[Originally posted 05/12/05 by Pyriel in the match Malthus vs. Murmur vs. Darkness vs. Reaper vs. John Doe]

{This takes place before John Doe's post. I wanted to tie up some loose ends}

Pyriel's grief was consuming him. Silent screams echoed in his head as his mouth was stretched open. Tears flooded down his face as he stood among the circle of the dead. John Doe, Darkness and most importantly of all Mr. Mann. Their lifeless bodies lay on the floor, their blood joining together to form a crimson stream. Pyriel fell to his knees and began to shake. It was not supposed to be this way.

He needed Mr. Mann. He needed his friendship and his wisdom. Most of all, he needed his link to the outside world. Pyriel was a prisoner within himself. A wealth of things to say and no way to say them.

So wrapped up in his grief was he that he did not hear the sound of steel shoving air aside until the massive mace had already sent him sprawling. Pyriel tried to lift his left arm, but found it lifeless at his side. There was no pain. There was only emptiness. Malthus moved forward in silence, his feet making no noise as they moved across the blood-covered floor. Malthus lifted the mace above his head.

"MOVE!"

Pyriel had no idea where the voice was coming from, but he followed its orders. A split second after Pyriel rolled clear, the massive mace smashed into the floor, pulverizing the wood and sending dust and splinters into the air. Pyriel rolled clear, doing his best to avoid the bodies of his fallen friends.

Malthus: "Scream."

Instead, Pyriel lunged for his spear, still covered in the blood of his friends. Malthus was a split second too slow. With a silent grunt, Pyriel thrust the spear forward, sending it sliding easily into the demon's side. Malthus looked down at the sudden protrusion and then looked back at Pyriel. The demon's eyes, formerly so confident, were now opened wide with surprise. Wihtout a sound, Malthus turned and rushed from the room. Taking another second to look at the bodies of his friends, Pyriel followed, his mind a blind mask of vengeance.

Malthus burst into a room further down the hall. Pyriel followed. With a crash, Malthus slammed into Darkness. Pyriel stopped short, staring at the man who he had killed moments ago.

[Originally posted 05/13/05 by Buddha in the match Malthus vs. Murmur vs. Darkness vs. Reaper vs. John Doe]

Pyriel did not have long. Already, he could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. His eyes darted down the hall, catching the swish of a cloak. As quietly as he could, Pyriel began to gently nudge Darkness awake. Pyriel kept glancing down the hall, expecting to see Reaper coming toward them at any moment. Finally, Darkness began to stir.

Darkness: Wh-what is going on?

Pyriel could not explain it to him. He just continued to nudge Darkness as he cast furtive glances behind them. It was very close. The scythe buried itself in the wall less than an inch from Pyriel's head. Pyriel looked to see Reaper trying to rip the scythe from the wall. He had come from the other direction.

Darkness saw the near-miss and snapped to attention. He pushed himself to his feet and made to attack Reaper, but Pyriel shoved him back, shaking his head and motioning for Darkness to run.

Darkness: Come on!

Pyriel looked from Darkness to Reaper, who had just managed to tear his weapon from the wall. Pyriel made as if to run and Darkness took off.

He heard a sound similar to a water balloon being dropped on the floor. Almost in slow motion, Darkness turned and saw the end of the scythe protruding from Pyriel's chest. Pyriel was looking down at it with an eerily calm look on his face. Darkness took a step toward him, but Pyriel shook his head and nodded, motioning for Darkness to run.

Reaper yanked the scythe free from Pyriel's chest and the silent enigma fell to the floor in a heap. Darkness hesitated once more, finally relenting and moving off down the corridor...

John Doe lifted his head, the floor around him covered with blood and chunks of fabric. He looked down at himself, noticing several faint lines all over his body, like he had been hacked to pieces. A glance to the side revealed the rising forms fo both Malthus and Murmur. Malthus stood up and looked directly at Doe a moment, his head cocked to the side.

Malthus: Your memory vanishes in a chasm of pain.

Doe: Maybe. On the other hand, I've got your boyfriend's sword.

Malthus looked down in time to see Doe lift Murmur's sword and hurl it with as much force as he could muster. It imbedded itself in his skull and propelled him backward, pinning him to the wall behind him. Murmur moved as if to help, but Doe stood up and moved closer.

Doe: Not yet. You've gotta go through me first...

Darkness moved through the halls, each door and hallway becoming a blur. Finally, overcome with exhaustion, he fell to his knees.

Do you see the futility?

Darkness looked up and saw Shogun standing in front of him. Cold vapor came off of Shogun's body like steam. A smile played across the demonic warrior's lips as he stared down at the warrior.

Shogun: I can do anything I wish to you here. For an eternity if I choose.

Darkness: I don't fear you, demon. Do your worst.

Shogun's smile intensified.

Shogun: So be it.

[Originally posted 05/16/05 by John Doe in the match Malthus vs. Murmur vs. Darkness vs. Reaper vs. John Doe]

"So be it"

The former Intercontinental Champion grinned menacingly at Darkness. He knew that he was forbidden from killing the enigmatic warrior. However, Darkness had not been granted that same knowledge.

Shogun intended to turn this to his advantage. Materializing in his hands was his ever-so-familiar samurai sword.

"Shall we begin?"

Darkness, unarmed though he was, seemed somehow ready to meet his fate, whatever it might be.

Doe backed slowly away from the menacing advance of Murmur, who now weilded the mace of Malthus. Murmur's other katana had been taken by Darkness, and it's location was now unknown.

And then, Doe smiled.

"Does the thought of suffering yet another demise bring you some sort of hapiness?"

Doe shook his head in response.

"No, you overdressed ninja-wannabe. What's behind you brings me hapiness"

Now it was Murmur's turn to smirk.

"Look behind you? As if I'm not familiar with the oldurrrgggh"

"oldurrrgggh" is the sound one might make if they were cut off in mid-word by someone snapping their neck. This is exactly the fate Murmur suffers, as Pyriel has rematerialized behind him.

"Your timing, well, I couldn't ask for better. What happened?"

The mute pantomimes a scythe swinging.

"The Reaper then. And Darkness?"

A shrug. Pyriel hadn't been able to see where Reaper had proceeded to after his death.

The slow, plodding footsteps chased him through the halls. After his death at the hands, or rather, flung katana, of John Doe, Malthus had rematerialized right in the path of Reaper.

Weaponless.

Knowing death wouldn't do him any permanent harm, Malthus still fled, seeking to avoid the temporary pain of departing the mortal coil. But it wasn't just fear that drove his actions. He quickly proved that as Reaper rounded a corner and was met by a flying ninja.

Malthus managed to kick off a wall to gain height, and take Reaper down with a reverse bulldog style maneuver. However, Reaper's strength sent him careening down the corridor, giving the bringer of death just the time he needed to recollect himself.

Malthus looked behind him. Unfortunately, he stared at a dead-end. Not the greatest choice of words. He turned to face Reaper. No choice but to fight.

Reaper tried an overhand swing, and even in his psychoctic state, his face showed surprise when the strike didn't connect. There was no way Malthus could have completely dodged the swing.

So he caught it instead, palms pressed to either side of the scythe's blade.

"Ok, ok, so you got a message. From Darkness, but not from Darkness"

Pyriel nods. Finally, he gets it.

"That makes no sense. How can it be both? Was it someone pretending to be Darkness?"

Pyriel shook his head. He began pantomiming again.

"His internal organs told you? You had a conversation with his liver? "

Pyriel gets frustrated and slams his hand into a nearby desk. When he removes it, his handpring is still visible.

"HEY! You can write, right?"

Pyriel glares, as if to imply that this should be obvious. He's deaf, not a illiterate

"Then, spell out the message. What was wrong with Darkness?"

The letters begin forming under Pyriel's fingers.

S

O

U

"His soup? His soup was different?"

Pyriel's glare invites Doe to say something stupid again so that he can be used as the device upon which Pyriel's frustrations are taken out.

"Fine, fine, no soup for you"

Pyriel rolls his eyes and continues.

L

"His soul was different? Did he get a new one from dying?"

Pyriel started gesticulating wildly at the mention of Darkness and death in combination.

"Wait. He hasn't died yet, has he? That's what this message was about, Darkness dying!"

Pyriel nodded. A finger drawn across his throat, to represent death, then the unlighted hall is pointed at, Darkness. Lastly, a firm headshake.

"Darkness..can't die? So, he's invincible?"

Pyriel shook his head. Again, the gesture for Darkness dying. Then a finger pointing at the ground.

"If Darkness dies..he..doesn't come back?"

Before Pyriel can confirm this, Murmur leaps from the shadows, striking at the mute warrior.

"Don't you just hate sneak attacks?"

[Originally posted 05/16/05 by Thommy H in the match Malthus vs. Murmur vs. Darkness vs. Reaper vs. John Doe]

A gym in Little Rock, Arkansas, a world away from here...two men, different and yet the same, spar in a run-down wrestling ring.

It is night; the empty room is shrouded in deep shadows, the only illumination provided by gently flickering lamps suspended above the ring. The warriors look like they're bathed in a spotlight; such is the contrast between their arena of combat and the rest of the gym.

The taller man, lean and Asian, throws a high kick in his opponent's direction. The other man, shorter and clothed entirely in black, easily parries and spins the martial artist by his leg onto the mat. He places his own leg between those of his foe...tries to grapevine the limbs about his own...tries to lock in the move he knows will secure victory...

Shogun twists his torso and Darkness is hurled to one side. The Japanese man is up in the blink of an eye, intercepting his opponent as he rushes towards him. A hurracanrana, a roll-through from Darkness and then a hip-toss, a dropkick, a tornado DDT, a butterfly suplex, a fireman's carry, a somoan driver, an arm drag...

The bouts blend into one, they soon stop counting the pinfalls or even trying to get them in the first place, both just endlessly hitting move after move in an effort to outdo the other.

Shogun is the Intercontinental Champion, Darkness a mere rookie. Yet they are evenly matched tonight. Whatever life the taciturn man in black led before he came to the 411fed has left him perfectly adapted to this environment.

Shogun knows he will not win their match.

A clothesline knocks Darkness from his feet but as Shogun turns, his sees his foe immediately kip-up and resume his defensive stance. He cannot be stopped.

"Enough."

Darkness's hands drop by his sides, "Do you concede?" he asks, a smile in his voice.

"There is no conceding - this is just practice," Shogun replies, his breath laboured, "If I am to concede anywhere it will be in the ring."

"This is a ring..."

"The real ring."

Darkness laughs. He too is breathing hard and, like Shogun, his body is covered in a slick layer of sweat. Shogun walks towards the edge of the ring and lifts up the top rope, resting his weight on the second rope to form a space that a man can easily step through. He gestures for Darkness to pass through and the man in black nods and does so, hopping deftly from the apron to the floor.

"So," Darkness says, turning to Shogun as he too climbs down from the ring, "Do you think I'll leave a mark here?"

Shogun meets Darkness's steel grey eyes. They both already know the answer.

It might as well have been a thousand years ago...to Shogun it almost was.

That early camaraderie was replaced during the centuries of horrendous torture by black vengeance. He hated all that lived and breathed, but most of all he hated those he had left behind, those who held victories over him and those that had been his companions.

David Hardy, the one who had left him physically scarred and mentally shattered...

Josh Mitchell, the one that had pulled him down with him to suffer at the hands of Spyne...

Bruce, his old friend that had once meant so much to him and now represented everything he had lost...

Lance Canada, his former employer...

And, of course, Darkness...the last man to beat him before the end....

What goes through a warrior's mind when all he knows is suffering for century after century? Where does his imagination wander when all he has to focus his mind is the endless pain?

The sword crashed down to Darkness's right, smashing apart a low table that supported an expensive looking vase. The black-clad warrior spun away and looked for an opening in his foe's defences. Shogun laughed maniacally as he swung his sword again, barely missing Darkness's head, instead shattering a picture of the Chicago harbour that hung on the wall.

Glass and wooden frame spilt across the floor, but Shogun advanced regardless, ignoring the shards that stuck into the soft soles of his footwear that was a seamless continuation of his loose-fitting robes. Darkness stepped backwards, glass crunching beneath his feet, suddenly not so sure of himself.

He was unarmed and facing a murderous martial artist, hell-bent (literally) on revenge and wielding a truly impressive weapon. Realistically, he had no chance.

"Darkness!"

He turned to see Doe coming from around a corner, Pyriel in tow.

"Wha...?"

Before he could finish his question, Murmur followed the fleeing pair, swinging Malthus's mace awkwardly and smashing the corridor apart with the heavy weapon. Shogun roared at the three newcomers, causing Murmur to pause for a second before swinging once more at Pyriel, crushing the silent man's arm and dropping him to the floor.

Doe ran towards Darkness, wrenching himself away from trying to help Pyriel, "Darkness...I need to tell you something..."

"Can't it wait?"

Doe eyed Shogun who was busy attempting to pull his katana from the heavy door in which it had become wedged on his last swing, "Not really..." he replied.

Pyriel pushed past them, his shattered arm cradled against his side and launched himself at Shogun, knocking the former Intercontinental Champion from his feet. Murmur moved up behind Darkness and Doe, but the two men moved without thinking, launching him into the air to land atop the struggling pair. All three of them tussled furiously as Doe grabbed Darkness's sleeve and pulled him around the corner.

"Come on!"

"But...Pyriel..."

"He'll come back," Doe explained, clearly frustrated, "Just come on!"

Darkness followed his friend as he ran through various corridors and then out onto the stairwell that Reaper and Pyriel had encountered Malthus and Murmur on earlier. Doe paused and checked the way they had come for signs of pursuit before turning to Darkness who was standing, trying to hide his impatience.

"So?"

Doe caught his breath before continuing, "You...you can't die..."

"What?"

"All of us, when we die, we come back," Doe elaborated, "But you won't."

"How do you know?" Darkness asked.

"Pyriel told me."

"Pyriel can't talk..."

"He...he wrote it," Doe explained, now becoming frustrated himself, "Look, it doesn't matter how I found out or how he found out, he just seemed pretty convinced..."

"So I don't come back and everyone else does?" Darkness said, reasoning it through.

"Apparently."

