The warrior's chest heaved slowly, his lungs expanding rhythmically with shallow breaths in and out...in and out. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted and dry looking while his arms hung limp at his side. His fists, so often clenched into lethal weapons, were powerless.

"I don't like this..."

Mutaaz Tareef's dark eyes hadn't left Darkness's prone form since he'd been borne by Joyride's powerful arms into this boiler-room in a forgotten corner of the building. The scarred man's gaze slowly turned to meet his stable-mate's, but never quite focused on him and Hammer remembered the vision problems he had been told his strange companion possessed.

"I thought you were the strongest Infinity had?" Joyride's voice was quiet and calm, coming from somewhere deep in his chest.

Hammer cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, you might be right," he conceded, "but..." he looked down at the unconscious Darkness again, "...I still don't like this."

Joyride knelt down next to his enemy and passed a hand over his face. There was no flicker of the NHFC member's eyes as the shadow crossed him. "He's out cold...I'm surprised he isn't dead..." he reflected.

"Yeah, well, he's a tough son-of-a bitch." Hammer still looked deeply uncomfortable with the situation and with Joyride. Now that the hulking shape of the scar-crossed warrior was in the way of Darkness, his eyes instead travelled to the door of the boiler room in which the two of them had hidden themselves.

"You fear discovery?"

"Something like that..." Hammer replied absently, all his attention focused on their means of exit now. "What do you want to do with him anyway?"

"What do you think?"

Hammer turned sharply back to Joyride. "I told you I don't like this...and if you're planning anything else..."

"Tell me, Mutaaz," Joyride said, staring at Darkness's unconscious face the whole time, "if you could go back in time and kill Hitler, would you?"

"What kind of question is that?"

Joyride glanced up and didn't quite look at Hammer with his cold eyes. "It's a question which has preyed on the minds of philosophers for half a century. Can murder be justified if it can save lives? Maybe avert..." he smiled slightly, "...genocide?"

"Yeah, well," Hammer looked back at the door, "I don't go in much for moral dilemmas like that, alright?"

"Oh, my mistake...I thought you had found God."

"Huh?" Hammer's temper was becoming frayed now, and his cryptic partner wasn't helping.

"You dislike discussing morals, yet you pledge yourself to a moral cause in your religious life. Do you not find the contradiction a little confusing? I know I would."

"What are you trying to say, Joyride?" Hammer growled, "And what does it have to do with this kind of shady shit?"

"Do you know what this creature is?" Joyride asked quietly, his gaze returning to Darkness.

"Oh fuck...not another one of you weirdos..."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Creatures, demons, the devil...all this shit..." he waved a hand, "if that's what this is all about, then I'm calling the cops on you."

"Again, my question must return to the matter of your faith, Mutaaz."

"Leave it, alright," Hammer said. He stood near the door now, his hand close to the knob.

"No, I think not. You can't have it both ways, Mutaaz - your faith has never been more important than when confronted with a man like this one."

Hammer shook his head. "I know the story, alright? Or didn't you get the memo about Dante?"

The truth was that Hammer's faith was important to him, and he'd had to face up to that not so very long ago and what it might mean...really mean. He still hadn't decided how he felt about what he'd gone through with Dante, whether he was dismissing it as a dream or some kind of bizarre near-death experience. He knew his religion had the answer, but he'd grown up thinking that faith was about answering esoteric questions about the human condition. The Qur'ān had plenty to say about what he went through, but he wasn't yet prepared to accept what he'd thought were metaphors and moral allegories as true facts of reality.

Where did it all end?

He looked back at Darkness, who had saved him, and tried not to think of overheard conversations between the Insomniac and Shadow that he was remembering all of a sudden.

"This man," Joyride told him, his eyes now focused on Hammer for the first time, "is the Antichrist. It's time to show your true colours..."

* * *

Dante shook the ropes with one bloodied hand and let out another roar of triumph. The adulation of the crowd still continued. Infinity's fans had already left the building in disgust and disappointment. Darkness let the cheers roll across him, wondering, not for the first time, what a Shadow Slayer was doing here, surrounded by people like this.

Freya's eyes were shining as she watched Dante make another circuit of the bloodstained canvas, lifting his belts onto his shoulders and soaking up the boundless joy of those he had entertained and given the dream of justice and victory for the heroic back to.

"You look happy," he observed, raising his voice so it could be heard above the din of the crowd. He was smiling too, but not as broadly as her.

"I am. Aren't you?"

"Yes," he admitted, "we won tonight."

"Your team you mean?"

He waved his hand around at the New Hellfire Club. Misfit was on a turnbuckle; Acolyte and Selenia were back with Dante, the former administering pats on the back, and the latter attending to the gash on her lover's forehead. Hawthorne still looked a little out of place, standing slightly to one side, but he seemed to be enjoying the attention he got from his association with their group.

"I meant...us."

