Necessarily Evil- Prophecy

by Shad N Freud

  Not that nothing came out, no. It was a wave of things that had been, and now weren’t. Millions of liters of atmospheric gasses just suddenly ceased to be, as well as a few thousand of the bugs seeking purchase on the barrier, the wave ending within microns of the ship’s armored hull, stripping layers of paint instead of causing damage.

  Ink had chosen a Void Dragons for this purpose, their ability to generate and focus waves of Oblivion from the macro-planar field between universes, where the stuff that energy itself is made of congregates, by way of a silent scream that opens a planar microfracture. When exposed to matter of any sort, it causes said matter to cease to exist, to be canceled out by Oblivion, and unleashes a massive wave of gamma particles. It can also cause a massive heat bloom in its wake, as matter crashes to fill the void, the friction from the sudden densely compressed air causing a massive electrical discharge in the form of lightning and the massive thunderclap that would follow.

  That lightning struck the ship’s hull, causing a cascade failure throughout the starboard side of the ship.

  The redundant power systems kicked online fifteen seconds later, as did main power, but those fifteen crucial seconds allowed the swarm to descend upon the starboard side. Acidic saliva of the swarm dripped from hundreds of mouths, bubbling on the hull as the creatures tried to burrow through the thick, hardened armor of the ship, as well as allowing the bugs to get close enough to vomit acid upon the CWIS emplacements. The other weapon and sensor arrays were quickly set upon by the swarm as the remaining bugs began chewing on the hull, their saliva aiding their progress.

  From her mount, Ink’s sinister grin threatened to invade her ear canals as her eyes turned an inky black, permitting her to watch the internal carnage about to unfold from a place of comfort and relative safety. The ship itself was inconsequential. She really couldn’t care less about the maggots inside the ship fighting desperately to save it, their crewmates, and their lives. The only people on that ship she was concerned with were Carl and his pack of misfits.

  The dragon beneath her began to stir, shaking off the charm spell she’d inflicted upon it, so she began to croon soothingly, gently stroking its carapace as she sang to it. The beast was clearly trying to fight the spell she was weaving with her hypnotic voice, but her will was simply too strong for it to resist.

  Portals to the Abyss began opening around her as flocks of anzu and other winged demons poured into the world, thirsting for the flesh and blood of mortals. She simply pointed, cackling as the demons swarmed the Aircarrier.

  ∞∞∞

  Carl opened the door to his room when the mansion’s intercom activated, repeating the General Quarters call. A pair of airmen wearing tactical armor and bearing M16 rifles blocked the door, their backs to the doorway. “Ahem. Gents, I believe you’re blocking my way.”

  “Apologies, Sir. Captain’s orders.”

  Carl pinched the bridge of his nose as he counted to ten, then looked back at his group, all ready and rearing to go kill some demons. Carl rolled his eyes as he grabbed the pair by the backs of their necks and smacked their heads together, careful to only knock them out. “Sorry gents, higher orders.” He gently sat the pair down outside his door and charged out into the hallways after grabbing the security detail’s walkies, handing one off to Cenere. “You and Jin take starboard. Camilla and Zeke, you take port. Sachi, you’re going topside with me. Let’s go clean house.”

  Cenere nodded as he plugged a radio earbud into his ear and then the group headed left, weapons drawn and their eyes scanning the passage ways as they sought out demons. While the armed forces were certainly capable of working together to handle mundane threats to their ship, they weren’t trained for this kind of thing. Demon hunting required specialized skills, equipment, and experience. The average service member was woefully unprepared for such a threat.

  Cenere smirked as he pulled a few throwing knives out of his pouch after pulling his glove off. The brand on his hand was pointing at one of the three largest concentrations of demons on the airship. Carl’s glove was likewise off, as was Camilla’s. The three groups split off and made their way towards the nearest target rich environment.

  “Shrimp, you got any requests?”

