Jerman stood at the entrance of the Shack, staring both Elias and Harper deep in their eyes. He took a step forward, fixing his hat.
"Harper Maplewood. It's been a long time since I saw a Vitch. One that didn't have its organs leaking out of their bellies or had their asses burnt to crisp, that is."
Harper seemed eerily annoyed with the comment. She also took a step forward, leaving Elias behind and securing a distance of mere two meters against Jerman.
"It also has been a while since I saw a guy pushing his fifties with no wife or kids. You must be unlovable, huh, gramps?"
Jerman laughed at the taunt, putting his badge back in his pocket.
"You don't wanna do this, kid."
Harper tried to match Jerman's height, inclining herself towards him.
"And what if I did?"
Elias tried to intervene, getting in front of the two, pushing them away from each other with his forearms.
"H-Hey! What's going on? Why are you fighting?!"
Both Harper and Jerman started pushing Elias's arms. As they did, Jerman analyzed the caprine skull poking out of Elias.
"Hey, Harper. Does anyone know you have a Burden in this shithole? Not any Burden, too…A Throneless one."
Harper overpowered Elias, pushing him to the side, making him hit his back against the wall. He crumbled due to the impact, growling in sharp pain while laying down on the ground. Harper leaped against Jerman, spinning her body mid-air, delivering a powerful and precise roundhouse kick on the height of his ribs. Although Jerman was clearly way stronger and taller, the kick was executed with such technique and accumulated force that the detective went flying two meters back, being kicked out through the glass door of the Shack, breaking it against his back.
"Stop saying things I already know. If you have a problem with it, you can come and get some more of the one you just got."
Harper taunted, smiling, as if she was proud of herself. Jerman painfully stood up, slapping the glass shards off of his back and face, seeing the blood droplets hit the ground and stain his coat. After a soft grunt, he was back on his feet.
"You hit really hard for a brat your size."
Harper once again charged against Jerman, shouting even more taunts while she made her way.
"You're all talk!"
Before Harper could reach Jerman, just a mere second before he was inevitably knocked out by another kick, the detective quickly whipped the sleeve of his coat downwards. As he did so, a robust and rough revolver with golden engravings quickly reached his hand, and in a mere act of muscle memory, the man pointed the revolver towards Harper and fired a single round. Harper, seeing the man draw out the huge firearm, reacted as quickly as she could, shifting her trajectory slightly, trying to redirect her body away from the gunshot. For about two inches, she managed to duck under the round, being hit on her left shoulder instead. The round left a huge hole, leaving the bones and ligaments of that area fully exposed, gushing both blood and pieces of shredded bones and skin. Harper hit the ground immediately, screaming her lungs out, almost passing out from the pain. Jerman smirked with confidence, as he aimed the revolver towards the fallen Harper, carefully aligning the iron sight to her head, seeking a quick execution.
"If you knew me that well, you'd have known that I'm no fighter. I'm not a Vitch, I don't use those fancy ancient martial arts, I don't have a demon fused with my soul…But you forgot that, as a good regular human, I was never going to fight fair."
As he was a mere second away from pushing the trigger and reducing Harper's head to a bloody pulp, Elias rushed him from the side, tackling him, disorienting his aim, hitting him relentlessly with one of the grimoires he picked up from the shelves. Jerman simply defended himself with his arms, absorbing those weak and desperate hits one by one.
"RUN, HARPER! GET OUT OF HERE!"
Elias exclaimed, barely able to believe that, for once, he had a mere glimpse of courage. As Jerman defended one of the many hits given by Elias, he delivered a devastating blow with the revolver's buttstock, right in Elias's non-caprine half. The blow immediately opened a nasty, hand-sized cut, that went from his left eyebrow to his left cheekbone. The region where the blow hit was totally dented, and Elias was immediately knocked out. Jerman stepped on the fallen man's head, now pointing the weapon towards his forehead while looking at Harper.
"This was my best purchase so far. They wanted to charge me thirty million for it."
Harper had already stood up, leaning on the broken glass door, staring at Jerman.
"Why…Why are you doing this?!"
The detective shoved his foot even deeper on Elias's head.
"I'm a private detective. I couldn't care less about another Burden. This one, however…Is different. I've seen a Throneless. Fortunately, this brat isn't using his Penance anytime soon, so I can just take him. After I've got him, I'll extract all of his Penance and make another item for me."
