Necessarily Evil- Apocalypse

by Shad N Freud

  Ink stared over her shoulder at the terrifying sight of Carl standing over her. He grabbed her by the arm, eliciting another scream as he lifted her off the ground, her remaining foot dangling as the arm Carl held her by was rapidly seared to the bone, the flesh receding from the blackening bone.

  “You killed my wife and daughter,” Carl said in a cold, even tone usually reserved for observations about the weather, not an explaination of why one's enemy had to die. “No. You destroyed them. Death was the sole kindness you afforded them.” Carl burned off her other leg, causing her to scream in pure agony. “You had your…filth rape and torture them. And you. Made. Them Watch.” He grabbed the other arm as the flames finally ate through her humerus. He incinerated the limb that came off in his hand, throwing a handful of ash in her face. “So, I’m going to make you watch.”

  Carl put out the flames on his left hand before he grabbed her by the throat. He held his hand up to her face and she spat in his eye. “That…sweet daughter of yours…moaned as the demons fucked her tight little -”

  Ink’s eyes widened, the breath ripped from her lungs as Carl’s burning hand having passed through her chest. Her heart sat in Carl’s hand, the blackened organ shriveling rapidly as it burned like a candle. Carl looked Ink in her remaining eye.

  “That was for my family, you cunt,” Carl snarled before he ripped her head from her body. “Enjoy Oblivion, you piece of shit.” Carl dropped the headless torso on the ground and watched as the flames consumed her head.

  As Ink burned away, a strange wetness struck her face like drops of rain. The wetness was…piss? Elf piss? She looked confused for a moment, then would have laughed if she still could. The last thought that passed through Ink’s mind before her soul was fully consumed was the memory of the first moments of Tristanna’s torture.

  “I dinnae think you ken jus’ hoow bad this is goin to go fer you, ye gobshite. Me husband is gon to kill ye. Slowly. Painfully. An’ I’ll be watching it all from Heaven, doin’ me damnedest teh piss on yer face as it happens.”

  Carl felt a great weight rise off his shoulders and could swear he heard a child’s laughter as the head in his hand crumbled to a fine black silt. Carl brushed his hands, then turned back to the battle. He still had a job to do.

  ∞∞∞

  Heinrich smelled something new on the wind. It was death, blowing in on the western wind from where the orc had dueled Ink. He looked over and saw the black silt swirling in the air. He saw the orc dust his hands off, then turn and retrieve his weapons after extinguishing the odd flames that wreathed his hands and arms. He’d never seen black flames from an Inquisitor before, but this new development couldn’t possibly be a good thing. He turned to his colleagues. “We need to leave. Now!”

  “No! The orc and I have business!” Schroeder growled as he drew his sabre and licked the blade. “He shall -”

  The left side of Schroeder’s skull exploded, splattering all over Heinrich and Frau Stitcher.

  “Sheisse! We must leave! Now!” Heinrich reached for his emergency gating device and dropped it in pain as it overloaded. He then felt the tell-tale tingle of anti-gating wards cover the area, accompanied by the roaring laugher of a dragon as it soared overhead and the shriek of sub-sonic plasma bolts raining down from above, burning holes through zombies, regardless of armor.

  The doctor waved his hand and a barrier formed just in time to stop a .50 cal round headed for his face. He glared at the shooter as he hunkered down, pushing the sword back to the recovering Shroeder.

  The barrier shattered as a second round crashed into the aetheric field, and the doctor looked in the direction of the shooter. Sachi waved at him as Krang fired his gauss rifle in random directions, each shot claiming multiple undead. One particularly enterprising undead snuck up behind Krang and tried to take a bit out of his skull. Instead, the zombie’s teeth broke on Krang’s skin, and the construct looked over his shoulder at the shambling Nazi.

  “My skin has a tensile strength on the same order as diamond, but as flexible as silk. Nice try, though!” Krang smiled as he shoved his fingers through the zed’s skull like a wet newspaper. He shook the ick off his hand, then looked down at Sachi. “Not to question your judgement, Sachiko, but why didn’t you put a disruptor into the good Doctor’s skull?”

