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Lumberjacks: Ghetto Grass

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Three security guards barred the only way out of Darkness's locker room. Each of them looked nervous as the former Shadow Slayer rested on his haunches near the far wall, brooding in silence. He hadn't heard from Dante since what he'd witnessed on the Twistedtron, and he'd ignored Acid Misfit. Even Freya's scathing comments had fallen on deaf ears. He was in no mood to deal with anyone tonight.

Dante had once been his greatest enemy, when everything was black and white. The Endgame had changed all that, and he'd begun to understand that life was made up of shades of grey. Their struggle wasn't against damnation: it was against extinction.

Knowledge is power.

Titanium Insomniac and Freya had unwittingly come together two months ago to give him even newer knowledge, and he'd come to understand that he'd spent his whole life running from the rage inside him. Sometimes...sometimes...he had to let it out. He had to embrace the shadow, and become the darkness that was his namesake.

It wasn't about black and white, and it never had been. Dante had never really been his enemy, and what had at first been an alliance of convenience had become a deeper connection after what the two of them had shared when Darkness had lain in a coma after Drakus's attack.

He wished he could do the same for Jason as he had for him, but where Darkness's ailment had been spiritual in nature, the World Champion's was firmly rooted in the world of the physical.

The largest of the security guards and their leader, none other than Dante's closest friend Jay Ecks, took a step forward. "Listen, Darkness..." he began, "I know this is difficult...I'm having to hold myself back here too, but there's no use storming in to their locker room and throwing them around."

"I agree."

"But I know you want to. Cos I know I want to. But all that'd get us would be a tiny amount of satisfaction - and that won't make Jason better and it won't hasten him getting those titles back."

"Will you fight for him if you have to, Jay?"

The former football player folded his arms and nodded. High on his bicep, Darkness could make out the fresh tattoo of the white rook against his tanned skin. Jay had been a member of their Club in all but name since its formation, but now he may have to stand in for Dante at Apeirophobia it had been decided that his induction would be made official.

"You know you can't beat Highone though."

Jay raised his eyebrows. "You don't think so? The man's a goddamn pussy..."

"He may be a coward, but he knows how to fight. For all your prowess, Jay, you don't have a tenth of the experience in combat that he does. If you fight him; you'll lose."

"So be it..."

"And if you lose, you legitimise his claim to be World Champion."

Jay looked uncomfortable at the suggestion that he might cost Dante the belts he had fought so hard to earn. "I guess I didn't think of it that way."

"Exactly. It's all very well to be desperate to get your hands on Highone for the sake of revenge, but pursuing such a course will cost the very man you are attempting to vindicate dearly. Knowledge is power, Jay."

"So what do you suggest, Mr. Head of Supernormal Research?"

Darkness had done little to embrace the token position Jason had granted him in his company, though he supposed almost everything he had done in recent months probably fell into the category of ‘supernormal research'. Virtually everything he had done ever did, in fact.

"Revenge will not avail us, Jay. Nor will it help Jason. I'm not interested in revenge. All I can do is educate."

"Educate?"

"A mighty lesson we inherit:
Thou art a symbol and a sign
To Mortals of their fate and force;
Like thee, Man is in part divine,
A troubled stream from a pure source;
And Man in portions can foresee
His own funereal destiny."

"Excuse me?" Jay looked confused at Darkness's strange words.

"Knowledge is power, Jay," Darkness said as he straightened, "it's time to bring the gift of fire to our friends in Infinity."

* * *

Misfit grunted as his bound fist connected with the punch bag in the dimly lit gym. He hadn't bothered to change after the match and sweat had caused the ink to run on the athletic tape around his wrists and hands. The six letters - ‘HFC' on one hand and ‘WMD' as a tribute to his fallen partner on the other, were almost faded beyond recognition.

He drove another fist into the pulverised surface of the bag again, exhaling swiftly and then punching it a third time, followed by a fourth in quick succession. He had no intention of stopping.

This was Gideon Flint's method of dealing with what had happened. A year ago he might have numbed the emotions that were coursing through him with alcohol, but that didn't seem appropriate now. He supposed some of Darkness's discipline was beginning to rub off on him.

"Mind if I join you?"

Misfit spun around and blinked at the small woman who stood leaning against the doorframe. He snorted. "Shouldn't you be hanging out with DeadZone, or Hawthorne, or whatever he's calling himself now?"

Freya tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "You don't like him, do you?"

"I don't know him," Misfit shrugged, turning back to the punch bag.

"Well he isn't an easy guy to relate to, I guess," Freya conceded as she walked across the gym to where Misfit was working out his anger.

"Yeah, doesn't he think he's from the forties or something?"

"I think he might actually be from the forties...that's what Darkness said anyway..."

"Is that right?" Misfit's eyebrows were raised, but he didn't seem particularly interested, "I guess you're spending more time with my partner than I am. Are we going to be hearing wedding bells do you think?"

Freya stuck her tongue out, "Me and Darkness? I don't think so. No...that wouldn't work."

"No?"

"A Shadow Slayer and a werewolf? No...no it wouldn't..."

"Oh right," Misfit grinned as he half-heartedly punched again, "you're the werewolf. Funny, Darkness forgot to mention that when you joined."

"Does it bother you?"

"Bother me? Fuck, I don't know what it does. When I woke up this morning I didn't think anyone was enough a dick to beat up a paralysed man. Before I met Darkness I didn't think anyone would be insane enough to go around thinking they were the Antichrist. A British girl who thinks she's a werewolf is par for the course these days."

Freya nodded her head contemplatively. "So...I guess you're thinking about what happened to Jason, right?"

"Aren't we all?" He pounded the punch bag again as he spoke.

"Yeah, but I thought you and he weren't exactly best friends anyway. I mean...I'm not saying you wanted what happened to happen...but, you know..."

"No, I don't know."

"I'm just surprised it bothers you as much as it does."

"How do you know it bothers me?" He moved to punch the bag again, but then held his fist back as he realised what an obvious tell his continued assault on the helpless piece of gym equipment was.

"You can't fool this," Freya smiled as she placed her finger on her freckled nose.

"Alright then, yeah," Misfit sighed, "it does bother me. It really bothers me. I mean, on general principle, a guy who can't walk just got his ass kicked and I couldn't stop it. That pisses me off. Secondly, it's a guy who's on my side, not to mention the guy who represents this promotion."

"You're annoyed the belts got stolen?" Freya looked dubious.

"Honey...I guess you didn't grow up in the business, huh?"

"I didn't even know what pro. wrestling was before last year." She seemed oddly proud of that.

"Well, if you had the respect for it that I did, then you might understand a little better. See, Dante is the ECF and 411fed Champion. I held the second one there a while back, plus I won the Road to Glory to get my shot too, so I know what Dante went through. I was there when Dante was coming up - when he was just another prick in the midcard. The thing was, for all his shitty attitude, he wasn't a coward. He might have cheated to win a few times - fuck, more than a few times - but when it came to the crunch, he busted ass with the best of them. I hated Dante more than I though I could hate anyone once, but I always respected him. He's put a lot on the line over the years, and he deserved to win the big one. Hell, he beat Darkness fair and square, and not a lot of guys can say they've done that."

"I thought you were going to talk about the belts?"

"I am. That's my whole point. Dante won them because he worked hard and beat the best. Darkness did the same before him, and so did Rachel. That bitch put me through goddamn hell, but I respect what she did too. All of them, going right back to Mjoyeux and Slayer Death Overkill, worked hard and deserved what they won. Those titles are a fucking legacy, man, and when someone treats them like trinkets you can just take out of a paralysed man's hands and somehow lay claim to...well, that rubs me the wrong way."

Freya frowned. "Are you saying that the actual belts don't matter?"