Harper's eyes had a mix of fear, pain and determination. She knew that Jerman could easily kill her and Elias if she didn't do something.
"Jerman Keller…Renowned private investigator, best demonologist in the world…And you've decided to dedicate your life towards collecting Penance-imbued items. You don't even sell them…You're not a weapons dealer. You're just fucked up in the head."
Jerman shifted his aim towards Harper.
"I just might be. If you knew a fraction of what I know, you'd understand why I'm so keen on finding scum like you and these Burdens. Nothing personal, you know? Consider it all a sacrifice for the greater good."
Harper's eyes sparkled, as her body started emanating a plasma-like violet aura, piercing her skin in a visibly painful manner.
"Fuck your greater good."
Jerman laughed to himself.
"Really? That's the best you could come up with? Unleashing your Heriata won't do much except tire you out."
Harper slapped her hands together forming two horn symbols with each hand, crossing her index, pinky and thumbs, forming a dual pentagram. She grunted from the gunshot wound, gathering strength for a loud scream.
"THOUSAND THREADS!"
Harper's clothes emitted a loud ripping sound, as they all started to deconstruct. Her cropped top and shorts immediately undid themselves, being ripped and torn to nothing but dozens and dozens of threads, all converging on Harper's hands and forearms, acting as thin gauntlets. Harper was left with only her panties and bra, showcasing the pellet burns and, most importantly, a large black pentagram carved near the region of her uterus, that was now glowing in purple and turning the skin around it the same color, almost like some sort of infection or necrosis. Jerman watched the execution of the technique closely, smiling in some sort of wild amusement.
"You have a Via now…Interesting."
Harper glanced at Jerman, quickly weaving her hands. As she moved them, the gauntlets on her hands and forearms acted as gigantic reels, launching the threads towards Jerman. The threads were so large and thin that they seemed extremely precise, even though Harper was not aiming. The detective tried to evade them, but quickly had his right leg tied by the threads, not allowing him to move. He grunted, feeling the sudden force pressed on his leg. Immediately, he raised his revolver once again, shooting at Harper. As the bullet was about to hit Harper, one of the threads jumped from the reel, cutting the bullet in half. The feat seemed more of a mere magical reaction, seeing that Harper could never react to see something like that. As she saw the detective's leg tied to her threads and stepped on the huge .45 Magnum cartridge cut in half, she took a step forward.
"You don't look so confident in the Great Gatsby now."
Jerman grunted in pain, shooting another round at the threads that restrained him, to no avail. He seemed extremely irritated, but even more surprised.
"W-What is this Via?"
Harper pinched the fingers on the right gauntlet, containing the reel to the threads that restrained Jerman. When she pulled, the threads spun towards the reel, pulling Jerman's leg and effortlessly cutting through his pants, mutilating his skin deeply with each and every cut. As he screamed, dropping to one of his knees, the threads were already slicing his muscle, not even stopping at bone.
"YOU FUCKING WHORE…!"
Jerman exclaimed, raising his revolver and shooting at Harper once again. But, before he could hit her, the left reel immediately generated more threads, that immobilized his hand, cutting all of his fingers, sending the revolver; now deemed Great Gatsby; to the ground. Harper glanced at her previous bullet wound, now extremely severe.
"Never let a Vitch get away alive from a battle. We'll always find a way."
Harper pulled both of the reels, binding the entire body of the detective in the threads. She then pulled them with all that was left of her strength, making all the threads mutilate Jerman's body. As the threads effortlessly slashed through his flesh, they all tied themselves around the muscles, slicing and dicing his body with accuracy, almost as if trying to make a sculpture. By the end of their spin, Jerman was totally mutilated. His torso had been slashed from the inside out, leaving all of his organs visible, exposed and hanging by the threads. His head was slashed into hundreds of pieces, leaving only a hollow neck on his shallow body. Harper then walked towards his body.
"Kiss of a Vitch."