"Oh. Yeah, I suppose we did," she shrugged, but looked sidelong at Hawthorne. Her guilt over what she had been forced to do to him was palpable, but she wasn't the sort to let her emotional fragility affect her. In some ways, she was far stronger than Darkness.

"So that isn't why you're happy?"

"I'm happy for Jason, hotshot," she smiled, "he came back from a fate worse than death and, in the end, he won. The good guy came out on top - even if we weren't friends, I'd be smiling."

"Oh. I see."

"You don't seem so impressed." She was looking at him now, still with the same smile, but now with an unspoken question in her eyes.

"No...I am impressed. I'm happy for him. I just...hadn't thought about it in those terms before."

"You're not the only hero you know, Buffy," she said, aiming a light kick at his ankle, "you made him who he is - I thought you'd be proud."

"I am. His success is a testament to..."

"To you?" she rolled her eyes.

"No, I didn't mean..."

"Did!" she laughed, "That's exactly what you were about to say!"

"Alright." Darkness smirked, "But keep your mouth shut about it for once."

"You!" she gave him another, slightly harder kick as he crossed the ring towards Dante and offered his own congratulations to his friend and stable-mate.

* * *

Hammer leant back against the wall of the corridor. "He held back, you know that?"

"When?" Joyride grunted as he lifted the unconscious form of Darkness onto his shoulder.

"Just then." Hammer was shaking his head. "I am not cool with this...he could be dead..."

"He isn't dead," Joyride assured him. "Help me."

"I've helped you enough."

Joyride lifted his free hand, showing off the ruby-ring. "You have one too, Mutaaz, that makes us allies, and it also makes you an accessory to this," he flicked his head at Darkness.

"Oh yeah? I didn't see me picking up a fucking..."

"You think these are just rings? Haven't you ever noticed what they do to him?"

"Don't start."

"I know what he is - I've seen his tattoo before."

"I said don't start," Hammer repeated with a growl, "You've already started taking liberties."

"Not as many as him," another nod at Darkness, "didn't you find his lack of dedication to stopping us insulting?"

"You get used to it."

"I don't intend for him to be around that long..."

"What?"

Joyride looked around and his gaze settled on the door of a boiler room. "There. Help me get him inside."

* * *

Misfit tapped his knuckles against Darkness's abdomen as they passed through the curtain to the backstage area. "You comin' to the gym, man? You're lookin' a little tubby..."

Darkness frowned and looked down at himself. "Tubby?"

Misfit laughed. "Too much time throwing over dinner tables and not enough working out. You need to start working out some of that anger on the punch bag instead of our meals."

"I already apologised for what happened, Gideon..."

"Yeah, I know. It's cool, really - old news now. We won; end of story."

Darkness shook his head. "No, it's not - not yet anyway."

Misfit shrugged, "We'll beat them again if we have to. You need to relax."

Darkness's partner knew what was at stake now, they'd been through enough for him to know that there was something far more dangerous going on, but he was still human, and his mind was good at compartmentalising aspects of his life. Right now, nothing mattered except that they'd won. Darkness envied him sometimes, but his discipline wouldn't allow him to let go of the big picture.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk..."

"Alright, man." Misfit shrugged again and threw a glance down the hall where the rest of the NHFC were gathered around Dante. "I'll catch up with you later, yeah?"

Darkness nodded. "Of course."

* * *

"Hammer..." Darkness held up a hand to the man who was blocking his way down the corridor.

"Something wrong?"

Darkness shook his head. The effect of Hammer's Infinity ring still distorted his Slayer Sense and made it somehow nauseating to look at him.

"Not at all," he lied, "but why are you in my way?"

"I should ask you the same question."

Darkness shook his head, "No, I'm done with this. I have no quarrel with you. Step aside."

"I don't think so."

He took a step forward, and Darkness moved to placate him, but then gasped as he felt a sudden piercing pain in the flesh of his neck. He snatched a hand to the bolt of agony and felt a needle leaving his skin. He whirled around, locking eyes with the scarred figure of Joyride.

"You!"

Joyride flung the empty syringe away and crouched low. His movements told Darkness he had expected whatever he had just injected to have more effect.

"I've no quarrel with you either," he said with a calmness he did not feel. Bile rose in his throat as he remembered the last time he had been assaulted with a syringe and the terrible serum Dante had pumped into his veins what felt like so long ago, but was actually only a little over a year earlier.

"Aren't you going to fight?" Joyride rasped.

"No, you're not my enemy." He held his temper in check, suppressing his urge to destroy the strange man who had just violated him.

Joyride charged again, and Darkness raised his arms. Too late, Hammer was on him, holding him back, and Darkness realised his enemies had the advantage of him - with their rings, he could not Sense them, and that made him blind to their movements when they were outside his field of vision. Another syringe full of dark fluid was in Joyride's hand and he plunged it into Darkness's neck again.

Darkness gritted his teeth and suppressed the roar of pain and anger. With a grunt he pushed Hammer back, sandwiching him between his iron-hard flesh and the wall and knocking the wind out of the former boxer.