  “Depends, Fancy. Can you sing Danger Zone?” Jin asked with a sinister smile as he used his magics to weave illusionary instruments that began playing. Cenere snickered as the song started to play. He began singing, weaving aetheric power into his voice as they made their way down the corridor, the song reverberating throughout the ship. As they passed repair teams, their jobs became easier and they were able to get some of the damaged systems functioning again. Security teams stopped quivering in fear and began roaring in anger, unleashing the ships wrath upon the demons flooding into the hull. Slowly but surely, the invading demons were getting put down hard on starboard side. The crew, feeling inspired and more competent, threw themselves into their work and ignored their fear.

  Cautiously, Cenere and Jin cleared their way topside.

  Meanwhile, on the port side of the ship, Camilla and Zeke laughed maniacally, scything their way through the Abyssal filth. Camilla’s voice wove hexes that drove the demons to madness, and they began attacking each other while Zeke hewed demon’s heads off, lopped off limbs, and cleared pockets of the beasts, giving the ship’s crew a respite from the demonic horde. Soon enough, they had likewise cleared a path topside.

  All the while, Ink was glaring at the airship as she felt the summoned demons pop like bubble wrap. She growled as she swept her eyes along the outer hull of the airship, watching as some of the downed systems came back online on the starboard side. She spurred the dragon under her to action and heard a high caliber round whizz past her ear, where her forehead had been but a moment before. She leered at the weather decks of the airship, the grimace turning into a furious snarl, as her control over the dragon began to slip and her concentration faltered.

  That damned orc was topside, with a big stupid smile on his big stupid face as his compatriots fought off the swarm. He was lying prone on the deck, as was the pet ninja he’d picked up, and she cursed as she saw the glint of a sniper rifle’s scope before juking out of the way to avoid the fireball that nearly took her face off, vaporizing a densely packed cluster of the droning bugs. She could only watch while throwing knives flashed this way and that, and a bipedal crocodile swept swaths of Abyssal insects from the deck in pieces.

  Ink turned her head to glare at the gnome, who grinned as he pointed over at Carl. Carl held up a makeshift cardboard sign that said, “Smile for the camera!” A rifle went off and a fifty-caliber slug of silver jacketed depleted uranium smashed into her chest, the runes inscribed upon the slug flaring brightly as it penetrated, utterly dispersing the energies that held her to this plane. Ink shrieked in impotent rage as she was sucked back into the Abyss with a sickeningly wet slurp. Almost instantly, the Void dragon’s head starting thrashing and it’s six basketball sized eyes cleared. It roared in furious triumph and then descended upon the swarm, eating dozens in a single bite as it sought to glut itself on any foes.

  Twenty minutes later, the swarm was reduced to a tiny fraction of its original massive size, and the very full dragon flew into a low earth orbit to sun itself on the daylight side of the planet. The beast lay down on it back, all four wings facing the sun to absorb the radiation it needed to help digest that massive meal and dozed off. Its vocal cords twitched rhythmically; were it a house cat, the rumbling would have easily been recognized as purring. Dragons and cats had similar personalities, after all.

  ∞∞∞

  “Damage report.” Dirge wiped his brow as he stepped up to the Chief Engineer. The gnome flipped the dark lenses of his welding goggles upward and shut off his welding torch, his eyes the only part of him not covered in scorch marks, engine oil, and other unidentifiable substances. He shrugged as he looked the Captain in the eye and handed the big guy a slate with the damage reports.

  “Starboard side power systems
are shot from level ten to deck eight and from sections twelve to twenty-four, where the friggin’ lightning bolt overloaded the Main Power Relays. We’ve been able to bypass the main lines, and we got auxiliary power back online in those sections…but we’re going to need to put in for drydock if we’re going to fix everything else those sucker-punching bastards hit us with. Who in Jehovah’s name sics a damned Void Dragon on an airship? Also, Sir, the starboard hangers and the Roost were totaled; the damn bugs got in and completely humped our planes. The dragons fled when they sensed their cousin coming, so while things are cramped, they’re settling in on port side.”