"The physical things? No, they're just trophies. It's like a PHD certificate in a doctor's office. The piece of paper doesn't do shit; it's the years he spent in medical school that are going to heal you. Dante is the champion because he earned it; that's what the belts represent. Without that, they're just something fancy to hold up your pants."

"You don't think Highone deserves them then?"

"I don't even think I deserve them right now, and last I checked, he lost his match with me and Darkness tonight, so he can fuck off if he thinks he's anything but a travesty of a joke of a usurper."

"Glad you think so too."

Misfit barked a laugh as he returned to punching the bag once again. "You got any idea where Darkness is anyway?" he asked after a few minutes.

"No, sorry. Hopefully not doing anything dumb though."

"Oh, you know Darkness - he's a fucking paragon of self-control..."

* * *

Ghetto Fire's body made a satisfying crash as he smashed through the door of Infinity's large and luxurious locker room which splintered off its hinges and shattered into several pieces from the impact. As one, the stable rose to their feet and Ghetto moaned softly, but didn't bother trying to pick himself up.

"What the fuck...?" Highone was the first to say as he advanced on the ruined doorframe, stolen World Championships on his shoulders, but then took a step back as Darkness strode through.

"Hey," Hammer protested as he glanced down at Ghetto Fire's prone form, "what did you do that for?"

"He got in my way. I suggest you learn from his example," Darkness growled.

Titanium Insomniac detached himself from the wall against which he had been leaning. The Bleeder Champion always looked at odds with his stable when they were together, but he was in his element when dealing with Darkness.

"This is your response, Van Helsing? To storm into our room and demand vengeance? After everything you and I went through, I was hoping some of my decorum had rubbed off on you."

"You," Darkness said, levelling his finger at the Sleepless One, " can shut up. I've no interest in a battle of words with you tonight. This time, you're going to listen to me, and that goes for all the rest of you too."

Hammer snorted derisively, "You throw someone through a door to get our attention, and then you expect us to sit still while you give us a speech? That doesn't make a lot of sense to me..."

"As I said before, Ghetto Fire illustrates my point, Tareef." He pointed down at the young man who was just beginning to come to, "He tried to bar my way, so I educated him on the error of his ways. Sadly, his ways were incorrect, and so he suffered the consequences. Such is education: a double-edged sword."

"What point are you trying to make, Darkness?" Shadow spat from across the room.

"It's very simple. All my life I've fought against the enemy without, but now it seems I'm being forced to deal with the enemy within. It's easy for me to forget that all demons were once human, and that the potential for the demonic lies in the hearts of every man." His cold gaze took in every member of Infinity as he scanned the locker room. "So I didn't come here for revenge. I came here to provide an education, and to expose what you are. Gentlemen, when you conspired to attack Dante, you made your beds and it's my duty to ensure that you lie in them and face the consequences of your actions."

"You have an interesting way of justifying your own selfish desire for vengeance," the Insomniac observed, his hands moving across his narrow black cane, "but who are you trying to convince? You've no need to try to explain your weakness to us, we aren't afflicted by your misplaced sense of honour regarding notions of...payback..."

"I told you; this isn't payback. You damned yourselves, like every demon since the dawn of time. All I'm going to do is bring the light of knowledge to the dark corners of your souls and extinguish the night forever."

"Extinguish?" Titanium Insomniac raised an eyebrow and snorted at the implication.

"Yes." Darkness took a step back towards the broken door and once again allowed his steel-grey eyes to fall upon each member of the rival stable. "Gentleman, last year you started a war and I met you in the field and fought on your terms. Sadly, you crossed a boundary with your behaviour and you leave me with no choice..."

"Is that so?" Hammer didn't look convinced, and exchanged a knowing glance with the smirking Highone.

"It is." The frozen fire in Darkness's eyes flashed, "You wanted a war...but what you're going to get is nothing short of an extermination."

Nobody sells their soul.

It's always a rental deal.

****

The voices on the television too loud. The picture was lost in digital snow.

The man listening to it drank something bitter, like old piss, and savored the flavor, because it just seemed right.
"You wanted a war...but what you're going to get is nothing short of an extermination."

Cheers. He'd drink to that.

Footsteps behind him, her fingers on his shoulders, her warm breath a whisper. "How many times are you going to watch that?"

His hand covered hers. He said nothing.

"You can always turn back."

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

"He's alone, vunerable....and it's time someone did something about it."

Even he was surprised out how calm he sounded.

In his hand was a gun.

"The odds are against you...and I realize that's talking dirty for you, but..."

Joyride raised it. Pointed it at the light of the TV screen. "Nobody deserves to die alone."

Pulled the trigger.

****

Click.

The visitor set the phone down.

Stared at Dante.

Paced.

"You know, you'd be better off if I killed you." The tall man knelt by his bed. His eyes were were as bright as the morningstar for which he'd been named.

He was the light upon which wishes were made.

"And probably I owe you that. You're a disappointment. We have enough actors in the family without you turning our private affairs into a reality show for the sheep." So easy to end this. "More than that...I do love you, my son."

Lips fell to Dante's forehead.

"But I have made my name by my willingness to sacrifice, and you have turned your back on me. What awaits you is far more revenge than a simple death. You will never see paradise. I won't let you give Him the satisfaction."

Satan was gone as if he had never arrived.

The room is silent. Darkness surveys the faces of his enemies: this arrogant, obnoxious collective rival for a slightly ailing New Hellfire Club. There is so much seething, so much hatred that radiates from each man in the room aimed directly at him, and yet he stands, steadfast, unwilling to flinch or to depart until he knows that his words have sunk into the bones of those on whom he's declared war.

"Have you no response?" Darkness sneers. What they were all destined for was obvious to him. He'd already been able to accept it, even embrace it. He'd lived this life for so long that the anticipation of battle had become his second nature. It was the mettle of these men—the cushioned billionaire, the party animal, the cocky athlete, the smarmy intellectual—that would be tested. And he'd already tested them all. What new challenge could they possibly present?

Experience has told most others in the room to pick their shot. This was not that moment. They're also pondering new challenges, pondering this figure undeterred by their entire assembly, pondering his reputation and his record. Sure, they'd incapacitated the World Champion, but an attempted beatdown would not be so simple against this one.

Satisfied by the reaction he's received, Darkness prepares to make his exit.

"Clearly, you truly know what's at stake here. Clearly you know what sort of giant you have waked by your actions. I will give you credit for your understanding. And the next step will be to accept your fate. Whether you struggle or not is of no consequence. It is inevitable."

With this final declaration, Darkness begins to turn. And here it is important that the reader earlier noticed the word "most" when referring to the members of Infinity learning to pick their shot.

"Nothing is inevitable."

Darkness doesn't need to turn around to see who spoke, but he does anyway in order to confront the speaker.

"I've already made it clear that I am in no mood for a battle of words-"

"This won't be a battle. You are going to stop babbling about destiny and inevitability and you are going to listen to me now. And do yourself a favor and don't pass this off as just another one of your opponents writing checks they can't cash because if you do...you're plainly ignoring history which is the only true measure of inevitability and you'd be patronizing me which would really fucking piss me off, big phallic sword be damned."

Some other Infinity members sit up at The Insomniac's outburst. Darkness clearly does believe that this is another of his opponents spouting off as he folds his arms, sighing.

"Sure, settle in for a moment or two. A few things have changed since our last meeting, Darkness. Maybe you heard about my new tattoo..."

TI sheds his jacket in one smooth movement and rolls up his sleeve. The black pawn dances on his upper arm.

Darkness raises an eyebrow. "In the larger symbology of our present context, that makes you—in your vernacular—our bitch."

The Sleepless One yanks his sleeve back down. "Wrong. I am existence's bitch, and so are you, you piece of shit."