"Then why is Shogun trying to kill me?" Darkness asked.

"I...wait...is he?"

"Well he was swinging that sword at me," Darkness replied, "That's the sort of behaviour I usually associate with someone trying to kill me."

"Why didn't he hit you then?" Doe asked, now frowning heavily.

"Because I dodged?"

"In the state you're in?" Doe asked, eyebrows raised, "How is your arm, now?"

Darkness rubbed the injured limb that still bore Doe's makeshift bandage - he had forgotten the wound left by Murmur's sword in all the excitement.

"Good point," Darkness conceded, "So why go easy on me?"

"Maybe Shogun knows too..." Doe suggested.

"Wait...what if Shogun dies?" Darkness asked suddenly, a new fire in his eyes.

"Well, he'll come back, won't he?"

"Will he?"

"I don't see why he wouldn't," Doe replied, his frown now almost permanent.

"He can move in and out of this place at will, his soul would..."

He was cut off by the sight of a narrow blade erupting from the chest of John Doe. Shogun's katana had been driven straight through the door and then through the ribcage of his friend. Doe's face was frozen in an ‘O' of surprise and, as his blood pulsed down his shirt his eyes flicked across and met those of his ally.

The ghost of a smile played about John Doe's face before he died again.

The door was forced open and Shogun, his face contorted in rage, tried to pull the sword from its sheath of wood and flesh. He clawed out at Darkness, but his intended victim hopped backwards on the landing and, as Shogun continued to struggle, fled down the stairs. He needed some room and he needed a weapon.

A few flights down, he heard the sound of splintering wood and a hollow laugh echoing from above.

"You can't run forever, Nightwalker!"

He careered down the stairs and finally out of the ground floor door, through a narrow corridor and then found himself behind the reception desk in the familiar marble lobby. Sticking point-down in the mahogany surface of the semi-destroyed desk was one of Murmur's katanas.

Darkness did not stop to question how it had come to be there, he simply grabbed it and ran out into the dark space in front of the desk and lowered the blade before him. As the shadows crawled around him, he centred himself.

The precipice loomed as ever, the fire surging below and sending a pulse of warmth across the front of his body while an icy wind turned his back into solid stone. His feet crept onto the edge of the cliff and he steeled himself to jump...

The door behind the reception desk exploded outwards as Shogun walked through, katana slick with John Doe's blood in hand. The once-human warrior jumped onto the desk and raised his sword above his head. In one motion he rose into the air and then leapt down to the marble floor, his weapon plunging into solid stone as if it were butter.

Shogun grinned and, as he did so, two streaks of flame emanated from either side of the sword and traced a circle around the room forming a wide ring of fire around Darkness. Shogun stepped over his katana and then pulled it from the floor, allowing the ring to complete itself behind him.

"Murmur tried his best," Shogun explained, "But if one wants to do something, there's no substitute for doing it oneself."

Darkness's eyes opened and met those of Shogun.

"Shall we begin?"

Shogun lowered his head slightly in a brief nod and his weapon followed suit. The two warriors moved towards one another and the swords, flames reflected in their blades, met.

Shogun spun and threw a wide horizontal slash that Darkness barely parried and then followed immediately by whirling in the opposite direction much faster than Darkness could block the attack. Darkness dodged just in time, only his thick coat saving him from a cut on his thigh to match that on his arm.

Shogun laughed and followed with a series of attacks, each one much too fast for Darkness to parry or dodge but each leaving only superficial marks on his clothes or limbs. After a while it became a pattern, like an elaborate dance and Darkness forgot even trying to attack Shogun.

Darkness stepped backwards, allowing Shogun to press his advantage and then dropped onto his back, his head inches from the fire.

Shogun was caught off-guard and stumbled before finding Darkness's feet buried in his abdomen. He was catapulted into the air and flew over the wall of flame to land heavily on the marble, his sword spinning out of his hand and into the shadows beyond his reach.

Stunned, he scrabbled desperately for his weapon as he struggled to his feet and then looked up...

A shadow, Hades-forged sword in hand, soared through the inferno before him. A few small flames licked at Darkness's clothing and hair as he landed on the cold marble but he ignored them and placed his foot on the sprawling Shogun's chest, the blade of his weapon against the demonic warrior's neck.

Shogun laughed as the blade cut into his flesh, completely failing to draw blood and looked up at Darkness wreathed in flame above him. "You cannot kill me," he smirked, "I am beyond death!"

"I know," Darkness replied, his tone level, "But I imagine you'll have fun explaining to your masters why they need to bother breathing your soul into a new body when you've failed so early on..."

Shogun's expression froze as his mouth worked desperately, "What?" was all he could manage.

"Either I kill you, or you kill me - we can fight this battle a thousand times, but you and I both know that I won't be dying any time soon. You know what to do."

Shogun's eyes were wild for a second and then he spat a curse at his foe before twisting out of existence. The ring of fire dissipated along with Shogun and on the wall behind him a series of unfamiliar letters formed in tiny ice crystals...

"NAOTAORC"

Behind Darkness, through the wide panes of glass that fronted the hotel, the sun rose.

[Originally posted 05/17/05 by Thommy H]

Spyne entered the council chamber, his blackened and charred head bowed low in the presence of his master. Beelzebub was the only member of the council present, the other members concerned with details of the coming war.

"Master..."

Beelzebub looked up from the ghost-image of Hell's terrain he was studying on the table and regarded the ruined form of Spyne before him, "Yes?" he enquired, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

"I have some...disappointing news."

"Go on..."

"The experiment with the vacuole has failed," Spyne said, glancing up for a second to see how Beelzebub had taken this information. The Duke of Hell was as unfathomable as ever though.

"Failed? How so?"

"Shogun released the targets ahead of time, he was unable to make headway with any of the them, save one - and we are unsure of how much he has been affected..."

Beelzebub stood up and walked around the table to stand directly in front of Spyne, "How is it possible," he asked, "for this task to have failed given that your servant had an eternity to get it done?"

"It appears that the targets had...outside help..." Spyne replied, desperately avoiding his master's gaze.

"That is forbidden...mankind are doomed to help themselves since the Fall..."

"Lord...the Nightwalker...."

Beelzebub turned suddenly, his body flying apart into its constituent flies that swarmed over the table to reform in his humanoid shape on his chair. "Continue..." Beelzebub urged.

"Nightwalker became aware of his immunity to the effects of the vacuole and placed Shogun in an untenable position."

"Untenable? How does an immortal demon allow such a scenario to occur?" Beelzebub asked, the flies that made up his face forming a facsimile of a frown, "What situation is untenable for one such as he?"

"He...he feared our wrath should his mortal host be killed, Lord..."

Beelzebub surged upwards, his body somehow enlarging to stretch up to the ceiling of the huge stone chamber. Flames reflected from the wall behind the demon even though there was no fire to be seen and Spyne regarded his master with open-mouthed shock.

"AS WELL HE MIGHT," Beelzebub thundered, "I HAVE LITTLE TOLERANCE FOR FAILURE IN ANY FORM!"

For a second he stood there, his gargantuan form hanging over Spyne before he returned to his original stature. He placed his hands on the table, watching the flies that made up his physical form writhe for a few moments before regarding Spyne once more.

"No matter," he said, his voice now even, "It is time for Shogun to shift his focus. Darkness is too troublesome to be turned into a weapon - I was tempted by the idea of recruiting Azrael to our cause, but the effort is unlikely to be worth what we would obtain in return."

Spyne began to say something, but Beelzebub held up his hand to silence his servant before continuing.

"I believe there is a...match...scheduled in the near future involving our servants and their targets. That must continue as planned but it will be the last attempt Shogun makes on the souls of these particular mortals - at least for the time being."

"Lord, I wi..."

Spyne was interrupted by a low gong that caused Beelzebub to turn and gesture into the air to his left, summoning a semi-transparent image of a diminutive, hairless demon before him.

"What is it?" Beelzebub snapped, "I am busy..."

"My Lord," the small creature whined, cowering before his infernal master, "The one you told me to watch is gone - he left a short while ago!"

"Left?"

"Yes, Lord, I returned to my watch after partaking of my meal and saw that he had departed while I was gone."

The fire crept up behind Beelzebub again as his ire rose, "Then he knows he was being watched - I TOLD YOU TO BE COVERT!"

The demon quailed before Beelzebub and raised his hands in defence, "My Lord, please...I...I..."

"No matter," Beelzebub said dismissively and then a thought occurred to him, "His lover...is she still there?"

"I...I believe so, Lo-"

Beelzebub cut his spy off mid-sentence by dismissing the image from his view and mused for a few seconds before turning back to Spyne, "This may work out to our advantage..."

"Master?"

"I find myself pondering where he may have gone at a time like this, though."

"Perhaps...to Earth, Lord?"

"Yes," Beelzebub nodded, "He has unfinished business there...old debts to repay and such..."

"What happens if he runs into Shogun? Or Nightwalker?" Spyne enquired.

"What are the chances of that?" Beelzebub scoffed, "In all the length and breadth of planet Earth, he sees fit to turn up in the one place where those two are?"

"Lord...where else would he go?"

Silence descended across the council chamber.

Darkness rubbed the new stitches in his arm where Murmur's katana had cut him during his time in the vacuole. The 411fed's head doctor, Thomas Baxter, slapped Darkness's hand away irritably.

"It's not gonna heal if you badger at it like that, kid..."

Darkness looked at the pale doctor for a long moment before wordlessly acquiescing and resting his arm at his side.

"It's a good job you got here so soon - if that gash had had time to fester you'd be in a real mess right now," Baxter added, "Strange that there's no blood though so soon afterwards..."

Darkness did not care to explain to the doctor that in the timeless vacuole the wound could not have festered and that, by rights, he ought to have been waiting to have the limb amputated now. He settled instead for a curt nod, "Yeah. Just lucky I guess."

Baxter leaned close and produced a small bottle of pills from his dirty coat. He teased open the cap with his nicotine-stained fingers and deposited two of the pills in his hand. His unshaven face was disturbingly close to Darkness's as he spoke.

"Take a couple of these for the next few nights, son," Baxter whispered so that his assistant, Trevor, couldn't hear, "You'll feel right as rain in a week."

"That will not be necessary."

"You don't have to be a big man here," Baxter said, looking at Darkness over his thick glasses, "I know how tough this business is. Suck it up in front of the fans, don't bother when you're in my office."

Deciding it was pointless to argue with the man, Darkness simply nodded and took the pills. He walked out of the doctor's office, flexing his injured arm slightly to test the limitations the stitches imposed on his movement. Pausing only to toss the pills into a trashcan, he continued to his locker room.

Somewhere on his journey through the arena he must have gotten turned around, because he suddenly found himself staring down a shadowy corridor that stopped at a dead end. Mould and rust encrusted pipes hung from the low ceiling...he was in a basement...but he hadn't gone down any stairs...

"Confused?"

Darkness turned slowly to see a figure loitering almost nonchalantly against the wall behind him. The man had apparently appeared from nowhere.

"A little..."

The newcomer stepped from the shadows and revealed himself. He wore a long coat that looked like it was sown from patches of skin and his eyes were...unusual...

Darkness felt like he was looking into orbs of shattered glass. It was not the first time he had seen these eyes either.

Unthinkingly, he drew his guns from their holsters at his hips and levelled them squarely at the Bleeder. He received only a sardonic smile in response.

"Oh spare me," Bleeder smirked, "You've run out of ammunition, remember?"

Darkness lowered the pistols but his gaze never left his new foe, "What do you want?" he demanded.

"Oh, I was just in town for a while and I thought I'd pay you a visit seeing as you've finally graced my territory..."

And here Bleeder threw his arms out wide as if to encompass all the nearby terrain in this definition.

"...with your presence."

"A house call?"

"Well how could I miss this opportunity to meet the famous Nightwalker?" Bleeder asked by way of response as he began circling Darkness, "Of whom the dilutes speak so highly."

"Glad to see they still know to fear me in Hell."

Bleeder laughed - a hollow, empty sound and grinned at Darkness, "Oh, don't get ideas above your station," he said, "You're not as fearsome as you imagine."

"The Destroyer might disagree with that..." Darkness said, a smirk of his own forming on his lips.

"Pfft...Abbadon is such an embarrassing cliché - it was only a matter of time before he fell foul of ‘plucky human loner with an attitude problem and a monochrome wardrobe'."

By this time, Bleeder had wandered around the static form of Darkness so that he was standing directly behind him. Darkness looked over his shoulder and, with as much venom as he could muster spat, "Get thee behi..."

Bleeder interrupted him with an uproarious cackle, "Oh please...no...don't say it...it's just too obvious even for you!"

Darkness regarded the demon over his shoulder with a flat look. Bleeder smirked again.

"Darkness, you're a living, breathing stereotype - a character from a bad comic book or video game." Bleeder stepped round to look Darkness straight in the eye, "You act like something written by someone too illiterate to actually put pen to paper."

Darkness gave Bleeder a long look before replying softly, "You know nothing of me."

"Oh, Darkness, I know everything of you," the demon said, turning away and striding down the dark corridor before stopping and turning, "This is not the first time you and I have met, Azrael, and I suspect it will not be the last."

With that, he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight leaving Darkness pondering the meaning of the seemingly insane Bleeder's words.

Josh Mitchell vs. Darkness - Way of the Warrior

Again, I'm going to repost this in its entirety simply because it wraps up the Shogun-as-demon story arc and, in the final post, introduces an entirely new element to the storyline.

[Originally posted 06/07/05 by Thommy H in Josh Mitchell vs. Darkness]

He could feel the flames hot on his face, the lighter fluid that doused him stinging as it trickled into his eyes, Murmur's form behind him. It should never have come to this.

A series of pressure kicks delivered by his demonic foe drove Darkness to his knees sending numbness coursing through his veins. A vice-like grip on his hair and a hard yank upwards left Darkness slumped on the top turnbuckle, hanging over the inferno that encircles the ring.

Murmur stepped back, measuring the distance carefully as the flames dance in his eyes. Not all of them were reflections. Outside the ring, Shogun smiled his humourless smirk and watched everything finally fall into place.

