his finger out, like he was stuck inside something. 'LAAARGH! *looks upon his finger and grins* Perfect!' he compliments himself as he looks upon his index finger. The top is burned away and replaced by an ever burning flame.

'Feels a lot better.' comments Délarbé as he grabs the glass, blows out the fire and gulps it down in one go. 'AAAAH! A lot better. *throws the glass away* Now, why am I here? It wasn't very clear the first time I came around.'

The Loyalists around Délarbé notice something very strange about that flame. It's like it's staring back at them, hauling them in. Their vision starts to become more of a tunnel vision; only on the flame. Like a black hole, not even the atmospheric lightening of the room can't escape its grasp. And it is getting stronger.

Ivan, leaning back in his chair, chuckles a little and starts applauding him. 'I like you. You have a certain sense of dark humor. *bends over and places his arms crossed on the table as he flips away his cigar and starts to look a lot more serious* Now listen. This is the deal; I don't want you... take over my turf, understood?'

Délarbé lifts his right eyebrow up. 'Uhh... what are you talking about?'

'Your gang you dumbskull! Okay... I get it. You are thinking: Oh, we are small. We won't get noticed. *slams his fist on the table* Hell no! We are at war and we can't use another amateur trying to take over.'

Délarbé starts to see the whole picture. He starts to roar over that fact, nearly chocking himself. '*cough* Bleh... ahum... You really think that... geh heh... that I'm trying to take you guys over? What a joke! WHAHAHAHA!' rumbles Délarbé. 'But seriously. I'm not trying to. I've already done it.'

'We'll see about that! Uncover the curtain!' commands Ivan as leans back in his chair again. 'Let's see how you like this.' he plagues as the curtain is uncovered by the one Loyalist that is seemingly not attracted, or not attracted enough to the flame. A rattle is heard coming from inside as the first rays of light come through the bars of the hanging cage. The stomping of at least a dozen footsteps are heard coming from the roof; Ivan thinks he has Délarbé were he wants him. Délarbé grin becomes unsettling as it continues to stay on his stale face. He places his elbow on the table, like he's challenging Ivan to a game of arm wrestling. However, he only lifts his left index finger up in the air, waving it around slowly. The tunnel vision is becoming worse for the closest and even Ivan starts feeling a little light headed. The environment sees to wave, like taking a lot of heat in the desert. With another rattle, Délarbé focuses more on the cage as he withdraws his finger, snapping everyone else out of it.

'What is in there?' he asks uncannily nice.

'One of your Sons! *Délarbé lifts the same eyebrow* Indeed you devil! I've captured one of your Sons. *rises and takes the whiskey with him as starts to walk around the table* Now... you seem to be the father figure to these little rats. Just like I'am. My Loyalists... are my children. We want to take good care of them, don't we?' asks Ivan as father to a father, but Délarbé glares angry at the cage. With an accusing gaze, he looks inside the Son's eyes.

'Number 4! What the fuck!? *points at him* You better killed as many of these vodka addicts as possible or else I'll replace your ass! *turns to Ivan and is very calm* No... in my relationship there is a clear chain. They take good care of me... they fend for themselves. Loyalty through striking fear... not respect or love. *turns to the Son again* And that one knows it very well...'

'You don't care about what happens to him!?'

'*shrug* Why should I? Enough are standing in the line.' states Délarbé, angering Ivan as he's ready to wrap his chubby fingers around Délarbé's neck. However, Délarbé's face lights up when he hears a certain rattle. Varying from high-pitched and screeching to ominous and soft. It is music to Délarbé, who is drawn to it.

'Aaah... that eargasm.' he quotes. '*turns to Ivan* This is his death rattle. Number 4 doesn't have his symbol yet, because I don't have mine either. But, he's very useful when it's about death. He rattles... whenever death lingers in the air.'

'So it means you?' comments a far sitting Loyalist, making the rest laugh. But the two close to Délarbé seem to distance themselves more from it. The tone in their laughter is almost forced and stalls on several occasions.

'No, dumbshit! Not me. Why should he? On the contrary, he rattles whenever death comes upon someone else. And the longer... more and more will bite the dust.'