  Dirge cursed rather colorfully as he read over the sheer amount of damage the ship had sustained. Three of the barrier generators had been slagged and would require a complete refit. Fifteen fighter planes were turned into confetti by the swarm, as were two of the landing craft and his personal barge. The entirety of enlisted berthing six had been torn to pieces, without a single life lost, as they were all on station. “Keep me updated as to what repairs we can make on our own.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Cheng sighed as he flipped his goggles back down and got back to work. He hopped down from his ladder and tapped an enlisted dwarf on the shoulder, directing his attention to a ruptured wall and patting him on the back. The dwarf nodded, as he had been deafened by the thunderclap, blood dripping out of his ears from ruptured eardrums. Other engineering department men were walking wounded, tending to their battered ship.

  Dirge shook his head as he waved off a chief petty officer who was about to call attention on deck and hurried to the forward crew’s mess which been converted into a mass casualty triage center. Pennies covered the eyes of quite a few of his Satanic crewmen who’d fought bravely to repel the bugs when they’d gotten inside. Dirge muttered a prayer for his fellows, hoping they made their way to the iron gates as quickly as possible.

  He looked up and saw four of the people that had helped turn the tide, now aiding the ship’s medical staff by healing those they determined needed the help the most. Several screamed in agony as the Satanic healers used their arts, and Dirge smirked as he heard the brutal healers admonish their patients for crying out in pain like babies. The Inquisitors told them to suck it up and to clear out, as only wounded people were allowed to lay on the tables. Their ‘victims’ snarked back, and the waiting wounded laughed at their crewmates’ pain, only to pale a bit when it came to be their turns.

  Dirge grabbed a passing doctor. “I’ll need a casualty report as soon as you can handle it. I’ve got letters to write.” The doc nodded, and hurried on to his next patient, jabbing a syringe of Laz compound into an officer’s chest to try and keep her from dying.

  Carl cracked his neck as he walked away from his patient and strode over to Dirge. “I’ll be writing corporate to complain about this little cruise ship of yours. Surly crew, terrible guest relations, and when I came down to the buffet to grab a bite, I had to deal with a bunch of loiterers that were hogging all the tables. 0/10, would not recommend.” He smirked as he walked out of the mess hall and looked through the open hole where there should have been a bulkhead. And a ships store. And a couple more bulkheads, power runs, water pipes, ventilation shafts, and access ports for the retractable weapon systems. As well as the weapon systems.

  The airship was currently floating in the Atlantic as a precaution, the hole in the side making it difficult to fly at a cruising altitude without drag. Carl looked at Dirge and pulled out his pack of Blackjacks, only to stop as Dirge shook his head and pulled out his own cigar case. He offered one to Carl, who readily accepted the fragrant Cuban, lighting both with his thumb. The two sat on the deck watching the waves as the ship limped its way to France.

  “To top it all off, with the shoddy craftsmanship of this airliner, I’m surprised it ever got off the ground.” Carl smirked as Dirge guffawed. Crewmen assigned to damage control saw the two huge green Satanists laughing and carrying on; they decided to go repair other areas first.

  ∞∞∞

  Deep within the Abyss, Ink slammed into the ground and glared at the rapidly healing hole in her chest. She screamed in primordial fury as she grabbed a warhammer off a nearby weapon’s rack and proceeded to viciously smash the slaves she’d been playing with for the past few days after resuming corporeality, eliciting screams of torment from the mortals she’d taken captive from one of the outlying colonies in the Abyss. Her chest heaved with exertion and she wiped the sweat, blood, and grime from her brow before walking over to the permanent scrying pool she’d set up in her personal chambers.

  She needed to find a way to break the Orc, and she needed to find one fast. She was getting tired of dying.

  She felt something off in her palace and glared at the scrying pool. The image shifted, showing Legion and Marduk pounding on the front door. She rolled her eyes, then signaled a servant to bring the pair to her throne room. She put the hammer back on its rack, then took a quick shower, summoning several other servants to dress her before meeting with the Demon Princes. “My, my…to what do I owe the pleasure, you swine faced pile of shit?”

  Marduk grunted softly in laughter, refusing to take the bait. “I’m guessing your raid on that airship didn’t go exactly as planned?” Marduk grabbed a passing servant, broke its neck, and drained its soul before ripping off a hand and eating the fingers. “I do so love lady fingers. Where was I? Oh, yes. We’re planning a raid on the train station they’re headed towards. Care to join us?”

