Jack-on-Demon action and Silverberg makes everybody look bad. Meet Acuzio, everybody.
RED JACK
EPISODE SEVEN: “THE SHARP”
“Excuse me, is there a Jonathan Halyard here?”
“Err…yeah, he’s over there.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Halyard?”
“That’s me.”
“Can I call you John?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“Great. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Detective Harrison, with the state police.”
“So you are.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to you?”
“Should it?”
“John, you’re a suspect in a murder case. Several of them, actually.”
“And?”
“Wh…what kind of a reaction is that?”
“Oh, sorry. Umm…what do you mean I’m a suspect in a murder case? Several of them, actually?”
“Well, that’s…better. Anyway, I’m going to have to take you in.”
“Over your dead body.”
“Don’t you mean—”
“I know what I said.”
*****
“Jack. Jack. Jack! Jackjackjackjackjackjackjack-”
My fist shot up before I knew what I was doing. Nobody wakes up Red Jack before he’s done sleeping and gets away with it. I met no resistance, and opened my eyes a bit to see where Jester was. Where was he?
Something came at me from above—Jester’s open palm plowed into my stomach, and I crashed to the floor coughing and hacking. He stood on my bed, beaming down at me. “So you’re finally up.”
I rolled under the bed to the other side and found my street clothes. “What’s your problem, waking me up this early in the morning?”
“Morning? Jack, it’s the middle of the afternoon.”
Oh. Actually, that made sense. I’d been up all night tracking down another errant Demon, and after I killed him I’d woken up in a gutter somewhere. I eventually wandered my way home and passed out again immediately after stripping down. “Fine,” I growled, “then where are we drinking today?” Then I noticed Mina standing by the door. “What’s she doing here?” I asked as an afterthought.
Jester shrugged. “I found her on the way over here. She didn’t say a word, just started following me. Do you mind if she tags along?”
My turn to shrug. “Whatever. It’s not like I can’t just stab her in the head a few times if she gets on my nerves.” I don’t think Mina heard me, or she just didn’t care enough to respond. Securing my knife in my sleeve, I walked out the door with Jester in tow, and Mina fell into step behind.
“Oh, to answer your question,” Jester said, “we’re not going drinking today. “We’re going to go pay Hammer a visit.”
“Hammer…do you mean the Sledgehammer? That biker with the chain and the sword?”
“That’s the one.”
“What did I ever do to you?”
He chuckled unsettlingly. “Well, you did stab me the other day.”
“Through the guy that was throttling the life out of you.”
“I thought Hammer might know something about your predicament,” my only friend in Hell said as though I hadn’t spoken. “He’s pretty well-connected for a dead guy. Been down here longer than anybody else I know. He doesn’t remember a thing about his life, but he remembers that he has to go back for some important reason or other that he’s forgotten.” He waved his words away. “But that’s beside the point, and don’t ask him about it. It makes him uncomfortable.”
Something was odd about the Valley as we walked through it on our way to the biker bar. No, more that just something. A lot of things. First, there was nobody else around besides the three of us. That wasn’t a good sign—even a raging assassin of Hell was better than nothing, I had learned. It was cold, too. Usually the Valley was a weird sort of lukewarm that reminded me of a locker-room shower that had been used an hour or two ago. Cold wasn’t something I was used to any more.
But the most noticeable thing of all was the silence. It was dead quiet out there, save for our feet on the gravelly asphalt. I wondered idly how Grut was doing.
“We’re getting close,” Jester cheerfully muttered.
Mina’s cleaver flashed in front of my face, and there was a huge clang as something flew into it. A piece of metal like an arrowhead fell at my feet. We all looked around wildly for the source of the attack, but there was nothing. Another arrowhead appeared from somewhere and stuck in my right shoulder, then another found its way to my left shin. The wounds were only mildly annoying, but still painful. Where are they coming from? It’s like they’re appearing spontaneously! A mad cackle came from somewhere. Jester poked himself in the forehead. “I know that voice,” he called out to our surroundings. “Show yourself, Acuzio.”
A Demon stepped out of a nearby alleyway and walked leisurely to the middle of the street. He looked Human enough, except that his skin had a slight blue tinge to it and his eyes were stark white. Both were common traits in Demons of the Valley. To top it off, his overly-spiked hair was the same crimson color as Mina’s, and he wore something like a Renaissance doublet and pantaloons. “Acuzio the Sharp,” Jester announced. “One of the few Demons allowed to move freely between Hell and the Valley, and last I heard working for quite a number of the Demon factions. An old acquaintance of mine, you could say.”
Acuzio grinned wickedly. “Come now, Jester, you make it sound like we met in passing. You and I were quite a pair back in the old days, remember?” Jester made no indication that he did, so the Demon continued. “Yes, we used to terrorize the outskirts of this place, we did. It’s a long way from there to here, though. What are you doing all the way in this part of town, Jester?” Still no response. Acuzio frowned and said, “I suppose you think that you’re working for a better cause now? You know how that works out. And in case you’ve forgotten that as well…”
He swept his hands horizontally, and dozens of arrowheads materialized and flew at us, tearing into the three of us and sending us reeling back. Acuzio waited patiently for us to recover, looking very pleased with himself.
Jester finally spoke. “Any cause that’s not yours is a better one,” he told the Demon with all the cheer I’d come to expect. “Helping my new friend here serve out his time is much more satisfying than sending people down below. I wouldn’t expect you to understand that, though.” Another sweep of Acuzio’s hand sent arrowheads rocketing into Jester, who held his ground with amazing resolve.
Our assailant took several steps closer to us. “Any cause is better than mine?” he mockingly repeated. “That’s a pretty harsh assertion there, old friend. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider? I might be able to get you a decade or two less for good behavior.”
“Jack, Mina,” Jester said to us, keeping his eyes on Acuzio, “what would you do if a Demon like this one here offered you a contract?”
Knife, cleaver, and boot all converged on Acuzio the Sharp as we dashed forward. He received our blows without complaint, merely raising his eyebrows and falling back a bit. Then he disappeared. Shards of metal sliced into us from behind, shredding the street as easily as our flesh, like wet paper. I fell forward, gasping for air. One of the arrowheads had pierced through to my left lung. Several more sliced into the back of my head.
Somebody tugged at my jacket. “Come on, get up!” Jester hissed as he hauled me to my feet. Acuzio was still throwing arrowheads at us. I mumbled something about how we were losing, and Jester grunted his agreement. Mina’s cleaver clattered to the ground nearby, but the White Maiden wasn’t in my field of vision. The Demon was laughing at us. I wasn’t in my own mind anymore, but I felt myself getting angry, and felt my hands clawing at the ground trying to find my knife.