She smooched the neck of the corpse, that was so thinly sliced that the mere soft impact of her lips made his entire body crumble to the ground, undoing itself in hundreds and hundreds of meat cubes. The blood was spilled so evenly that it even drew a certain pattern on the ground, making a puddle for all of those viscera and meat bits to float on. Harper then fell to the ground, looking once again at the gunshot wound. Her bra undid itself, turning into more threads, that directed themselves towards the wound, sewing it together perfectly, not leaving a mere diameter between each sewing point, sealing the wound entirely shut with more than surgical precision. Harper went to Elias's body, looking at him, not knowing what to do. What should she even care about a random Burden? He probably wouldn't last another week anyway. But, his act of bravery towards her life made her ponder if that decision was right. As she tried to make a reasonable act, the deafening sounds of the police cars making their way through the streets made her blood boil with adrenaline. Quickly, she grabbed Elias by his horns, dragging him frantically towards the inside of the Shack. Inside, she went to the private room on the back where she was performing the lewd acts with her previous client. Still huffing for air due to the effort of dragging Elias, she ran her fingers through the ground carefully, but still in a haste. As she felt an unevenness on the ground, she pressed it, revealing a small panic room below the floor. She quickly kicked Elias into that makeshift hole, bringing the floor back to its previous state. As she heard the footsteps from the policemen's boots, she had no idea on what to do.
Two of the policemen entered the Shack while the rest of the patrol investigated the crime scene and isolated the area. They aimed their pistols, signaling to each other.
"Clear!"
One of them exclaimed, as they had seen every nook and cranny of the establishment; or so they thought. When they saw the curtains leading to Harper's private room, they silently stared at each other, aiming their handguns towards it. One of them entered, aiming at the bed, already expecting someone to be there. His partner followed, aiming behind him, covering his blind spot.
"POLICE! LET ME SEE THOSE HANDS!"
The sight bestowed upon the police officer was, to say the least, unexpected. She saw a fully nude Harper laying on the bed, giggling to herself, shyly closing her legs to hide her most sensitive spot, and also covering her breasts with her arms.
"Hey, officers. What brings you boys down here?"
She said with a wholesome and tender voice. The two men looked at each other, not even knowing what to do.
"M-Ma'am. Do you know who is the owner of this establishment?"
She looked at them, twirling her hair.
"I am. What can I help you with? Besides letting you cum all over me, of course…"
The two police officers seemed totally dumbfounded. The second officer stepped forward, trying to see more of Harper. The first one tried to remain focused.
"A-A murder just went down outside of your Shack. We need to see some recordings."
She playfully moved around the bed, bending herself to reach for a small shoebox on the other side of the bed, giving the men a brief but irresistible sight of her plump and round posterior. They stood there, without being able to say a single word, totally drowning in Harper's raw and sinful energy. She opened the shoebox, slowly grabbing various CDs.
"You boys wanted to see some recordings, right? These are all I have. Hmm, let's see. Anal, bondage, BDSM, femdom…Ohh, cunnilingus. My favorite."
They looked at each other dead in the eye. Both of them had already forgotten the reason they were there, and were thinking the exact same thing.
"W-We meant the recordings of your security cameras."
She replied, fiddling with the CDs.
"I don't have any. I just sell spells and concoctions to women. Lose weight, be tighter, get bigger breasts…All of that. And I'm also a part-time porn actress, too. Maybe you boys could help me film something later?"
They smiled to each other, trying to get closer to Harper.
"W-We'd love to. Can we come back later?"
Harper giggled.
"Sure. But about the investigation?"
The second police officer intervened, euphoric.
"Forget about it! H-Here's my phone number."
Both of them signed their phone numbers on napkins, handing them to Harper. They left, along with the rest of the officers. Harper sighed in disgust as her threads came back to her body, restoring her previous outfit. She opened up the panic room, pulling Elias out, slapping him so hard in the face that it reverberated a loud echo.
"You fucking MORON."
She said, as Elias woke up screaming.
"WHERE'D HE GO? WHERE'D HE GO?!"
She let go of him, tossing him to the ground.
"He's dead. I slashed him into hundreds of pieces."
Elias stood up, going to Harper's face.
"YOU KILLED JERMAN KELLER? THE JERMAN KELLER?!"
Harper slapped him again.
"Stop screaming, I'm not deaf. Yes. THE Jerman Keller. We had a certain past. He had to go, for you AND me. You should be thankful."
Elias panicked, holding the two halves of his face, squeezing hard.
"The guy was a worldwide celebrity. The cops will be onto us in no time. Every single person that left a single fingerprint in all of this will be DEAD!"
Harper sat on the bed, reaching for another drawer, grabbing a box of red gummies, snacking on them as she spoke.
"The regular police won't be able to do jackshit about it. We have some time, I just need to think."
Elias wandered around the room.