With a self-assured smug on his face, the front door blows upon and a powerful whirlwind blows inside. The cards fly everywhere as the chain longer the cage in the air breaks off. It breaks through the table as the Russians are thrown against the wall. Loyalists still standing close to the door quickly close it, having a lot of trouble in the process. The wall lets go of Ivan, who shakes his head in disbelief. Using his index finger as a torch, Délarbé burns away several bars and releases the Son into the night as he degrades into a small pool of black liquid, flowing through underneath the door. Délarbé sits back on his chair, being the only one not hurt by the sudden wind.

'H... *cough* how did you do that?' coughs Ivan. 'What are you?'

'I? Don't be afraid of what you have inside. Accept the darkness around you *rises his index finger* and feel free!' states Délarbé as all light seem to be attracted to the fire. 'Those without strong loyalty to you, Ivan, will be drawn to the only light that will be left; MINE!'

'TI EDIH T'NOD EM RONOH EM WOLLOF SSENKRAD ROUY NI THGIL MA'I' echoes through the minds of several Loyalists are they see that every bit of light of the bar, even the surroundings and furniture disappear into the flame. A black background with an unsettling haze is left. They look over to Ivan, but he isn't a light beacon in the nightmarish void. Voices of the damned moan and the heat of Hellfire burns and leaves marks of its destruction within the persons. The core of the light in the darkness, feels inviting and warm. Instead of boiling hot. Only Ivan and maybe one or two Loyalists remain rational, although even their minds are being blurred. Suddenly, gunshots are heard from the roof. Followed by the screaming of other Russian gang-members before all Sons of Plunder breach through the roof. Standing in a row, from Number 1 to Number 5, each representing the symbols acquired or to be acquired. The first one is no one other than Bernard from the butchery. He wears the Sigil of Lucifer on his forehead. Enormous claws stick out of his paws. The second one is the surgeon from the burned down hospital. His forehead is covered with the Inverted Cross. The rest simply display the logo of hell. (See cover image)

'Do whatever you like with them my Sons. Don't disappoint me.' commands Délarbé as he turns to the bar. Sergei stands there, completely frozen as Délarbé sits down on a bar stool. He points at one of the pictures behind Sergei.

'Who is that?'

'T-that i *stutter* is James McCloud... s-sir.' answers Sergei.

'Any idea where he lives... by any chance?'

'Certainly. H-he lives near the lake, some 12 kilometers north of here. In a-a large green valley in between the Papetoon Mountain Range.'

'Thanks Sergei. *extracts his claws and starts to carefully stroke Sergei's right cheek before turning to the Sons* Everyone... *points at him* don't kill him. I like him. *gets off the stool and walks out before turning around one last time* Instead, recruit him. But only when you're done with the rest.' commands Délarbé as the door closes behind him,taking the backpack with him. Screaming is heard from the inside as two mutilated bodies are bungling down from the roof. Slashed open or ripped to shreds; overkill didn't seem enough. He starts to whistle the same song again as walks away. The light coming from the window, mimicking The Exorcist is out. He enters the alley and seemingly ends up in Dutch territory as he called a 'Klojo' (too many translations for that one. Figure one out yourselves!) from his right. Three Dutchies are standing there, flipping knives around in their hands. Délarbé sighs deep; he has no appetite for another group thinking they are everything.

With one of the highest pitched tones in the whole whistle, two Sons come down from black holes on the high standing building and drop down to slash the outer two while disappearing through another black hole in the ground. Délarbé lifts his index finger and pretends that it sparks up a lighter. It causes the slashed ones to combust in a hellish looking fire. Another Son drops down from behind Délarbé. He clamps onto Délarbé's head who roars while going through the floor.

'So!' states the remaining Dutch gang member. 'You think you're tough eh? I see you like fire and BBQ. *sure smells like it* Do you know what 'stab' means in Dutch? HUH!? It means 'steek' (steak)! So how do you like your steak!?'

'The way I like my ribs!' puns Délarbé as he unexpectedly jumps out of a wall close by the remaining Dutch gang member and slashes his claws right through the second and third rib on the left side of the ribcage.

'ALIVE!' he ends.

He pushes to down even further and even goes as far to deepen into the lungs and going down towards the other organs. His claws don't reach any further than the lowest rib. Délarbé withdraws his claws, ripping most of the ribs on the left side with it.