I’m Red Jack, the most dangerous mortal in a century. I won’t let a sneaky b*****d like Acuzio finish me. I’ll kill him. It went on like that for a long time, not even conscious thought.
I somehow ended up right in front of Acuzio, viciously thrusting my knife into whatever looked vulnerable. As far as I knew I was doing pretty well, but then I ended up on my back on the ground with Acuzio standing over me, a foot crushing my ribs and a hand pointed at my face. Where were Jester and Mina? No, that wasn’t important. I had to get away so that I could make another attack. “Anything else you want to try before I send you on?” Acuzio asked with one of those insufferable sneers.
Why it didn’t end then I’ll never know. By all rights that should have been the moment that I finally went to Hell like everybody had suggested. When Acuzio suddenly stopped taunting me, clutched at his throat, and fell backwards, I was confused. This was remedied by a very large, ginger-haired biker slowly coming into view. “Still with us?” he asked, and turned away before I answered. For what must have been the hundredth time that day, I got to my feet.
Jester gave me a slap on the back as he walked past me. “See? Hammer’s not that bad of a guy.” I looked over my shoulder and confirmed that Mina was standing somewhere behind me.
Acuzio looked unperturbed. “Hammer,” he said, “you’re not on my list.”
Hammer maintained his lack of facial expressions. “Your list?”
The Demon sighed melodramatically and looked to the sky as he spoke. “The Lost Soul known as Red Jack is my target. He is to be delivered to Hell in whatever manner I deem most appropriate. The Lost Soul Jester is acceptable collateral damage. Hell’s White Maiden has been refusing to take on jobs since her latest combat with Red Jack, so it was predicted that she has had a change of heart with regards to her lot in life and she has been designated as an acceptable loss as well.” He leveled his gaze at Hammer. “But you, Lost Soul Sledgehammer, are not on my list of justifiable casualties, and just out of curiosity, what makes you think you have the right to ask me for my orders?”
Lost Soul Sledgehammer shrugged his enormous shoulders. “I was just curious. I didn’t expect you to answer.” At that the arrogant smirk Acuzio had worn the entire time disappeared. He looked like he was about to reply, but then he turned and walked away, back down the alley from which he had come.
Jester and I slumped against the closest building. Mina knelt on the ground, leaning on her cleaver. The arrowhead wounds were taking longer to heal than normal injuries, probably because they came from a Demon.
Hammer squatted in front of Jester. “You said earlier you wanted to talk to me about something?”
A laugh and a dismissive wave. “Never mind. Acuzio was kind enough to answer all of my questions. But hey, thanks for the rescue.”
Acceptable collateral damage? Demons like Acuzio the Sharp being sent all the way from Hell just to bring me to their masters? It might be worth going with them just to get my questions answered. But before I considered that, there were some things I needed Jester to tell me.
Arrowheads in the brain really, really hurt.
****************************************************************************
RED JACK
EPISODE EIGHT: “KEAPON LAFFIN”
[This installment is from the perspective of Jester.]
What can I say about myself? I’m a Lost Soul, currently residing in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, which is close to Hell. It’s been so long that I can’t remember my own name, so I let people call me “Jester” now. Like all the other Lost Souls, I’m just trying to pay off my debt to society so that I can have my second chance. As near as I can tell (time’s a pain in the neck to keep track of down here) I’ve been in the Valley for a few hundred years, but that might be off. Not that it matters. I can’t leave before they tell me to anyway, so I’ll just keep doing my thing.
If you care, I used to work as a hunter of Lost Souls. Those are the guys who run around killing people in the Valley and sending them on to Hell. My hunting partner and the guy I took orders from was a Demon called Acuzio the Sharp. He’s kind of a fop, but he does his job and gets rewarded pretty handsomely for it.
“Used to,” I said. I don’t do that any more. Not since I met Jack. Well, a little before that, actually. You see, Silverberg—we call him “Old Man Silver”—stopped taking on new Lost Souls. That is, he decided that he wanted to stop being put in charge of new arrivals. Normally Demons don’t get to choose their jobs, but Old Man Silver had such a good record that he was a special case. He didn’t take on any new Lost Souls for a couple of centuries, it must have been. Then this guy they called “Red Jack” showed up, and suddenly Silver’s been called out of retirement. “The most dangerous mortal in a century,” they called Jack. I didn’t believe it, so I went to see for myself.
The end of that story is that I believe now.
*****
It was the first time I’d ever fought against a Demon. I guess I knew somehow that Acuzio and I would try to kill each other eventually, I just wasn’t expecting to lose so badly. Even with Red Jack and Hell’s White Maiden on my side I couldn’t win. But that doesn’t matter now. We’ve alerted Hell to our presence as disturbers of the peace, so it won’t be long before Acuzio and some of the other big guns come to make us deader that we already are. If Hammer hadn’t shown up when he did…
We were sitting in a corner table of Hammer’s usual bar. Even though I already knew everything I needed to after fighting Acuzio, there was still some useful insight that Hammer could provide, since he’d been in the Valley longer than anybody else I knew. Getting him to talk wasn’t hard. “What do you think?” I asked, giving him a wolfish grin.
Hammer took a long pull from his tankard. “I think you’re a dead man,” he informed me. Typical Hammer.
“I’m dead. Gotcha. Anything else?”
“They’re going to send out more Demons now,” the giant said as he reached for stale, flavorless pretzels. “Probably not on the level of Acuzio, but still a problem. I probably won’t be there to save you next time.”
It was something to keep in mind. I grinned wider and gave a small chuckle. “Have you seen it happen before? What sorts of Demons come out when we act up?”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen it before. The Demon officers or whatever are lazy when it comes to keeping the peace in the Valley. That means they’ll send the lowest-ranking underlings they think they can get away with.”
“So why did Acuzio come out first?” I inquired, confused but maintaining my expression. It’s hard work being happy all the time.
Another shrug. “I don’t know. They probably thought he’d put a quick end to it. I know whoever sent him out wasn’t counting on me joining in. But now that we’ve messed up their plans, things will proceed differently.” He gave me the most expressionless apologetic look ever. “Sorry I can’t be more help.”
I drained my pint and stood. “That’s fine. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
“Don’t get killed.”
“No promises.”
*****
Jack and Mina were nonplused when I told them what I’d been able to get from Hammer. Actually, Jack was nonplused and Mina didn’t seem to feel anything at all. She’s probably like Hammer, so long in the Valley that nothing shakes her any more. Leaving them to spar, as they now spent most of their waking moments doing, I headed away in no particular direction, looking for a bar I hadn’t been to yet. Can I hold my liquor? As a matter of fact I can.