Joyride was staring at Darkness now. There were other syringes stuffed into his belt, but it was clear he had only expected to use one.

"A little tougher than you expected?" Darkness said in a low voice with a confidence he didn't feel. His head was beginning to swim from the effects of whatever liquid now coursed through him.

"Perhaps, but I'm adaptable," Joyride replied with a twisted smile.

"We'll see about that." Darkness lunged at his enemy, swinging for him with one clenched fist, but the effects of the Infinity ring and whatever the serum was had dulled his instincts, and Joyride was able to step aside just in time. He was off-balance though, and reached for a third syringe as he caught himself on the wall. In his haste, he didn't notice that his scarred hand had closed on the one he had just used which was now empty.

The needle entered Darkness's flesh regardless, piercing his carotid artery. He pressed the plunger down, noticing the empty chamber too late and then pulling his hand away. Darkness's eyes rolled up into his head as he staggered.

"What did you do?!" Hammer yelled.

"It was empty...I just injected air into his arteries..."

"Won't that give him air bubbles in his brain?" Hammer's eyes were wild.

"Possibly."

Darkness stumbled against the wall and then fell to his knees, finally collapsing into a heap on the floor.

"Fuck...you killed him!"

"No, if he's tough enough to shrug off the effects of what I injected him with then he'll probably survive this too."

"He's only human!"

"Don't be so sure." Joyride placed his hands under Darkness's arms and lifted him up with considerable effort. "Help me," he urged.

Hammer shook his head and leant back against the wall.

Hammer watches Joyride exit the boiler room and shakes his head in disgust. How can I put this gently...Mutaaz Tareef has about as much interest in babysitting Darkness as he has in joining the Christian Coalition. And I'm not talking about the TNA champion's group.

Hammer had no problems with Joyride...of course, he barely knew the man. Hammer tended to trust guys like Highone & Shadow as far as things like people joining the group went. Some might mistake that for Hammer not caring about the group, but they would be mistaken. Hammer does care about the group, which is pretty much the only reason why he's even doing this.

Hammer wasn't sure what Joyride was up to, but one thing the man kept saying struck Hammer as a little odd...

Anti-Christ.

Hammer had been told by his spiritual advisor, Muhammad Jabbar, that one day a "Meshiha Deghala" would appear on Earth with great power, and true and faithful Muslims would stand up against him. The concept of an Anti-Christ was not alien to Hammer.

But, the concept of Darkness being the Anti-Christ...that doesn't add up to Hammer for a couple of reasons. Jabbar had told him that the "Dajjal" would be physically misshapen and blind in his left eye. As Hammer can attest from his encounters with Darkness in the ring, the man doesn't seem to have any physical weaknesses. There also aren't any Arabic letters on his forehead, and Hammer can't remember Darkness trying to convince people that he was God.

Mind you, Hammer certainly doesn't think Darkness is normal. Not after all he's been through with him. But...an anti-christ? It just doesn't add up.

Hammer ponders about this while tying the semi-conscious Darkness to a chair. While he isn't too thrilled with this whole situation (keeping people hostage was never really a Hammer trademark...he's always been more for random beatdowns, press conferences and altercations in gyms), he's not a complete idiot. Eventually Darkness is going to get stronger...anything that could keep him from getting to Hammer could be useful.

How in the hell does Hammer keep getting into these situations?

He really doesn't know. All he does know is that he has a few things he'd like to get off his chest, and since there's no television camera or interviewer around, he'll have to settle for cutting a promo in front of a almost lucid Darkness.

Hammer: I'm gonna tell you a little secret, Darkness. See, I know that any minute now Joyride's going to come back in here and have some sort of talk with you about something. I don't know what it is, and you know what?

I really don't care.

You know, there used to be a time when I did care. Wrestling was my life, it meant everything to me. But somewhere down the line...it just stopped being fun. I dunno man...maybe I lost some of my love for the sport once it involved hunting down demons, going to hell, that sort of thing. Now, don't get me wrong...I'm not blaming you for my lack of interest in this career of mine. In fact, one of the few reasons that I don't pull a TI and take my ball and go home is that I still haven't managed to beat you in the ring yet. Singles, tag teams, whatever...I just can't beat you, man! My ego will not allow me to slink into the night and accept the fact that you might be better than me. Because no one is better than Mutaaz Tareef. No one.

Not even Misfit...if he thinks his pinning me at Infinity's own PPV proves that, he's sadly mistaken...

Hammer's diatribe is interrupted by the tones of Evanescence's "Bring Me To Life", which means somebody's calling him. He checks the ID and decides he needs to take it.

Hammer: Excuse me a second...Hey Alexxx. You don't wanna know. Yeah, I probably won't make it. I know, you guys were looking forward to going there. I know. Infinity business. Yeah, it sucks. I'll make it up to you. All right, talk to you later.