  “First off, I’m just keeping him honest. Secondly, Cammy’s got dibs on the Doctor. Carl’s got dibs on the General. And Stitcher…” Sachi looked up from her scope as she tilted her head in confusion. “Is laughing about some…thing…oh shit.” Her eyes widened as she watched a container on the back of a deuce and a half explode outward, “Is that a baby?”

  ∞∞∞

  Camilla and Cenere were engaged in an intensely lethal dance, his segmented whip blade dicing undead flesh into small cubes of rotting offal, her hammer pulping torsos and liquifying skulls. Bullets flashed, and knives flew into foreheads. If you listened carefully, you could hear a tenor voice over the din of battle, a quiet song setting the tempo for their flirtatious assault on the zeds.

  Cenere was singing a particular song, one he’d heard her humming while she was cleaning her weapons. While he was clearly the better singer, she could at least carry a tune and Cenere had looked up the song. He looked up at the sky and smiled. A full moon. How fitting.

  Cenere paused long enough to summon an illusionary set of dancing instruments that joined in on the seranade, playing the instrumentals to Van Morrison's "Moondance". He dodged a vicious bite from a zed trying to give him another airhole in his neck, then flung a handful of blades past Camilla’s ear, the moonlight reflected off those gorgeous eyes of hers. Cenere bent over backwards as Camilla’s hammer swept where he’d been as she spun in place, smashing a dozen undead into paste as he held a high note, a smile on his face as he sprung back, wrapping his arms around his dance partner, and pulling her out of the path of a machinegun nest as it opened up, falling behind a barricade, and staring into her eyes.

  Camilla's breath hitched as she felt Cenere's hand slide down from her face to her grenade belt, a bonfire of passion burning in his eyes as he grabbed a frag from her belt, and rolled up up her torso, placing the pin on her lips in a suggestive and highly erotic manner. Camilla's lips parted slightly as her tongue slid out, and pulled the pin into her mouth. She bit down on the pin with her teeth, and Cenere slowly pulled his hand away, holding onto the spoon as the pin slid out suggestively, letting the spoon fly as he winked at her before he flung the grenade over the barricade. Right into the surprised face of the zed manning the crew served weapon. The frag grenade mulched the head and upper torso of the machine gunner as the pair jumped over the barricade and rushed the position.

  Cenere fell back on top of Camilla as the ground shook violently, finding his face firmly planted between her breasts. He chuckled as he got up and helped a blushing Camilla back to her feet as well. They looked around, trying to find the source of the miniature earthquake, and both Inquisitor’s eyes widened as they saw a ruined deuce and a half flying at them. Cenere lunged forward, dragging Camilla back to the ground as he used his body to shield hers, the truck narrowly missing the pair as it crashed into the barricade they’d jumped over, the gas tanks crumpling and spraying petrol everywhere. He looked deeply into those beautiful blue eyes, and kissed her deeply under the whizzing bullets and howling undead, her eyes sparkling from the gleam of the light of the full moon overhead. "For luck, gorgeous."

  She blushed as he rolled off of her and looked up at the…thing that threw a two-and-a-half-ton truck at them. Cenere tapped Camilla on the shoulder.

  “Wha th' hell dae ye think yer, winchin' me lik' that? ah ought tae dunt -” Camilla spluttered as Cenere grabbed her head and turned it towards the monstrosity that glared down at them. It looked like a twisted mockery of a human child. At least, that was the form it had been built to resemble. An unholy fusion of oversized human body parts, demon flesh, and their own brand of twisted cybernetics. “Och, sweet Lucifer's bonny feet, whit th'
hell is that?”

  Cenere shook his head as the fifty-foot-tall…thing cried like a colicky baby in a sinister, distorted voice. It toddled along, screaming in rage, acidic tears eating away at the pavement as it stomped around the tarmac, caring not at all for the zombies that were crushed under its immense bulk. It seemed to be making a beeline for the spot the lichs were hunkered down under, hiding from the eagle eye of Sachi’s .50 cal. “Maaaaaaaamaaaaaaa!”

  Cenere’s stomach fell as he realized what was going on. “Oh, no. That’s…”

  Camilla’s hand flew to her mouth in terror. “Na. She coudnae hae. A wee bairn?”

  Cenere nodded, staring in shared horror at the twisted abomination as it squished its way across the tarmac. He looked at the twisted hulk of leaking metal, then back at the Abyssal toddler. “They smuggled it in on a flatbed? Seriously?”