"D-Don't you have some sort of, uh…Spell that makes everyone forget something?! AND WHY IS MY HEAD STILL THE HEAD OF A GOAT? THIS IS TOO MUCH. I SHOULD'VE STAYED DEAD!"
Harper threw a gummy at Elias's face.
"Finally something we agree on. You should've kept your scrawny ass in Limbo, then you'd save us both a lot of trouble."
Elias looked at Harper, annoyed.
"Okay. Okay…Fine. I'll just go with it. Let's start with you telling me what was your past with him and how you killed him."
Harper chewed the last gummy, visibly annoyed about having to tap into her past.
"Jerman was a private investigator obsessed with demon-related cases. He would hunt rogue hellspawns, Vitches and Burdens in order to turn their sins into Penance with rituals and make Penance-imbued items, like his revolver."
Elias seemed weirdly used to the technical terms of that entire sentence.
"And how did this affect you? And why was that weapon any special?"
Harper held the Great Gatsby, taking it from below the mattress that she was laid down on.
"He didn't do anything to me specifically. We had a fight once, but…Nothing much. You know, he used to be someone way darker in his prime. He was part of the Pharisees, a hitsquad of crazed people that are used to enforce the esoteric balance on the United States of Gomorrah. They hunt Vitches like me because we are always tapping into the sin and virtue of others, manipulating the own system created by Satan and the Old God to our advantage. In their eyes, we're like cheaters. We could always do something with a simple spell or ritual that would take dozens of years to do. That would lead to a clusterfuck in the esoteric…Wild stuff. Remember when I said that the regular police couldn't do anything? When they deem a case demon-related, they call in the Pharisees. And then…They'll hunt you down for sure."
Harper reminisced a bit before continuing.
"Anyway. The Great Gatsby is a revolver that shoots Penance-imbued bullets. If it was a regular weapon, I could've easily blocked it with my Heriata. But, Penance cancels out Heriata. If I wasn't able to use my Thousand Threads, the bleeding would've got me."
Elias stared at the revolver, captivated by its shine.
"Okay. Since we're both caught up in this mess, I need you to explain all of this to me. Penance, Heriata…I…I want to be useful. I don't want to die like a nobody again."
Elias seemed determined. He clenched his fist, ashamed of his pathetic defeat at the hands of Jerman. That blow made him realize just how weak and frail he was, just as when he was alone in the desert before his suicide. He figured not even all the power of being a Burden could do something for him if he didn't stop being cowardly. Harper looked at Elias, weirdly surprised. Maybe that useless weird man had at least some sort of sense inside of him.
"Pay attention. There are seven types of sin and virtue manipulation. Heriata is used by us, Vitches. As I said before, it allows us to manipulate sin and virtue. Since we can tap into both, we could always use it for opposite effects simultaneously. Healing and killing, reconstructing and destroying, investigating and hiding; Polar opposites at the tip of our tongues and fingers. Besides the spells and concoctions, Vitches can create a Via. A Via is a special technique that uses one's Heriata on their very soul, manipulating their sin and virtue to create a technique that is a reflection of their own. Heriata, however, is quite costly and hazardous to us."
Harper slightly pulled her shorts down, showing the tip of her panties and the start of the pentagram.
"Our uteruses are marked with a pentagram that acts as a catalyst for both our Heriata and our Via. When you flow too much Heriata, it begins to wither down your body until you either pass out or die."
She pulled her shorts back, continuing the explanation.
"Penance is the type of manipulation used by Burdens. To understand the Burdens, you must first understand the demons. Demons are sheer forces of nature, residing in Hell. Most people misconceive the idea of them, thinking that demons are rogue angels or forces of evil. They are not. When Lucifer fell from the sky, he didn't BECOME a demon; He was fused with one. Demons were always here. When there is sin, there are demons. Demons, however, are not pure evil. They are the epitome of chaotic and destructive neutrality. If the Bible says God has unconditional love for all, it's safe to say that demons have a conditional love for some. As long as you worship and venerate demons, they'll do anything for you. Throw hot girls at your feet, give you money, insights, good luck…And, of course, destroy those who you hate. It doesn't matter if you want your significant other to love you forever or if you want the guy who bullied you in high school to die in a car crash. Demons are only interested in being venerated. They leech off of your sins and grow stronger and stronger the more they feed. The amount of followers and power they have is determined by their rank in Hell. There are nine Kings, twenty three Dukes, seven Princes, fifteen Marquises, five Earls and twelve Knights. And, on top of them all, there is the Gorgeous King…Satan. A demon that instead of leeching off of only his followers, leeches from both his worshippers and his fellow demons. He alone has enough sin to create entire dimensions out of Penance. Enough sin to make entire legions of hellspawns at his command. Speaking of hellspawns, demons are not to be confused with hellspawns or imps. Demons are forces of nature. Demonized beings like hellspawns and imps are either human hybrids or creatures born from sin. There are only seventy two main demons, seventy three if you count Satan. They all inhabit Burdens in rotation, switching bodies at random when one dies or has their sins forgotten. Anyway, Penance is the rawest form of sin manipulation. It allows either Burdens or hellish creatures to flow their sins through their entire body. Penance is very versatile; It can create pressure, be condensed into projectiles or manipulate one's entire anatomy. It all depends on the quantity of sin and, in the case of Burdens, the abilities of their demon."