Hammer hangs up the phone and puts it back in his pocket. He sighs and then turns back to Darkness.

Hammer: Me and the Ghetto Grass kids were gonna go to a hockey game tonight. You know, get the team together. Loosen up, have a good time, that sort of thing. I'm not much for hockey myself, but they sure do love their....Sharks? Yeah, that's right. They're playing the Montreal team tonight, so we were gonna go watch it. Had some good seats too...you know how it is being a celebrity, people always want to hook you up. Actually, you probably wouldn't know...not that you're not a celebrity or anything like that, but I don't know you as the type to go out and have a good time. You really should. Only live once, right?

Darkness: Right.....

Hammer: Ah, you're alive!

Darkness: Why am I tied up?

Hammer: So you don't kill me.

Darkness: I won't kill you.

Hammer: Ha, I've heard that one before!

Joyride re-enters the room. Hammer steps back to allow...whatever the hell's gonna happen here. He's not sure he likes it, but doesn't want to get in the way of it either. Besides, the quicker it gets done, the quicker he can attend to other matters...

Darkness flexed his muscles against the ropes that held him tightly to the rusty chair that was the only piece of furniture in the disused boiler room. His mind felt foggy, like he was moving in thick syrup and every one of his senses was dulled. The Infinity rings worn by his two captors didn't help that.

"What did you do to me?" he asked Joyride who was retuning his cell phone to his pocket. The modern device looked incongruous in the hands of a strange figure like Joyride.

"When?"

Darkness caught sight of the burn mark in his flesh that Joyride had glanced at. "Fire? You'll have to do better than that..."

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead."

"You didn't seem that careful back in the corridor..." It was Hammer who had spoken and Darkness and Joyride both looked at the former boxer who stood at one side of the room, now looking slightly more at-ease with the situation.

"I told you that I didn't intend for that to happen..."

"Yeah. Whatever." Hammer nodded at Darkness, "You're even tougher than I thought if you can survive what he did to you."

"You injected me with something. What was it?"

Joyride shrugged. "Nothing too lethal - just a drug that should have knocked you unconscious with little fuss. It seems you're made of sterner stuff though."

"Something like that," Darkness murmured. He closed his eyes and tried to relax himself. His head was pounding like he had the mother of all hangovers and his vision kept blurring. He shook his head and opened his eyes when the sensation of Joyride and Hammer just disappearing when he did so started to make him feel sick again.

"Who was your call from?" Hammer asked, ignoring Darkness again.

Joyride shot him a look that, disturbingly, found Hammer easily. His grey eyes, usually strangely unfocused and vacant, were piercing when they alighted on their target.

"That's none of your business."

"Right," Hammer agreed, straightening. He flicked his head at Darkness, "And outside the ring, neither is he."

"Don't you want to stay and see what happens?"

"Not really. This whole thing already makes me uncomfortable..."

"Then why did you tie him up?"

Hammer grinned. "Have you seen what he can do with those fists of his? I didn't want to be in his way when he woke up, spoiling for a fight."

Joyride looked back at Darkness whose head was bowed. He was breathing slowly, and his skin had begun to look deathly pale. "I don't think he's going to be spoiling for a fight anytime soon."

"Even so. I don't know what fucked up stuff floats your boat..." Hammer's eyes roved over the scars that criss-crossed Joyride's body as he spoke, "...but I'd rather not be here to see it, okay?"

"So you're walking out on your chance to do the right thing and put a dent in the Antichrist's plans?"

Hammer snorted. "If he's what you say he is - and he's missing a lot of the marks if that's the case - then I don't want to be anywhere near him."

"Not all marks appear on the outside, Mutaaz..."

Joyride approached Darkness slowly, his steel gaze meeting Darkness's own as the former Shadow Slayer lifted his head slowly.

"What are you going to do, cut him open?"

"In a manner of speaking..."

Darkness bared his teeth and the snarl became a menacing grin. Droplets of icy sweat now beaded his forehead as his body desperately tried to deal with not only the toxin that pulsed through his veins, but also with the embolism in his brain.

"Take a step closer...finish the job..." he whispered.

"What will happen if I do?"

"Roll the dice. Find out."

"I don't play dice. Dumb luck is the preserve of heroes like you. Wise men prefer cards."

"Then deal yourself in. I guarantee my hand is better than you think."

"You're bluffing."

"Call it then."

* * *

Misfit knocked on the door again, louder this time, and sighed at the lack of response. He glanced down at his watch and shook his head. Their flight left in less than an hour and no one had heard from Darkness since he'd decided to wander off for a walk.

He pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his worn, slightly ragged jeans and quickly found Darkness's number. He'd probably panic when it rang, but he knew how to work the thing...after a fashion...

It rang.

Kept ringing.

There was a click.

Then an automated answer message. Just like Darkness to have never bothered recording one of his own.

"Goddamnit." Misfit flicked the phone shut and thrust it back into his pocket angrily. He pounded on the door once again, and cursed at the silence that followed. "Fuck you then," he growled, "You can make your own fucking way to Canada."