His vengeance had come. Darkness - Azrael - would suffer what he had, and know then the ignominy of defeat. He would have centuries to reflect on the depth of his failure. And then...and then...his master would have the most powerful weapon imaginable; the last of the Fallen.

Murmur, satisfied that his target was properly acquired, reared back and charged, lifting off with an inhuman leap as he aimed his devastating kick at Darkness's head.

For a second everything froze, though only those in and around the ring wee of it.

Murmur, poised in mid-air, foot just beginning to extend.

Malthus, a grin of satisfaction plastered on his hooded face.

Shogun, a frown beginning to form as he watches his destiny unfold.

Darkness...his head bowed, but his body moving when all else is locked in place.

Reality crashed in from nowhere, leaving Murmur collapsed on the mat, rolling with hands pressed to his eyes. A miasma of black vapour hung in the air between the two opponents, evaporating instantly as it caught the flames. No one knew what had happened, least of all Darkness.

The host's body collapsed, the mist it had summoned from itself having drained it. It was not enough though - Murmur was rising to his feet.

"STAND!" Azrael bellowed from within, not enough control yet established to fully command Darkness yet. Murmur stalked his fallen adversary as he wiped his eyes, fury burning through the heat haze over the ring.

This would end here, one way or another.

The kick came, but it never met Darkness's temple.

"NO."

The rapidly moving leg was caught and Murmur tipped to the floor with little effort.

Azrael stood; spread his broken wings in the ethereal plane visible only to those not bound to the mortality of Earth. The demon saw them and stumbled backwards from the angel, fear clouding his eyes more completely than any mist.

Murmur, but it is blocked again. Now for redemption; now for wrath.

Shogun could only watch as his slave - his weapon - was destroyed before him, a demonic pawn no match for an archangel.

"YOU...SHALL...NOT...TAKE...MY...SOUL!"

The game was up. Shogun's plan exposed and his servants defeated. What would Spyne have to say to this? What would this mean?

Panic set in, still registering somewhere in Shogun's crippled and broken mind as Murmur was taken to the top rope and suplexed straight into the fire by...that...

Murmur was consumed, his body blackened into ruin. Darkness...Azrael...whoever...stood in the ring and then, as the bell began to ring, everything stopped again...

Murmur, a blackened husk curled into a foetal ball at ringside.

Malthus, stumbling backwards onto his knees as he stares at the winged apparition in the ring.

Shogun, face set in grim silence.

Azrael, standing alone in a ring of fire, shattered wings spread wide behind him as his eyes meet those of his nemesis.

This is the end.

And the beginning.

[Originally posted 06/12/05 by Tubby in Josh Mitchell vs. Darkness]

The gold gleamed back at me, my reflection peering through the shimmering rays that reflected back up at me. The name scrawled across it wasn't mine, and I'm not sure if the belt was either.

It had come so fast, not from the blood I left atop the ladders but from running away from the Power Rangers and Mel Gibson.

"Looks like Murmur's got that stuff out of his eyes ... he can't be too happy right now, Tex!"

I wanted to avoid the bright golden light but couldn't close my eyes, the face that waited for me there, I had been witness to far more times in the last month than I would have liked. Those brief seconds etched in my mind.

"Incredible!"

I let the belt fall from my arms and onto the bench, figuring the man who bled for it would come and pick it back up soon.

"Is there something wrong with the lighting in here? There's some kinda glare coming off of Darkness."

"I'm not sure it's the lights ..."

If I held onto it, I would have dropped it in shock after a few seconds anyway. I glanced up, coincidence maybe. But needless to say, the images on the monitor, hit my eye, like a big pizza pie.

"What a comeback! This young man is not only back in the fight, he's beating the hell out of his opponent!"

"Darkness on the second rope, back against the turnbuckle. He waistlocks Murmur ... German! Super German! Darkness has thrown Murmur into the flames!"

As the lockeroom door swung shut behind me the clichéd words of a stale announcer trailed after me.

"Oh the humanity!"


It wasn't long before I found him. The shadows didn't hide the shaking of his hands, although I couldn't tell if it was shock, anxiety or just what it all must have felt like. Needless to say, he wasn't at his most alert. I grabbed him by his collar and pushed him back into the wall.

Josh: "You've got some nerve."

His eyes jolted up from the floor but his face stood gaunt and unflinching.

Josh: "Well!?"

He stood, motionless. Not caring, not hearing, not understanding...

Josh: "What were you doing!?"

He just forces my hands from his collar and turned away, still shaking a little.

Josh: "After all of that crap you told me, you do this. After you told me to hide, take your own advice mate."

His eyes gazed back at me, his face still turned to the shadows.

Darkness: "What are yo-"

Josh: "I'm not blind. I can see, and I have seen. More than you have."

He went blank, thinking for a moment, his eyes meeting the floor once again.

Darkness: "...Josh?"

Josh: "Forgotten that too? Then I doubt you remember our conversation either. Satan's attention would be focused on me? I had to hide everything!? After everything... and you do that to win a fucking wrestling match..."

His eyes narrowed and his face turned into the dim light, coming to bare on mine. Apparently he'd come to the conclusion I was worth of it's rich and astounding beauty.

Josh: Well, I guess it's you're problem, I guess you have to deal with the ‘agents of evil'."

He frowned, trying to understand the tones more than the words. At least I hoped, otherwise the deliverers of salvation didn't look up to the task. I continued regardless, answering an unasked question, but one that was unthought of as well.

Josh: "Well he's after you isn't he."

The look stayed on his face, but he stepped forward, beginning to anticipate what was coming.

Josh: "He's after the ‘woe is me' rookie who likes to play fucking dress up!"

He stopped, he'd heard it before and he'd hear it again from just about every cocky young prick to step into that ring with him. But no one who had seen through darkness, who had seen Azrael would say it. Would dismiss it so...

Josh: "I went to hell and back with that man! I bled, I died and I lost more than you ever have!

But no... He's after you, you're the hero."

Darkness: "Jos-"

Josh: "So, I'm going to put myself in the game."

I turned and left, left him to rot in those shadows and self actualise all he wanted. I had to go.

And not just to ‘put myself in the game'.

But because... There are some things you can't see in a mans face from the brief images you saw flicker across a tv screen a month ago, some things you can't see in the few images that keep you from placing you're head on that pillow night after night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A shallow muddy puddle lay in the ground between us. A stark contrast to the great river we had both hung above so long ago. The eyes that had shed tears then, looked no longer capable... And yet...



*Plip*



A droplet on the surface broke the silence again, the only thing keeping time in the surreal scene in the service lot of the arena.

With the trucks gone, the lights off, it was dark. The pillars were crumbling round the edges. Old and worn out, management didn't often care for the technicians and drivers.

Shogun: "I had hoped we would meet... There's potential in you. But I hardly thought you would find me, there may be more than I saw."

Josh: "I'm not here to be tested and pushed."

Shogun: "You will be, wether it's by my devices or another's, even your own."




*Plip*




This expression was blank, cold. But I studied and searched, his eyes narrowed, now reading me as I read him.

Shogun: "It has been a long time Josh."

He said it, but there was no recognition in those eyes.



*Plip*



Shogun: "You have been pushed in the past, I know what you have done, I know what you can do. More than anyone, we believe you are ready."

Josh: "And join what did this to you. No."

Shogun: "For something to have been done to me, I must have previously been otherwise... Technicalities. But regardless, I take it you will join Lucifer and die here?"

I closed my eyes, and regretted it.

Fire filled the sky, the beast thundered towards him. Lightening cracked above as he was overwhelmed and blast upon blast reigned down...

I opened them, and saw it... he was there. Yes, it was there.

Josh: "No."

Shogun: "You will die here."

Josh: "Maybe, but not for any allegiance to Lucifer."



*Plip*



Shogun: "So be it... Murmur."

I took a stepped back and raised my fists as the demon charged towards me, I had no illusions. But I had seen what I had come here to see.

The eyes, fixed... Animal-like. He leapt. No, he flew. Leg extended, hurtling towards me. A thunderous crash and flesh met concrete.

A noise, roaring, echoed through the lot, like a gong. It sounded from all around me as I looked down on the crumpled heap that was Murmur, after he had collided with thin air like it was a semi doing 95...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Again, in shadow... An electrician gimmick would make a matzo around here.

Archaic symbols and statues encompassed the room, many whose names had not been spoken in eons were now at work, rising from slumber after ages untold.

While their pawns who thought themselves kings and queens sat, motionless, observing, conducting, manoeuvring.

A set of eyes snapped open.




















Seth: "The contract has been broken."

[Originally posted 06/12/05 by Thommy H in Josh Mitchell vs. Darkness]

The Chicago streets were slick from the rainfall a few hours before. The reflected phosphorescent glow of flickering street lights covered the road in orange smudges. The sky was overcast, appearing dull orange from the city's nocturnal radiance. It was unearthly.

Appropriate.

Darkness trudged down the street, head bowed, his hair and coat static in the windless night. The streets were strangely empty, but then this was a quiet end of town. No signs of bars or strip clubs added their neon screams to the orange lamps; this quarter wasn't affluent enough to make such establishments worthwhile. All this district had was run down 7-11s and boarded up porno theatres. When your populous is too apathetic to even bother masturbating, you know you have some civic problems.

The only other thing of note here was a gym, and even that had seen better days. $1,000 doesn't go very far in the 21st Century - probably it was enough to repair a couple of those windows, but they'd probably been smashed since anyway. This corner of Chicago had no money to clean itself up, no cops to keep the dealers and hookers off the streets, and no hope that life could ever get any better.

Darkness had fitted in well here, once upon a time. He wondered idly if he still did.

The door to Ben's gym was locked. That figured - it was past midnight, after all. Ben...that had seemed like serendipity or something. It had taken him a while to get used to calling another man by that name, but he'd adjusted. Ben... Unthinkingly, his hand strayed to his guns. He felt the cold metal against his gloved hands...strange...they always used to be warm. Always.

As he had predicted, several of the windows were boarded up. Chipboard sprayed with obscenities was little defence against anyone that might want to break in, but Darkness knew there was little enough worth stealing in there. None of the crack heads and junkies would get much for run-down gym equipment in this age of running machines and pedometers. Darkness twitched a muscle in his arm reflexively and rolled his shoulders.

Ben had taught him to wrestle, allowed Darkness to hone the skills he'd learnt long ago and specialise them such that he might one day rise to be the best of the best.

Rise.

His mind strayed back to his earlier conversation with Josh Mitchell. He hadn't forgotten the man's name, he'd just been a world away right then. Communing with the shadows, he had no idea how the young Australian had managed to creep up on him. No one could creep up on him.

Rise.

His eyes flickered as he replayed the tag champion's words in his head.

"Forgotten that too? Then I doubt you remember our conversation either. Satan's attention would be focused on me? I had to hide everything!? After everything... and you do that to win a fucking wrestling match..."

Darkness still hadn't resolved what had happened in that ring earlier. He didn't remember winning; didn't remember anything after he felt the flames on his face. He woke up as if from a trance once he was back in his locker room, confused and disorientated. That he could black out like that without warning filled him with terror. Such an alien sensation after so long...mortal terror, that is. Darkness knew no fear...not of anything that wasn't himself, and usually he kept his own demons at bay. Real demons were child's play in comparison.

Josh had seen something, though; seen enough that he could guess Darkness's entire purpose from it. What image, what manifestation, could have enough power to bare so much to an observer? Nothing Darkness could control - no force on Earth, or in Hell, could make him reveal what lied within.

He had thought he knew what that was.

Perhaps he was mistaken.

He looked at the gym's door again and realised he had been standing there for some minutes. Something moved behind him, causing him to turn. No guns...he'd know if it was something he needed those for.

Two men in hooded coats barred his way down the narrow alley that led from the gym. One was black, the other white, both had a good three inches and fifty pounds on Darkness.

"Excuse me..."

"I don't think so," white said.

"You're blocking my way."

"No shit." This time it was black that spoke.

"What are you doing hanging around Rod's gym?" - white again.

"Rod? This is Ben's gym..."

"Nuh uh," white contested, "Old Man Benjy died last month."

Darkness's eyes grew wide, "I...how...?"

"The fuck do I know? Rod kicked his ass out of here when he couldn't keep up the bills, right, Joe?"

Joe - the black one - grinned, showing off a smile that owed more to some jeweler than any dentist. Evidently there was wealth to be had here if you knew the right people.

"That's right," he smirked, "Then Benjy hits the bottle and next thing we know, the dumb fucker drives himself off a damn bridge."

Darkness's fists clenched. Fury rose unbidden.

The two burly men appeared not to notice and advanced on Darkness. "Thing is, brother," Joe continued, "You find yourself on private property right now, and we don't like skinny little goths in this part of town..."

Joe was down on his back in a split second, a palm strike knocking him straight out. His companion stared down at him in disbelief and then back at Darkness.

"What the fuck...?"

Darkness spun and threw a kick that connected with solid muscle in his foe's abdomen, sending him staggering back wheezing. He held up his hands in submission as Darkness hopped from one foot to the other, his fists clenched.

"I trained here a while ago, you know. Ben taught me a lot about wrestling, and a few other things beside."

The winded man couldn't help himself, "W-wrestling's f-fake..."

"That's a moot point, to be honest, because I just used muay thai moves on you."

"Moo...what?"

Darkness sighed and dispatched the man with a second kick, knocking him cold without visible effort.

Such violence was out of character, but it felt good to use muscles that he hadn't stretched in some time. He was beginning to think he'd forgotten the years of training that Ben - the first Ben, that is - had funded. He had lost so much else since then...

Whatever else, he had made an impact. He prayed someone was watching - surely they must be; the Mark was like a beacon.

Rise.

Yes, that was it. Rise and be the best, the champion, the star. It went against everything he was, everything he had sworn to become, but he would do it nonetheless.

Avoid attention? That would be a smart move alright.

Darkness never much cared for his own advice though.

[Originally posted 06/20/05 by Tubby in Josh Mitchell vs. Darkness]

"He left..." The words hung in the air, a bowed head received them, ashamed.

"Left..."

"He left!?" The sickening scowl echoed through the blackness, all around him.

The bowed head didn't falter, it's teeth grinded against one another, anger pressing through the cold soul housed in the shell that stood, head bowed to a demon.