Darkness cocks his head to one side, becoming more annoyed by TI's cheap shots.

"I know this demon. Always has blood dripping from his lips, real fucking slob. And a pretty annoying asshole to boot. Well, even one as talented and as observant as him missed the point—just like you did—and said that this tattoo meant that I'd given in to your game. Now, what do you have a tattoo of?"

"A king."

"Yes. A king. You and Dante both, right? I think we caught a glimpse of it on him before sending him to the hospital. So you two have kings, as pretentious as that is, and I have this pawn, so that clearly makes this your game right?"

Darkness parts his lips for his answer.

"WRONG. If this was your game, you'd have a picture of a guy sitting at the board or Deep Blue or some shit tattooed on there. But you don't. You have another playing piece. You are in the same game that I am, the same game that we're all in, and while any of us can make any declarations that we want about inevitability, it remains that we are a part of something else, something bigger, that is not fully ours to control. And maybe Dante told you this before he had to have his jaw wired shut, or maybe I myself told you this once upon a time...either way, I'm going to say it again to make sure you hear it. In the end pawns can take kings. You're another piece, not the player. And you need to understand that because as I told Dante, I'm not playing by your rules any more."

TI falls silent for a moment so that his words have a chance to take root within Darkness' bones much like Darkness had just embedded his within the rest of the room. All eyes are on the two of them now, smiling with glee, dancing with abhorrence.

Darkness is ready to make his reply. The Insomniac doesn't want to yield the floor.

"Ask Dante. Ask the World Champion while standing next to his hospital bed, wondering if he can hear you. Ask him about that one beautiful moment in a back alley—not the one you shared, the one when his pride blinded him to the reality of the situation. The one when, for all the impressive and surprising presentation of his rejuvenating nature, I took him down with one carefully placed blow where it counted the most and the hardest.

"Ask Drakus, the man who checked you in to your own hospital room once upon a time. Ask him about the painted freak who pinned his shoulders to the mat after rendering his violent tendencies to that of a child's. Ask our resident monster about the moment he was neutralized and the fear factor was taken away from him. Ask him about his handler cowering in a bathroom stall.

"Ask Matt Strikmore. Ask the seemingly unbeatable one what it was like to be beaten. Ask him about his desperate attempts to first retreat, then annoy, then shock. Ask the Transcontinental Champion about what a relief it must have been for his title not to be on the line. Ask him about his fears being proven true.

"Ask your girlfriend Freya. Ask the tenacious token chick about being stuck on a bus and staring down her fears. Ask her about surviving and thriving in a man's game yet succumbing to her own anger.

"Ask them all, Darkness. Ask them about that one vulnerable moment where they miscalculated, were overconfident, thought with something other than their brain, gave in to their anger, or denied their true feelings. Ask them, and then ask yourself: what did I really prove the night that I told Titanium Insomniac that I was neither afraid of him or of myself? How easy was it for you, Darkness, to add that extra layer of indifference to my claims, to try to paint over the fiery red in your eyes with a cool blue? How much longer will you forego a desperately needed session of self-examination in favor of more posturing?

"One vulnerable moment, Darkness. That's all a pawn needs. That's all we need. Yours is coming. I'm going to personally see to it, and then I'm going to laugh at you so hard that it will ring in your ears for months.

"Go off and plan your extermination. You'll actually find that we've built up quite the immunity to your pesticides."

With that, the air is still. Neither The Insomniac nor Darkness dare to move. No one else in the room dares to breathe. It is clear that TI has said all that he intends to say. Darkness, meanwhile, once again prepares to leave. If The Sleepless One's words have affected him, he doesn't show it, which either proves his opponent right or he is truly that temperate of a being. Regardless, he senses that the speech just given has added an energy to the others in the room that he'll choose not to engage. He finally does depart, albeit reluctantly.

It isn't until they hear the door latch that the group begins to react. Highone is the first to crack a smile, clapping his hands and moving forward to pat TI on the back. Others begin following suit, laughing and exclaiming exuberantly at what just took place.

Their celebration only lasts a few seconds, though.

"What the FUCK are you laughing about?"

The room goes quiet once again. Highone retracts his arm, glad that he didn't actually make it to touching The Insomniac.

"Everything that I just said is true. Darkness knows it. I know it. And you all need to know it."

Hammer rubs his cheek. "But...we do know it. Look at what we did to Dante..."

"This group rests too much on its accomplishments and not enough on its potential."

Highone sniffs. "What are you talking about? We scored our own pay per view..."

"...which will look like shit if we don't deliver. We'll look like shit. We will be shit. And I'm sick of this fucking group looking like shit because of that asshole who just left. You know he's serious about that extermination bullshit, right? We handed him the confidence that he needed to make that claim. But what I said was true...he's as vulnerable as any man. It's been proven."

Shadow steps forward, up until now a quiet observer. "Okay...what needs to happen?"

TI's gaze returns to its now-trademark icy state. "Exploit his loyalties. Trap him in his own mission. Make him choke on his own sense of purpose. Force the mortal to come out and play and let his own demon object, resist, and fight for dominance. Make him too busy battling himself to care about us."

"What about the others?"

"What about them?"

"Misfit? Accidental Genocide?"

"What needs to happen with them will happen."

The room begins buzzing anew about individual matchups and collective strategies. The Insomniac makes a beeline for the sidebar and pours a straight glass of bourbon. He observes this strange collection of aspiring superstars; watches the fire begin to grow in light and warmth. He'd smile at this if he wasn't so pissed at them. He'd keep berating them if they didn't seem more motivated. And he'd punch one of them if he wasn't so busy drinking.

[Or not. This sucked...]

OOC Note: The majority of the post takes place before Jason Dante's appearance at the Glasgow show in his first post.

Acid Misfit slides out of the ring, grabs a towel and wipes the sweat from his brow. All around him, the members of the New Hellfire Club are working out on the equipment rented with Jason Dante's wealth or sparring in the wrestling ring carrying the Hellfire Club's symbol, preparing for what they know will be an uphill battle at Infinity's pay-per-view. At least they have this meeting place, rented for the duration of their stay through one of Dante's companies, equipped with everything they'll need to train but in a nondescript building in an industrial part of Belfast where no one from Infinity would think to look for them. Everyone is still pretty quiet, still mourning the loss of the Hellfire Club's cofounder, Jason Dante, now confined to a wheelchair.

Darkness grunts as he deadlifts a barbell supporting an impossible-looking amount of weight. He seems completely focused on his task, not burdened by sadness for Dante or any shred of concern of potential retaliation after brazenly breaking into Infinity's lockerroom. Word spread backstage like wildfire, and Acid Misfit had heard about it from Adam Wilson even before Darkness told the other members of the Hellfire Club. At first, Acid Misfit was stunned into silence by what he'd heard, but the urge to say something becomes too insistent to resist.

"Extermination?"

There's more than a little incredulity in Acid Misfit's voice. Darkness barely acknowledges him, concentrating on his workout. Acolyte is similarly focused on his task as he goes back and forth with Hawthorne in the ring. Only Freya seems tuned in on the conversation between the Hellfire Club's tag partners.

Acid Misfit: "I have no idea what the hell you were thinking, Rambo-ing your way into Infinity's lockerroom alone like some rookie. Stupid, real stupid."

Darkness: "I can handle myself."

Acid Misfit kicks over a rack of freeweights, the thunderous crash startling everyone in the gym.

Acid Misfit: "Not the fuckin' point, man! In case you haven't noticed, we're a man down, and Infinity's just about got us by the balls. You go off by yourself, it puts the rest of us at risk. Hell, we've got an uphill fight as it is!"

Darkness sniffs and sets down the barbell.

Darkness: "Infinity will be defeated soon enough."

Acid Misfit puts his head in his hands.