  Camilla’s hands began to shake uncontrollably. Cenere reached out to steady her until he realized she wasn’t quaking in fear. She was vibrating with righteous fury. Her mouth curled upwards into a manic grin, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks as he began to cackle. “I’m aff tae hae Stitcher’s face as a loincloth fur this!” She began running for the bunker, cackling with insane laughter as she swung her hammer like a wiffleball bat, liquifying everything foolish enough not to clear out of her way. Cenere watched her commit heinous injury on their enemy, and felt his pants begin to tighten.

  “Huh. Guess I’ve got a thing for homicidal maniacs.” Cenere laughed as he followed after the livid woman, thankful he wasn’t the one she was angry at. For once.

  ∞∞∞

  Zeke whistled loudly as he watched Frau Stitcher’s newest creation break free of its basinet and fling the deuce at his friends, who luckily got clear of the flying truck. He’d moved up to Jin’s back and was firing plasma bolts into the roiling mass of undead below. Jin, meanwhile, was buzzing the battle field, spraying the zeds below with subarctic spittle, freezing them where they stood. He was also muttering spells and launching lighting and fireballs at the crowd below with impunity. A packing crate flew up, narrowly missing the pair before coming back down to earth, crushing a massed group of zeds under a couple tons of machine parts.

  “Jin, I think we may have bigger problems. That toddler is trying to play catch with us. I’m afraid we may need to put it down.”

  The dragon angled his long neck back enough to reply. “I’d say let the guys on the ground handle it, but that big baby is throwing cargo boxes at us. So, I’m going to drop you off on its head, then come back for a few strafing runs. Let’s put that ugly son of a bitch down.”

  Zeke nodded, then slowly moved back down the dragon’s back, towards the tail. As they approached the angry tyke, Jin flung Zeke at the giant baby with his tail and the metal lizard lashed out with his clawed hands, digging them into the baby’s forehead. At first, the baby didn’t seem to notice, then looked up with its rheumy eyes the size of manhole covers and screamed in infantile rage, reaching up to try and grab the cyborg as he scuttled up its face.

  He looked at his hands, and smirked. While the thing’s blood was acidic, not unlike his “brothers” from the pyramid, Zeke’s augmented skin was largely unaffected. He quickly scaled the tot’s forehead, then began bashing at its reinforced molysteel skull. “Where is the damn soft spot on this thing?” Zeke snarked as he dodged the infant’s grasping hands.

  He looked up and his red eye flashed as the other widened. He clung tightly to the giant baby’s face as Jin flew over the baby’s head and sprayed the hands with freezing spit, causing the flesh to crack and split from the cold, exposing the fleshy bits and machinery within.

  The Infant seemed to forget about Zeke for a moment and turned its attention towards the flying death lizard above its bulbous head. Zeke looked at the metallic skull under his feet and sighed. The entire thing was runed for protection from high heat. This could take a while.

  Chapter Six

  Impious stared incredulously at the television screen that was showing live footage of the battle raging in Berlin. He had been toying with the idea of sending in some air support, as well as artillery to cleanse the filth that had taken root in Berlin, but he’d decided against it. The Church was already spread too thin due to the number of incursions that had popped up wherever Carl and his group had traveled, and clean-up crews were working around the clock to remove the remaining vestiges of Abyssal filth from the world. Honestly, there just weren’t enough competent people available to send in to aid Carl, not without reducing the already tenuous safety of Satanic installations worldwide.

  Granted, the other Faiths had chipped in and were helping out wherever they could, but they themselves were fighting the Gray wherever they popped up, doing their damnedest to hold the line. Carl and his people were on their own. He was roused from his musings as the monstrosity that looked like an overgrown garbage pail kid fought off the Iron Gecko that was proving little more than an annoyance while Carl’s pet dragon strafed the dumb construct.

  The rest of Carl’s little group were handling the zombie horde on the ground as best they could and were keeping them contained while they exterminated the undead. Impious considered grabbing a nooner with Trixie after they ate lunch, his regular golf game with the Grand Hierophant cancelled until after the Prophecy was fulfilled. He looked up as Graahl shuffled into the room in a foul mood, the corners of his muzzle twitching with barely contained wrath.

