XI. The Lowest Place

The sewers of in this part of New Libery were hundreds of years old. The city had grown exponentially in the last twenty years after being renamed and designated as the capitol of the world, but this particular section of the Outer Warrens was part of the original city. During the city's expansions, both pre- and post-Rehnquist, new layers were added beneath the originals in order to handle the increasing traffic. In places, the sewer dove to depths so low that oxygen barely filtered its way down.

The city's ancient past, combined with aftermath from World War III and reckless industrial policies post-Rehnquist, had created strange sub-species dwelling in the endless catacombs. Darrus knew that the New Liberty Bell's recent presence in this area meant that not all the sewer's current inhabitants were bound by natural laws; in time, the Nightmares he and Lilith had summoned but not yet discovered would return to the minds of their creators, but in the meantime, they roamed the world.

Darrus could only hope that Szziszzigji hadn't gone far. He knew how to kill a Fury--he hoped that Szziszzigji had also inherited the vulnerability to the eyes. Darrus had been reluctant to kill Szziszzigji without first offering surrender--after the Nightmare's intentions were clear its eyes hadn't been facing him.

Darrus could hear the echo of footsteps in threes ahead of him. He ran down the darkened pipe. The benefits of being a demon meant that his feet didn't rippled the surface--Szziszzigji wouldn't hear him coming. Darrus knew that the sulphuric blood still on his coat would signal his approach to Szziszzigji far too early, regardless. The element of surprise had been trumped by the Nightmare's forceful response.

This was a game of cat-and-mouse, but Darrus wasn't yet sure which role he was playing. The footsteps ahead quickened, threatening to fade into the distance. Darrus sped up the chase, not about to lose Szziszzigji again.

In life, Darrus' sense of direction had been relatively poor. His demonic senses had vastly improved it, among other things. After fifteen minutes of pursuit, Darrus was well aware of Szziszzigji's strategy; it was sinking lower and lower into the sewer system in a roundabout manner, hoping to either confuse Darrus by its route or to suffocate him by the bad air found this deep. If Darrus had been human, it would have worked.

Roughly a quarter-mile below the streets of New Liberty, Szziszzigji's fleeing abruptly ceased. For a single moment, silence hung almost tangibly in the air.

The moment passed, and what looked like an oncoming train screamed down the pipe at Darrus. Szziszzigji's fury-infused eyes glowed like headlights, its gutteral roar echoing off the walls like thunder.

Darrus raised his gun. "This is your last chance! Stop!" he screamed.

If anything, the nightmare accelerated in its charge.

As Darrus pulled the trigger, he whispered, "I'm sorry." The bullet struck Szziszzigji's left eye.

Darrus dove backwards, anticipating a beam of energy to pour out, as had happened when he'd fought the Fury called Karobim. The blast never came.

Instead, a wave of putrid water rushed over his sprawled form as Szziszzigji came to a screeching halt above him. Darrus rolled onto his back and fired a dozen bullets into Szziszzigji's chin and torso, all to no avail--the shots passed through its skin with barely a ripple, embedding themselves in the ceiling of the pipe.

Darrus felt a wave of regret mixed with determination. It seemed that Szziszzigji was equally sorry--but also equally committed to his own survival. It stomped its shortest leg down onto Darrus' chest. He was wracked with pain--worse yet, he was trapped.

Without any hint of malice, Szziszzigji raised its four-fingered arm to deliver the killing blow. Darrus reached into his coat. In one fluid motion, Darrus pulled his lighter from his chest pocket, lit it, and blew on the flame. Rather than extinguishing, the fire spread outward, covering Szziszzigji and engulfing the pipe for twenty feet in either direction.

Hellfire is an unusual form of energy in that it cannot destroy a soul, only harm it. Like most fire, it can burn away at physical forms, but it inflicts horrible pain upon the naked being that, while causing discomfort beyond words, never ends. Thus, the souls of the damned suffer for all eternity, bathed in the infernal flames, but are never released from their torment by outright destruction. Another odd attribute of Hellfire is that it reckonizes its own, and will not harm demons or Archdevils.

Nightmares, dragged from the minds of humans, are another matter.

As Szziszzigji reeled in pain, it reared up, freeing Darrus. Unharmed by the flames, Darrus opened fire on the nightmare. In the end, the bullets were redundant--Darrus wasn't sure where the Nightmare's vulnerable points were, but he had located them by simply engulfing its entire form in Hellfire. After a few moments, Szziszzigji stopped thrashing. A single impressioin drifted across Darrus' mind.

Why?

"Because I had no choice." said Darrus said to the ashes. As he watched, they faded into nothingness. Without Szziszzigji's consciousness to sustain it, his physical substance was reduced to the illusion it had once been.

Darrus trudged back down the tunnel towards a service entrance he could use as a portal to Hell. He shook his head. That was a fine ally, even a friend, that he had been forced to kill.

"Then again," he muttered. "This is Damnation."

THE END