Acid Misfit: "Jesus, it's like talking to a wall! Some of us aren't superheroes, and Infinity is serious. Hammer beat me one on one before, and the Insomniac's gotta be aching to pay you back for Stranglehold. They've got Shadow too, who knows what that guy's up to. They've got Ghettograss, Hammer's slaves, as the lumberjacks for the fuckin' match, and they're bound to be pissed now that you beat Ghetto Fire for no good reason. And to top it off, our third guy is someone we don't even know."

Darkness: "The Accidental Genocide? He did save Dante."

Acid Misfit shakes his head.

Acid Misfit: "No, no way, I don't like it. Did you see the scars all over his body?"

Darkness points to his own face.

Darkness: "Many of us carry scars, Gideon."

Acid Misfit shakes his head.

Acid Misfit: "It's different with this guy, creepy, almost like ... nah, can't be."

Freya looks up.

Freya: "What is it?"

Acid Misfit: "Just stories, an urban legend going around since the '90s about a guy so sick no major promotion would touch him -- a guy who took hardcore further than it's ever gone, who mutilated himself every time he got in the ring. They called him 'Joyride.' Some people say he died in the ring, in a real-life deathmatch. Some people believe he wasn't even real, just a boogeyman made up by old-timers to scare kids who wanted to get into the business. All I ever saw of him was a grainy old video ..."

It had been while he was in college. A friend had gotten the tape from a friend of a friend. It was obviously third generation or more. The camera work was shaky. Gideon watches the scarred man dig two fingers into his opponent's eyes. The audio quality wasn't very good either, but the high-pitched screams of the man whose eyes were being gouged made him jump. By the end of the match, both men were a bloody mess, but the scarred wrestler just laughed, even after his body had been torn open and smashed through every barricade and table in the small arena. Paramedics carried both men from the ring, limp and covered in blood, as the audience watched in horrified silence.

Acid Misfit: "The guy in that tape was a maniac who didn't even care about his own body, much less his opponent."

Darkness: "If it is the same man, we may have a powerful ally."

Acid Misfit: "Yeah, if it is him, we're damn lucky he's on our side. I still don't like it, though ..."

Acolyte: "We can handle it."

Acid Misfit looks at the cocky white bishop of the New Hellfire Club and shakes his head.

Acid Misfit: "You're forgetting something, Acolyte -- the rest of you won't be able to help us during our match, not with Ghettograss as lumberjacks. Bad odds for us."

Darkness sets down his weights.

Darkness: "Do you have a solution in mind?"

Acid Misfit: "Not a solution, more like an idea, but it's our best shot at evening the odds."

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

The last rays of daylight are fading when Acid Misfit finds Alexxx standing outside the Ghettograss X-Press, recently rechristened the "Praise Allah X-Press." He crushes the butt of a cigarette under his boot, takes a deep breath to steel himself, then approaches the luxury tour bus with both hands raised, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible to avoid another unnecessary conflict with the lumberjacks of his upcoming match.

Acid Misfit: "Hey Alexxx."

She gives him the cold shoulder.

Alexxx: "You should get out of here before the others see you."

Acid Misfit: "Look, I just came here to talk ..."

Alexxx: "The way your partner had a 'talk' with Ghetto Fire?"

Acid Misfit: "I didn't even know about that until after it happened."

His plea doesn't do much good. Alexxx stands in front of the X-Press door with her arms folded, glaring at Acid Misfit.

Alexxx: "How's Acolyte?"

Acid Misfit laughs nervously. Maybe he'd underestimated the bad blood between Acolyte and his former teammates, especially the ex-girlfriend he'd abused.

Acid Misfit: "Yeah, I know what he did, but you've gotta understand, he's got a lot of issues ..."

Alexxx's eyes narrow.

Alexxx: "No kidding."

Acid Misfit: "Yeah, well, I can't excuse what he did to you guys. All I can say is that he's a different guy now."

Alexxx: "More like Darkness?"

Acid Misfit's shoulders slump. Once, a long time ago, he'd hung out with Ghettograss, shared some good times and good bud. Now there's so much mistrust. It seems like a very long time ago.

Acid Misfit: "Look, I just want to talk. Is everybody else inside?"

Alexxx takes her time considering Misfit's request. Finally she opens the door to the X-Press and ushers him in. Acid Misfit climbs aboard.

Acid Misfit: "Hey guys, it's me, Acid ..."

He stops abruptly at the sight of Mutaaz Tareef, dressed in a loose robe, on his knees performing the Maghrib prayer. Tareef seemingly takes no note of Acid Misfit as he completes his prayers. The other members of Ghettograss, including Ghetto Fire, now sporting several bandages and a neck brace, glare at Misfit silently as they wait for Hammer to finish. Hammer casually rises from his prostrate position and smiles.

Hammer: "Ah, my worthy opponent. Welcome to the Praise Allah X-Press."

Hammer puts Acid Misfit in an unwanted and very awkward embrace of mock friendship, then pats Misfit on the shoulder a little too hard.

Hammer: "You know the rest of Ghettograss, I believe."

Ghetto Fire: "Yeah, we know this asshole."

Stoner and Yasmin's expressions are equally disapproving.

Acid Misfit: "I came by to ... to say how sorry I am for what happened to you, Ghetto Fire."

Hammer: "Yes, it is unfortunate that a man like Darkness who claims to be a great hero would turn out to be so dishonorable."

Alexxx: "Not really a surprise, considering he hangs out with Acolyte these days."

Mutaaz continues to flash a condescending half smile at Acid Misfit. This isn't going well at all, and having him there is another obstacle.

Acid Misfit: "Look, Mutaaz, maybe if I had a few minutes alone with them ..."

Hammer gently shakes his head.

Hammer: "Not possible, I'm afraid. We have plans for the evening. And besides, it's my responsibility to look after them. I couldn't allow a repeat of what happened to Ghetto Fire."

Acid Misfit: "I'd never ..."

Ghetto Fire: "No, you'd just let Darkness do it!"

Ghetto Fire charges across the room at Acid Misfit, but is held back by Stoner and Yasmin. Hammer puts his hands on Ghetto Fire's shoulders.

Hammer: "Be calm, we can handle this peacefully."

He turns back to Acid Misfit, still sporting that irritating smile.

Hammer: "Maybe it would be best if you left now, Mr. Flint."

Acid Misfit: "OK, I'll go, I just wanted to tell you that what Darkness did to Ghetto Fire won't happen again. Nobody in the Hellfire Club will go after you. We just want a fair match against Infinity, alright guys?"

No one seems to be buying it. Hammer nods in faux-contemplative agreement.

Hammer: "Indeed, it's comforting to know your group will change its sinful ways. Perhaps there is hope for you all -- at least for your souls."

Acid Misfit: "We're hoping for a lot more than a moral victory."

Hammer laughs.

Hammer: "That's what I like about you, such a dreamer!"

Acid Misfit tenses, his hands balling into fists. Despite his promises of nonviolence, he can feel his temperature rising thanks to Hammer's goading.

Hammer: "We must continue this conversation later, perhaps over a halaal meal between the participants of our match at Apeirophobia."

Acid Misfit: "Just the six of us?"

Hammer: "And Ghettograss, of course -- unless you or Darkness would prefer they not attend."

Such an obvious trap. Agree to let them come, and the Hellfire Club could be walking into a trap, facing superior numbers. Refuse, and further alienate the members of Ghettograss, further souring them against the Club and increasing the likelihood they'll work against us during the match. Too bad there isn't an obvious way out.

Acid Misfit: "They should definitely be there."

Hammer nods.

Hammer: "Agreed. We shall all meet for a meal two nights from now. Until then, we wish you continued happiness and good health."