"He, could not be touched." He state, emphatically.

"You, my servants, could not touch a mortal! And a jobbing mortal at that!" The demon bellowed.

"It was not our skill or power in question, he was protected." The reply came, growing in discontent.

"What!?" the demon cried.

"Literally you moron, we could not touch him, literally!" Shogun snapped, raising his head. "Our flesh bounced from air before we even reached him.

"What witchcraft has he partaken..." The demon thought to himself, seeking the comfort of the darkness beneath him as he pondered.

"He did not seem to know the cause of it himself..." Shogun continued.

"Find it." Stated the demon, his eyes refocused on his servant.

"Yes lord spine..." murmured Shogun as he turned.

"Lord Spyne..." the demon clarified.

"Spyne?" questioned Shogun.

"S-P-Y-N-E, Spyne." The demon restated, becoming increasingly frustrated.

"Ohhh, because it's cooler with a Y!" Shogun said, understandingly.

"That's why I picked it." Said the demon, cooly.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Bruce: "Asshole?"

TI: "Hold ‘em!"

Bruce: "Sub doesn't wanna play hold ‘em!"

The days deliberations had been long and tiresome, Bruce was on the brink of losing it... Well if he hadn't already.

Mr. Sub: "What about ping pong!"

Mansion: "We don't have a table... Or rackets... Or a net... Or balls..."

Bruce: "I take offence at that!"

Bleeder: "May I suggest a different game...?"

He stepped from the shadows, in that mysterious way that bleeder does. He smiles his coy smile and his teeth clench together. A sight that would give fear to those that did not know it... And yet there was a hint of something else as the Bleeder watched Bruce, Cards in hand, conversing with 3 masks and a hammer laying across the table.

Bruce: "You most certainly may old pal!"

Bleeder: "Good..."

Bruce: "Hey! Hey! Bleedy weedy! Where are you going!?"

Bruce's pleas trailed off as the door swung shut and The Bleeder slipped the face he faced the world in over his own.

Memories...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Josh: "They couldn't touch me..."

Bleeder: "They collided with air, were thrown across the ground and you were surrounded by sounds more ancient than anything else heard here. I know."

Josh: "You know?"

Bleeder: "The tale's been told."

Again squirming under his gaze I sat in another Hotel room, identical to the others, unable to break the hold he had, unable to break my gaze free.

Bleeder: "So..."

Josh: "So?"

Bleeder: "So, you have a question. And if you don't, I have done worse with you than I thought."

Josh: "What happened? What is this..."

Bleeder: "Protection. It is a shield, for those in the service of ancients. However invulnerability is granted to none, this shielding is your attackers will."

Josh: "They want not to be able to hit me?"

I blurted out, confused and irritated that he insisted on these Q&A's.

Bleeder: "You're missing the question..."

Josh: " ‘the' question?"

Bleeder: "Why are you in the service of the ancients?"

Josh: "Well?"

Bleeder: "You don't go to hell for missing Sunday mass or cheating on your taxes Josh... Oh, Josh, did you see what you went to see?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the shadowy ether melted away, Shogun found himself once again surrounded by the worn down dressing room he left behind.

Seth: "We have a dilemma."

Shogun swung around and came face to face with Seth as he stood casually in front of the door. There were few things in this world or any others that could unsettle Shogun. One of them was Seth.

Shogun: "I have a dilemma, yours best be worth the time."

Seth: "Oh I believe it will be..."

Shogun: "Well..."

Seth: "Let me take a stab at your problem first. Would it be safe to say that a threat has arisen? In the midst of our pivotal hour, a thorn has emerged, unable to be removed by the usual brute force displayed by the young brood."

Shogun's eyes narrowed, Shogun cared little for games. In this life or the previous.

Seth: "So do you want to know why?"

Shogun: "Yes"

This was tiresome, being treated as a play thing was demeaning.

Seth: "You cannot harm him because you swore you wouldn't."

Shogun's brow furrowed, searching for...

Seth: "The contract Shogun, the contract. You and your kind were not to harm the servants of the ancients."

Shogun, still fixed on Seth was bewildered.

Seth: "Oh, he does not even know it. And our contract is much more important than some trivial rivalry... So it seems we have a mutual interest in evening out this little problem."

Shogun paused for a moment, taking this all in. At least Seth was finally giving it to him straight.

Shogun: "But how is Josh-"




Seth: "Like father..."

[Originally posted 06/20/05 by Thommy H in Josh Mitchell vs. Darkness]

Shogun stood alone, the hard lines of his face illuminated by flickering flames before him. It was rare that he was given the chance to confer with his ultimate Master like this, and Beelzebub chose his method of communication carefully.

He had no desire to be face-to-face with such underlings as Shogun.

"The Mitchell line has been in the service of the Abysmal Ones for some centuries now," the voice from the fire said, "A Glen Mitchell made the pact in 1604, in order to avoid being burned as a witch by a prominent exorcist of the time..."

Shogun raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Hopkins."

"What a coincidence..."

"Did you expect anything less?" the voice asked, not sarcastically but as if genuinely querying, "Mitchell's eldest descendent was deported to Australia some two hundred years later - unsurprisingly, for aiding in practicing witchcraft. The story - and the debt - had been passed down from father to son all that time."

"Why was Josh not informed of his destiny then?"

"Evidently, his departed father wished to preserve his son the trauma of this knowledge. If he'd known...things may have been very different."

"We could have used him..." Shogun said, thinking aloud.

"No. That's not what I meant."

Shogun frowned.

* * *

Josh wandered around the room, discontent registering in his every movement.

"Why would he do this to me?"

Bleeder regarded his young charge, "It's more what he didn't do..."

"Even so...I don't get it."

"Would you have lived your life any differently had you known before this? Would you have willingly pledged your soul to creatures that work towards the annihilation of the entire Universe?"

"I...what?" Josh turned to the Bleeder, a stunned look on his face.

"They are not good, not evil, not anything a human being - or even a demon - could ever understand. They are the anathema of all that exists."

"They...they want to destroy the Universe? Like, the Earth and the stars and everything?"

"The Earth, the stars, the galaxies, the vacuum of space. Heaven...and Hell..."

Josh slumped down in the uncomfortable chair that was one of the few items of furniture in the spartan hotel room. Bleeder stood, dominating effortlessly.

"So, no one has anything to gain by following them, really?"

"Not really, no."

"And now there's a war in Hell with them on one side, and Lucifer on the other?"

"More or less," Bleeder conceded, "It's slightly more complex than that, but I won't bore you with the politics."

"So what can I do to help?" Josh said, his voice cracking with despair, but a determined fire kindling in his eyes.

"Shogun does not serve Lucifer, which is why he and his servants could not harm you," Bleeder explained, "And he has plans you may be able to thwart."

Josh stood, his jaw set firmly, "Tell me what to do."

"Of course."

Something registered in Josh's mind as he smiled grimly at the Bleeder's words. His patron had never before been this helpful.

He dismissed his doubts. You never knew where you were with Bleeder anyway...

* * *

Shogun twisted from the shadows and immediately began a bold stride down the alley in which he had manifested. He couldn't hurt Josh, but he could find men that would, and Beelzebub need never know...

"You think you can fool a Duke of Hell?"

Shogun spun wildly, but there was no one around for him to confront. His unnatural eyes narrowed, "Show yourself..."

"Very well."

Without ceremony, Bleeder detached himself from the shadows, putting even Shogun's enigmatic entrance to shame.

"You!"

"Who else?"

"What are you doing here?!" Shogun demanded, his usual demonic calm leaving him in his anger and confusion.

"My bit."

Shogun barked out his cruel laugh, one wholly devoid of human warmth or joy, "Enigmatic as ever. It occurs to me that I do not even know whose side you are on in this conflict..."

"Why, I'm on the same side I always am," Bleeder said, his lips curving into an imitation of a human smile.

"But of course."

"So," the more powerful demon continued, "Will you defy Beelzebub and earn yourself the fate you only narrowly avoided after your last failure?"

Shogun grimaced, "What do you know of this?" he asked, almost forgetting himself before the eyes of broken glass that bored into the shattered remnants of his soul.

"More than you think," Bleeder said coldly, all semblance of sardonic humour dropping from his face, "I spoke to him and saw much of his mind..."

Shogun's eyes grew wide for a second.

"Yes. And it is as you suspect."

Shogun shook his head, "Then he is no concern of mine - I have no time to deal with creatures beyond my ken."

"Then you fear him?"

Shogun whirled on the Bleeder, his infernal gaze burning through his once-human irises. "I fear nothing!" he spat, "No man...no angel...no nothing!"

"Then do us both a favour, and end him."

Shogun's eyes narrowed once more, "You would manipulate me, Bleeder?"

"You still have your sword..."

Shogun's eyes were distant for a second. He considered his fate.

"He has bested you too many times."

"Far too many..."

"Surrender to the warrior within. Become your destiny."

Shogun turned and held his hands out, palms upwards. In the air before him, a shape formed in flames of shadow and then solidified into a katana, levitating before him. Unbidden, it lowered itself into his waiting hands.

"I will strike a blow that will be felt across the Universe. TODAY, AN ANGEL FALLS."

Bleeder smiled. This time it was genuine.

* * *

"And so we come to the final piece of the puzzle..."

"It's already in place."

Darkness's gaze pierced the shadows that cloaked Bleeder and his eyes met those of the demon.

Together, the two men-who-were-not-men stood on the roof of the building that boasted Ben's gym on the ground floor. It was not a tall structure comparatively, but nonetheless offered an impressive view over the lights of Chicago. The orange-tinted clouds still hung over the midnight sky, blocking out the full moon that surely floated across the heavens.

It was not yet time.

[Originally posted 06/26/05 by Thommy H in Josh Mitchell vs. Darkness]

The sword...

Not to be confused with similar weapons - like the katana favoured in the orient, or the scimitar of the middle-east. Such weapons are only called swords by westerners: a testament to their obsession with the weapon.

From the short, wide-bladed gladii stabbing swords of the Romans, through to four and a half feet of Spanish steel wielded by the warriors of the medieval ages and fine, narrow rapiers that changed swords from tools with which to butcher people into the implements necessary to showcase an art form.

Since the beginning of history, European warriors have wielded the deadly straight-bladed, double-edged sword with merciless efficiency.

In some contexts, it remains the king of weapons even in this modern age of guns and nuclear warheads.

There are still scenarios where honed steel trumps hot lead.

As the case fell away and Josh stepped back, Darkness found himself gripping the hilt of the weapon instinctively. It felt somehow right in his hands. No wonder, for he knew he had held it before in the phantasmal reality Malthus had forced him to live through.

This was Aterius's sword.

Aterius Angelus had had it pulled from his hands as he twisted it into the torso of a possessed villager. That villager had fled into the woods and finally succumbed to blood loss on the edge of a clearing.

A hundred years later, a wandering holy man chanced upon it, still sharp and polished in a rib-cage encrusted with moss and soil and took it to the Holy Land. The blade never took the life of a Muslim, but it made short work of a soldier who thought it his right to do what he willed with the wife of the man he'd just tortured to death.

It languished in a church for two hundred years before a witch hunter named Matthew Hopkins found it close to hand when he battled demonkin in that desecrated house of God.

When Hopkins burned, his holy task long forgotten in zeal, egomania and insanity, Edmund Grindall took up the weapon in his stead...

"And then it came to me."

It was the Bleeder who had spoken.

"I took his life for the offence he dealt me. It was the beginning and the end of all that would follow."

"Every end is a new beginning," Darkness said, as if from memory.

Shogun's glowing eyes met those of his enemy, "Warriors never die," he intoned.

The tableau was frozen; four men on the roof of a Chicago building in the middle of the night. On one side, a man made into a demon, infernal gaze reflected by his fine katana.

In the shadows, a demon in the shape of a man, cloaked by shadows that were not all natural with eyes of shattered glass.

Furthest from the door, an angel reborn testing the grip on a weapon both new and yet familiar, waiting for the time to strike.

And with them...a man. Nothing more, nothing less.

This is what they fought for: the soul of a man. The soul of all men. Heaven and Hell are just reflections, concepts that have no definition outside of the mind of human beings. Without Josh, this never could have happened. Without a man there to watch, this battle was irrelevant.

The clouds moved sluggishly in the still air, their orange-black surface rippling unnaturally. It was a night of portents and signs. Without warning, the moon was unveiled, the white orb full and somehow ethereal.

The time had come.

Darkness tested the weight of the sword one last time - it was a fine weapon, long and sharp with a hilt large enough to take a two-handed grip. A bastard sword then - light enough for one hand, but long enough for two.

The moon hung in the air, illuminating the scene with sharp contrasts of black and white; shadow and light.

Darkness held the sword aloft and the blade caught a perfect reflection of the moon as he did so, sending out a bright flash of light that seemed accompanied by a crack of thunder not heard but felt.

"BEHOLD THE WEAPON OF DESTINY, BEHOLD THE HAND OF FATE."

Josh opened his mouth in shock, for he too had spoken the words.

Shogun stepped forward, his katana held low, fiery reflections still dancing in the blade. As Darkness lowered his sword, the weapon somehow retained the glow that the moon had suffused it with.

A demon of hatred, with sword of burning flame faced the angel of death, with sword of silver light.

Time stood still.

And they forgot everything.

There was only the battle, only the twin souls of warriors that destiny had decreed must fight.

Shogun struck the first blow, a downward sweep that Darkness easily blocked, his lack of training with his weapon not seeming to have any obvious detrimental effect. He pushed upwards, sending Shogun stumbling back to recover immediately and swing again.

This time, Darkness side-stepped and spun with a slash of his own, parried expertly by Shogun's katana. They stepped apart, each having taken the measure of his foe.

And now it began in earnest, thrust and slash, parry and dodge. Darkness was at first on the defence, unfamiliar as he was with this dance, despite what his instincts told him. Shogun pressed his advantage, but found no opening in the swordsman's web of steel.

Darkness stepped backwards, found himself on the edge and saw the perverse glee of victory in Shogun's increasingly maddening eyes. But it would not end here, for Darkness was not so easily bested.