He was halfway through the lobby when he caught sight of the familiar figure in white standing near the desk. For a moment he considered dodging his stable-mate and avoiding the stilted conversation that marked most of their interaction with one another, but then he decided that maybe Dante could help him.

"Jas'?"

Dante turned around and removed his reflective shades, hooking them into the pristine white collar of his open shirt. Misfit suppressed the urge to call him a prick for doing that.

"Hello, Gideon. What's up?"

"Oh...not much. What are you doing here? I thought you were getting an earlier flight..."

"That was the plan, but I haven't heard anything from Darkness since we were in the ring."

"Ah, so you were worried about your boyf...uh...about Darkness...?"

Dante's eyebrow twitched at Misfit's slip of the tongue, but he let it pass. It was no secret that Misfit, Freya and Acolyte stood slightly apart from Darkness, Dante and Selenia in the NHFC, and it was even less of a secret that the former regarded the latter with a certain amount of light-hearted mockery.

"Yes, I'm worried about him."

"Can't you...uh..." Misfit waved his hands around his head, "...you know...find him...or whatever..."

"It doesn't really work that way," Dante said, making an odd expression as his eyes flicked to the left where the receptionist studiously ignored them.

"Oh, ok. Well I don't know much about telepathy so..."

Dante grabbed his arm and walked him away from the desk with a curse under his breath.

"Hey, what's the problem?"

"Gideon." Dante looked around again to make sure they were alone on one side of the lobby, "I'd rather you didn't talk about things like that in public like this."

"They maybe you should be a little more open about just what you guys are all about and I wouldn't have to ask awkward questions," Misfit growled.

"I...well...we don't want to tell just anybody..."

"Fine." Misfit shouldered his bag and walked away. "I wouldn't wanna force you to accidentally let slip something important to me and the receptionist."

The woman at the desk glanced up and Misfit waved her down. Dante's pale hand grabbed him around the arm again and he stopped, turning back to the albino.

"What?"

"You're right," Dante sighed, "I haven't been fair..."

"No, you haven't."

"We should talk. When's your flight?"

Misfit looked down at his watch. "Not long..."

"I'll tell you what then. Forget the flight; I'll call for a jet and we'll leave tonight."

"You're gonna call in a jet? I guess you're not one of these environmental nuts, huh?"

Dante laughed. "Believe me, if this planet was likely to be around long enough for global warming to kick in then we'd have nothing to talk about..."

"Heh...uh...okay..."

Misfit grimaced as Dante clapped him on the back but then shrugged and followed him out of the hotel, all thoughts of his tag partner forgotten.

[OOC - This is Joyride's post, not mine. He had time to type it out to me on msn but not to get it in order and post it, so he asked me to do the honours.]



"Show me your hand." Joyride whispered. Throat dry. Monotone. The answer was as simple as it was literal. The ropes were in his prisoner's hand, frayed, unwoven in the ends where they had torn. His arm was lined with red streaks, and it was impossible to think about what kind of strength it would take to rope burn flesh a match could barely touch. Darkness opened his hand, allowed the rope to hang for a second, and then fall.

He rose to his feet. Slow in his recovery, yet that he could afford to move so slowly, gave lie to their roles only minutes earlier. Joyride was the prisoner, and in a way, as he refused to run, to blink, facing his enemy, he became his own captor.

Hellfire and Infinity faced each other across the battlefield.

"Hammer...this isn't his fight. Let him go baby-sit."

Darkness said nothing.

One step closer.

Mutaaz Tareef looked into the eyes of Darkness, and saw only a man. Man was defined by violence. Even a man who could break ropes. "Allah has decided the outcome of this fight. If he is chosen to destroy us, what is your voice against the end times? No more than a rope. If he is innocent, then I too will suffer for this crime, when next we meet." Then he did an uncharacteristic thing, placed his hand on Joyride's shoulder. Gave him a prayer, and a blessing. Didn't know why, but it seemed like the kid, even if he'd been stupid, deserved more than to go out like firewood. His last words were "Kill him, and there won't be a match." The words were more threat than plea. They weren't meant for Joyride.

Then there were two. Darkness stood taller than the other man, and with every step closer, he seemed to grow, the shadows almost illuminating him, instead of hiding him as they would any other man. Joyride lifted his head, nodded, somehow, this was right, and as it should be. Only...

As his muscles tensed, as he readied himself for the fight, he tore a stitch, was bleeding before he was even touched. His weakness, his shame. It disgusted him.

Was it mercy, that his enemy said only "I won't hold back. I don't pity you."? Joyride said only "Thank you."

And then it began.

Joyride seemed to flat line. All muscles relaxed. He swayed on his feet. He was in the air. Surprise his only advantage. Before Darkness could touch him, Joyride floated behind his back, a human crucifix for the Antichrist. Legs locked around his arms, an arm cradled his throat. Then he dived. Or rather, he was released, and he flew. Neither man's head touched the floor. Darkness had used the momentum to lock him into position for a DDT. As if a dance, they spun. It was over before it had begun.