Hammer offers his hand. Acid Misfit takes it, and is pulled close by his opponent for another embrace. Hammer continues to grip Misfit's hand tightly, almost painfully, and whispers into Misfit's ear.

Hammer: "You remember what this hand can do, don't you?"

Acid Misfit still recalls the impact of the Hammer of Doom, magnified by a metal-studded glove. He was barely conscious on the mat as the referee counted him out and declared Hammer the victor.

Acid Misfit: "Yeah, I remember."

Hammer: "Do not interfere with Infinity's affairs by trying to contact Ghettograss outside my presence, or I may give you a reminder."

Hammer releases Acid Misfit abruptly, throwing him off balance for a second. Alexxx opens the door for him.

Alexxx: "Goodbye, Misfit."

Acid Misfit stumbles out of the X-Press, barely avoiding being hit on the ass by the door as Alexxx slams it shut. He exhales, then takes a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lights another one.

Acid Misfit: "Well, that could have gone a little better ..."

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

Later that evening, Hammer boards the private yacht of Infinity's corporate mogul, Shadow, now docked in the port of Belfast. Titanium Insomniac is already aboard, sipping cognac from a crystal brandy snifter in the yacht's drawing room. Shadow's chair is turned away from his guests. Instead, he faces a wall of television and computer screens, almost all displaying information from the world's stock and commodities markets. At either side of the desk stand Shadow's lethal personal bodyguards, Yu and Ai, both in sheer form-fitting gowns. They regard TI and Hammer with only the occasional glance between them.

Hammer: " ... and I agreed to meet with our opponents in two nights for a meal."

TI swirls the cognac in his snifter before taking another drink

TI: "What makes you think Darkness will agree to any truce?"

Hammer: "Misfit will force him, you'll see. He thinks he can win over Ghettograss, maybe even make them turn against me ... against us."

TI: "And you believe otherwise."

Hammer: "Darkness played right into my hands this time. Their hatred of the New Hellfire Club has grown. I can nurture that hatred, increase it even further -- with your help, of course."

TI: "Darkness thinks he's invulnerable, ustoppable. He's blinded by his ego. We can turn that against him. Leave it to me."

Shadow's chair swivels to face his stablemates. A bare hand pets a white longhair Persian cat nestled in his lap. Shadow's face, as usual, is hidden behind a featureless black mask emblazened with a platinum cross.

Shadow: "And the more we drive Darkness and the rest to distraction, the less attention they will pay to our other efforts."

Hammer: "Other efforts?"

Shadow points to the displays behind him.

Shadow: "They forget all the resources at Infinity's disposal. As we speak, MediTech is being targeted for acquisition by S-Mart. With their CEO out of the picture, I'm assured we will be successful."

Hammer: "Very impressive, though it seems to be quite a price to pay for a wrestling match."

Shadow: "I have my own reasons. With MediTech, I'll be able to corner the global biomedical research market."

Hammer: "So that's what you've been up to ..."

Shadow: "This has been in the works for some time. We'll take everything Dante and his friends have ..."

TI drains the last of the cognac.

TI: "... and then we break them."

Shadow: "I only regret that Highone will have the pleasure of putting an end to my former partner's career."

Hammer: "What about Yu and Ai? Will they be coming with you to our little dinner?"

Shadow glances at his loyal servants.

Shadow: "Of course. I couldn't leave them behind."

He picks up the cat, strokes its fur, then gently hands it to Yu.

Shadow: "Enjoy, my dears."

They disappear into a back room cradling the cat. Seconds later, hideous high-ptiched screeches pierce the evening calm, only to be silenced a few seconds later, replaced by the sound of flesh tearing and bones crunching under powerful jaws. Hammer looks around uncomfortably while TI calmly refills his snifter.

TI: "To Apeirophobia ..."

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

The next morning, Misfit gets high before going back to the gym, where the other active members of the New Hellfire Club are waiting. It's the only way he knows to steel himself before delivering the news that he agreed to a sitdown with their enemies. As expected, the news isn't met warmly.

Acolyte: "What the hell!? Are you high!?"

Acid Misfit bites his tongue rather than give a sarcastic response.

Freya: "You know Titanium Insomniac has a plan."

Darkness: "And I am tired of playing their games."

Darkness remains stoic, but Acid Misfit can tell his partner is pissed by this news.

Acid Misfit: "I know it's probably an Infinity trap, but what else can we do? If we let things stand the way they are, we'll be dealing with Infinity and Ghettograss at the pay-per-view, and I don't like our chances."

Hawthorne: "Weren't you world champion once?"

The slightly incredulous tone of the Hellfire Club's newest member stings Acid Misfit's pride.

Acid Misfit: "Yeah, I was, and I made plenty of stupid decisions, like running off half cocked every time somebody got under my skin. I think I lost count of the times it almost got me killed."

Darkness: "Sometimes the best strategy is a direct assault."

Acid Misfit: "Not this time. We gone in, swords waving, and we play right into their hands. Look what happened to Dante ..."

The door to the gym swings open, startling everyone. Jay Ecks enters, followed by Selenia.

Darkness: "Is something wrong? What's happened to Jason?"

Selenia and Ecks look back to the door, where a third figure stands silhouetted against the morning light.

"Jason Dante?"

A figure in white walks into the gym.

Dante: "He is more than ready to resume his place in the Hellfire Club."

Misfit notices the unified world champion leaning on a cane.

Dante: "Now, I believe we have several pressing matters to discuss -- this appointment with Infinity, for instance."

Dante looks at Acid Misfit, who feels a flopsweat breaking out.

Acid Misfit: "Do they know you're back?"

Dante: "Not yet, but they will soon. Tonight in Glasgow, I plan to give Highone the surprise of his life."

Darkness: "Finally ..."

Acid Misfit leans back, deeply unsettled, while the others seem to bask in Dante's messianic presence. He fumbles with his trusty Zippo, flashing back to a time when he was an up and coming member of the 411 Fed roster, TI was a seemingly untouchable world champion, and the Hellfire Club was the most debauched, cruel and corrupt group in the history of professional wrestling.

Acid Misfit: "And do you have a plan for our dinner date? You guys aren't invited, so we're going in outnumbered. We need to work on a plan."

Dante looks to Selenia and back at Misfit.

Dante: "I think I have someone who can help us with that."

Another figure stands in the door, a wrestler in worn black luchadore tights. As the man enters, the scars crisscrossing his battered body become visible. Dull grey eyes regard the members of the New Hellfire Club. Acid Misfit bites his lip to suppress a gasp.

Dante: "Meet the Accidental Genocide."

Darkness stepped forward, his eyes roving over the strange figure who now stood framed in the gym's doorway. The stranger turned towards Darkness, but his head was titled slightly as if he couldn't focus on the man standing in front of him.

"You have trouble with your vision," Darkness guessed.

Joyride continued to stare in his general direction, his strange grey eyes twitching like a man wearing spectacles trying to see around a smudge on the lens.

Everyone in the room was silent, as if waiting for something with baited breath.

"Don't you speak?" Darkness asked, destroying the anticipation with a harsh interjection.

"Maybe he will if you let him," Misfit growled, walking across the room towards where the rest of the Club and Joyride congregated. "Hey, the name's Gideon Flint, but most people call me Misfit."

He stuck out a hand, which Joyride again regarded with a kind of cold detachment. Misfit's fingers twitched involuntarily as his hand hovered, waiting for a greeting that never came.

"He can't see your hand," Darkness said, shaking his head and beginning to turn away. "This is your secret weapon, Jason?"

"I thought you were the great humanitarian, Darkness," Misfit interrupted, interposing himself between Darkness and Dante, "oh no...wait a second...you threw a guy through a door to demonstrate how you're not interested in revenge..."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, well I had to walk right into the lion's den to try and smooth things over, Buffy!"