*Tasty* thinks Délarbé as he and the Sons disappear into the darkness of the night. Except one; he has a different task as crawls over the buildings. The only evidence left behind, is the echo of the vile whistle.

Nether...

He is still strapped to the chair, in the middle of the white room. His eyes are full of hope that Krystal is out there, trying to free him. He has a smile on his face, something he hasn't been in quite a while. And it's about to degrade too. A small, black dot appears in front of him. Red sparks come from the middle as it starts to expand. As the sparks are going with the expansion, a black void takes place in the middle. The gazing red dots within his pupils are seen as Délarbé himself is formed out of the void before vaporizing, like it never existed. His barbed wire chain around his left leg is getting a little loose as a screeching noise comes with it as it drags across the tablet floor. He sticks it back into his leg, without any sign of pain. The stare Délarbé gives Fox now is less frightening and less of a threat. It is unsettling, though calming at the same time. Fox resets the calmness.

'What do you want!?' bites Fox

'Nothing special. Why?'

'*takes a good look at him* What happened to you? You look like shit.'

'Gang war. Caught up in the middle, you know... standard stuff.' explains Délarbé very simple. '*suddenly very angry* Because some idiot chick thought it was funny to almost kill me! When that guy Nether and Krystal got together, they blocked me out. I'm the half of you, meaning that if you are isolated, I fail and faint! When I die, you die! Capisce!?'

'So what do you want? She is getting me out of here! Away from you. Nevermind anyway! FUCK YOURSELF! I'm not gonna bow before you!' states Fox before his mouth is folded. Délarbé puts his left index finger against his mouth, suggesting Fox to be silent.

'If that is the case, then I talk... you listen. *grabs a disposable cellphone* Geh heh.' he chuckles. 'Listen to this.' says Délarbé, like a little child planning a practical joke. He dials a number he knows from his memory. He hears the dial tone and haggles a little.

'How are you doing?' says Panther, but it's coming from Délarbé's mouth. Fox looks shocked as Délarbé happily states: 'I know right!'

*Phone*

Hello?

Hello sweetheart.

Oh Panther! I'm so glad to hear your voice!

I'm also glad to hear yours. It's a lot better than what is currently going on.

With Krystal? Pfff... don't worry about her. I settled her up with an old acquaintance. God knows how long he can stay with her stubborn ass.

Haha... indeed. However, she is good in discovering secrets that way. Is our relation still between us?

Of course my dearest Panther. The only thing that sucks is that I didn't know that she was gonna meet him on Papetoon. *sigh* I'm sorry Panther.

Panther doesn't mind. I have a location where we can meet in private. Something evil is lingering around, so I've been informed.

I heard it on the news. Just several hours ago. The ruling Russians and Dutch are mostly overtaken by the new Sons of Plunder!

I bet that is getting some respect eh?

Uh... sure. They call themselves the Sympathizers. It's very creepy.

I'll be safe with me. My team isn't going well either. It think it's around us... the evil. I'll text you the location of where we can meet in private.

I'll see you there. Love you Panther.

Panther loves you more my dearest Estelle.

*Phone*

Délarbé closes the phone and throws it away while the cloth blocking Fox's mouth disappears.

'Panther has an affair!?' says Fox baffled.

'What? You actually thought that Panther could only love one? Come on! It's Panther we are talking about! That guy thinks with his dick... don't trust playboys like that. That's what you call trash talk eh? *chuckle* I'm going to have some more fun in the real world. That gang think got me thinking though. With the Sympathizers already forming within hours... it's going great. *open a black raft* Goodbye Fox McCloud. I'll see you next time.' ends Délarbé before Fox can even say anything.

He is left alone again. But he feels strange. For some reason, Délarbé's appearance around him gave him a pleasant feeling. Of being complete, of being one. The missing puzzle piece in the big riddle that is Fox's live.

*NO! That can't be! Krystal is the piece that makes me complete! Not some inner evil that I used to have. But... hopefully I'm not deceiving myself. Krystal let me down once... but not twice. She isn't with Panther anymore. Especially after Délarbé shows her that Estelle and Panther have an affair. Geh... I guess everything is going to be fine after all.*

Is Fox deceiving himself, or can Krystal keep her promise? Panther's true love interest is revealed to be Estelle. Délarbé is about on the brink of ruining everything, Krystal once loved. Just wait for it...