Fleshrend stalked through the grimy streets outside the hotel, his hulking form casting an imposing shadow over the surrounding buildings. His mechanical enhancements hummed softly, a stark contrast to the growls that escaped his lips. He had been warned not to breach the hotel, but that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun on the outskirts.
Grabbing a random sinner by the throat, he effortlessly slammed him into a nearby wall, the impact sending a crack through the brick. "You got one shot to make yourself useful," Fleshrend snarled, his voice a guttural mix of machinery and demonic growl. "Tell me about the guy in the black suit."
The sinner gasped, clawing at the massive arm pinning him to the wall. "I-I don't know much! I swear! They say he only shows up if you cross into his territory… looks like somethin' out of a nightmare… black suit, big cape, green eyes. That's it, man! That's all I know!"
Fleshrend's lips twisted into a wicked grin beneath his visor. "So... he only shows up if you trespass? Guess I'll just have to send him a special invitation." Without warning, Fleshrend reached down and gripped the sinner's arm, yanking it clean off with a sickening rip. The sinner screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground clutching the stump where his arm used to be.
Fleshrend watched the blood pool on the pavement for a moment, unfazed by the gruesome sight. "Tell your friends," he said mockingly, his voice dripping with cruelty, "I'll be waiting." He turned and lumbered away, tossing the dismembered arm over his shoulder as casually as if he'd discarded a piece of trash.
The sinner writhed in pain, watching the massive enforcer disappear into the shadows, knowing that the word of what had just happened would spread—and with it, so would Fleshrend's chilling challenge to Spawn.
Spawn sat in the hotel lobby, feeling out of place as ever. For years, he had made it a point to avoid getting too close to anyone. It was easier that way. Less to worry about, fewer weaknesses for his enemies to exploit. Yet, here he was, sitting in this hotel filled with sinners, and it reminded him all too much of his early days in Rat City.
Back then, the people there had accepted him without question, especially Gareb. A homeless man who had nothing, Gareb had treated Spawn like one of his own, never seeing him as the monster he appeared to be. Gareb had welcomed him into his little community, offering kindness when Spawn least expected it. It was one of the rare moments that someone had shown him a sense of belonging.
And now, here at the hotel, Charlie was doing the same thing. Her warmth, her optimism—it reminded him of Gareb's unwavering acceptance. No matter what he was, no matter how dangerous or broken, she still saw something worth saving.
As if on cue, Charlie approached him, holding a single drawing in her hands. The crayon lines were uneven, a bit childish, but the sincerity behind it was unmistakable. She looked a little nervous but determined as she showed it to him. It was a simple picture of the hotel with bright colors and smiling faces—almost naive in its simplicity, but the message was clear.
"I, uh, I drew this," Charlie said with a small smile. "It's kind of how I like to explain things sometimes. I know it's not much, but I wanted to try and help you understand what we're doing here."
Spawn looked at the drawing, then back at Charlie, saying nothing. She continued, sensing his silence was more out of curiosity than rejection.
"This hotel... it's my chance to help. My dream is to rehabilitate sinners, to give them a chance to be redeemed and eventually get into heaven. I know it sounds impossible. I mean, this is Hell. But I believe in it. I believe that no one is beyond saving. Not even people like us."
Spawn's eyes flickered at that last part. He knew she wasn't just talking about the other demons here—she was talking about him too. She was offering him that same hope. But hope was a dangerous thing. Hope was something he had learned to avoid.
Before Charlie could get any further into her explanation, Spawn stiffened. His keen senses picked up a sound outside the hotel—a scream, sharp and filled with terror. He knew the sounds of Hell all too well, but this one was different. It wasn't just random chaos. There was something deliberate about it. Something close.
He stood up abruptly, his cape flaring out behind him. Charlie paused mid-sentence, sensing the shift in his demeanor. "Al?"
He didn't answer her, his focus entirely on the sound in the distance. It was instinctual, that need to act, to protect. Without a word, he moved toward the door, pushing it open with a quiet intensity. The scream echoed again, faint but unmistakable.
Charlie watched as he left, her drawing still clutched in her hands. Her expression shifted from confusion to understanding. This was who Spawn was. A protector. A warrior who didn't need to say much to show he cared.
She quietly hoped that, over time, he would come to realize that he didn't always have to fight alone. That maybe, just maybe, he could find something worth staying for.
Spawn stepped into the street, the faint smell of blood heavy in the air. His gaze fell on the sinner lying lifeless on the ground, the jagged wound where the arm used to be still fresh. His senses were immediately on high alert, scanning the scene. The message scrawled in blood across the pavement was clear: "Face me, weakling."
Spawn's eyes darkened. He knew that Vox and Valentino were likely to go to more extremes now that their usual muscle had failed to accomplish anything, but seeing the brutality up close sparked a familiar anger deep within him. Before he could start piecing together the situation, murmurs spread among the nearby sinners. Their fear and frustration were palpable.
"This is your fault!" one of them shouted, his voice trembling. "Things were bad enough before you showed up! Now the Vee's are out for us too!"
"Yeah, they're coming for all of us!" another sinner chimed in, panic rising. "You brought this on us!"
Spawn clenched his fists, the weight of their accusations momentarily pulling him away from the task at hand. He understood their fear, but this wasn't his doing. The blame for this bloodshed fell squarely on Vox and Valentino. But before he could respond, a deep rumbling shook the ground beneath his feet.