An hour of searching yielded no new venue, so I resigned myself to practice. Picking a target, pointing my palm at it, imagining a line between my hand and the target, and letting go. It’s more complicated than that, but that’s the technique I use—I’ve forgotten where or when I learned it. All I know is that things die when I point at them.
“Hey, you!” somebody called. I turned to find a humanoid Demon with a blank face and semi-transparent skin, a Face Stealer, holding out an envelope to me. “Give this to Jack. From Old Man Silver.” Being the helpful soul that I am, I went back to Jack’s place straight away.
He stared at the envelope’s content, a scrap of paper covered in writing, for a very long time, not saying anything. I gave him a nudge and he handed it to me.
Red Asstard:
Since you’ve done such a fine job so far, I’m going to let you take a break from work. Say hello to your friends for me, and watch out for my relatives!
-Silverberg
A long, awkward silence. “So…what do you think he’s up to?” I ventured to ask. We were all thinking it (Mina was there, too), after all. Jack’s response was to narrow his eyes at the middle distance. Mina looked between the two of us with one of her blank expressions.
“I think Silverberg wants Jack to die,” she said flatly.
“Could be,” I agreed, cackling wildly for effect. Jack punched me in the throat.
“I’m going for a walk,” he muttered as he slumped out of the apartment, Mina following quietly behind. That girl’s just like a dog in some ways. I waited until I was sure they were long gone, then made my way home.
Alone in my own apartment some distance away, I took off my crown (not really a crown, that’s just what everyone calls it) and gloves and set them on the table next to my bed. The rest of my attire ended up on the floor, until I was standing there in what passed for boxer shorts in Hell. My clothes are heavy—losing all of that weight is a huge relief. I’d been asked before why I bothered to wear so much, especially the crown, and I honestly can’t remember. If that’s not a sufficient answer, then I wear it all because that’s what I had on when I caught my first glimpse of the Valley.
But that aside, I sprawled on the floor, laughing my head off. What have I gotten myself into? Jester, old boy, you’ve gone and made another mistake. I’m telling you, it’s true.
“If it’s a mistake then we’ll know soon enough, and either way I’d rather go to Hell for doing something for the greater good than go back to Earth for running errands for the Big Guy,” I responded to thoughts out loud.
Maybe I’m just making things worse. Maybe I’ll never get to go back. Maybe I’m completely wrong about everything.
All I can do is keep laughing for no reason.
****************************************************************************
RED JACK
EPISODE NINE: “THROWAWAY VILLAINS”
[This installment is from the perspective of Jack.]
A nightmare woke me up. Keeping my eyes closed, out of curiosity I reached out a hand and felt around next to me. Sure enough, there was Mina. Don’t get any ideas, now. For some reason Mina had been spending the night a lot lately, and insisted on being in the bed with me. I have it narrowed down to two theories, one being that it’s for either her or my safety, and the other being that she’s infatuated with me. Mina won’t talk about it, though. Not that I mind, I’m just kind of curious.
It was still dark out, which meant the streets were filled with freaks and I wanted to stay inside. If you think where you live is weird when the sun goes down, trying visiting the Valley sometime.
I untangled myself from the sheets and walked to the window, finding pants on the way. The moon was full, just like every night since I’d arrived, and red like blood. Highly appropriate, but very unsettling. I stood there and watched the moon move across the sky, and eventually the sun came up. There was a thud behind me—Mina had fallen out of the bed. Her face peeked over the edge, blank and intense at the same time. “The sun is up,” she noted. I grunted my agreement.
While I was in the bathroom grooming myself as much as was reasonable for the Valley, there was a knock at the door. Mina appeared next to me brandishing a rolled-up piece of parchment, which I took from her and unfurled on the counter.
Jack:
I know I said there wouldn’t be any more orders, but this is kind of important and you’re the best man for the job. It looks like some Lost Souls somehow got it into their heads to open a gateway from the Valley to Earth. It’s happened before, so the Big Guy’s worried. I’ve included a map to the location. Clear them out. Take your friends with you just in case.
-Silverberg
“That b*****d,” I growled. “I should have expected this.” But since I didn’t have anything better to do, I dressed and armed myself and went to find Jester. Mina walked as close to me as she could without making contact. With anybody else it would have been obvious that they had a thing for me, but one could never be sure with Mina.
We found Jester entering the building as we were leaving. “I was just coming to get you two for the morning rounds,” he informed us cheerfully. “What’s up?” I thrust the parchment at him and kept walking.
The Trash Heap was our destination. It seems that a lot of renegades like to hang out there. Garbage is attracted to garbage, I guess. Silverberg’s map took us around a lot of dangerous spots, places permeated with toxic fumes and things like that. Eventually we came to a large clearing with a ritual circle crudely painted on the ground in white. No cultists anywhere. I raised an eyebrow at Jester and Mina, but they both merely shrugged. “Come on out!” I hollered. “There are other things I need to do today, so let’s get this over with!” A blatant lie.
Several heaps of garbage erupted, scattering refuse everywhere. The man before us wore a fine silk shirt and puffy pantaloons—Acuzio. The other three I didn’t recognize. One was about my size, and wore a highly reflective helmet to match the armor on his chest, arms, and legs. The second was a strikingly beautiful woman with birdlike facial features, hair like feathers, and small bird wings sprouting from her wrists and ankles. The third one was a centaur, or something very similar, with impossibly huge muscles and a pair of enormous blades strapped to his barrel.
“Hello there, kids,” Acuzio sneered. “What brings you out this way today?”
“Just following orders,” I replied with as much venom as I could manage. “And you?”
Acuzio made a sweeping gesture with one hand to indicate the three of us—I cringed reflexively. “When I heard that you all were going to be in the Trash Heap today, I just couldn’t resist bringing my friends so that I could show you to them. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Well crap,” Jester said. “How are we supposed to get out of this one?” Amazing how he could keep smiling even when faced with certain death.
“Do you mind sparring a bit?” Acuzio asked innocently. “Of course not. Let’s get started, then!”
I was running at him before he was even done talking, leaping over the other three to get to him. Somebody grabbed me from behind and I found myself being drug across the ground by my leg. When my assailant finally dropped me, I had one thought on my mind, and I’ll admit that it involved my knife.
*****
I had tried to get to Acuzio, but ended up in another part of the Trash Heap facing the guy with the reflective armor. He bowed slightly, a formality I didn’t return. “My name is Jayvyn, if you want to know,” my opponent said. I retrieved my knife from my sleeve and crouched into my usual starting stance. Jayvyn looked at me for a moment—and disappeared. I spun in a full circle to see where he’d gone, but he was nowhere in sight.