He moved as if to parry the next blow but instead pushed himself into the air. It was a leap, and yet something more, for he landed well behind Shogun ready to continue the fight.

"So this is not to be contested as mortals," Shogun said, his voice low with menace. Darkness could only frown in response - so many of his words and actions came unbidden now.

A blast of frosty air washed over the rooftop and Josh shielded his face as icicles formed from nowhere along the doorframe near to him. Shogun's arms were held high and it was clear that the ice storm was his doing.

"How much cold can a man suffer before he falls?"

"More than you imagine, Shogun."

The young man who answered only the name of Darkness stood motionless on the high precipice. His light robes provided little protection against the chill mountain air but he showed no sign of relenting to the cold.

It had been many hours, and the attack came from behind without warning. Darkness's arm moved to parry his sensei's blow with seeming ease.

"You are ready then, Westerner."

"The cold holds no terror for me."

"Such skills will stand you in good stead in your life, I fear."

"Fear?"

"To embrace cold and death...that is a fear worse than failure."

"I know no fear."

The words came back to him then, and the ice was gone. Shogun charged, his rage seemingly consuming him, but now the tables had turned. Darkness was in control, and he pushed his foe back, relentlessly assaulting him with strike after strike with his bastard sword.

Shogun faltered, stumbled, and fell back hard on the ground. The blade pressed against his throat.

"Then it is over..."

"No."

It was Bleeder.

"Remember the warrior you were. Overcome this most hated of enemies."

Shogun stared at his fellow demon in incomprehension. Darkness frowned and then understood. "You have forgotten your skills; you have lost your centre. So much hate and pain...it has dulled your abilities," he explained.

"NEVER!"

Shogun surged upwards, knocking Darkness's sword back. The angel of death stepped backwards and smiled coldly. "You will never defeat me, Shogun," he said, "You are not the warrior you once were."

The katana rushed towards Darkness's head and the black-clad man barely managed to stop it without being driven to his knees. He gritted his teeth in exertion and pushed upwards.

"You will have to do better than that!"

Shogun bellowed again and swung his weapon horizontally, catching Darkness's side as he tried to move and drawing blood.

"Not enough!"

A series of attacks, some that were parried or dodged, others that would leave scars, but none of which stopped Darkness. It was all the swordsman could do to defend himself though, and soon enough Shogun's blade would find its mark.

"IF YOU WANT TO DEFEAT ME, REMEMBER THE WARRIOR YOU ONCE WERE!"

And Shogun, his fury and need for vengeance overcoming everything else, did exactly that.

The katana swung in a wide arc and knocked the sword out of Darkness's hands with the force of its movement. It came within a hair of Darkness's temple, with no chance of deflection, when it halted.

Darkness met Shogun's eyes. The fire was gone.

The katana clattered to the ground and the Japanese man stumbled backwards, falling to his knees as he approached the building's edge.

"It is over." Darkness said.

The Bleeder had vanished and Josh rushed forward to stand behind Shogun, his old rival and...yet...there were few indeed for whom he had had so much respect.

As he came close, placed his hand on Shogun's shoulder, he felt his old enemy reach up and grab his arm.

"Josh..."

Josh knelt down beside Shogun and looked into his eyes. "I'm here," was all he said.

Tears welled in the warrior's eyes, his icy calm now entirely destroyed.

There were no more words.

The three of them stayed there till dawn, each trying to resolve their part in the story in their own minds. Finally, as dawn broke Shogun stood and turned again to Josh. He was still silent, as he had been when they had first met. He offered only a brief nod before turning to Darkness and clasping arms with his fellow warrior.

It was over, indeed.

Shogun turned and stepped into mid-air.

Josh reached to stop him, but Darkness held him back.

"SHOGUN!"

He rushed towards the edge, but there was no sign of the former Intercontinental champion.

"Is he...did he survive?"

Darkness shrugged.

"Warriors never die."

Epilogue

On the desolate waste of the western plane of Hell, the two armies gathered. On one side, Titans and Fallen Angels and on the other half-breeds and Incubi, all braying and thirsting for blood.

As a gargantuan Titan began thundering forward towards the enemy battle-lines he was stopped in his tracks by an impossible sight. In the sky of Hell, the swirling clouds had parted, revealing a patch of dark sky pierced by three shining lights.

The battlefield froze, every combatant transfixed by this incredible sight. The lights became brighter, larger and, suddenly, it was clear that they were falling.

Three bolts of shining fury connected with the Titan and dropped the evil creature to the ground, then lifted from the its remains and alighted before Lucifer's army.

The leader folded his wings but retained the grip on his sword.

"Let's get this over with, brothers..." said Gabriel.


Darkness walked into the locker room. He now wore the sword slung over his back in the scabbard he had found in the case Josh had delivered to him. John Doe was standing there, waiting for him.

He smiled lop-sidedley when Darkness walked in, accepting the new detail of the sword without question.

"Hey," he greeted his friend hesitantly, still not sure how to approach the man who had ‘killed' him and then fought him in a genuinely lethal match just days earlier.

"Hello, John."

"Listen," Doe began, "I just got off the phone with some guy who seems to be speaking for management at the moment..."

"Right."

"And we're going to be given a pretty big opportunity if we do well in the next couple of weeks."

"Go on..."

John moved to stand beside Darkness and placed his arm around his friend's shoulder and looked into the distance while he moved his hand across their field of vision, as if demonstrating a sign announcing some important event.

"How do you like the sound of ‘Darkness and John Doe; World's Heavyweight Tag Team Champions'?"

Darkness grinned and nodded.

This was the time for new beginnings.


A road stretches off into a blood-red horizon. A deep orange orb hangs over the barren land, staining everything with its fiery luminescence.

A lone figure walks along the road, clothed in loose dark robes. He walks towards the sun and thus his features are hidden. The only detail visible is his bald head.

Nonetheless, for anyone familiar with this man, it should be clear from the way he moves and the katana strapped to his back who he is.

With no frame of reference, it is not clear whether the man is walking towards the sunrise or the sunset.

Perhaps it is both.

Such is the way of the warrior.

[Originally posted 07/09/05 by Thommy H]

"Destiny.

"He finally found his destiny, Spyne. I tried to prevent his birth because I saw what he would one day do. What his actions could one day prevent. Aterius Angelus stood in my way and he crawled into life, a mewling, milk-drinking infant - a human.

"Then there was Mitchell. When the three travellers came into our domain, I never imagined that he would be the most significant to our plans. But it was Azrael again that set these events in motion - if Hopkins had never persecuted his ancestor and drove his family down the path to deportation...

"And then Grindall. He took up the sword before the very fire upon which Hopkins burnt, only to run into the very creature his previous incarnation had caused to be born. How could I not have seen this end, Spyne?

"Against Hell, we would have been victorious. But now we have a new foe to contend with, one against which even the power of the Abysmal Ones may falter. And why? Because of him...because of them...

"Shogun was my weapon. Through you I changed him and made him an invincible force. He was to be my soldier upon Earth, recruiting warriors for an army that would conquer the Universe. How could I not have seen that he would meet him?

"It was inevitable, of course. That he should be there, I mean. Where else would he be? He's always where he's supposed to be, throughout time... He is the key, the key to their power on Earth.

"You see, Heaven cannot focus their attention on any individual humans, any more than a human can focus its attention on a single ant in a swarming nest of millions. They are small, confused and clamouring - not beneath Heaven's notice, for they are the reason for its existence, but simply too short-lived and insignificant to be relevant on the scale of individuals.

"So they send one of their own to infiltrate their societies. He's like a lens, focusing their gaze on a specific point. They look through his eyes and decide whether to act or not. He represents their stake in all this.

"When the fire died in Shogun's eyes, they saw it and knew the time had come to act. Before they were content to let Hell rip itself apart, but through him they saw that this was about more than one Plane. Because of him, they came here to thwart me.

"But it was not just him, oh no. Mitchell had his part to play...he was here, in my very grasp! But I let him slip away; I chose the wrong warrior to enslave. Josh's weak, human compassion for his former enemy led to him doing the bidding of his would-be mentor, even if he was incapable of distinguishing between the real demon and the babbling of his own frail mind.

"Yes, it was him too: The Bleeder. I knew he would bring about my undoing from the beginning. That's why I tried to destroy him before he was even born, and why I have struggled for so long to dispose of him - either permanently or just for long enough to complete my plans. I never suspected that banishing him to that accursed wrestling league on Earth would result in...this...

"Bleeder and Azrael are supposed to be enemies. That is what the prophecies say, and what has been borne out through time thus far. How is it that they worked together to this end? What's in it for Bleeder?

"But no matter. When he returns he will find Hell in ruins, his home and his lover both destroyed and desecrated. So too will Josh Mitchell pay for his transgression against his masters - he dared to defy the oath that runs through his veins and he will serve the appropriate penalty. Shogun I shall deal with personally when I find him - his treachery is the worst of all, for it is made against me. He will once again suffer at your hands, Spyne, while I watch and gloat. And this time he will not find relief in service of demons at the end, for there will be no end, only an eternity of pain and suffering. The remnants of his soul will make an amusing plaything when I rule Hell.

"Then last of all...the one who has proved the greatest thorn in my side. What a trophy Azrael's wings will make above my mantle, and how amusing shall the cries of an angel be at the hands of the Titans.

"Yes, Darkness will suffer as no other - not even Shogun. No traitor is this one, no oath-breaker or rival demon, but the Angel of Death, both human and divine. He is my most hated foe, my racial enemy.

"I shall take great delight in the destruction of that one's soul."

Spyne continued to listen transfixed to Beelzebub's ranting which had continued since Darkness and Shogun's fight on the Chicago rooftop. Each tirade ended the same way.

"DARKNESS WILL BE MINE!"

[Originally posted 07/25/05 by Thommy H]

"Shadow Slayer". Chapter 12: A Walk in the Woods (Part I)

Chiang Kong, Chiang Rai Province, Thailand - 1994

The roundhouse connected with the larger man and sent him stumbling back with a bloody nose. Darkness crouched low, his fists raised as he began circling his opponent. He ducked a punch and responded in kind, knocking free a few teeth and further wearing down his foe.

His face stinging badly, the huge warrior stumbled forward and shook his head to try and regain some semblance of concentration, but he wasn't quick enough. A second punch, then a low roundhouse and finally...nothing...

The brute opened his eyes, now badly swollen, to see Darkness edging back towards the edge of the fighting area. Believing for a second he had the upper hand, he moved forward, fists raised. Too late he realised his mistake.

The manoeuvre is known as the "Kao Loi" and is regarded as one of the more spectacular of Muay Thai attacks. Westerners would probably call it a ‘flying knee strike' or, if they knew anything about proffesional wrestling, perhaps a variation of Keji Mutoh's ‘Shining Wizard'. If they watched domestic wrestling post-2005 then they'd know it as the Shadowed Wizard...but that's another story...

Darkness launched himself some five feet into the air from one foot, raised the opposite knee while in midair and, with little ceremony, smashed it straight into his opponent's face.

Unsurprisingly, it signalled the end of the fight.

The crowd erupted as Darkness, his hands, elbows, knees and feet spattered with blood let the cheers wash over him. His eyes were closed...another victory...another step closer to the perfection of himself as a weapon... The skin on his blood-caked limbs was as hard as rock. He was more than capable of smashing a concrete block with such weapons; a man's face - even that of a Muay Thai champion - was little obstacle in comparison.

Darkness left the combat circle - little more than a ring drawn in the dirt floor of a disused riverside warehouse - amid the howls of fans. Men from Thailand and neighbouring Laos patted him in congratulation (being careful to avoid his head and face, as was the custom in this part of the world) as his lean form passed amongst them.

To his surprise, someone was waiting for him in the room he had been given to prepare for the fight.

The stranger was larger than Darkness who, despite his impressive credentials, was only six feet tall. He was black, muscular and looked American. His clothes were predominantly dark in colour and, Darkness noted immediately, he sported a distinctive tattoo on his right bicep.

It was distinctive because Darkness wore one that was superficially very similar. It differed only in very subtle details that only one who was trained to understand their significance would understand. The design appeared tribal, but close inspection would reveal that it was an ordered pattern consisting of a number of intertwined rings that each looped once around the arm.

The newcomer's tattoo had five rings in total; Darkness's had eight.

"Master Darkness," the man - who was indeed American if his accent was anything to go by - intoned, his voice respectful. The tattoo was enough to let the two of them understand the precedent inherent to the situation: Darkness was in charge here.

Darkness nodded and moved over to his bag. Producing a towel he wiped some of the sweat and blood away before turning to the stranger who was also, by virtue of his markings, not really a stranger at all.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I came here to find you, Master."

"Darkness will be sufficient...mister...?" he raised his eyebrows and let the question hang for a second.

"Bolas. Nathaniel Bolas."

"Which is it? Bolas? Nathaniel? Nate? What?"

"Nathan is what I usually go by, Mas...Darkness..." said Nathan, with a slightly nervous smile.

Darkness arched an eyebrow, "Are you scared of me or something, Nathan?"

Nathan laughed, a deep rumble from his massive chest, "I just watched you demolish a man twice your size out there."

"He wasn't as impressive as his reputation might suggest," Darkness said with a dismissive gesture as he returned to his bag, "He relied on fear to cow his previous opponents."

"Ah," Nathan replied with a nod.

Darkness fixed his gaze on his companion, "Which doesn't work on men like us, does it, Nathan?"

Nathan grinned sheepishly, realising that the more senior member of his Order had caught him out, "No. No it doesn't," he grinned.

Darkness pulled on a dark tee-shirt and turned to Nathan as he straightened, "So...why are you here?"

"I'm here to pull you away from your holiday, Darkness," Nathan said, "And to give you a message from The First."

Darkness nodded as Nathan produced a letter sealed with a red blob of wax bearing a seal that almost nobody would have recognised - a sword with a broad wing on either side. It was the seal of their Order. Darkness broke it apart with his thumb and took out the crisp document which he read swiftly.

"Cambodia?"

"Yes. It's an ancient cult that appears to be remerging."

"I see," Darkness held up the note to the light and watched it disintegrate. A new solution to an old problem, "Any more information?"