Darkness glanced at Freya. "Have you two been hanging out?"

"What's it to you, hotshot?" The girl's arms were folded, and her mouth twisted upwards into a small smirk.

"Hey," Misfit whistled between his teeth and pointed two fingers at his eyes, "this way, Rambo."

"Can we settle on a nickname for me?" Darkness didn't look angry, but he didn't look amused either.

Misfit sighed. "Listen, we can stand here and bicker..."

"I'm not bickering."

"Don't interrupt me!"

"Don't accuse me of bickering then."

"What? All I'm saying is that your gung ho way of doing business is the whole reason we're in this situation to begin with!"

"I didn't make the date with Infinity, Gideon..."

"Hey," Dante waded in now, placing his cane between the two tag partners and looking sternly from one to the other, "is this how you want to deal with Infinity? By playing into their hands? The difference between them and us is that we have unity where they have disarray. We are united by a common purpose that goes beyond this squared circle..."

"You know, that's another thing, champ," Misfit interrupted, now turning to Dante, "last I checked, I'm getting paid to be a wrestler, not assist in Ragnarok, alright? You guys might get off on this occult shit, but I walk with Jesus, alright?" he held out the rosary beads on his belt as if to add weight to his claim.

"Actually, I've been meaning to ask about that..."

Everyone turned to look at Acolyte who was standing to one side, looking slightly embarrassed.

"What's the problem, Cordazer?" Darkness asked him as he planted his hands on his hips, preparing to field the inevitable objections that he had been waiting for since the Club's formation.

"Look, I didn't want to say anything, you know?" the big man looked abashed as he spoke.

"You can say what you want, Acolyte," Dante assured him, "we're all equal here."

"Yeah?" Misfit asked under his breath, but the albino ignored him.

"It's just...I'm down with everything we've done - I hate Infinity as much as the rest of you guys. Just..." he pointed at the cross tattoo on the opposite shoulder to his NHFC white bishop, "...you told me back when this started that this deal wouldn't conflict with my faith."

"It doesn't," Darkness began to explain, but Acolyte talked over him.

"But all I'm seeing is pentagrams, guys in black robes and weird demon shit." Cordazer Smith's voice was starting to rise, and it was clear that pent-up issues were beginning to manifest, "I don't know how long I can keep standing on the sidelines and letting people think that I've thrown away everything that makes me...me..."

"Cordazer," Darkness said again, holding out a hand, "I promise, when this Infinity nonsense is all over you and I will sit down and talk this over. I assure you that nothing we've done is in conflict with your beliefs...in fact..."

"Look, I've changed a lot since all this started, okay?" Acolyte continued, "I know you guys are cool...but, I've gotta say..." he looked hard at Darkness, "Did you really throw Ghetto through a door?"

"Yes. But you have to understand..."

"I think Misfit's right on the money, man. You talk a big game about being a hero, and then when it suits you to be pissed off, you go into a trance and start talking philosophy about what Titanium Insomniac and Freya said to you that time in Athens. I didn't get it then and I don't get it now - I used to be a dick, but I can accept that and move on. You're not always right, you know; sometimes you fuck up too!"

"I don't think that..."

"You're just a man! I know you say that all the time, but being a man isn't just about being angry sometimes, it's about accepting responsibility for that anger too!"

"Cordazer, I don't..."

"Hey, where's Joyride?"

It was Jay Ecks who had spoken, and everyone in the room whirled around to where the strange man had been standing before the Club had begun their infighting.

"He must have wandered off," Dante murmured.

"Yeah, he does that from time to time."

This time everyone turned to Freya, who was sitting on the ring apron next to Hawthorne who was leaning on the ropes.

"How would you know?" Darkness asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Oh, I had a little bit to do with him before Road to Glory last year. I wouldn't say I know him, except for figuring out that's he a really elusive bastard."

"You...you've met him before?" Misfit looked shocked.

"Uh...yeah. Maybe next time you guys should ask around before you march in a tag team partner like it's a big surprise, eh?" Freya looked pointedly at Dante, "Aren't we all supposed to be equal here?"

* * *

Shadow walked around the private dining room, inspecting the table settings with his keen aesthetic eye. The restaurant of choice was, unbeknownst to all but himself and his associates, part owned by S-Mart. Shadow didn't believe in taking chances. He wore his mask now, along with his trademark black suit. His hands were gloved, so that not a square centimetre of his dark skin was visible. Across from him, a jumpy maître d' watched his near-mythical boss's inspection of his employees' work, nervously wringing his hands as his eyes flicked back and forth.

"Don't be so anxious, Patrick," Shadow said as he held up a knife and looked hard at it through the platinum gauze strip that accorded him vision through his mask.

"Sorry, sir...I just...we don't usually get as many VIP guests as this..."

"Of course not. I understand perfectly."

To Shadow's annoyance, there were no spots on the knife and everything did, indeed, look perfect. He had been looking forward to punishing this lackey. He tried to think of some other way to make him sweat, but he was delivered from being forced to improvise and disobey his very particular moral code - that is, only to punish an employee when they absolutely deserved it. If he stuck to that, the extremely disproportionate methods of the punishment that he employed were his only indulgence.

The Titanium Insomniac walked through the door, his large frame towering over that of the maître d', over whom he loomed menacingly for a moment. Patrick shrank away from the face-painted man and glanced at Shadow nervously again.

"Is everything acceptable?" The Sleepless One asked.

"Yes, of course. If it wasn't, Patrick there would soon know about it." He looked at Patrick again, and allowed the Irishman to wilt under the gaze he could not even see.

"Good to hear."

"So why are you here?" Shadow asked. "Surely you're not so concerned with the arrangements?"

"Not at all. But I felt that we should talk in private..."

Shadow nodded to Patrick, and the man turned sharply, not concealing his relief at being dismissed.

"No, I didn't mean from him. Let him stay - his obvious discomfort is amusing to me. Since Strikmore found his balls I've been looking for someone to cower from me in that amusing way that people do."

Patrick cringed as the Insomniac leant into Shadow and began speaking in a low voice. "We spoke of this once before," he said "and I know you furnished DeSean with information..."

"You're talking about Darkness?" Shadow guessed.

"Who else? You have more information on him than anyone."

"True, but it will do you little good."

"He's not invincible. No one is. I know you once held his life in the palm of your hand - you could have killed him, and that proves that he can be beaten."

"He's lost matches," Shadow reminded his companion, "not many...but enough to make it clear that he's not impervious to harm."

"Matches are one thing..."

Shadow raised his eyebrows and threw a glance across the room to where Patrick still stood, looking at the floor. "You want to beat him? Really beat him? Humble him, maybe even destroy him?"

The Insomniac nodded. "No flukes. No roll-up pins after a chair shot, no intense athletic contests that could go either way until the last moment...no...he must be beaten. Truly beaten, as he never has been before."

"We can work on that. But you may want more help."

Titanium Insomniac gave a smirk of contempt "From our friends in Infinity? They have proved themselves failures too many times for me to trust them anymore. I'd sooner do this alone..."

"What about Hammer?"

Titanium Insomniac considered the question. "What about him?"

"You know as well as I do where the talent resides in this stable, Insomniac," Shadow said in a low voice, "without you and Hammer we'd be nothing. If you want to destroy Darkness, he's your best chance. Plus he's a proven commodity against Misfit..."

The Insomniac nodded silently. "You may be right. I assume you have a plan?"

"Not yet...just a germ of an idea..."

"Oh?"

"Do you know how Darkness's family were killed?"

"No..."

"I think the answer may surprise you." Shadow paused, "Or maybe not..."

"And where does Hammer fit into all this?"

"He's been where we may have to go. Unless providence drops the...entity...we need into our laps..."