Darkness allowed Joyride to savor the view.

The suspense.

And then Joyride fell, carried by the Angel of Death.

His skull shattered, felt like a glass rose blossoming.

Blood in his mouth.

In his eyes.

Pain bringing with it an awakening, even as he was blinded. It swept away his sense of touch. There was only pain. Only instinct.

Only the meat.

The meat had a mind of its own.

It stood on its feet. As if there was no pain.

Darkness would have ended the fight, but instinct called to instinct.

He took the hand that clawed blindly for his eyes, held it as he swept the other man off his feet. The kick delivered behind the knees. The meat could not stand.

He released the hand.

Once more the meat fell.

And then the meat crawled.

A liquid whisper that sounded like a stillborn scream escaped the meat's lips.

The words were unintelligible.

Darkness silenced them with his boot. The meat beneath him snapping tearing, the throat so fragile, it would be so easy....

Didn't they understand, how easy they made it for him? Didn't they care?

One more snap, and there would be no more pain. Or maybe no escape from it. You never knew.

Everyone was someone else, deep beneath their skin....

Time passes.

A minute.

An hour.

Darkness is surrounded by blood. Reflecting on it. It's a poor mirror. All he sees is his shadow.

There's a phone ringing. Not his.

A cell phone.

It's been ringing for an hour now.

He picks it up, it's in his hand, and he answers....

To be honest Dante and Misfit weren't all that different, they came from different social walks of life and had seen different sides of life, but in the end they were more or less the same. But one the same plane and talking about things that were in all honesty trivial to both of them they seemed more like collage mates then former bitter enemies.

The talk and discussion was polite and pointless, they both stayed away from anything that could have caused friction, the membership they both held in the NHFC didn't matter much as both men was still not comfortable around each other, Dante still didn't like Misfit's "punkish" behaviour and attitude and Misfit thought Dante was an asshole pure and simple.

But non the less they were sitting in an air plane owned by Dante flown by employees of Dante and they were having a polite and careful conversation about nothing. Both men felt a burden as if something was holding them both down and stopping them from relaxing.

Misfit was the first to realise what the problems was and was also the first one to address it.

"You said you hadn't been fair..." he began.

"Yeah, I did."

"Well about what?"

"I think you know that."

"Yeah, maybe I do. I'd still like to hear it from you."

"Ok, fair enough." Dante said and leaned back in his seat.

"Here's the deal...Darkness is right, about more or less everything I imagine he told you."

"You mean the whole devil-thing?"

"Yeah, the devil thing. You see only me Darkness and Selenia knows this but during End Game when both him and I were missing..."

"When the rumours that you were lovers started..." Misfits aid and actually managed to repress the grin.

"Whatever...I don't give a shit what morons think, do you?"

"Not really."

"Can we drop that joke then? Darkness was married and the only love I have is Selenia...deal?"

"Ok, deal."

"Anyway, the reason we were gone during the week leading up to End Game was because we sort of had a date with a destiny neither of us wanted to actually face. Darkness turned out to be the anti-Christ and i turned out to be the devil's far from willing to cooperate son."

Dante had summed a whole painful and wrecking week in a single outburst, he let the Wargs slide and John Doe and the trip to hell, what was important was that Misfit got the deal now.
Misfit nodded, he didn't actually doubt Darkness' words but to be fair Dante always seemed the sane one of that group and hearing him tell the story got Misfit to at least accept it.

"That's one of the things I don't get."

"What is?"

"Your the son of the devil...and Darkness is the anti-Christ...isn't that normally a one person gig?"

Dante laughed.

"Well yeah, but we sort of decided that we should split it up..."

This was both a reason why Misfit hated Dante but also a reason he started to like him, he was unable to remain serious for too long.

Misfit grinned.

"You thought it would be too taxing to be both."

"Yeah, I already sit on too many chairs as it is."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Well no not really. The thing is that I didn't have much of a choice, I doubt dear old daddy walked up to my mother and asked her if she wanted to make whoopsie with him. Both me and Darkness have been pushed into this in a way. I know that Darkness can handle his side of the deal, I'm not so sure about myself."

Misfit nodded.

"So you don't think we need to worry about Darkness?" Misfit cursed to himself as it sounded like the thing a fucking 10 year old would say.

"Worry? About Darkness?" Dante said. "No way, as I see it Northern Ireland in in deeper trouble then Darkness is."

Misfit laughed,

"Yeah, I guess that's true. Hell as long as we turn on CNN tomorrow and make sure the damn isle is still there we've done more then enough to make sure he's ok."

Dante laughed and soon Misfit joined in too.

The thought that Misfit was sharing a laugh with a man he hated was far from his mind, as was the notion that he an devout Catholic was sharing a joke with the devil's son.