"It seems to be focused on a small number of tribal groups in the Ratanak Kiri district," Nathan explained, "They have an animist religion that's been..."

"The Khmer Loeu?" Darkness interrupted.

"Uh...yes, I believe so..."

"Right," Darkness nodded as he began circling the room, "That makes things easier. They're largely independent and resentful towards the central Cambodian authority."

Nathan shrugged, "We'll do what we have to do."

"We will indeed...wait...we?"

"Yes, I'm part of the team you'll be leading," Nathan explained.

Darkness went over the letter in his head. He'd been caught up in the minor details and had failed to notice the crux of the entire missive.

Darkness met his new team-mate's eyes, "Shadow Slayers don't work in teams, Nathan."

The huge man simply grinned in response as Darkness sighed and began packing.

[Originally posted 07/26/05 by Thommy H]

"Shadow Slayer". Chapter 12: A Walk in the Woods (Part II)

Phnom Penh, Cambodia

The small jet touched down on an outlying runway far away from the airport's central terminals. It was past midnight...their secrecy was assured. Darkness stepped off the plane and walked down onto the dimly lit tarmac where another man waited for him.

Darkness's heightened instincts were aware of Nathan buzzing excitedly behind him - unsurprising, for the next member of their team was the very man that had trained him. The two Slayers were reputedly closer than brothers. Nonetheless, familiarity does not bow to precedent, and Darkness greeted the man first.

As they clasped arms, Darkness took in the details of his latest companion's appearance. He was short - maybe 5' 9" - with a very lean build, bordering on scrawny in fact, though his muscle definition was clear to see. His auburn hair was shaved almost to the scalp and he sported a trimmed goatee. He wore dark pants and a tight, sleeveless top that displayed his Slayer tattoo - seven rings on this one.

However, the newcomer's most distinctive feature was a second tattoo - or tattoos. His face was covered in swirling patterns that would ordinarily mark him as a Polynesian of some kind; most likely a Maori. Darkness arched an eyebrow in unspoken question and the fellow Shadow Slayer grinned. Evidently he was used to queries about his facial markings.

"My grandfather was Maori," he explained in a broad New Zealand accent, "And he raised me after my parents were killed."

‘Murdered parents' was not an unusual characteristic of Shadow Slayers, so Darkness did not press for any more information. "I'm Darkness," was all he said.

"Dragon," the New Zealander said with another grin as he released the hand shake, "And how are you doing, Nathan?"

Nathan smiled widely - a mirror of Dragon's expression - and they joined in a rough, but genuine, embrace. Dragon pushed away from his protégé, keeping a grip on his shoulders and looked him over. It was a very fatherly gesture that struck Darkness as somewhat inappropriate between men of their Order.

"Look at you," Dragon said, not conscious of Darkness's disapproval, "Fifth Circle and not even thirty yet!"

"Heh...I got lucky, Drag'," Nathan said with a wave of his hand, "I dealt a killing blow to an injured warg and the Order were all over me - said I'd saved the whole country."

"Don't run yourself down, Nathan," Dragon chided, clearly happy to play the role of mentor again, "Taking out a warg is no easy feat, injured or not. You've seen how those things regenerate..."

Dragon and Nathan laughed together again before the older man turned finally to Darkness. He smiled, but there was an edge to it, "Sorry, this is all a little unfamiliar to you, I'm sure," he said, "Not being Slayer-trained you wouldn't understand the connection we share..."

"The bond between warriors is not an alien concept to me, I assure you," Darkness replied carefully.

Dragon grinned once more and barked a laugh that did very little to diffuse the attention. "You have bags?" he asked, turning to Nathan now.

"They're on the plane, Drag'."

"Aren't you going to unload them or something, then?"

"We're taking this plane to Sen Monorom, actually," Darkness interjected, "And we're leaving immediately."

"Oh," said Dragon, not quite masking his surprise, "I thought you'd want a night's rest before we launched our attack."

"No, we don't have enough time for that I'm afraid - plus the fourth member of our team is waiting for us there."

As Dragon picked up his own luggage and walked towards the plane he patted Darkness on the shoulder - an act of forced camaraderie - and nodded, "You youngsters always want to get everywhere fast, eh?"

Darkness arched an eyebrow again which elicited another laugh from Dragon, "You need to lighten up, Master Darkness."

Sen Monorom, Ratanak Kiri Province, Cambodia

It was dawn as the plane touched down in a second airport. It was smaller and this particular runway was, if possible, even more remote than the first. The heavily-forested mountains were visible as the aircraft drew to a halt beside someone leaning idly against a jeep.

Dragon moved to the plane's door first but laughed awkwardly as if he'd just realised that it was proper for Darkness to exit first. This time they had their bags with them and, more importantly, their weaponry.

Shadow Slayers carried a large arsenal with them on their missions, including a variety of firearms, silver bullets, vials of holy water, wooden stakes and the like. But the centrepiece of any Slayer's armoury was his Slayer Weapon; the armament with which they had begun their training and were attuned to as no other warrior could be.

The Samurai of ancient Japan said that their katanas were extensions of their bodies.

The Slayer Weapon was an extension of the Slayer's soul.

Nathan carried a Shillelagh - a stout wooden club (though hollowed out at the end to make room for molten metal) of Irish design. It was unorthadox, certainly, but a Slayer always trained with what was to hand. The story of how Nathan came to use the Shillelagh as his favoured implement of destruction was probably long and uninteresting.

By contrast, Dragon used a more traditional greatsword as his Slayer Weapon. A straight, double-edged European style blade, he had explained to Darkness during the flight that he had forged it himself. It was an impressive weapon and had taken the lives of many creatures of the night.

Darkness was unusual in that his Slayer Weapon was actually two weapons - his semi-legendary pistols: "The Eyes of God". The practice of imbuing firearms was unorthadox enough to be frowned upon by other Slayers, but Darkness knew what worked.

As he checked the guns over and holstered them, he noticed Dragon looking at him, a question forming on his lips.

"What?"

"Why guns? Why not a sword or an axe? From what I've heard your most dangerous up close..."

"Exactly."

Dragon frowned and Darkness offered an explanation as he passed him on the way to the door, "The man that trained me thought that putting a mêlée weapon in my hands was a waste of potential - why put all your eggs in one basket, after all?"

Not giving Dragon time to reply, Darkness strode from the plane and into the bright Asian morning to meet the fourth, and final, member of their team who was waiting by the vehicle that would take them up into the mountains.

The words ‘female Shadow Slayer' conjour up many images in the minds of most people. Too many movies and books aimed at adolescent boys will build in the popular mind an image of an athletic, yet somehow curvaceous woman who starts the narrative being strong, forceful and cold. She has a chip on her shoulder about female stereotypes and always tries to outdo her male team mates. Later on, she ends up being the one kidnapped, subsequently rescued and then becomes romantically involved with the hero.

Marta Hayes was nothing like this.

At 5' 11" she was tall for a woman and, being the fighting type, she was built solidly; she wouldn't have fitted into a cocktail dress had the idea of doing so even occurred to her. Her hair was cropped short - for practicality - and her face was plain, devoid of make-up or any other unnecesary decoration.

Marta wasn't doing this to fulfill teenage fantasies about strong women.

She clasped arms with Darkness and smiled warmly. "You'd be Darkness then?" Her accent was American - mid-western...possibly from Iowa, or maybe Nebraska.

"Yes," he replied, returning the smile, "Marta, I assume?"

She nodded and turned to a bag on the backseat of the jeep. From it she produced a second letter bearing the sigil of the Order of Shadow Slayers. Darkness - the only one permitted to open it by virtue of the number of circles shown on the edge of the wax seal - read it quickly and allowed the sunlight to disintegrate.

Dragon and Nathan apparoached him and exchanged greetings with Marta.

"Where are we going then?" Nathan asked as he placed his bag in the jeep.

"What are we hunting?" Dragon added.

Darkness pointed up into the moutains that were covered in dense foliage. They were beautiful in the dawn, "Up there."

But Darkness knew now that their beauty hid a terrible blemish.

"And our target is a Vampiric cult."

They all regarded the forested hill-country in silence for a few moments.

[Originally posted 07/27/05 by Thommy H]

"Shadow Slayer". Chapter 12: A Walk in the Woods (Part III)

The jeep wound up the mountain trail with a slowness that vexed Darkness. They couldn't afford to waste time but, of course, no one would benefit if they plunged off a precipice in their effort to reach their destination sooner. Darkness instead settled for watching the terrain around them.

Opening himself up to his surroundings in the way that all Shadow Slayers learn to at the very beginning of their training he was aware of the living pulse of the forest around him. The jungle and its inhabitants beat to a single rhythm and the jeep was like a syringe carrying some alien toxin about to penetrate the heart.

The jungle had been fooled then, for it was the heart that housed the toxin. A cancer ate away at this region, working from within to subvert the natural synchronicity - realised through the animist religion of the human tribes that made their home here - to the whims of a dark and terrible force.

Abruptly the jeep stopped, bringing Darkness from his reverie but not surprising him, for his fundamental sense of the world around him prepared him for it. It was very difficult indeed to take a Shadow Slayer unawares.

Marta hopped from the driver's seat to investigate the obstruction that had halted them. The jeep's front wheel was firmly wedged into a puddle of thick mud that was rapidly hardening in the morning sun.

Darkness walked around the vehicle to join her and they both observed the problem in silence for a few moments.

"Do you think we can get it out?" he asked, eventually.

"Not at the rate this mud is hardening - it's going to be like concrete in a few minutes."

Dragon leant down over the rear door and frowned, "Won't it shatter once it's hard?"

"No, it's too thick," Marta explained, "We'd have to hack through it and that might take hours."

"Hours we don't have," Darkness added as he looked at the sky, shading his eyes from the bright sun with one gloved hand.

"Then I guess we're on foot," Nathan sighed, beginning to root through their bags for his own possessions.

"Hang on for a second," Dragon said, placing his hand on his protégé's shoulder while looking meaningfully at Darkness, "What's the rush here?"

Darkness turned his attention to the New Zealander and nodded in the direction of the sky, "Fighting a vampire is going to be much more difficult at night," he explained, "If we can catch it at rest..."

"Come on, Darkness," Dragon interrupted, "You think his resting place is going to be in the open?"

"No, but..."

"I vote we stay here and get the jeep out - we'll waste as much time doing that as we would traipsing through this jungle anyway."

"He has a point, Darkness," Nathan added. Marta remained silent, watching the clash of wills unfold.

Darkness regarded the pair of would-be dissenters with an expression of calm indifference, "I wasn't aware I was running a democracy here, gentlemen," he said coldly, "We don't even know if we can get this jeep running again, and I'm not going to waste time on an endeavour that may prove to be fruitless."

For a second Dragon held the more senior Slayer's eyes before smiling as if this had all been some sort of test. His cockiness did not ring true, however.

"Right you are, Master."

Darkness nodded and pointed upwards towards the peak of the mountain they had been, until recently, climbing fairly quickly. "We're going that way," was all he said.

* * *

It was sunset as the four warriors hacked their way through the dense vegetation that barred their way to the village they knew awaited them near the mountain's summit. Nathan watched the sky uneasily; loathe to be lost in the dark when vampires were abroad.

Dragon placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and said something to his old friend that was inaudible to Marta and Darkness. Those too also kept their own counsel. Darkness had found that Marta was a great repository for arcane knowledge - naturally smaller and weaker than most Slayers, she had found that the best way to combat creatures of the night was to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of their history and, more importantly, their vulnerabilities.

"So what do you think we're dealing with here, Marta?" Darkness asked as he machete'd a cluster of vines from their path.

The square-faced woman paused for a second as if consulting some interior database before resuming her progress. She talked as she hacked branches and leaves out of the way, "It's likely to be a fairly standard vampiric cult," she explained, "Vampires need human blood to survive, but a bitten victim becomes a vampire spawn - a thrall - so they've mostly learnt not to just gorge themselves on entire villages."

"Afraid of the competition?"

"Exactly; vampire lords exert total control over their thralls, but when food gets scarce infighting is inevitable," she continued, "So the usual method of...cultivation...is to find a small community and set themselves up as some sort of god or prophet. It works better on tribal societies in forgotten corners of the world, which is why vampires - or at least overt ones - are becoming more and more rare."

"Civilisation is the enemy of vampires, I suppose," Darkness said, nodding in understanding.

"Yes. For a vampire, the ideal situation would be a world without any kind of infrastructure, just humans huddling in tiny villages making willing sacrifices to their new gods. See 15th Century Romania, for example."

Dragon moved up to join Marta and Darkness, interjecting with a low cough. "We might want to start looking for somewhere to set up camp," he suggested when they turned to him, "It's getting dark, and we won't get far in this jungle without light."

"Agreed," Darkness nodded, "You and Nathan scout the area for a suitable campsite."

The Shadow Slayers did not make a camp fire. Not only was the local flora largely unsuitable for kindling, but they had no wish to announce their presence any earlier than they needed to. All four of them were trained to see well in the shadows anyway, so they went about the mundane tasks of preparing for sleep with little difficulty.

As the youngest, Nathan was given first watch - considered by experienced adventurers to be the easiest - with Darkness relieving him as midnight approached. A full moon, large and ominous this close to the equator hung over their camp as the team's leader stepped up behind Nathan.

"It's a strange night," the American said.

"Understandable. Anything to report?"

"No...except there's a lot of bats around..."

Darkness shrugged, "That's to be expected - for this time of year and in this place..." he added ominously.

A few hours later, Marta relieved Darkness. She handed him a metal beaker holding something warm and sweet. "You wouldn't think it would be this cold in the jungle," she smiled.

"A clear sky, mountain air...plus it's damp underfoot..." Darkness mused, "It's nothing too bad..."

"You don't think?" Marta asked and, for the first time, Darkness noticed she was bundled in a thick coat and still shivering despite the warmth it provided. Darkness was still in his sleeveless shirt and showed no sign of feeling the effects of the chill night.

"I guess I'm not much for getting cold," he shrugged, sipping the drink despite not feeling the need.

"Training?"

"In part, but I never much felt the cold I don't think."

Marta frowned, but kept her thoughts to herself as she watched the moon begin to slowly descend in the night sky.

