VI. Metamorphosis
Darrus left the brothel and stepped out into the veiled sunlight of the early afternoon. Winter's last gasp kept a chill under the canopies, but the weather was getting warmer. Soon the dubious pleasure of summer in New Liberty would come again.
Darrus should be headed back to Hell to check the Nexus for relevant information regarding escaped Nightmares, but a strange fancy had overtaken. It was made stranger by the fact that he hadn't experienced impulsive desires like this since he'd been alive. Darrus went through a door to the subterranean level and came out across the street from a quaint Italian bistro a quarter-mile away.
"Glad to see they're still in business." he said to himself.
Darrus' coat had many supernatural qualities, one of which was that it never ran out of 20 credit notes. Apparently money that was destroyed was recouped in Hell, making the notes legal tender. 20 credit notes wore out relatively quickly, so there was an effectively infinite supply. As such, the bistro hardly noticed when a tall man with long, graying hair sat by himself in the smoking section and paid all in twenties.
Darrus walked out of the bistro with a foreign expression on his face he had only worn once in recent memory--a smile. The sunshine hit his face, and a wave of euphoria washed over him. For the first time since he had been Darius Briggs, Darrus was happy.
The idea hit him like a ton of bricks. Something was wrong. He had been damned--while his role was significantly less unpleasant than the fate of most in Hell, he was not meant to actively enjoy it. Happiness was not an emotion to be experienced by those that hailed from the pit. He decided that he should immediately report back to Cankerworm.
Then he realized that he didn't want to. This was another shock. Darrus didn't have a complete set of free will. He shouldn't be able to bring himself to disobey. These revelations were disturbing. In the past two hours, he'd defied Hell, declined to return when he should have, and had felt human emotions. Something was very, very wrong.
"It's like I'm becoming human again..." he muttered. No one seemed to notice him. He grabbed a cigarette from his pocket and lit up, then realized something else. He'd been a smoker in life, but not after--he couldn't remember having smoked even once before being summoned by those teenagers earlier in the day. He didn't even know his coat could produce cigarettes--he'd had the lighter to summon hellfire, but the cigarettes were new. He'd simply accepted their presence without even thinking about it.
Darrus started walking, trying to clear his head, puffing on the mysterious cigarette as he went.
Something in him had changed. He tried tapping into the Nexus. Without an intermediary, it was difficult to make contact from Earth, but there didn't seem to be anything about a demon outgrowing his persona. So whatever had happened wasn't in the usual order of things. Darrus was able to narrow down the sources of interference to three events.
The first was being summoned by the teenagers. He'd never heard of demons being changed by interaction with humans, especially amateurs like those five. In fact, the change usually went the other way.
The second was that drifting between Earth and Hell had somehow affected him. It was normal to have a short jump outside of any type of reality when overwalking through doors--that was what made the experience so unpleasant for mortals--but Darrus frantic and damaged form hadn't outlined an exit, causing him to linger outside reality for considerably longer than the norm. Darrus knew this sort of thing had happened before; he recalled one case he'd learned from the Nexus involving a 14th century Witch Hunter severely wounding a demon on the run. The demon drifted like Darrus had for almost seventeen months before being summoned back into reality. No demon had memory of the space between worlds, probably because there was literally nothing there to remember. Contact with the Nexus was too sketchy for Darrus to determine if the change he was experiencing had its root in such an incident.
The final possibility was one that scared Darrus the most. It was possible that the change had been caused by being enveloped in the Fury's energy. If that was the case, there was no telling where the changes would stop. The thing that worried him most about this possibility was that the same thing could be happening to Szziszzigji. If the metamorphosis continued, there was no telling how power Szziszzigji could become--and without a demon to watch over him, he'd be without a leash, loose on Earth.
Darrus' introspection was interrupted when he noticed a flickering light in a doorway a block or so down the road. Specifically, he noticed it jump from that door to one directly in his path. He became wary; had Hell figured out what he had? Worse yet, had they decided that he was a loose cannon?
If so, the flicker he'd just seen would have been a Rhythm Blade, the chosen weapon of the Reavers, Hell's assassins--Darrus knew that Rhythm Blades had a beam of light constantly working across their surface. Darrus liked to hope the Reaver would try to restrain him first, but had no way of knowing. If it came down to a fight, Darrus would almost surely lose--Searchers were taught evasive combat, but Reavers were masters at arms.
Darrus decided the best course of action would be to run for it; to go back into Hell and confess the difficulties to Cankerworm. Darrus ducked through a door and appeared in Cankerworm's office.
Four Guardians were in the office waiting for him. They all grabbed him.
"Cankerworm! What's going on!?" Darrus demanded of the Archdevil.
"It seems that all is not well with you, Darrus." said Cankerworm. "But don't worry, we're certain we can have you restored in a few days or so. Take him away."
Before Darrus could say another word, the Guardians dragged him off and forced him into a magma tube. The door shut, and divine energy washed over him. Cankerworm arrived shortly after and spoke to the operator.
"What seems to be his problem?" Cankerworm asked.
"He's full of Fury energy." said the operator. "It's giving him some extra free will, and if he'd bothered to try it, he can probably shapeshift. It's a good thing we caught him now; there's no telling how this would've gone even a day later."
"So the metamorphosis was still progressing?"
"You bet. He was the only one who had contact with the Fury and survived, right?"
"It's likely."
"I hope nobody else did. I don't even want to think about what it'd be like, trying to fix somebody further down the line."
"How long will this take?"
The operator glanced over his instruments. "I'd say about...seventy hours."