Harper looked at Elias's caprine skull.
"Although there are seventy two main demons, there is a hidden category known as Throneless. When the United States of Gomorrah was founded, the seventy two demons united themselves to hunt all other demons that were taking their followers to themselves, in order to condense all of the power in a single council. The hunted demons were exiled from Hell, condemned to roam in a separate dimension isolated from both Hell and the world of the living. They were completely overshadowed by the seventy two, as many of them are still locked up in that dimension. One of them is…Or, was…Baphomet. I knew it from the second I looked at your head, but I could barely believe it. Baphomet is the lord of the sun and the moon, the lord of the opposites. He can balance sin and virtue just like we Vitches can, but even better. He is an entity many Vitches worship in secret, in order to draw from his immense power. But, what doesn't make sense is how you became his Burden. When someone is brought back as a Burden, they can only be vessel of the seventy two demons. No one has ever been a burden of a Throneless before. Your existence simply does not make any sense."
Elias looked at Harper with a grim expression, running his fingers through his caprine skull.
"I…I heard enough. I think I can think about those other five later. I need to figure out what to do since I'm a Burden."
Harper shrugged.
"Isn't it obvious? Collect sins, or you'll be sent straight to the deepest pits of Hell."
He looked at her.
"Aren't we all sinners?"
She giggled at the obvious comment.
"Yeah, no shit. But, since you committed suicide, you're at least a thousand sins in debt. The average sinner is worth about three to six sins. So, if you were to hunt random people on the street, you'd need to kill hundreds and hundreds of them."
Elias's eyes widened.
"I-I don't want to kill anybody!"
He raised his hands, totally opposed to the idea of taking a life, let alone taking a life to preserve his own, something he didn't even do before becoming a Burden. Harper stood up.
"Listen. I don't care much about you. But I do care about Baphomet. If you can awaken his powers, I may be able to make a pact with him."
Elias looked at her, shocked.
"Pact? Like a Burden?!"
Harper pinched her fingers towards her eyes. She couldn't stand having to explain basic demonology to Elias anymore.
"No. A Burden is made by a haggle. A pact is made when someone offers their soul to an entity and all of their sins will feed said entity, making it stronger. Just a single pact changes almost nothing, so, demons want to garner all the followers they can get. That's why the seventy two main demons separate themselves in ranks and hunted all of the Throneless."
Elias started going frantically through his phone.
"I-I need to think."
Harper started fixing her grimoires and tarot cards, all of them a mess due to the previous fight.
"Yeah, you do. As far as I know, you'll be gone in twelve hours if you don't collect at least thirty sins."
Elias panicked, shaking as he held his phone.
"I…I have an idea."
Harper looked at him.
"You better. Come back when you figured your shit out. I need to have a little talk with Baphomet."
As Elias shook profusely, he clicked on his phone's contact list. There were only five contacts: Mom, Dad, Sis, Boss and Anna. He hesitated, trying to click on Anna's contact, but lacked the courage to do so. He then slid his fingers towards Rudd's contact, staring at it, sweating. As he stared at the phone, Harper threw a grimoire at his head.
"OW!"
He exclaimed.
"Come on, get going. I have work to do."
Elias left, looking back at Harper. The adrenaline of the fight, all of the information that he just received was way too much. As he tried his best to hide his horns with his baseball cap and avoided crowded areas, he could always feel some looks directed at him. As he took a turn at an alley, he felt all of the pressure of being a Burden and reminisced about all of the concepts Harper just told him. He fell to his knees at the alley, instinctively letting out a desperate stream of barely visible vomit. His stomach, completely empty, was only able to push out water due to stress. As he vomited once again, coughing and gurgling in pain and overstimulation, he leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
"I…I hate this. I hate it all."