The building beside him trembled, the sound of crumbling stone and creaking steel filling the air. Spawn looked up, and there, looming above him, was Fleshrend. The demon's grotesque form towered over the street, his massive, muscle-bound body covered in twisted metal, wires, and demonic energy pulsing through him like veins. His cold, dead eyes locked onto Spawn, and a wicked grin split across his face.
"So, you're the one who's been giving Valentino so much trouble?" Fleshrend said, his voice thick with mockery. He jumped down from the building, the impact shaking the ground as he landed. "I expected more."
Spawn's eyes narrowed as he sized up the behemoth before him. Fleshrend was unlike any demon he'd fought here—he was a fusion of raw muscle, technology, and dark magic, a true monstrosity designed for destruction.
"I was told you were something special," Fleshrend continued, rolling his massive shoulders as if warming up. "But I'm not impressed. You're nothing but another sinner like the rest of them."
Spawn said nothing, his instincts already preparing for the fight. His cape flared out behind him, shadows gathering around his form. He had faced monsters before—gods, demons, and creatures that made Fleshrend look like child's play. But the challenge wasn't what worried him. It was the collateral damage. He needed to end this before more innocent souls were caught in the crossfire.
Fleshrend chuckled darkly. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? No matter. Once I'm done with you, there won't be enough left to bury."
With that, the hulking brute charged, his massive fists crashing down toward Spawn with lethal force. But Spawn didn't flinch. He had faced worse and lived to tell the tale. As the fight began, he moved with precision, ready to show Fleshrend just how big of a mistake he'd made.
At the hotel, the atmosphere was tense. The others had been keeping their distance from Spawn, but now that he was gone, they couldn't help but wonder what he was up to.
Angel lounged on one of the couches, his legs draped over the armrest, as he twirled a cigarette between his fingers. "You know," he began, "Spawn's real lucky no one knows who he is. If Val knew he was the one killin' his men, he'd be on him like flies on—well, you know."
Vaggie crossed her arms, about to chime in, but her words were cut off by the sudden, distant rumble of an explosion. The entire hotel seemed to shudder, and the noise sent everyone crowding around the windows, peering out to see where the sound had come from.
"Did anyone else feel that?" Niffty asked, darting between the others.
"Yeah, and it didn't feel good," Vaggie muttered, her brow furrowed with concern.
Outside, they could see a column of smoke rising not too far from the hotel. The source of the explosion was unclear, but it was close. Too close for comfort.
Husk, leaning against the bar, took a swig from his flask and sighed, his usual gruff demeanor unchanged. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered under his breath, then added more cynically, "That's definitely gotta be Spawn's doing."
Angel gave a half-smile, blowing out a stream of smoke. "Well, looks like the quiet's over. Wonder what our dark and broody friend's gotten himself into this time."
The streets had become a war zone, littered with debris and the sounds of destruction echoing between buildings. Fleshrend, a hulking combination of demonic power and advanced technology, was in his element, his heavy artillery unleashing hell on the surrounding area. His monstrous form was deceptively fast, moving with short bursts of speed that caught even Spawn off guard.
Spawn, despite his power and experience, found himself momentarily overwhelmed by the relentless force of his opponent. Fleshrend's massive hands clamped down on his skull, trying to crush him as he taunted, "I expected more from you more from someone who caused so much trouble! Just another weakling in Hell!"
The pressure built in Spawn's head, but he was far from beaten. Gritting his teeth, he let out a growl as his chains and cape surged to life, wrapping around Fleshrend's cybernetic limbs. With a swift, brutal motion, Spawn's chains tore into the metal, shredding wires and circuits, sending sparks flying. Fleshrend howled in agony as his enhancements malfunctioned, causing his armor to short-circuit and some of his artillery to sputter.
In rage, Fleshrend hurled Spawn into a nearby building. The impact was brutal, sending shockwaves through the structure, but before Spawn could fully recover, Fleshrend unleashed a storm of rockets and shells at the building. The barrage of artillery was deafening, and the building groaned before finally collapsing under the assault, burying Spawn in a cloud of dust and rubble.
Fleshrend stood still for a moment, his body sparking from the damage Spawn had inflicted, but a twisted grin spread across his face. "Job done," he grunted, staggering away with heavy steps, his systems badly damaged and in need of repairs. As he turned, the debris pile where Spawn lay buried seemed motionless, the dust still hanging in the air.
Charlie and the others arrived at the scene, their faces painted with shock as they took in the devastation. The street was unrecognizable, nearly obliterated by the battle between Spawn and Fleshrend. Buildings were reduced to rubble, and debris was strewn everywhere. Dust still hung in the air, and the acrid smell of explosives lingered.
Charlie's heart raced as she scanned the wreckage. "Al! Al, are you there?!" she shouted, her voice filled with panic and concern. She ran closer to the debris, her eyes frantically searching for any sign of life.
Angel Dust, while also looking around, tried to keep his usual air of nonchalance, though concern flickered in his eyes. "Uh, not to be a downer, babe, but I mean… you really think he's walking out of that?" He gestured to the mountain of rubble. "I know he's tough, but no one's that tough."
Just as Angel finished speaking, a low groan echoed from beneath the debris, followed by the sound of shifting rubble. Everyone froze for a moment, and then Charlie's eyes widened with hope.
"Al!" she cried, rushing toward the sound. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees and began clawing at the rubble, trying to move the heavy pieces of debris with her bare hands. "He's alive! Help me!"
Angel raised an eyebrow, muttering, "Okay, guess I stand corrected…" but quickly moved to help, pulling away large chunks of concrete with surprising strength. Husk and Vaggie joined in as well, moving debris as quickly as they could, all while Charlie continued calling out to Spawn.
"Just hold on! We're getting you out!"