Titanium Insomniac looked hard at Shadow, then nodded fractionally.

* * *

"I like the one with the face paint. With all the Shakespeare. Why didn't you ask him to join your little gang?"

Darkness froze as he stepped into his hotel room and locked eyes with the figure reclining in a leather armchair across from him. The black suit was a departure from the armour he had been wearing when Darkness last saw him, but the goatee and slicked-back hair bound in a neat ponytail was exactly the same. And there was no mistaking the eyes.

"I wondered when I'd hear from you again," Darkness said carefully as he closed the door silently behind him. He kept his thoughts in check, trying to deal with the emotional turmoil of this creature's presence. He wondered if his visitor knew about Odin, and what the so-called Promethean Ring meant for him.

The tanned figure spread his hands. "Did you think I'd stay away at a time like this? I came to check on my son, of course, but I thought I'd call in on you too."

"You'll be pleased to hear that Jason has made a full recovery then..."

Lucifer couldn't quite conceal the surprise in his eyes. "You seem awfully certain of that," he observed in his measured manner.

"I just came from the talking to him. He's right as rain, thanks to a little persuasion from me." Darkness crossed over to the well-stocked drinks cabinet. This room came from DanteCorp's payroll this time, and Dante didn't scrimp when it came to his friends. The former Slayer poured himself a small glass of whiskey and proffered the bottle to his guest.

"You seem very calm for a man standing in the presence of the being who ordered the death of his wife," Lucifer snapped, waving the decanter away.

Darkness sipped at the liquor, letting the alcohol burn scour away the bad taste he had in his mouth. For some reason, using his apparently telepathic abilities always seemed to leave him feeling like he'd just woken up after a heavy night of drinking. "Well, I've grown a lot since I saw you last. It's been almost a year." He took a seat opposite Lucifer.

"So you've had time to adjust to being the very thing you were trained to despise?" Lucifer had a smirk on his Mediterranean features.

"I had some help."

"Ah, from the fellow with the paint?"

"In part. A certain werewolf lent a hand too, and Jason and I have become quite close."

"So I understand."

Darkness tipped the rest of the whiskey down his throat and hurled the empty glass straight at Lucifer. The demon caught it without blinking. "What was that for?" he asked calmly.

"Felt good. And there was a chance it might have hit you."

"No there wasn't."

"Still felt pretty good."

"You've changed," the Morningstar noted with a smirk, "there was a time when you wouldn't have let yourself have even that tiny amount of satisfaction."

"Well, I've learnt that life is all about shades of grey. You're never too old to discover something new about yourself, after all."

"Aren't you scared you'll lose your temper and fuck everything up again?" Lucifer said as he leant back in the chair and steepled his fingers. "You know, like you did with Abbadon, or that time in Dayton when you nearly killed my son?"

"How come you only seem to feel fatherly when you're taunting one of us? I didn't see you looking out for Jason when Drakus broke his neck," Darkness said by way of reply.

"You think this is as simple as family dysfunction, Antichrist?" Lucifer growled, "There is so much more at stake here."

"I know that. Do you know anyone by the name of Pryce?"

"Pryce? No, it doesn't ring a bell. Why?"

"Just a man I met. Did you know your wife has betrayed you?"

"Lilith?" Lucifer curled his lip, "You think that whore is my wife?"

Darkness shrugged. "Whatever she is, she's not on our side anymore."

"She's only ever been on one person's side - her own."

"Obviously." Darkness stood up and gave his strange guest a significant look. "I think we've talked enough, don't you? How about you explain what you're doing here or, if this is just a social call, kindly show yourself out."

Lucifer rose to his feet too, and stood eye-to-eye with Darkness. "Why are you wasting your time here?"

"Where?"

"Here," he spread his arms and made a gesture that seemed to encompass all of human experience, "on Earth...in this wrestling league..."

"This is my battlefield," Darkness replied automatically, "this is where the War to End all Wars is being fought."

"You think so?" Lucifer did not look convinced, "Maybe I should show you Hell sometime, and demonstrate to you what a real war is..."

"I've been there."

"Ah yes, the business with Dis. The one who came with Dante...isn't he one of your...what's the word you use? Opponents? Rivals?"

"He is."

"I hear he's quite the warrior - he must be for Lilith to take an interest in him."

"I've beaten him before. I expect to do so again." Darkness's gaze was still steady.

"I've no doubt that you will. But how long can this charade continue, Antichrist? How long can you and my son fool around on television, playing at being superstars before your true vocations come calling?"

"And what vocations would those be?"

Lucifer stepped towards Darkness. His eyes flashed and, for just a heartbeat, he wore the brazen armour again. "You are a warlord, Darkness! You were born to lead armies, not pander to rednecks!"

"I will not bring open war against the Abyss to Earth..." Darkness remembered the vision of which his tag partner had spoken, of the twisted version of reality in which the world had been consumed by a power too terrible to understand.

"Then...you must come with me..."

"I cannot."

"You defy my will?" Lucifer bared his serrated teeth at the stern figure of Darkness.

"I am the Antichrist. You have no power over me."

"Why are you so keen to stay in a world for which you were so clearly not designed, Darkness? Do you know how your rivals in Infinity think of you? Did you not hear the taunts of the Insomniac?"

"He has no power over me either. I have learned the lessons he tried to teach me - albeit unwittingly - and am remade as the man you see before you."

"Then why do you hold on?"

Darkness paused. "For my daughter," he said softly.

"I could give you your daughter..."

For a second, Darkness's breath froze in his lungs. Was it possible? Did Lucifer have the power to grant him this? Well...why not? All of Seth's schemes could not stand against Lucifer himself in full force. With the Morningstar he could take Krissy back by force...

"No."

"No?!" Lucifer looked incredulous.

"That is not a gift you can grant. And even if you could, I wouldn't leave her a second time to fight your war."

"You cannot stay here forever. One day, the time will come when you must leave this behind and take your place where you belong. Your destiny is to lead the Legions of Hades and avert Armageddon. That is what it means to be the Antichrist."

"I have a better plan..."

"What?" Lucifer's blazing eyes had gone cold now.

Darkness smiled. "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

Lucifer shook his head and, with a look of disgust in his eyes, he turned on his heel and folded himself into the shadows. Before Darkness could blink he was gone.

The former Shadow Slayer looked around the room and, after a few seconds, retrieved the glass he had thrown at Lucifer. He reached for the decanter and poured himself a large Scotch. Very large. He gulped it down immediately and then began pouring another.

Antichrist or not, as Acolyte had felt the need to point out earlier, he was still a man.

War is fought by human beings.

- Carl von Clausewitz, Prussian general (1780 - 1831)

The ammo clip slid out of the weapon and clattered to the floor, bouncing enough times to make the others wince at the way it shattered the silence. His face, a grim mask as he had squeezed the trigger, now relaxed. He almost grinned.

"One less person polluting this fucking planet," Alfie spat from his customary position at the rear of the fight. It was easy to be cocky when the bullets had stopped flying, Chuckie thought to himself, but didn't bother to say anything out loud. There was only so far his luck would carry him, and he'd found that it wasn't much use once the weapons were holstered and silent for another day.

Ty, the one who'd done the killing today, and their fearless leader since as far back as Chuckie remembered, approached the corpse. It didn't even look like a corpse now. ‘Carcass' was a better word, and Chuckie knew that some of his companions preferred to use it.

Made it easier or something.

Chuckie had never had that problem. He kept his hand on his own gun, cradling it like some perverse security blanket. Ty's hand traced its way across the unblemished cheek of their victim, his fingertips coming back bright red. There was always a patch of flesh that survived the butchery - it was probably chaos theory or something - and even if the rest of the bloody lump that had once been a person was shot through with hot lead and turned into ragged, twisted pieces, the cheek could have sat on a child's smiling face.