*****

"Montreal, home of the world famous Montreal Canadiens, the pride and the joy of every French-Canadian hockey fan. The red, blue and white jersey's were the sign of tradition and a trademark for greatness. Sure it was a fair few years since they took home the Stanley Cup trophy to Montreal but the fans were still proud of one of the NHL's oldest and original teams. Tonight however there was a guest star at the game, a man who had a fair few fans in the great white north. Of course Mutaaz Tareef was far from a fan favourite, but in general American fans seemed to hate the guy and the Canadians took that as a reason to like him. Tareef had actually seen a fair few hockey games in his life, his experience with the game of violence on ice was based around a team that was far younger then the Canadians though, but just for show he put on the classic jersey with the "c" on the chest to drop the puck for tonight's game.

The scene outside the arena was calm but slightly exited as fans looking for autographs gathered for Tareef's pre-game interview with ESPN. Later the puck drop and a luxury box and a dinner on the tab of the Canadiens organisation was on the "menu". In short Mutaaz Tareef's life had gone from Miserable when locked up with Joyride and Darkness to brilliant as the star of tonight's show.

*****

The plane had touched down at the Montreal airport less then an hour earlier and as Dante talked to his chauffeur Misfit stared blankly at a TV screen in the hall.

As with all TV in the Quebec area, it was in French and Misfit didn't speak any of that language. Thankfully a man at the desk flicked over to a channel that actually was in English, ESPN. Misfit sighed and sat down to watch what seemed to be the pre-game show for an NHL game.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Hockeynight on ESPN, tonight we bring you a true clash between new and classic, The San José Sharks face the Montreal Canadiens at the Bell Centre in Montreal. We spoke earlier today with the Canadians' team captain Saku Koivu and tonight's star, Mutaaz Tareef of the TCW..."

This caused Misfit to spit out the coffee, and call for Dante to watch the TV.

"Well fuck me sideways..." was Dante's less the civilized response.

"Pretty much..." Misfit agreed.

Less then ten minutes later, Dante and Gideon Flint were speeding off in the direction of the Bell Centre.

*****

The crowd outside the centre was fairly cheery as the Sunday had all the classic hallmarks of a early spring afternoon and the game had all chances of being good. Tareef was speaking to the Canadians fans and shaking hands as if he was a presidential hopeful sucking up to gain votes.

As he walked up to Alexx and opened his mouth a loud BANG reverberated across the arena grounds. A cloud of smoke billowed up towards the sky, even in the distance, Tareef could see what had happened, a car had exploded and two people had been hurled away from the wreckage of the parked car, even at this distance he recognised then men on the ground. The man who wore the dirty white clothes was Jason Dante and the green haired guy had to be Gideon "Acid Misfit" Flint. As paramedics attended to the hurt men, Security ushered the spectators, Tareef and Alexx away from the scene and into the safety of the arena.

Before Jason Dante's world went dark, he saw a man he knew wearing a Canadiens jersey. With his last breath before he went head first into lala-land he cursed Mutaaz Tareef.


The world spun and pain was all he felt, he tilted his head and tried to catch a glimpse of where he was. In a voice that was drowning in pain and fatigue he asked.

"W...where am I?"

"You're safe kid..." The reply came and for some reason Dante was satisfied with it as he let unconsciousness reclaim him.

Hours passed, the afternoon had turned into dusk when Dante awoke again. This time he felt revived and only a bit worn in pain from the blast.

The blast...


Shit!


Misfit!

He stood up and tried to walk but his legs seemed to be made out of jelly and he collapsed back onto the bed. And lay there in panic trying to gather his wits again, somewhere in the back of his mind he felt Selenia call for him asking him where he was and why he wasn't replying. He closed his eyes and let the dizziness go away. He opened his eyes and found himself eye to eye with an angel.

Or rather a stained-glass version of Saint Michel the archangel.

"What kind of place is this?" He asked himself, the reply came from another man. A man with an old voice with an old fashioned Texas drawl.

"I told ya kid, yer safe...this is a safe place."

"Safe?" Dante asked as if the word was alien to him.

"Hallowed ground kid, they can't touch ya here."

"Hallowed ground?"

"A cemetery Jason, ya know...where they put the dead folks..."

"You know my name?"

"And a great deal more kid, ya should be happy I got hold o' ya after the damned blast."

"Oh fuck, Misfit!" Dante said as he stood up and took his first staggering steps after the blast.

The old man laughed.

"Ya heal well kid..."

"Yeah. So I've been told..."

"There's a reason for that you know..."

"Yeah I know."

"Do ya, now?"

"Yeah trust me old man, I do."

"I'm sure you do kid, I'm sure you do. But do you know what it means?"

"I...no..." Dante replied annoyed as his concern was Misfit at this point the idea that his team mate would end up like his old team mate Weapon Omega or worse was horrifying.

"Sit down and don't ya worry kid, your buddy is OK a bit busted up and in a hospital waiting to wake up but OK...he has a few ribs cracked and got the tar whooped out of him, but apart from that, he's OK."