"How about electricity?" she said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"You feel that?"

"Do I feel electricity?"

"Yeah. Have you ever been shocked or anything?"

"Not that I remember..."

She just nodded and watched the moon for a little longer. Finally she smiled and turned to Darkness, "I think it's my watch now."

"Agreed."

As Darkness climbed into his tent to snatch a few hours rest, Marta turned her thoughts to angels and what was know of them. No one ever got cold in Heaven.

[Originally posted 07/28/05 by Thommy H]

"Shadow Slayer". Chapter 12: A Walk in the Woods (Part IV)

The following morning dawned clear and bright, but there was a heaviness to the air that put all four Shadow Slayers on edge - more on edge than they already were, anyway.

Dragon, who had taken the last watch, was sitting nonchalantly on a large rock on the edge of camp. As Darkness approached from behind he turned and grinned lop-sidedly.

"Morning," he greeted the team's leader, "Sleep well?"

"Reasonably well, yes."

"Excellent," Dragon turned back to the sky, a dome of perfect blue suspended above the jungle canopy, "It looks like we could be in for a rough day..."

Darkness closed his eyes for a moment and opened himself up to the world around him. This was the first thing every Shadow Slayer was taught - an awareness of the pulses and rhythms of the universe was key to many of their other abilities. Only by understanding what was right, for instance, could one identify that which had no place on Earth. Darkness felt the beating heart of the jungle as he had the day before; predators and prey struggling for individual survival and, at the same time, each ensuring the mutual continuation of their species, worms and grubs processing the very earth below his feet, microscopic organisms bustling imperceptibly everywhere and, like a deep but subtle rumble, the sensation of the trees themselves breathing, sustaining their cyclical life of hundreds of years.

Deeper even than that, Darkness felt the slow turning of the Earth itself and, around it, the sluggish layer of atmosphere. That was the target of his questing; the air was heavy and thick with moisture. He could feel the wind whipping up immense cloud systems far above them and to the south. In his mind's eye, he sense a vast column of wet, dense cloud forming just over the horizon. He opened his eyes.

"There's a storm coming."

Dragon nodded as Marta and Nathan both looked up at the sky in trepidation.

* * *

As their progress continued they were pursued by the storm. Low rumbles of thunder began just before midday and they prepared themselves for the violent weather they could not avoid.

They paused for breath by a fast-flowing mountain stream at around noon and reflected on their progress. Dragon was frowning as he looked back along their trail, "How long are we going to be in this jungle, Darkness?"

"I don't know," Darkness admitted, "The exact location of the village is unrecorded."

"Because we're not going to get far once this storm hits...if we still had the jeep..."

Darkness stamped his foot hard on the loose earth that they stood on, "We'd get bogged down in this even worse than we did before."

"Yes, but we could..."

"Do you have a problem with my authority, Dragon?" Darkness said, his voice not crossing the line into anger yet still gaining in volume. Dragon held the more senior Slayer's eyes for a few moments before looking away.

Darkness looked over at Nathan who seemed distracted by something. When he realised Darkness was looking at him, the young man turned around and tried to hide his worried expression.

"What is it?" Darkness pressed.

"Nothing...I...I just thought I heard something..." Nathan smiled to try and relieve the tension, "I'm sure it was just..."

"Fan out!"

Slayers did not take hunches lightly. Without pause, Dragon and Marta both stalked into the forest, Slayer Weapons to hand - Marta carried a crossbow and Dragon his familiar longsword. Darkness loosened his pistols in their holsters and he nodded meaningfully at Nathan who gripped his Shillelagh in readiness. He began speaking again, "I'm sure it's nothing, I just..."

Darkness held up a hand to silence his teammate and moved slowly towards the denser foliage away from the stream. For a few moments they were all tense as each opened their minds to their surroundings and sought out the source of danger.

Darkness and Dragon both sensed the change in Marta's demeanor at the same moment. She was furthest north and sensed something - presumably in the direction of the summit. They converged on her location and Nathan, the least experienced of the group arrived a moment later.

Marta was watching the forest carefully, her crossbow raised. Her eyes shifted rapidly from side to side but, as the others arrived, she visibly relaxed. Darkness crouched down at her side, waiting for her to report.

"There's something further up the mountain," she whispered, "Coming this way, but it seems to be hesitating."

"Does it know we're here?"

"Almost certainly, but that means we're more than a match for whatever it is - otherwise it wouldn't bother with stealth."

"Quite."

Dragon crept up and knelt beside Darkness, "Well?" he asked.

"Something up the mountain is coming towards us, but with some trepidation," Darkness explained.

"I'll bet its waiting for cover from the storm."

Marta nodded, clearly agreeing with his conclusion. Darkness gave a sharp nod to show his assent and rose.

"It knows we're here, and we know it's there," he said, not bothering to lower his voice, "Let's not give it the advantage of attacking on its own terms."

"Now you're talking my language," Dragon said with a grin. He made to go towards their would-be assailant but Darkness halted him with a glare.

"I'll take point with Nathan to back me up. You and Marta circle round from the east and west respectively. We'll try to flush whatever it is into one of your paths."

Dragon blinked but nodded in assent as Marta disappeared into the forest to the group's left. Soon Dragon was gone from sight too and Darkness gestured for Nathan to follow him.

As they moved carefully through the undergrowth, Darkness could sense that Nathan was uneasy. "What is it?" he asked after a while.

"You don't like Dragon, do you?"

Darkness stopped and turned to his companion, one eyebrow arched quizzically.

"He means well, Darkness," Nathan explained, "He's a good man and an experienced Slayer..."

"I know that."

"He can sometimes just be a little stubborn and..."

Darkness held up his hand, "Now is not the time, Nathan," he said quietly, "If you want to discuss this, we'll do so later when..."

He was cut off by a loud, inhuman screech that echoed through the jungle. It came from the north.

Darkness and Nathan rushed into a small clearing where Dragon stood breathing heavily, longsword in hand. He turned and grinned at the others when they arrived, "Almost got it..." he panted.

"What the hell happened?" Darkness demanded.

"It was the vampire!" Dragon said, "I almost had him, but he turned tail and ran when he saw my face!"

"Your face?"

"The Ta Moko - the tattoo - is considered ‘tapu' by my people," Dragon elaborated.

"That means ‘sacred'," Nathan interjected.

"It works just as well as a cross on vampires," Dragon grinned, "This mission should be a piece of cake."

Darkness could do little to hide his anger but as he stepped towards Dragon, another inhuman scream caught their attention - this time from their left.

"Marta!"

They rushed towards the source of the noise and almost crashed headlong into Marta coming in their direction. She looked badly shaken.

"It came from nowhere," she said, her voice wavering slightly, "I got a few bolts into it but it changed forms and flew north."

"Did you see its face?" Darkness asked as he holstered his pistols, his heartbeat returning to normal levels.

"Cambodian...just a thrall..."

Darkness turned to Dragon, his eyes wild, "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"Hey, we need to get the job done here," Dragon shot back indignantly, "Fear is the Shadow Slayer's greatest ally - what good is served by sneaking around waiting to be attacked by God knows what?!"

"That thrall is going to report back to its master and..."

"It already knew we were here, smart guy!"

Darkness stepped towards Dragon and the two warriors came nose-to-nose, each refusing to back down. Sweat trickled down Dragon's brow and he flinched for a second as a deep rumble sounded across the forest.

Marta glanced up and saw ominous clouds piling up despite the still, humid air around them, "The storm's about to break..." she said to no one in particular.

Dragon looked away as another rumble of thunder sounded and a flash of lightning illuminated the sky behind him. It was followed by another a few seconds later. The storm was getting closer.

Marta and Nathan hurried to pitch the group's tent while Darkness and Dragon remained in place for a few seconds longer. Finally Dragon stepped away to help his protégé.

[Originally posted 08/01/05 by Thommy H]

"Shadow Slayer". Chapter 12: A Walk in the Woods (Part V)

The storm broke during the night. With the almost supernatural precognition Darkness managed to get under cover in time, but he was painfully aware of how vulnerable they were without someone watching and with the storm disrupting their senses.

Lightning carved the sky in two and rattled the spirit of the jungle. As rain lashed the trees and every animal in the forest took shelter, the fundamental rhythm was paused and rendered undetectable.

The Slayers were like blind men.

Dawn - such as it was - came a few hours later. Thunder rolled across the mountains and the rain continued to fall as hard as before. Darkness stood in the rain desperately trying to achieve the calm centre he required to be at his most effective, but the storm's effects made it impossible to assume any sort of oneness with his environment. Dragon was occupied with wrapping his sheathed blade in tarpaulin to protect it from the rain while Nathan tried to keep the supplies dry.

Marta was circumventing their camp searching for any signs of intruders that would have escaped their attention during the night. There had been no attack, but they all knew that any chance of secrecy had been dashed by their bungled assault on the thrall the previous day.

Dragon approached Nathan and they exchanged words between themselves. The private conversation ended with a pointed look in Darkness's direction from Dragon and a small grimace from Nathan. Darkness watched the New Zealander carefully as he returned to wrapping his sword and realised suddenly that he was clenching his fists.

His attention was pulled away from Dragon by Marta returning to the camp, a dour expression on her face. It may have been the damp, but Darkness suspected that there was something more significant behind her grim façade.

He approached her slowly, noting that Dragon's eyes surreptitiously followed the group's nominal leader. "What is it?" Darkness asked, raising his voice over the continual beating of rain on waxy leaves and growls of thunder.

"Something was here last night," Marta replied, straining to make herself heard, "I can feel enough to tell that..."

Darkness sighed and pushed a few strands of damp hair from his eyes as he surveyed the jungle, "How many? How powerful?"

"Thralls...if that...I can't tell their numbers exactly. Three perhaps. Maybe more..."

Darkness nodded, his worst fears confirmed. He beckoned the others over to him and they all sheltered temporarily below a broad-leaved tree at the edge of the clearing in which their tents had been pitched.

"They know we're here," he began, "Which means we need to rethink our strategy somewhat..."

"Rethink?" Dragon interrupted, "I take it you weren't planning an overt strike originally then?"

"I'm not even planning that now," Darkness said, throwing a look laden with menace in his team-mate's direction, "If anything we need to use stealth even more."

Marta nodded in agreement with Darkness, "Yes, our enemy know enough about us now that he's likely to be overconfident," she said, "We can use that to our advantage."

"And we know that the vampire lord must have some ulterior motive for allowing us to get this far," Darkness continued, "I intend to find out what that is without playing right into its hands."

Dragon turned away shaking his head. Nathan followed him as he strode back to their bags and seemed to be arguing with his mentor about something. That was some solace at least - hopefully he could contain Dragon's insurrection before it spread to Nathan.

"You think he's going to be a problem." It was not a question.

"Yes, I do," Darkness nodded, still watching the tattooed warrior arguing with Nathan, "He resents my authority - with his greater experience, he believes he is more able to lead the team."

"And what do you think about that?" Marta asked, refusing to mince her words.

"I am third circle...he is fourth...there is no debate."

"You're awfully young for the third circle though, Darkness," Marta challenged, "You can see why that might concern him."

Darkness smiled without humour, "Concern for the mission is not his motivation, I fear."

"Fear? That doesn't sound like a Shadow Slayer..."

Darkness smiled again - though this time is was genuine, "Shadow Slayers we may be, but allow me idioms, Marta - I'm still human."

The words hung in the air for a second before Marta gave a ghost of a smile and turned back to the camp to finish her packing.

* * *

They made a miserable quartet as they traipsed through the waterlogged jungle, the storm still battering them both physically and mentally. As they made their way to the summit, they often caught fleeting movement in the forest around them. None of them had to venture the theory that they were being tracked.

The attack came without warning, of course, and they knew it was just a test of their capabilities. One thrall came from the side, near to Dragon, but recoiled at the sight of his tattooed face - clearly Dragon had not been exaggerating about the holy power of his facial markings.

A second thrall came out of the jungle right in front of Darkness, only to be met by a straight kick to the gut that sent the creature stumbling backwards. The third thrall walked right into a crossbow bolt to the temple from Marta, but predictably it only slowed the vampire down.

With a roar, Dragon unsheathed his greatsword and unceremoniously hacked the cowering thrall's left arm off at the elbow. Darkness had his guns out in the blink of an eye and pumped four bullets into the vampire nearest to him, causing the creature to smoulder visibly and let out an ear-splitting howl - Darkness recognised the sound as the one they'd heard in the earlier encounter and noted several bolt-sized holes in its chest with interest.

The vampire that had been earlier subjected to Marta's unusually direct form of cranial surgery was still reeling, clearly struggling with its own need to revert to its gaseous form in order to escape and the will of its master thundering through its mind. Nathan took advantage of the undead creature's indecision to deal it a decisive blow to the head with his Shillelagh that smashed its skull apart. It still twitched as it fell, powered by the distant lord's evil compulsion even in death.

Seeing itself outnumbered the one-armed thrall seemed to collapse inwards as it shifted into its bat-form and took off into the storm-rent sky. Yes, this had been a simple test - one which was impossible to pass to the Shadow Slayers' satisfaction. A vampire which could afford to expend three thralls without hesitation was a force to be reckoned with.

Marta turned over the carcasses of the two remaining vampires with her boot, grimacing in distaste as she did so. As she examined the decapitated one her eyes widened, "Darkness!" she called.

He hurried over and looked down at the creature, its decayed and clearly once-human form sickening him in some fundamental way. "What is it?" he asked, swallowing back the bile that gathered at the back of his throat.

"This corpse is centuries old," she breathed.

"What?" Dragon exclaimed, "We just killed it!"

"No," Marta said, shooting him a look of annoyance, "Vampires continue to rot after they are turned by their master - death comes with the bite and the removal of blood. But for this level of decay this one must have been bitten hundreds of years ago!"

"So?" Nathan asked, "Vampires are immortal, aren't they?"

"Yes, but older vampires tend to be more powerful because of how their taint dilutes itself with each passing," she explained, "The most powerful ones of all are the Firstborn - the council of primogenitors who first discovered the incantation that caused vampirism in the distant past."

"We know all this..." Dragon interrupted.