  Ink’s eyes narrowed and she tapped a finger on the arm of her throne. “Tempting. Tell you what. I’ve got dibs on Carl. You can have the rest.”

  Marduk smiled as Legion nodded in agreement. “No problem. He’s all yours.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two days later saw the ship floating at a low elevation over an airfield, watching over Carl and his people giving the local Clergy the evil eye. The clerics from the One World Faith precinct near Charles du Gaul airfield had their weapons pointed at Carl and his crew, who had their own weapons pointed right back with Carl staring down the local chief as his irises slowly took on a more crimson hue.

  “Regardez-vous, la grenouille a fait face à un petit bâtard, nous sommes ici sur les ordres du pape. J'aurais pensé que le chef de la cathédrale de Notre-Dame aurait eu le mandat de nous aider du Vatican. Vous savez, où la grande luminosité lui-même prend la merde après chaque partie de golf qu'il perd au pape. (Look you frog faced little bastard, we're here on orders from the Pope. I'd have thought the Head High Muckety Muck in charge of the Cathedral of Notre Dame would have gotten orders to assist us from the Vatican. You know, where the great brightness himself takes a shit after every game of golf he loses to the Pope).” Cenere and Jin both started chuckling, then looked at each other, frowned, and resumed glaring at the Gendarmes.

  If looks alone could maim or kill, the French Cleric of the Law would have incinerated Carl where he stood. Instead, Carl calmly lit his blackjack, then blew the smoke right in the Templar’s face. “Monsieur, je suis plus que capable de vous et votre petite troupe détenue jusqu'à ce que le Heirophant m'informe de faire autrement (Sir, I'm more than capable of having you and your little troupe detained until the Hierophant informs me to do otherwise.).”

  Carl took a long drag from his cigarette and counted to ten before blowing it out, doing his best to calm down. The roots of his lower canines were starting to itch, a sign he was going to lose his temper. He’d have to spend an hour per tooth getting an Alterist to remove his tusks again if he let this jumped up little fruit inspector get under his skin. So, he did something far more terrifying than inflict physical harm upon the French Clergy.

  He smiled.

  Carl pulled out his cellphone slowly, so as to not spook the Gendarmes. He hit the speed dial and waited as the bad musak played until he heard a familiar voice. “Trixie, do us a favor and get His Eminence on the horn. Got a spot of trouble here in Frogland.” Carl swore he could almost hear the Pope’s assistant jiggle
as she skipped to the Pope’s study.

  “Carl, this had better be damned important, as I’m late for my two o’clock appointment.”

  “Your Rotundness, you can have Trixie flog your corpulent ass with a cricket bat whenever you want, and I won’t judge you for it.” Carl cringed as he heard the Pope dismiss his favorite tiefling, who doubtlessly squeaked as she skipped back to her desk to file her nails. “But right now, I need you to contact the Grand Hierophant to let a little air out of,” Carl eyed the lead Gendarme’s name tag and rank insignia, “Templar Francois St. Croix’s head. He and his little squad of Gendarmes seem to think they can detain us. I think mentioning Hiroshi’s gibbering rants about obregines due to the fiasco two years ago at the French embassy might grease these wheels a bit. After all, wouldn’t want another Grand Inquisitor to snap on French Soil. Might take over the country so fast they won’t get the chance to raise the white flag.”

  He smirked at the affronted look on the Templar’s face, and could almost hear the Pope’s eyes roll at his dig at the French.

  “Carl, stop reaching for low hanging fruit. I’ll get this cleared up, so don’t antagonize the locals too much. Just sit tight until you hear otherwise.”

  “You got it, your Laziness.” Carl smirked again as he ended the call. He looked at his watch and nodded at his folks, who holstered their weapons. Carl yawned and pulled a lawn chair out of his coat, as well as a bucket of popcorn, then sat himself down to wait for the show to come. Five minutes later, the Gendarme received a call and quickly pulled the phone away from his ear as he tried to save that eardrum in vain, the voice on the other end of the phone apoplectic with rage.