For some reason the man sounded like he knew what he was talking about. The old man spit out a wad of tobacco and fixed his eyes on Dante.

"Ya have questions, ya have things to learn and ya have to ask one big darned question yerself..."

"What question?"

"Who can I trust?"

"Who can I trust?"

"See there's nothn' to it...now answerin' that question is gonna be harder..."

"Yeah I can imagine that..." For some reason Dante's mind turned to Darkness.

"Can ya trust 'im Jason? Can ya trust Darkness?"

Dante stared at him.

"Yeah of course I can, I know him better then I know my own mother...I can trust Darkness to the end of the world and beyond..."

"But...?" The old man asked.

Dante swallowed, he knew what the question he was meant to ask was.

"...but can I trust the Anti-Christ?"

"Now kid that is one darned good question..."

*****

"Pardon, Monsieur Tareef you 'ave a phone call sir..."

Mutaaz Tareef groaned, the game was fairly exiting and the crowd was hot, he didn't want to miss it for some damned phone call.

He sighed and got out of his seat and walked out of the box and towards the phone the man had shown him. He picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hello Frank!"

Hammer stared at the phone, the voice came from the room, not from the plastic tube in his hand. Seconds later a pair of hands grabbed Hammer and threw him up against a wall.

"Now Hammer...A car explodes, Misfit is in the hospital, I get to spend a good four fucking hours descrambling my brain and picking glass shards out of my face...and you happen to be at the scene...I hope you can convince me that you had nothing to do with it Hammer, but to be honest, you are about 25 seconds from becoming the first Muslim to be crucified on a Canadians logo."

Hammer stared at the angered and colourless eyes of Jason Dante as the champion held his former opponent up against the wall.

Darkness fumbled the phone open and frowned at the name. It wasn't one he recognised. He pressed the green button, as he had once been instructed to do on his own cell and held the device to his ear.

"Hello?"

He didn't reply. It was a woman's voice; young, but not childish.

"Jesus Christ, ‘Ride...I've been calling for fucking hours. Anything could have happened to you."

The voice was angry, but it was tinged with relief and Darkness found himself frowning at the words he was hearing.

"'Ride? Are you there? For fuck's sake, do not put me through this shit again!"

"Who is this?" his own voice was calmer than he expected.

"What? Who is this?"

"I'm a...colleague...of Joyride's." He had no idea what to say as he stared down at the battered form of his enemy. "He's...unavailable..."

"What the fuck do you mean ‘he's unavailable'? Who the fuck is this?!"

Darkness took the phone from his ear, snapped it shut and hurled it across the room with a nonchalant air at odds with the force of the throw. It bounced against the wall and parts flew everywhere.

He refused to allow himself to wonder who the girl who cared about this scarred man was, refused to let any sense of remorse quell the fire that was now in him. He reached for the chair and swung it around so it sat beside him before stooping down and hauling Joyride up and onto it. His head lolled to one side, spilling black and gold braids across his pale body.

"Let's talk, Joyride," he whispered.

His gloved hand pushed the unconscious man's head backwards, sweeping braids from his eyes. His face was bruised. There was a cut on his lip. It fit with the rest of his strange, battered appearance. Darkness knew that Joyride had expected everything he'd gotten from their short, brutal fight.

His hand next dived inside the rough jacket Joyride wore and pulled out the bank of syringes, now empty save one, that had been secured to his belt. He held up one of the empty implements.

"This was not a good idea," he said softly, crunching it in his fist and ignoring the minute shards of glass that buried themselves into the exposed skin of his hand.

"I have a big problem with people who inject me like you did. Ask, Dante - you got off lightly compared to him. But I think you knew that, didn't you?"

He lifted his hand and held it against Joyride's jaw, tilting his face down to look into his own.

"The problem is, when you thought you were calling my bluff, you'd misread the rules of the game. You had my hand all figured out, but the cards don't mean the same things they used to. In your mind, you've won now...you broke me...good job. The bad news is that I was ready to be broken. I'm comfortable being broken. I spent my whole life running from the rage, but now I'm done. I'm embracing what I am and making a deal with the devil."

Darkness drew his hand away from Joyride's cheek, leaving a bloody smear in its wake as the glass of the broken syringe scored tiny gashes in the man's flesh.

"You were expecting remorse...pity...guilt. No. Fuck you. I'm done playing these games. You crossed my invisible line today, and now you're getting the response you deserve. I hope you like it."

He straightened and, in one smooth movement, lashed out with his boot, catching Joyride in the chest and face with one brutal blow. It was almost certainly delivered with enough force to shatter a jaw. Maybe enough to stop a beating heart. Darkness didn't stop to check.

The Angel of Death stepped over the prone form of Joyride and threw open the door of the boiler room. He squinted at the light and flinched away from it for a moment before walking calmly down the corridor, leaving bloody footsteps behind him as he went.