It was now 2 A.M. Elias's fate was, once again, left in the hands of his own poor judgement and hostile environment. On the south side of town, the same car responsible for Bethanny Cooper's abduction drove through the streets, pulling up when it arrived near a vandalized and worn-down crackhouse. The masked man calmly stepped out of the car, opening the trunk, holding Bethanny's unconscious body. He entered the crackhouse through the front door, looking at the deprivation that permeated the place. Women submitted themselves to the most disgusting of situations, stripping their bodies naked to whoever was desperate enough to give them ridiculously small amounts of money in exchange for quick, unpleasant and loveless sex. The moaning and grunting through the place was not inviting, not even slightly provocative, just entirely gross. The man couldn't help but feel guilty for bringing a child; even an unconscious one; to that shrine of disgust. But, his objective was pretty clear. He continued, step by step, as his heavy-duty boots shook the frail pieces of wood which composed the floor. He tried his best to ignore all of the disgusting sights; all of the repulsive sexual relations between addicts, people injecting themselves and smoking every type of substance, the unfriendly-looking dealers taking any form of payment in exchange for drugs, and, worst of all, the young boys and girls lost in that myriad of unfiltered lust and addiction. Finally, he made his way to the living room of that house, the most inhabited room out of that ungodly place. The drug dealers looked at him with uncertainty, before finally recognizing his outfit.
"T-Those bandages…That's the guy from the news. That's Ouroboros!"
As one of them exclaimed, already pointing his handgun towards the bandaged man, the man dubbed Ouroboros stared at all the dealers and addicts, exclaiming with authority.
"Michael Cooper and Judy Cooper. I know they are here. Where are they?"
In total, there were five dealers in the crackhouse, all of which held Ouroboros at gunpoint. The bandaged man stood tall, placing Bethanny's body on the ground. As he did so, all of the criminals fired in unison, piercing the man's body with bullets. As the blood gushed from the holes made in his hoodie, he fell back, grunting in pain and falling on his face, laying down. The men maintained their aim on him.
"We…We got him. We got him!"
One of them exclaimed. Before he could cherish his safety, Ouroboros raised his head, giving him an imposing look.
"Hail Baal."
Ouroboros said, struggling with the pain. Suddenly, his skin turned into a white tone, with snake-like scales. The bandages on his hand and face fell out, revealing the disturbing truth behind the items. Ouroboros's body was now fused with Baal's penance, turning him into a snake-hybrid human. A pale, scaly snake, with sharp fangs and yellowy eyes. The bullet wounds immediately started healing themselves with ease, returning perfectly to its previous state. The men fired again, fingering their triggers the most they could, until they could hear the collective clicking of their empty magazines. All of the fired bullets hit the snake's skin, denting and breaking on contact, falling to the ground. Ouroboros looked at them, opening a wide smile, showcasing his giant tongue and purple mouthgums.
"I am here to take your sins."
As he exclaimed, Ouroboros quickly dashed forward, reaching the men in a matter of a second with his monstrous agility. With quick slashes and chops with his palms, every single hit was an instant decapitation or a ripped torso. The warm gushing blood from the criminals painted the brown walls completely red, with each step of the Burden signaling yet another wave of death. With the dealers entirely trucidated, he rushed towards all of the addicts residing there. With his sharp claws and fangs, he pulled and devoured them one by one. His mouth, akin to that of a snake, could easily swallow an entire head with just one bite. As he brutalized all of the addicts, he made sure to make it as gruesome and painful as possible. He always let the desperate and disgusting addicts try to run, only to kill them the next second, appreciating the horror in their dying faces. At the end of the slaughter, Ouroboros stood in a tall mountain of corpses and organs. The blood was almost at the level of his ankle, making a jarring puddle sound as he moved. He went to Bethanny, wiping away the blood and guts splashed on her body. Carrying her, he went to the stairs of the house, climbing them, seeing a locked door.
Inside the door, resided Michael Cooper and Judy Cooper. They were both naked, still bleeding on their arms from all of the heroin injections. They cuddled with each other on the bed they were laying on. Judy was desperately sobbing, as Michael shushed her. Ouroboros kicked the door open, making Judy scream. The couple saw Ouroboros, once again covered by his bandages, accompanied by a bloodied Bethanny, already awakened, holding a kitchen knife almost the size of her hand.