An armored foot landed between my shoulders, sending me stumbling forward. Jayvyn stood with his hands on his hips as I whirled around and charged him, leaping into the air. He vanished again before I hit and came at me from the side with a haymaker to the temple. My head reeled as I put my back to a mound of wet rags. So this was the sort of Demon that Acuzio had under his command. I was screwed.
Jayvyn appeared in front of me and launched his fist as me again, forcing my block aside and scoring a hit to my solar plexus. As I doubled over and gasped for air he kneed he in the face and my head snapped back into just the right position for a kick to the forehead. I was reminded of when I tried to fight Hammer, only this time Jester couldn’t show up at the last moment and pull the other guy off of me. What a difference there was between us…The fact that he had supernatural powers was enough of an edge on its own, but add in the strength of his attacks and I was finished unless I thought of something fast.
More blows, driving me further and further into the pile of rags. One final attack blasted me through the back of the pile. I bounced across the ground for several more yards, fighting to stay conscious. He appeared above me, fist drawn back for a killing blow. I reflexively thrust out with my knife and as he let fly with his punch the combined force of our attacks drove my knife through his armor and hilt-deep into his fist. Jayvyn jumped back, green blood trickling onto the ground, and ripped my knife free. My spirits bolstered, I staggered to my feet and ran forward to deliver a sweeping kick to Jayvyn’s legs that sent him dirtward. I quickly retrieved my knife and swung it down at my fallen enemy’s head, intending to incapacitate him long enough to carve out his heart, but he was gone again before I connected. Powerful arms wrapped around me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. It was hard to breathe.
“So this is the infamous Red Jack,” Jayvyn sneered as he tightened his grip. “The most dangerous mortal in a century? That means nothing down here. I doubt you’d even last this long against the original.” Tighter. I could feel my ribs starting to give. “I don’t know what Old Man Silver sees in you.” Now I couldn’t breathe. “I wouldn’t even bother to cut your heart out if the Sharp hadn’t told me to.” Crack. That was far enough.
I dropped my head forward as far as I could, then brought it back up into Jayvyn’s face. Slamming my skull into a metal faceplate really hurt, but it convinced Jayvyn to let go. I turned and let him have a straight jab to the throat, shouting, “At least I didn’t punch a knife!” This time I connected and caused him to trip over his own feet. I scooped my knife off the ground and made to pounce—he was gone again.
A bright flash of light, making me clutch at my eyes to keep from being blinded. Jayvyn struck at me from every side, and every time I tried to open my eyes there was another flash and I had a fist or foot in my face. I’d sparred with Jester before, but his light was nothing like this. When Jester’s light flared it was more like a concentrated explosion. This guy was just throwing out miniature suns. His light itself wasn’t harmful, but Jayvyn hit like a truck. It was only the enhancing properties of the Valley that had kept me on my feet even this long.
Crunch. There went some of my ribs. How had I wound up on the ground? Another searing flash; I rolled over to get my face to the ground. Jayvyn stomped on my exposed back, pressing me against the layer of filth that covered the dirt. “This is a nice knife you have,” he declared, putting his foot on my back to hold me down. “Looks sharp enough to cut out your heart from behind.” That did it. Nobody uses Red Jack’s knife on Red Jack.
I have been told that I laugh when I get angry. Somehow I’ve always missed that, but several people have told me that they avoid making me mad because my laughter makes them uneasy. Jayvyn must have suffered from this same affliction, as about the time my blood started boiling he took his foot off of me and stepped away. “W-what’s wrong with you?” he stammered. A reaction I’ve received before when trying to kill somebody.
“You have my knife,” I said without turning around.
Then I remember nothing for some time after that. When I finally started paying attention again, I had my knife in my hand and green blood all over me. Jayvyn was cowering against a gigantic stack of discarded porn magazines several yards away, holes in his armor oozing thick green muck. Taking a step towards him, I discovered that my right leg had been shattered at some point. No matter. I couldn’t cut out Jayvyn’s heart with my foot, after all.
Jayvyn got a twisted expression on his face then, like he was trying to panic, get angry, and laugh all at the same time. “I don’t just make light, you know! I can take it away, too!” he hissed, and then everything went dark. Complete, impenetrable darkness.
I stopped moving, staring at where Jayvyn was a moment ago. My legs flew out from under me and what felt like a fist plowed into my chest and drove me into the ground. A barrage of kicks then ensued, but the attacks were weaker now, like Jayvyn wasn’t as sure of himself anymore. Understandable, really. My knife slashed through the air in front of me several times before I was satisfied that my opponent had backed off and I got once again to my feet. “You know,” I said casually, “this would end a lot faster if we just hit each other until one of us died. All of this light crap is taking too long.” As if in response, light flared up in front of me and I almost went down again from the literally blinding pain.
“If you just let me cut out your heart we would have already stopped!” Jayvyn hollered from somewhere to my right. “I don’t even need the heart. Your head would work, too.”
“That’s demented,” I said as calmly as I could. “And anyway, you didn’t bring a knife. How were you going to do it?”
“I was just going to rip it out,” he told me, the slightest hint of annoyance in his voice. Now he was off behind me. Must be getting ready to knock me on my face.
Wait, there was something I was missing. I could feel it. No…not feel it. I could hear it. That was the answer. People are always saying that your hearing gets better when you go blind, so it shouldn’t be that hard. I closed my eyes, redundant as it was, and strained to hear movement. Since Jayvyn was wearing that armor I wouldn’t have to try that hard. And there it was, the quiet scraping of metal against dirt as Jayvyn tried to sneak up behind me. He could probably see in the dark, but it wouldn’t matter once I attacked.
The sound stopped just behind me. Metal scraped against metal—he was probably pulling back for a haymaker or sweep. I heard a louder scrape, which was probably the attack coming forward, and leapt to the side, thrusting as hard as I could where I thought Jayvyn was. My knife met resistance. A hit! Jayvyn yelped and I felt a tug on my knife that meant he must be trying to pull back. I stepped forward and flung out a leg, which connected with something hard and clangy. A thud as Jayvyn hit the ground, and then the darkness dissipated.
There lay my enemy, one hand covering his face and the other over where his heart must be. “Are you done now?” I asked rhetorically before yanking my knife free and stabbing it through the hand Jayvyn was covering his heart with. He screamed and would have rolled away if I hadn’t put my foot on his head. A minute later I was holding a pulsing, black heart in my hand. Jayvyn was begging me not to destroy it, I think. I wasn’t really listening as I threw it to the ground and stomped it for all I was worth, after which Jayvyn stopped making noise.