The operator laughed. "I hope he didn't have any appointments to keep."
Cankerworm wasn't amused. "Indeed." he said, and left.
Darrus should be headed back to Hell to check the Nexus for relevant information regarding escaped Nightmares, but a strange fancy had overtaken. It was made stranger by the fact that he hadn't experienced impulsive desires like this since he'd been alive. Darrus went through a door to the subterranean level and came out across the street from a quaint Italian bistro a quarter-mile away.
"Glad to see they're still in business." he said to himself.
Darrus' coat had many supernatural qualities, one of which was that it never ran out of 20 credit notes. Apparently money that was destroyed was recouped in Hell, making the notes legal tender. 20 credit notes wore out relatively quickly, so there was an effectively infinite supply. As such, the bistro hardly noticed when a tall man with long, graying hair sat by himself in the smoking section and paid all in twenties.
Darrus walked out of the bistro with a foreign expression on his face he had only worn once in recent memory--a smile. The sunshine hit his face, and a wave of euphoria washed over him. For the first time since he had been Darius Briggs, Darrus was happy.
The idea hit him like a ton of bricks. Something was wrong. He had been damned--while his role was significantly less unpleasant than the fate of most in Hell, he was not meant to actively enjoy it. Happiness was not an emotion to be experienced by those that hailed from the pit. He decided that he should immediately report back to Cankerworm.
Then he realized that he didn't want to. This was another shock. Darrus didn't have a complete set of free will. He shouldn't be able to bring himself to disobey. These revelations were disturbing. In the past two hours, he'd defied Hell, declined to return when he should have, and had felt human emotions. Something was very, very wrong.
"It's like I'm becoming human again..." he muttered. No one seemed to notice him. He grabbed a cigarette from his pocket and lit up, then realized something else. He'd been a smoker in life, but not after--he couldn't remember having smoked even once before being summoned by those teenagers earlier in the day. He didn't even know his coat could produce cigarettes--he'd had the lighter to summon hellfire, but the cigarettes were new. He'd simply accepted their presence without even thinking about it.
Darrus started walking, trying to clear his head, puffing on the mysterious cigarette as he went.
Something in him had changed. He tried tapping into the Nexus. Without an intermediary, it was difficult to make contact from Earth, but there didn't seem to be anything about a demon outgrowing his persona. So whatever had happened wasn't in the usual order of things. Darrus was able to narrow down the sources of interference to three events.
The first was being summoned by the teenagers. He'd never heard of demons being changed by interaction with humans, especially amateurs like those five. In fact, the change usually went the other way.
The second was that drifting between Earth and Hell had somehow affected him. It was normal to have a short jump outside of any type of reality when overwalking through doors--that was what made the experience so unpleasant for mortals--but Darrus frantic and damaged form hadn't outlined an exit, causing him to linger outside reality for considerably longer than the norm. Darrus knew this sort of thing had happened before; he recalled one case he'd learned from the Nexus involving a 14th century Witch Hunter severely wounding a demon on the run. The demon drifted like Darrus had for almost seventeen months before being summoned back into reality. No demon had memory of the space between worlds, probably because there was literally nothing there to remember. Contact with the Nexus was too sketchy for Darrus to determine if the change he was experiencing had its root in such an incident.
The final possibility was one that scared Darrus the most. It was possible that the change had been caused by being enveloped in the Fury's energy. If that was the case, there was no telling where the changes would stop. The thing that worried him most about this possibility was that the same thing could be happening to Szziszzigji. If the metamorphosis continued, there was no telling how power Szziszzigji could become--and without a demon to watch over him, he'd be without a leash, loose on Earth.
Darrus' introspection was interrupted when he noticed a flickering light in a doorway a block or so down the road. Specifically, he noticed it jump from that door to one directly in his path. He became wary; had Hell figured out what he had? Worse yet, had they decided that he was a loose cannon?
If so, the flicker he'd just seen would have been a Rhythm Blade, the chosen weapon of the Reavers, Hell's assassins--Darrus knew that Rhythm Blades had a beam of light constantly working across their surface. Darrus liked to hope the Reaver would try to restrain him first, but had no way of knowing. If it came down to a fight, Darrus would almost surely lose--Searchers were taught evasive combat, but Reavers were masters at arms.
Darrus decided the best course of action would be to run for it; to go back into Hell and confess the difficulties to Cankerworm. Darrus ducked through a door and appeared in Cankerworm's office.
Four Guardians were in the office waiting for him. They all grabbed him.
"Cankerworm! What's going on!?" Darrus demanded of the Archdevil.
"It seems that all is not well with you, Darrus." said Cankerworm. "But don't worry, we're certain we can have you restored in a few days or so. Take him away."
Before Darrus could say another word, the Guardians dragged him off and forced him into a magma tube. The door shut, and divine energy washed over him. Cankerworm arrived shortly after and spoke to the operator.
"What seems to be his problem?" Cankerworm asked.
"He's full of Fury energy." said the operator. "It's giving him some extra free will, and if he'd bothered to try it, he can probably shapeshift. It's a good thing we caught him now; there's no telling how this would've gone even a day later."
"So the metamorphosis was still progressing?"
"You bet. He was the only one who had contact with the Fury and survived, right?"
"It's likely."
"I hope nobody else did. I don't even want to think about what it'd be like, trying to fix somebody further down the line."
"How long will this take?"
The operator glanced over his instruments. "I'd say about...seventy hours."
The operator laughed. "I hope he didn't have any appointments to keep."
Cankerworm wasn't amused. "Indeed." he said, and left.
posted by Andrew Michael at 12:37 PM
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