"B-Bethanny…?"
Judy said, with her eyes wide open. Ouroboros intervened before Michael could speak.
"Michael Cooper. Bouncer at the Red Lace Gentlemen's Club. You met Judy Cooper one night, where she was totally drunk and you drove her home. After just two weeks of knowing each other, she got pregnant with Bethanny. Judy, you tried and tried to abort her…But you couldn't. She was born, and you didn't want to take responsibility for it, so you dumped the kid on the lap of your sick, poor mother. And since then, neither of you tried contacting her ever again. Your sister, feeling bad for being an accomplice to your disgusting act, sent her some money every month. You, Michael, said you didn't want to see Judy ever again after she had Bethanny. You even remarried. Married a good woman, too. But, does she know that every a month or so, you come back to this hole only to cheat on her with a crack-addicted piece of filth that sells her body to dozens of men every day in exchange for some syringes and rocks?"
Judy was already breaking down in tears. Michael stood up, covering himself with the blanket.
"Y-You…You hijacked my kid? Just to tell her I come here? Hell, look at that fucking brat. She doesn't even look like me. Look at those ugly bug eyes! She got that from her useless mom. Yeah, I fuck this bitch every now and then when I'm bored, so what? I know what your deal is, Ouroboros. You fucking weirdo, you can't do shit to me. I'm no kid."
Bethanny was different from usual. Her cries turned sheer, unaltered wrath. Ouroboros kneeled beside her, whispering to her. It looked like he was doing the same process for hours and hours.
"This is the final step. You see? You're nothing to them. To them, you are a failure. Don't you wish they could pay for everything they did? That they could suffer just as you did? You can do this, Bethanny. I trust you. You are not broken. You don't need fixing. You just need someone to take care of you. Once we take them out together, I'll give you anything you need."
Bethanny gritted her teeth in anger. Ouroboros continued, steadying the knife in her hand.
"Make them pay, Bethanny. Spill their blood."
Bethanny rushed, screaming and crying out of both anger and fear. Michael tried to hold her back, but, when he grabbed her head, Bethanny stabbed his hand piercing his palm. Michael screamed in pain, walking back as a reflex, only to step on a needle on the floor, falling on his back, being pierced by even more syringes. Bethanny stood on top of him, shaking and grunting with anger, her hot tears bathing his chest.
"BETHANNY, NO!"
He exclaimed, reaching his hand out, only to be met with a knife to his throat. Bethanny lodged the knife deep in his throat, opening it in half, only to stab him again, and again, and again. After three stabs, she stood up, looking at Judy. Judy was hugging her knees, crying and shaking, urinating herself with fear. A humiliating, disgusting and obnoxious sight. Bethanny hesitated, looking at Ouroboros.
"I-I can't…"
She put down the knife. The masked man walked behind her, holding her hand, steadying the knife.
"Together, we can do anything."
Ouroboros pushed the knife in Bethanny's hand towards Judy's stomach, opening a large cut. As he pulled out the knife with force, leaving a huge cut, Judy started crawling on the urine-infested sheets, trying to call for help.
"Help me…Someone, help me…Bethanny…I'm sorry…Don't…Leave me…Here…"
Ouroboros covered Bethanny's ears, as Judy finally stopped talking, just babbling, moments away from death. Ouroboros held Bethanny's hand, covering her eyes as they walked out of the crackhouse. The bodies and guts of the lowlifes were already soaked in gasoline and alcohol. Bethanny looked at her new father figure, still sad and disgusted.
"Am I…Am I free now?"
Ouroboros looked at her, placing a lighter in her hand.
"You were always free. I want you to burn down your past. Feel its warmth. Let it fuel you."
Bethanny opened the lighter, throwing it at a gasoline trail leading to inside of the crackhouse. The fire started escalating. Ouroboros held her hand firmly, watching. As the fire grew more and more, the entire wooden structure started being engulfed by flames. Bethanny closed her eyes, feeling the heat from the fire, resting her head on Ouroboros's shoulder, sleeping with the crackling sound of the house burning. Ouroboros's pockets were totally full, containing a contract with the sins of all the dirty souls he reaped that night. That massacre was for more than sins, though; It was a mission.