But where to now? I had to find Jester and Mina. To that end, I picked a random direction and ran.
I rounded a corner into a clearing. Jester and Mina weren’t there, but Acuzio was. He took one look at me and sighed heavily, holding out a hand. “Come on, then.”
****************************************************************************
RED JACK
EPISODE TEN: “FOOL’S ERRAND”
[This installment is from the perspective of Jester.]
When I saw Jack charge at Acuzio I was all set to follow him. The other three were only lackeys, so what did they matter? No, maybe that’s unfair. Since Acuzio brought them with him to fight us they must have been able to hold their own. The one in armor grabbed Jack and hauled him away, and Mina immediately went for the centaur, so that left me with the bird-girl. We exchanged a brief glance—did she look bored?
Well, before anything could happen we’d need to get away from Acuzio. Couldn’t have him interfering. I put my hands to the ground and fired off a blast that lifted me into the air and carried me over the nearest trash barrier. Let her follow me if she could. I wasn’t going to fight if I didn’t need to. Another blast carried me further away, and as I passed below the top of the next ridge I saw her. She was flying, but not like me. This was real flight. So that was it. She was an energy-manipulator, like me.
Touching down, I waited for her to catch up and take a position some distance away from me. I gave her my warmest smile and bowed low. “Jester, at your service,” I said.
“Yes, Acuzio already told me,” she responded tonelessly. “Not that it matters, but I’m Avel.” Boredom? An understatement. I doubt she could have cared less if she’d tried.
However, it always pays to be a gentleman. “Of course it matters,” I told her. “If we’re going to fight, I would prefer to have the name of my opponent. Makes it all less impersonal.” On went the charm.
“Is that so?” she asked absentmindedly. “That’s your prerogative, I guess.” Apparently my charm didn’t work on her. “Anyway, I’m supposed to kill you. Should we get started?”
“Those wings of yours. Do they do something or are they just there to look good?” Yes, I was stalling. You can’t blame me.
Avel was staring through me now, she was so apathetic. “How long are you going to keep stalling?” she inquired.
I shrugged. “I guess I’m done. We can start whenever you’re ready.”
A halfhearted smile. “Wonderful.” She rose into the air and extended her arms. Wind exploded around me, throwing up dirt and bits of garbage that hadn’t become attached to their piles yet. I noticed that I was sliding backwards little by little.
“That’s an interesting power you’ve got there,” I called out to her over the maelstrom. I squatted and blasted off against the wind, trying to get close enough to do some real damage. The faster I ended this the better. Unfortunately, the wind was blowing so strongly that I couldn’t get any further than a few yards at a time before I was pushed back to where I started. Avel held her position and watched me disinterestedly the whole time, never relenting but also never pushing harder.
Well, Jester knows when to change tactics. I launched into the air and came down behind the nearest sturdy pile. The winds died abruptly and Avel called out, “What are you doing? Are you hiding?”
“You don’t seem to be enjoying this,” I prodded.
“Should I be?” she asked by way of reply.
I ventured out from behind my barrier. “Since you’re a Demon, I assumed that this sort of thing was fun for you.”
She frowned at me. “Why would this be fun? I have other things I’d rather be doing than killing Lost Souls for Acuzio.”
Something occurred to me. “Speaking of which, why isn’t Acuzio killing us himself? He doesn’t need you three to do it for him.”
An almost imperceptible smile. I was getting to her. “Acuzio has been ordered by our superiors to refrain from attacking you. That’s why he brought me and the other two.”
“And the three of you are doing it because Acuzio told you to?”
Avel gestured back in the direction we’d come from. “He’s our superior. Our commanding officer... or something. If we don’t do as we’re told, bad things happen.” That shook me a little. A Demon afraid of consequences? Scary. “Anyway,” she said, cracking her neck and shaking out her arms, “I’m going to kill you now.” Before I could react she had lifted off the ground and was rocketing towards me so fast I almost couldn’t see her moving. I twisted to the side just in time to avoid being hit head-on.
Pain shot through my torso and blood erupted from wounds that appeared down my front. What had happened? I thought I had gotten out of the way. Avel turned and came at me again, her expression once again one of complete and utter boredom. Come on, Jester! Do something! I let off a blast as she came within striking distance, throwing her back, but she recovered quickly and continued her charge. This time she slammed squarely into my chest with her head. I flew back and bounced across the ground, the wind knocked out of me, a trail of crimson following behind.
“Oh, you got blood in my hair,” Avel commented, feeling the top of her head.
I lay there on my back, staring up at the dull gray sky. “My apologies,” I said as sincerely as I could. Wait, her hair? That has to be it. “Your hair,” I continued, vocalizing my thoughts. “Can it cut flesh?”
She came over and squatted down next to me. “Any feather that I hold becomes a blade,” she told me. “That’s the power I was created with. My hair is actually very soft feathers.” Holding up her wrist so that I could see the wings extending from it, she followed my gaze up to the sky. “These are my weapons. Can I get your heart now, or do you want to keep going?” Abrupt.
Keep smiling, Jester. “I’d like to continue if you don’t mind,” I said. She stepped back and allowed me to rise.
Apparently it was Avel’s turn to question me. “Why do you smile so much?” she asked me with what could have been either genuine interest or idle curiosity.
I widened the grin and secure my gloves. “The way I see it,” I started with the best “cheerful” I could do, “just because I’m almost in Hell is no reason to give up being happy. Once I get there is another story, but if I kill you that won’t happen. Somebody has to have a good time around here.”
I’m not sure if Avel was satisfied with that answer, because she gave no indication one way or the other, merely nodding and saying, “I see.” Then she flew at me again. I launched over her head as she came close, and let fly with a series of smaller projectile explosions at Avel’s back. White light flooded the vicinity. I heard Avel land heavily somewhere in front of me. A hit.
The haze cleared and I saw her clutching at her right shoulder, which was oozing blood in a deep, earthy brown. I myself was sporting an apron of scarlet that clashed with my boots and stung something awful, but my main concern just then was getting out of there alive.
“You hit me,” Avel commented.
I spread my hands in a “what of it?” sort of gesture. “Is that a problem? I thought the idea here was to kill each other.”
Another frown. I’m so good at this. “I wasn’t expecting anything special from you. The way Acuzio talked about you, I thought you were just like any other Lost Soul.”
Time to end it. “‘Just like any other Lost Soul,’ you say? My friends are Hell’s White Maiden, Red Jack, and the Sledgehammer. If they’re what you mean by ‘any other Lost Soul,’ then I guess I am.” Nothing too harsh. Just enough to throw her off-balance. That’ll do. “You know, you’re a good-looking Demon. Want to call this off and go somewhere else?”