"We'd better go," a thick voice suggested.

"Relax," Ty murmured. He was transfixed. That was what made him the leader he was, the rest of them said sometimes. He cared: he was like a furnace, burning sensation like coal and pumping out clouds of dark passion. Chuckie had heard Alfie joke that, if you put your hand against Ty's skin, you'd come back with a mark. His eyes were a deep brown, his hair hanging in ragged clumps over a furrowed brow. Worn hands in contrast to the smooth skin of his face. He was only seventeen.

"Are you gonna look at that thing all day?" Alfie barked. His beady eyes were darting back and forth, like he could hear sirens already. Chuckie knew there weren't any cops in this part of town though. Why could he always keep a clear head when the others couldn't?

"We have to remember what we are..." only Chuckie heard Ty say.

His cold grey eyes could see the street light reflecting off the cheap gold jewellery they all wore. The blazing sun motif on Ty's back seemed to shine just as bright for a second as he drew his unused pistol.

"He's dead, Ty. An empty shell."

Everyone turned and looked at him. He was just supposed to be the mascot, a kid they picked up out of the debris who seemed to bring them luck. Chuckie only had a gun because of someone's sick joke, but now he was pointing it at the only one any of them feared.

Ty turned around slowly, surely sensing the barrel pointed at his back. His soft gaze met Chuckie's hard one.

"You gonna kill me, kid?"

There was no debate. Everyone had been expecting a face-off, but Chuckie just pulled the trigger.

There were two carcasses now, and the twelve-year-old boy with the face that never changed looked down at the one he had made. His first contribution to their war. His first step along this road.

Ty has always let himself get too involved. You don't win a war by eye-fucking a dead body. It used to be a human, but now it was just meat.

Like the rest of them.

* * *

The lights came back on. Everyone was standing now, eyes flickering from one face to another , each trying to figure out whose plan this was.

"I didn't come here to play games," Darkness said, his voice coming as a low threat.

"What makes you think we're the ones playing games?" Hammer demanded, his fists clenched against the table cloth.

Shadow had his hands raised, calming down Darkness and Misfit. "Gentlemen...a power cut nothing more...if we wanted to attack you..."

"You'd have done it by now, right?" Misfit nodded. "Alright, alright...there's no problem here..." His hand pressed against Darkness's arm, pushing downwards to urge him to sit.

He growled deep in his throat, but obeyed his partner. "A power cut...okay..."

The wine he had poured had been knocked over and he dabbed at the spillage with a napkin, grimacing and shaking his head. Everyone returned to their seats, wary and suspicious, but perhaps a little disarmed by the sudden interruption.

"I hope I'm not late..."

Darkness's was the first head to move. The rings Infinity wore no longer nauseated him as they had at first, but they still effectively cloaked their wearer from his Slayer Sense. The presence of the man who had spoken had been hidden from him until the second he had stepped into the room.

"A dinner date wouldn't be complete without you, Insomniac," Darkness said softly as his newest enemy took his seat and rested his cane by his side.

"And I see Joyride has joined us too..."

The gun-metal grey eyes of the one he had named roved the room, trying to focus on the issuer of the greeting. When he decided he was close enough, he nodded silently in reply.

"Have you had time to meet everyone? Shadow, have you given introductions?"

"No, I didn't..."

"Bad form, my friend," the Insomniac smiled as he reached for the wine bottle and poured himself a large glass, "You see, Joyride here doesn't even know his own team-mates. They're as much a mystery to him as he is to them."

Hammer laughed as he cut into his eggplant. "You guys are gonna have fun at Apeirophobia then, I guess. Getting to know each other in the ring."

"Yes, their alliance may be forged in the crucible of battle," the Sleepless One mused, "or simply shattered by the heat. Maybe we should go ‘round the circle and we'll all say something about ourselves, mmm? How about that?"

Hammer found the idea amusing, Shadow was as impassive as ever beneath his black and platinum face-paint. Darkness and Misfit kept their faces calm, but their eyes told him what they felt. Joyride was impossible to read. His meal was untouched.

"Mr. Flint? Would you like to go first?"

"How about ‘fuck you'?"

The Titanium Insomniac smirked. "You're too easy to prickle, Gideon. Did you know that?"

"Yeah, well this eggplant tastes like shit anyway. How much salt did you put in it?" There was no chef to direct his complaint at, so he stared daggers at Hammer instead.

"Hey, I didn't cook it," the former boxer replied with a frown.

"Maybe Darkness would like to say a few words about himself then?"

Darkness didn't even look at the Insomniac. "No."

"Is your meal so engrossing that you can't even entertain us with some of your sparkling repartee?"

Darkness placed his fork down and met Titanium Insomniac's eyes. "What more is left to say to you, Jonathan?"

"So now you're using my real name to try and piss me off? Very simplistic."

"No, I'm using your real name because I destroyed the myth you like to pretend that you are. The Titanium Insomniac no longer holds any interest for me, all you are now is a man I once beat. Now shut up and eat."

The Insomniac laughed at Darkness's words, but once again the former Slayer had returned to his meal. "This is what Darkness does you see, Joyride. He conquers his enemies. He is the indefatigable hero, the invincible warrior who knows no fear. You can try to break him, but ultimately you're another hurdle to be jumped and then forgotten. The problem with his philosophy is that his own mind won't let him believe it..."

All eyes were on the silver-faced giant now, including the cold grey ones of Darkness.

"See, he's trained himself to be this. Those of us in Infinity, we know a little bit more of his history than he'd like, and we know that he used to be a very, very angry boy. Only through ruthless suppression of his base instincts has he managed to survive this long. He had to stop being human in order to save them..."

"Enough."

"...he had to forget what it was to be a man so he could pretend he and his sword were the same thing. He's a living weapon, except for the anger that pulses through him which he can never quite bury. He's orchestrating his own undoing, because there's only so long he can repress it, even if he's pretending that he's comfortable with his dark side now..."

"I said enough..."

"I heard you, Buffy. Call me a liar, if you can. I know your jumped-up sense of morality won't even allow you to do that - you know I'm right, don't you? You know that a human heart beats in your steel chest and that it's only a matter of time before you're forced to turn back into one of us and remember that you too are flesh and blood."

Darkness surged to his feet and, with a roar, upended the table, sending food, cutlery, plates, glasses and wine crashing to the floor.

"See?!" The Insomniac was on his feet now, his eyes shining with triumph as he looked at Darkness's heaving shoulders.

"Darkness!" Misfit was on his feet now, his own fury evident from the tightness in his expression.

"Stand down, Gideon. This is between me and the Insomniac."

"Ah, so maybe I am a challenge after all..."

"I'm done with you," Darkness said again, "I beat you, and your words hold no power over me anymore."

"And yet you do exactly as I said you would...."

"So? You're right, but that doesn't make you better than me. I'm still learning the lesson you taught me, but how does that work to your advantage? All you do is make me angry, and I'm only more dangerous when I'm angry - when I have my discipline, you know for certain that I'll never step over a certain line. Piss me off...and you don't know where my limits are..."

"I think I do, Darkness..."

"Wrong! What's to stop me killing you? Killing all of you? Humans kill, humans hurt people to make themselves feel better. Before you came along, that was unthinkable to me, but you might have signed your own death warrant in freeing me. Can you handle me with rage coursing through my veins, or have you bitten off more than you can chew?"

"You think I fear your humanity, Darkness?" the Insomniac's voice was deadly calm now.

"Humanity is nothing to fear..."

"But it is something to hate."

No one had expected him to speak up at that moment. Darkness turned around and met Joyride's eyes for the first time. The partially blind warrior was finally focused directly on him.

Everyone was expecting a face-off.

...