"Yes, but listen," Marta continued, "Each new generation of vampires - created from humans that have been bitten by existing vampires - is weaker than the one which created it. So for this thrall to be so old..."

"Ok, we get it," Dragon said, waving his hand dismissively, "What's the plan now then, Darkness? Looks like we have a real nasty vamp' on our hands here..."

"The same as before," Darkness said, his attention diverted by something.

"And that is?"

"Well I was going to wait ‘till we got in sight of our target but...well..."

Darkness moved a branch out of the way of their path and revealed the valley far below them. Nestled within it was a small, poorly-maintained village and, brooding beneath a dark thunder-cloud, an ancient temple illuminated by hundreds of flaming torches held by kneeling tribesmen.

Many thousands of bats circled the structure.

[Originally posted 08/02/05 by Thommy H]

"Shadow Slayer". Chapter 12: A Walk in the Woods (Part VI)

"Homo diabolus exsanguis," Marta began as the Shadow Slayers crouched behind the foliage that was their only shelter from the temple-dominated valley, "Because they were humans once - all of them."

"Where did the first ones come from though, if they procreate through their bites?" Nathan asked, his eyes still fixed on the scene below.

"No one knows the real story because it happened further into antiquity than any human records stretch," she continued, "But we believe they were a cult or coven of powerful, evil mage-priests. So evil that their destiny was a millennium of torture in Hell followed by elevation to the ranks of the demonic..."

"That can happen?" Nathan interrupted.

"Yes." It was Darkness that spoke this time.

The other three looked at him for a long moment and Darkness blinked as if he hadn't realised he had spoken.

"I...it's nothing...just..."

Two figures swathed in shadow appeared in his mind's eye. One with eyes like shattered glass and the other holding a sword...no...a katana wreathed in flame...

Darkness shook himself to clear his head, "Please...continue..." he said.

"Well, the commonly held belief is that they prolonged their lives through vile incantations to avoid the infernal torment," Marta said as she pulled her gaze away from Darkness and his strange behaviour, "But there's only so far you can take ‘eternal life' and finally they began succumbing to death. So they cast one final spell to cheat death fully and they became - for want of a word with less pulp connotations - undead."

"And then?" Dragon asked.

"They became demons; just like they were supposed to."

"Makes sense."

"Yes, so it probably isn't quite true," Marta countered with a brief smile, "But it's a story that fits the evidence well enough."

"Nice," Dragon replied with a smile that was less sincere before turning to Darkness, "So what now?"

"Now we attack."

* * *

The storm was quieter now. Only a few brief rumbles of thunder made their ominous presence felt across the landscape. The Slayers descended down the slope into the valley and made their way through the village, noting the dishevelment and squalor with distaste.

The huts and other structures were dilapidated and covered in filth. The carcasses of livestock, rotted and drained of blood were scattered randomly through the mud and effluence that passed for streets in the settlement.

"Herbivores don't survive long as vampires," Marta explained.

"Where are the inhabitants?" Dragon asked, casting suspicious looks around every corner.

"There," Darkness answered with a gesture towards the ruined temple where sunken-eyed villagers lined the steps bearing torches that cast an eerie light across the stones, "The vampire lord has fully enslaved them - perhaps with threats of enthralldom."

"Or promises..." Dragon suggested with a dark look.

Together they ascended the steps, taking no care to hide their presence. The plan was simple in principle, though only the Slayers knew about the secret ace up their sleeve. They entered the temple's entrance, being careful not to approach the villagers, all of whom wore identical expressions of hypnotic subservience. A vampire could shatter the will of an ordinary human with ease.

The scene before them was strangely subdued. A great roofed plaza stretched before them and, at its furthest limit, a curious chasm was rent in the stone floor. Beyond that was a kind of raised area at the centre of which was a stone altar spattered with dark blood.

"It seems the turning of humans into thralls has become ritualised," Marta said with a nod to the bloody slab, "A common ploy in cults like this."

"You think they sacrifice themselves willingly then?" Dragon asked, instinctively lowering his voice in such a huge space.

"Yes, most likely."

"So where are all these willing thralls hiding then?"

Darkness cast a grim look up at the plaza's ceiling. His keen eyesight easily pierced the shadows and his ears picked up the low-level shrieking of bats using echo-location to avoid colliding with one another. The hum was getting louder.

"It's time," Darkness said with a resigned look.

In one fluid motion, each of the Slayers drew their weapons. Sheltered from the storm, they could all assume the focus and oneness necessary for the next part of their preparation. The Slayer's awareness of his or her surroundings is a central ability and is used for far more than anticipating ambushes and the like.

A Slayer's perception is tied to their will and their understanding of the world around them. By focusing their wide-spread consciousness on one small area, they can centre themselves and imbue the subject of the focus with abilities that some would call...supernatural...

Dragon's sword seemed to glow with an inner light as he swung it experimentally. It left traces across the vision of the others. Suddenly, a low whooshing sound signalled a transformation above their heads and a vampire dropped to the floor landing nimbly in front of them.

A faintly-glowing crossbow bolt punctured its shoulder with an odd ripping noise as a second thrall dropped behind it...and a third...and a fourth to the left this time and...suddenly the Slayers were surrounded by vampires.

"Find the lord!" Darkness roared above the fray as he began shooting his way through rotted, bloodless flesh. Dragon swung his sword in a wide arc, decapitating several thralls while Marta kicked another one back in order to plant a bolt between its eyes.

They did not have far to search. As they slaughtered the weakling thralls that surrounded them an ominous note sounded and the remaining vampires slunk back like a retreating wave leaving the Slayers standing in an empty circle. In front of the altar across the chasm two thralls - each wearing ornate armour of unfamiliar design - held torches above something the Shadow Slayers had not observed earlier.

Set in the wall was a stone door of some kind. Its design did not match the architecture of the temple but instead somehow felt far older than the ruins, which themselves were ancient beyond reckoning. The ‘door' split in two as it opened and it was revealed to be not an entrance, but some kind of improbably archaic sarcophagus.

The thralls in the plaza knelt as one as a creature clad in midnight-black robes stepped forward and slowly, like some glacial movement but - against all possibility - even more ancient, raised its head.

It was entirely unrecognisable as a living being, such was the level of decay. It appeared as nothing so much as a corpse that had been refrigerated for many, many hundreds of years. The rot had been halted here and there...but there was only so much that it could be sustained...

Unnervingly, its eyes had somehow remained intact, though they were yellowed as if by some unseen sickness. The pupils were like pinpricks of night in the discoloured orbs and, apart from this disturbing feature, the only part of the creature that looked close to healthy were its fangs; long and pearly white in jarring contrast to the brown, decayed flesh of its mouth.

"Now maybe we'll find out what it wants with us..." Dragon began, but he was cut off by a high-pitched screeching that caused even the Slayers to visibly flinch. It was emitted by the vampire lord and, terrifyingly, each of them found meaning in the sound, as if it was some language that went beyond ordinary human ken.

"You have come here with the intent of destroying me, human creatures. You will find instead that you are to be examples to your species. Too long have my people languished in the shadows, leeching from your societies like parasites, always cloaking ourselves in myth and forgotten lore. WELL WE ARE WORMS NO MORE!"

At this thunderous exclamation - felt rather than heard - the Slayers were driven to their knees. Marta gasped, her hand at her head while Dragon strained in vain at the mental bonds the vampire lord had laid across them. Darkness alone bore the psychic assault with stoic calm.

"He...he's so powerful..." Marta stammered.

"He is a Firstborn," Darkness explained, his eyes locked upon their tormentor, "There is little that four Slayers can do against him..."

"Four...?"

Darkness grinned.

Nathan stepped from the shadows near the temple's entrance and lowered one his large arsenal of pistols at the vampire lord. He blew a hole through the thing's rotting head, breaking its grip on his companions. It was but a moment's respite.

"Now! Kill as many as you can!" Darkness bellowed as pandemonium descended on the thrall community.

Waves of psychic energy passed across the plaza as the lord tried to regain control over his minions while desperately trying to channel his power into his regenerative abilities at the same time.

Dragon dispatched a thrall and looked across to the altar upon which the vampire lord leaned, one hand across its horrific head wound. Darkness noticed where his team-mate's attention was focused and saw his intent in Dragon's steely gaze.

"Dragon! No!"

"No time, Darkness," Dragon called, not looking at his fellow Slayer as he began jogging towards the chasm, "We have to strike while the iron is hot!"

"DRAGON, YOU WILL OBEY ME!"

Now Dragon looked at Darkness. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds.

"Fuck you, rookie."

Dragon ran full pelt towards the gap between the plaza and the area that held the altar and cleared it in an easy jump. He landed on his feet and swung his greatsword into one of the armoured thralls that protected their lord.

Mighty vampires in their own right, they proved a match even for a warrior like Dragon. The first he sparred with for a minute or two before dispatching it with a wide swipe that decapitated the creature. The second thrall was more cunning and attacked with its own weapon - a cruelly spiked halberd - out of Dragon's reach. But Dragon was quicker than his vampiric foe, weighed down by its heavy armour as it was and he skipped within its reach, incapacitating it by driving his sword into its gut. The vampire screeched as Dragon yanked the hilt upwards as hard as he could, literally severing the monster in two from the waist upwards.

Only the lord remained on the dais now.

Darkness yelled as loud as he could for Dragon to retreat even as he dispatched thrall after thrall with his guns. Nathan threw his own pleas into the air, though he was too far away to be heard were Dragon even listening.

In Dragon's mind all was silence. He was alone in the universe with one of the foulest creatures ever spawned.

Alone with his glory.

Alone with his death.

The lord's attention snapped to the Slayer that had dared to come within his reach and it concentrated its will on the impudent human. Dragon staggered back, but it was not enough to cow him. He swung with all his might at the weakened vampire's head, putting all his will, all his strength into that one blow.

Faster than human though, the vampire lord raised his arm and the greatsword - more than ten pounds of steel honed into five and a half feet of lethal blade - was stopped dead. Dragon gaped at his enemy and met the creature's unnatural eyes. The vampire, many centuries old and a veteran of a thousand combats with humans from a thousand different cultures, didn't even so much as flinch at the sight of Dragon's holy Ta Moko markings.

With a strange expression that might have been a smile on a human face, the vampire gripped the blade of Dragon's sword and yanked the Shadow Slayer closer. With a deft movement he turned Dragon around and tilted up its transfixed victim's chin with an iron grip as if using him as a human shield.

The scene froze as Darkness, Marta and Nathan all watched the vampire lord sink its teeth into Dragon's neck.

"DRAGON!" Nathan bellowed from across the plaza.

Everything still remained motionless somehow as Nathan tried to reach his beloved mentor through the crowds of thralls. "Darkness!" he called in desperation as he was bogged down by the lord's slaves, "Do something!"

Darkness, nearest to the chasm, watched for a split second and saw Dragon's eyes, wide open and pleading, cloud over while his pupils shrank down to minute dots and his irises disappeared. It was almost possible to see Dragon's skin paling as his blood was drained. His canines seemed to lengthen before Darkness's eyes.

The New Zealander's final exchange with Darkness thundered through his head as the storm outside swelled in sympathy with the events in the temple.

No time, Darkness...

Strike while the iron is hot...

Fuck you...

With no further hesitation, Darkness levelled his pistol and drove a bullet through Dragon's head. The would-be thrall slumped down in the vampire's grip.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Nathan screamed, his voice carrying across the plaza and echoing in through the entire temple.

The vampire lord, robbed of his prize, launched itself across the chasm at Darkness with preternatural agility. Three bullets entered the creature before it landed, but it was not slowed. It swung with a vicious claw that Darkness somehow dodged and then lunged with its fangs towards Darkness.

A crossbow bolt pierced the vampire's neck, halting its attack and giving Darkness time to aim his weapons at its chest. He blew two fist-sized holes in the vampire, but even that was not enough.

Marta ran to Darkness's aid, pushing her way past thralls as her companion fought hand to hand with one of the most fearsome of all vampires. Stinging blows were being rained down on Darkness, the vampire's supernatural strength making weapons unnecessary.

Darkness swung his fists in return, but the vampire lord dodged each and every one of his attacks. A straight kick to the stomach launched Darkness backwards and onto the stone plaza floor, knocking the wind out of him.

"Nathan, help him!" Marta yelled to the third remaining Slayer who stood as if in a daze staring at Dragon's corpse slumped against the altar. Few thralls were left now and those that remained slunk back into the shadows at the will of their master.

"Pitiful humans!" The screech and the words in their minds were now simultaneous, "How could you have hoped to overcome one such as I? See how one of your number fell so easily to me!"

Something stirred in Nathan's inner psyche and, from somewhere deep within the will to resist made itself felt. He aimed his pistol at the vampire's head and shot again, but it was deflected easily by the lord's raised arms.

It was just the opening Darkness needed.

He launched himself upwards, fist first, within the vampire's guard. Concentrating all his will not in any weapon but in his fist, he struck the creature a thunderous blow to the chin.

The vampire reeled, made to revert to its gaseous form and flee, but it wasn't fast enough. A barrage of bullets penetrated its rotting form and a lone crossbow bolt thudded into its long-dead heart.

A scream both physical and mental resounded through the temple and the remaining thralls reverted to their bat-forms and fled into the night. The remains of the vampire lord thudded onto the stone with the finality of a very real death at long last.

Somewhere in the confusion, Dragon's body was removed.

* * *

Phnom Penh

Marta stood by the plane Darkness was about to board as the sunset cast golden-red light over the secret runway. Nathan had long since departed without exchanging a word with either of his one-time team-mates.

As he clasped hands with Marta, Darkness answered the unspoken question that hovered ever since the fight in the temple.

"You want to know why I killed him, don't you?"

"No, I know why you killed him"

Darkness titled his head quizzically.

"A vampire with the knowledge of our Order would be a foe too terrible to contemplate," Marta answered, "You alone were close enough to see the transformation being wrought on Dragon."

"Yes." Darkness said simply.

"I hope Nathan will learn to see it that way."

Darkness nodded, turned away and boarded the plane. He meant to keep the appointment he had made with the man he called brother before he left. There was more evil at work in the world than that which they had fought today.

The End