She froze, eyes wide. A moment later I was above her, both hands pointed downward for the biggest blast I could manage. Acuzio used to say that my two-handed explosions were like stars going supernova. I don’t know if they’re that impressive, but they get the job done. The force of the ball of energy I was forcing down on Avel hollowed out a near-perfect half-sphere in the ground, lifted me several score yards in the air, and still had enough left over to crush my opponent into the dirt.
As usual, something was wrong. The dust cleared, and for some reason Avel was not, as I had expected, in a broken heap at the bottom of my crater. Expecting the worst, I turned my head skyward and saw that she was, indeed, hovering just above me, about to return my sentiments. Avel plowed into me, driving me into my own crater. I felt things breaking—couldn’t tell what—and realized that this was probably the end.
Somebody was shouting, far enough away that I couldn’t make out the words. Or maybe it was just that I was too battered after Avel’s last attack to comprehend. It sounded like Jack. Of course. That’s the answer.
Avel stood over me, preening her wrist feathers in preparation to finish me off. I needed to think, but that was hard what with the crushed abdomen and all. The Jester charm would have to suffice until I could buy more time. “Do it,” I whispered. “Do it. End it. Don’t waste any more time.” Her face contorted a little—confusion. An obvious mental shrug, and then she squatted down and placed one of the blades against my chest.
“If you don’t want to fight any more,” she muttered.
What’s the answer? Jack’s the answer. Red Jack. That guy keeps attacking nonstop, even if it looks like he’s about to lose. I don’t normally agree with that sort of tactic, but it has its place, and that place is in situations like now, where nothing else works. I leveled a smirk at Avel just before she started cutting, which made her stop and pull back slightly. “What?” she asked.
I kept smirking, sliding my hands slightly out to either side and putting my palms against the ground. “Nothing,” I said. “I’ve just had an idea.”
Concentrate energy into the hands and release—boom. The blast lifted us both off the ground, and in the following moment of confusion I let fly with another two-hander that sent me and Avel flying in opposite directions. I landed easily on my feet, but Avel wasn’t so lucky. Or maybe she was trying to use that pile of filth to stop herself. Either way, the look she gave me when she stood back up was as angry as my stupid grin was manic. I had finally broken her. No time to think; Avel lifted off and came at me even faster than before.
There is one final trick that I know. I prefer not to use it because I’m not very good at it, but this was an emergency. Avel rocketed towards me, now apparently intent on killing me whether I was done fighting or not. I couldn’t get out of the way. This worked in my favor now, because I didn’t want to. I jumped straight up—Avel changed direction slightly to compensate. Just before we came together, I put out a foot so that Avel couldn’t avoid colliding with it.
She crashed against me and we both hurtled over the ground. The impact crushed everything in my leg. Fighting to ignore the pain, I leaned forward and took hold of Avel’s shoulders, and braced my still-good leg against her chest. It was like everything stopped for a moment when the realization of what I was about to do dawned on Avel. The expression that replaced rage on her face was priceless. I actually laughed out loud as I channeled the energy into my feet and tightened my grip on the bird-lady’s shoulders. She struggled to break free, dropping out of the air and bringing us both to the ground.
“Okay, now I’m done,” I whispered to her with an appropriate chortle, and released all of the energy stored in my four limbs.
*****
It was time to find the other two. Knowing Jack, he’d go straight to Acuzio when he finished with his opponent (assuming that Jack and Mina were in positions similar to my own). I wiped the blood off my front, picked out some feathers from my hair, and headed back where I’d come from. Behind me lay a smoking crater with what, to any casual observer, looked like the remains of a burnt turkey.
I’m still the best. Yessir, I am.
****************************************************************************
RED JACK
EPISODE ELEVEN: “A DEMON AND A SHE-DEVIL”
[This installment is from the perspective of Mina. Difficult.]
I am Hell’s White Maiden. At least, that is what the Demons and other Lost Souls call me. I am a Hunter of Lost Souls, or rather was until recently. Before I met those two. Perhaps I was already aware of it, but they made me realize that what I was doing was wrong. Jester used to serve the same function, he told me. Now he has reformed and befriended me—one of the only two to do so since I arrived in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. And then there is Red Jack. He was the first one to ever defeat me since I started my work as a Hunter. My reasons for following him after that are my own. It is not important why I do it, only that I do, for the time being at least, consider myself to be his ally and he mine. Does that make sense?
The three of us are fighting a futile battle. There is no possible way that we can win against the entirety of Hell. Not that it will come to that; Hell will give up eventually. My point, though, is that they will wear us down until we can no longer defend ourselves, and then we will be sent below. There is no coming back from below for Lost Souls. However: I have chosen to fight beside the other two until Hell defeats us. Again, I will not voice my reasons. All that matters is that I am fighting.
I knew even before we entered the Trash Heap that something was wrong, but I did not say anything because I knew that Red Jack and Jester would go there even if they suspected something. It did not surprise me when Acuzio the Sharp arrived with his underlings, intent on sending us below. The tauric Demon intrigued me because his weapons were the same as mine, although I wielded only one. I have heard my weapon called a “cleaver” in the past, but I simply call it a “weapon.” Distinction between weapons of a similar type means that there will be variations in technique, and I would prefer not to restrict myself to only one or two classifications of technique. I am no expert where weapons are concerned. When I arrived in the Valley I found that I was already exceptionally skilled with my weapon, but had and still have no memories of where or when I acquired such abilities.
That aside, myself and the tauric Demon broke off from the rest of the group and smashed our way through several barriers before we found a place that was mutually agreeable. An open space with no obstacles. The removal of obstacles would make it a battle of pure skill with the weapon, rather than one of cleverness or exploitation.
“I am Hippolyte, master of the two-cleaver style,” my opponent announced.
“If you need a name for me, I am Mina,” I replied, “and it does not matter to me what ‘style’ you claim to be a master of.”
He laughed out loud at that. “You have it wrong. Not a master. The master. There are no other masters of this school of combat in all of Hell!” A braggart and a blowhard at best, an overconfident and self-absorbed fanatic at the worst. There is a distinction.
“If you insist,” I said, and assumed an appropriate opening stance with my weapon held vertically in front of me. “Will you fight, or continue talking?” Hippolyte’s response was to take hold of the weapons slung over his back and swing them forward, slamming them into the ground so that the entire clearing shook. They appeared to be quite heavy. That could be problematic.
“Are you ready?” he asked. I gave a short nod and Hippolyte rushed forward, dragging his weapons along the ground. Initially I was unimpressed, because all he was doing was damaging his weapons, but when he swung them upward (which also did not catch me entirely by surprise) Hippolyte made it very clear that it did not matter how much he dulled his “cleavers” as long as they connected.
It is somewhat disconcerting to be lifted off the ground by a blow like that. Being that the Valley has made me stronger than I believed possible in life, I simply moved my weapon to block Hippolyte’s attack. The next thing I knew, I was sailing through the air…upside down? It’s very possible. He did not even give me enough time to land before attacking from above and driving me into the ground.
Did it hurt? Not really. After enough time in the Valley you stop noticing things like that. It takes a very intense sort of pain to make a veteran like myself take notice. Regardless, I knew that several of my ribs and organs had been crushed by Hippolyte’s second attack. This told me everything that I needed to know. First, that Hippolyte was, as he appeared, at least twice as strong as I was. Secondly, that he was not a skillful fighter. All of his potency came from the power behind his attacks, but there was no finesse to it. I already had my strategy by the time I was lurching out of the way of another attack.
Hippolyte seemed somehow surprised that I was still moving. He should have known better. Forcing myself to run, I dashed (as much as I could dash with a crushed pelvis) around to his left side and delivered a strike that split him open. Without so much as a grunt my opponent wheeled around to face me, swinging his left cleaver low along the ground as his right passed just above it. This might have worked against Red Jack or Jester, but I have been doing this for much longer than either of them if I am not mistaken. I threw myself forward and between the two blades, striking upward at Hippolyte’s right arm.
Amazingly, the arm came completely off and crashed to the ground, borne down by the weight of the enormous cleaver. Ah, so that was it: Hippolyte was strong, but neither coordinated nor sturdy. It is truly a wonder that he had survived long enough to become one of Acuzio’s underlings.
He roared and swung his remaining weapon diagonally downward. It was a killing stroke, and should have been reserved for after he had knocked me down again, but this was what I was counting on. The force of the attack was such that I could simply step backward and Hippolyte would be unable to adjust before the movement was completed. This I did, and when the cleaver hove into the dirt, I hopped onto its back and carved off Hippolyte’s remaining arm. My perch gone, I retreated to a safe distance three or four yards away.
“This can’t be possible,” Hippolyte muttered, his face contorted in rage.
“Obviously it is,” I said. Since there was no further need for discourse, I leapt forward and swung my weapon in an arc. Hippolyte’s head detached itself from his shoulders, and landed some distance away—I did not see where.
Hippolyte’s heart a mere stain on the ground a moment later, I proceeded back the way I had come, through the holes in the ridges formed by the Trash Heap’s contents. If Acuzio was not killed, he would return later with additional forces, most likely stronger than those he had brought today. That could not be allowed.
****************************************************************************
RED JACK
EPISODE TWELVE: “INFERNAL INTERVENTION”
[Mina]
There was something wrong. I opened my eyes and stared upward into the darkness above my bed. The even deeper shadows just to my left meant that somebody was standing over me. He began to lean in, there was the quietest hiss of a metal blade sliding out of a cloth sheath—I never gave him the time to use it, thrusting upward with my own knife that I kept under my pillow. Shoving the warm corpse away, I silently slipped out of bed and crept to the window, drawing back the light-blocking curtain to let in the moon. In the half-light, I could see that my would-be killer was a peasant, dressed in rags, the knife he had intended to end me with rusted and corroded. A waste of life.
A creak as the door opened inward. The man had just enough time to see his friend lying dead on the floor before I hurled my knife between his eyes. I retrieved my sword, a heavy thing by all accounts, from underneath the bed and exited my shack. There had to be more.
Ezekiel appeared from a copse of trees a few yards away. He called out to me and I ran to him, casting glances around at the too-deep shadows. Almost too late I saw the others waiting behind him in the undergrowth, and swept my blade through his neck before he could order them forward. That was somewhat disconcerting, having to end a friend’s life over something as trivial as an assassination. But come they did, and I cut them down one after another.
Another man was shouting my name. My brother, it sounded like. Finishing the last of the group, I turned just in time to receive his spear in my chest. “Well, so be it,” I said as I sank to the ground. “At last the butcher dies.” His response was kicking me in the nose. Ever the brother, him.
[Jester]
“Come again, sire?”
“Play us a tune, man!”
“I regret, sire, that I am no musician.”
“Then sing it, man!”
“Aye, sire. As you would have it.” I gave him a drinking song, something that he could easily understand. The king was not an intelligent man by any means, but he gave a starving entertainer a roof over his head and a full stomach. I had done without both for quite some time, and it was good to make their acquaintances again. Beggars can’t be choosers—unless they happen to be talented.
After another hour or so of bawdy innuendo set to music, the oaf finally allowed me to rest and whet my windpipe. When he fell to the floor, stupidly drunk and barely sentient (was he ever?) I slipped out the back.
To satisfy my employer’s drunken demands, I had donned a most shameful costume, adding to the iron headpiece I wore whatever ridiculous clothing I could find—a long coat with a white cross on the back that made a perfect target for table scraps lobbed by intoxicated aristocrats, a pair of white gloves that I stole from His Majesty’s own wardrobe (he never even noticed, the dullard), and two brilliantly red boots that I was fortunate to find in a ditch. Interestingly enough, this attire not only amused the king, but had the fortunate side effect of making the castle’s maids more attracted to me for whatever reason. My hair, white as an albino’s since the day I was born, already intrigued those that didn’t think me to be a demon, and the asinine uniform made the enchantment complete.
So, as usual, I left the drunkards to their work and stalked the halls of the castle, waiting for prey to wander by. I found her quickly enough, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years of age, with long brown hair and enormous eyes to match. She greeted me with an adorable backwater accent, and I imitated her sentiments in return, eliciting a disgusting giggle. I hinted that it would be in her best interests to arrive at my chambers sometime in the night and left her without another word, throwing back a grin that would unnerve the Pope himself.
But before I could give the girl her dues, there was something else I needed to take care of. The idea had come to me in a dream, and I had gone through all the trouble of setting it up perfectly. Nothing would stop me now.
The king and all of the assorted nobles staying in the castle that night were in bed, having been dragged there by the staff kept on hand specifically for such a purpose. As nonchalantly as possible, I lowered myself down the outside of the castle to the king’s window. There was a small puddle on the windowsill, ignored because the king’s chronic drinking did not confine itself to the dining table. A lit f*****t dropped onto the stuff caused it to burst into flames, and I climbed back up to the window above. In a very brief period of time, every last one of those wine-soaked buffoons would be cooking like the fat pigs they were. All I had to do was return to my chambers and do what I needed to with the girl until the fire was announced.
She came in just after I had flung the rope down into the moat. The alarm would be going up any minute, so I started doing what needed to be done until the screams reached us. Somebody was pounding on the door—I threw on my usual attire and, leaving the girl where I could get to her should the need arise, threw open the portal to see who was there.
One of the guards stood in the corridor, beckoning me to come with him. “Something’s happened!” he shouted. “His Majesty and his guests are burning alive down below! We have to do something!” I hid my glee quite well.
Then something happened that I hadn’t accounted for. The guard leaned slightly to his right, my left, to see into the room. Quite suddenly, with a cry of, “That’s my daughter, you whoreson b*****d!” I was propelled across the room and out (or rather, through) the window. My last thoughts as I plummeted towards the small outcropping of land on the castle side of the moat were, “I hope that girl comes out of this all right,” and, “I hope this thing on my head protects me.”
[Jack]
She screamed, so I hit her in the head, and she screamed some more, so I hit her harder. Then she shut up, and I cut her open from sternum to waist to let her viscera air out a bit. One more scream, silenced by a final blow to the jaw, and I let her sag to the floor.
Sirens. Damn. It looks like somebody heard that. Oh well, not like it matters. They won’t catch Red Jack. I leapt out of the window onto the balcony a story below, then hopped the railing and landed hard on the street. Footsteps sounded from somewhere off to my left, so I turned to the right and ran as fast as I could. Somebody, an old man I think, stepped out of a doorway in front of me—and promptly fell to the ground as I lashed out, forgetting I was still holding my knife.
Through the front window of a bookshop, kick open the door labeled “Staff Only” and haul a** up the stairs to the second floor. Throw open another window, leap across the small gap to the next window over (which is conveniently open), silence the woman there, out the front door, and down the stairs to the street.
More sirens came from the right and way down the street to the left I could see the other pursuers, so straight ahead was the only way to go.
One of them appeared, seemingly from nowhere, in the alleyway I entered. “Jonathan Halyard, you are under arrest on numerous charges of homicide!” He was brandishing a gun at me, but that didn’t do him a lot of good once I kicked it out of his hands and let him have it in the temple with my knife. I grabbed the gun as I trotted away, just in case it proved useful. Five minutes later I’d run out of ammunition and dropped my knife. Taking on all of the police in the area without a weapon wasn’t something I planned to do.
I rounded a corner, and ran into the barrel of a very large scattergun, held by a completely bald, obese Italian in a wife-beater (why do they call them that, anyway?) and sweatpants. Great, fantastic, and sucks for me in general. I didn’t even have time to react, except to suddenly regret anything I’d ever done in my life to date.
*****
I saw Acuzio up ahead and jogged the rest of the way to the clearing, wiping Jayvyn’s blood off my knife on my jacket. Movement in the corners of my eyes turned out to be Jester and Mina. Jester looked pretty beaten up; it was hard to tell what kind of condition Mina was in. They both had blood on them, though.
Acuzio looked angry. But that’s an understatement. He was furious beyond description. That might have been the reason there were knives oozing from every opening of his clothing. Not arrowheads. Actual knives. I guess he wasn’t messing around any more.
We stood about twenty feet from each other, as close to Acuzio as we dared to get. “Have fun, you two?” Jester asked innocently. Mina and I grunted affirmation.
“How in all the Nine Hells did you do it?” Acuzio screamed at us. “How did you kill all three of my lieutenants?” Apparently he was blunt when he was that angry.
“Attrition,” I said flatly. “That’s how all the best heroes win, didn’t you know?” Bad idea. Knives of a hundred different varieties tore flesh from bone and asphalt from…other asphalt. We staggered back clumsily, shielding our faces.
“Heroes?” Jester called out as he dove for cover. “I wouldn’t say we’re heroes. Anti-heroes, maybe.”
“Fine, anti-heroes,” I returned. The banter seemed to be making Acuzio more and more angry, so it was in our best interests to keep it up as long as possible.
Then, quite suddenly, he appeared at my shoulder brandishing a wicked saber. “Orders be damned,” he growled, “and you as well!” I parried his attacks to the best of my ability, but he was a much better fighter than I was, and stronger to boot. If Mina hadn’t come leaping down from the roof of the building I was hiding behind a moment before, I probably would have died there and then. She brought her cleaver down on Acuzio’s head—or would have, if he hadn’t brought his other hand up and produced another saber to block the attack.
But even Acuzio only had two hands, so when Jester came in from the side, kicking at Acuzio’s ribs, the Demon couldn’t respond fast enough and ended up stumbling away with a nasty burn. “I will send you all to Hell,” he kept muttering. “You will all suffer.” Typical villain talk. I’d said it myself to a number of hapless whores in my day.
This Demon wasn’t kidding, as it turned out. Before he had been throwing a solid wall of knives at us. Since that hadn’t done the trick, he upped the ante to swords. Pain is being stabbed in the head with a thrown claymore.
I almost blacked out, but Mina jerked the aggressor out of my skull before that happened. I raised my head enough to see that Jester was pinned to a wall with a katana through his chest, struggling to pull free. Acuzio turned and advanced on me, raising his sabers for a killing stroke.
Silverberg walked calmly around me and Mina, and came to stand between us and Acuzio. “What are you doing?” he asked with the air of a Mafioso.
“With all due respect, Silverberg, get out of my way.”
“I’m sorry, Acuzio, but the Boss would like to have a word with you regarding your recent activities. Specifically, the use of your lieutenants for pointless personal vendettas and your apparent disregard for your own orders.” He shifted his grip on his cane slightly, but other than that I never saw him move. Acuzio just sort of split open along the front and sank into the ground. He didn’t even make a sound.
Silverberg stared at where Acuzio had been for a long while before he turned to me. “Well, asstard, don’t worry too much. All of Hell isn’t out to get you. Acuzio and his people were acting alone.”
“It’s good to know that you care, I guess,” I said, not quite believing what had just happened.
“I don’t,” Silverberg said with a glower. “That dumbass went against his orders, and it’s my job to make sure that Demons in the Valley who don’t follow orders go Down Below. You just happened to be the catalyst.”
“Actually, I think I feel better knowing that you don’t care.”
“Whatever. Shut up and listen.” He made sure I was shutting up and listening before speaking again. “I’ve decided that, as my personal kill-monkey, you’re still useful. You’re back on the job starting tomorrow. This once, and this once only, I will allow you to ask questions. Any questions?”
“What about the Lost Souls who were trying to open that portal or whatever? Should I still go hunt them down?”
Narrowed eyes from Silverberg. “Acuzio made that whole thing up, asstard…didn’t you know?”
“Screw you, Silverberg.”
********************************************************
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