  Impious rolled his eyes as he shook his head once again to Graahl’s unspoken question. The ratel made it quite clear that he was going stir crazy sitting in the Vatican while there was a battle to be had and was snapping at most of the messengers bringing the Pope status reports. While he felt for the pissy badgerkin, he couldn’t let his bodyguard run wild at the moment. Graahl needed to stay in the Vatican until he could be spared. Both looked up when Trixie came jiggling into the room, whistling “Just a Girl” as she brought the pair their lunch. “It’s cold cut grinders today, boys.”

  Impious smiled as he grabbed his roast beef and capicola sandwich loaded with tomatoes, cucumbers, and arugala while Graahl waved off the sandwich being offered to him, which was quickly snatched up by Impious. “Trixie is here, too. Why can’t I go help Carl and the others?”

  Impious shook his head. “Orders from below. We’ll be headed over to Berlin by intra-gate after the location is secured, but not before.”

  Graahl snarled and stormed out of the room, knocking the papers out of a passing cleric’s hands as he headed for the Ophidiarium. Impious pinched the bridge of his nose and hoped Graahl didn’t eat too many of the deadly snakes. He rather liked the coatls and hated to pay the exorbitant fees to replace them when Graahl was on a bender. He sighed and tore into his sandwich with gusto as Trixie prepared her boss’ post-lunch cocaine.

  “Carl and his group are handling things just fine. Also, it appears Carl ended Ink. Good. Bitch had it coming,” Trixie said in her business tone as she grabbed her favorite pair of kneepads. “Top on or off, Seppe?”

  Impious smiled as Trixie pulled his pants down. “Off. I wouldn’t mind having something to play with.” Life was good, Impious decided, despite the global situation.

  ∞∞∞

  Life was a fetid cesspit that was already neck deep and rising, Heinrich decided as he took stock of the situation. His minions were getting dumber by the second as his control over the undead army weakened. He’d almost lost control of his fellow liches and was worried they’d just ignore his orders by the end of this battle. He needed that control, as the remnants of the Nazi regime barely made for a cohesive unit in the best of times. He snarled while Stitcher cackled with glee as she sprayed their tormentors with lead, the bullets hitting their own forces instead of the small group that was trying to get past them to the R&D lab beneath their feet. All the while, that damnable orc was slowly advancing on their location, bullets spanging off his breast plate as he reached out and touched the zeds between them, setting them alight with black fire.r />
  The gook and her mechanical man were wreaking havoc on his army, as heads and torsos exploded into clouds of red mist. .50 cal and gauss rounds ripped through his troops like a hot knife through gelatin. He growled in frustration as the negro and her degenerate mocked him by dancing through his troops, ripping them apart as they seemed to flirt with each other.

  His pet Major finally snapped and launched himself out of their little bunker, making a bee-line for Carl. The barriers he’d erected to keep out the little shits who lacked the common decency to just fucking die already were falling almost as soon as he could raise them because of that damned gook’s disruptor rounds. He was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it.

  ∞∞∞

  Major Schroeder sped through his troops like a gust of wind, bobbing and weaving as he slipped through them, intent on crossing blades with the orc. He bellowed a challenge at Carl, who rolled his eyes, snapped out his baton, and casually deflected the lich’s blade with an almost contemptible ease. “I’ll have your guts for garters, you filthy half-breed! Your death will be slow and painful, and I’ll forever treasure watching the light go out in your eyes!”

  Carl yawned as he pulled out his pack of smokes, pulled one out with his teeth, and nonchalantly lit his smoke with his thumb. His eyes widened before he spit out his cigarette and coughed, the noxious black smoke curling out of his mouth as he tried to clear the nasty taste out of his mouth.

  Schroeder became incensed and stepped up his speed. “How dare you look away during a fight! I will kill you, you…you…schweinhund! I would have made you watch as I killed your family, but Ink-”

  The Major paused, looking down at his chest. Carl’s arm was inside him and grabbing onto his spine. He looked back up to see Carl’s eyes. There was no anger, no sadness…there was nothing. Carl was fighting on autopilot and Schroeder felt an unfamiliar emotion grip his shriveled black heart: terror. He watched, transfixed, as Carl dropped his baton, shoved his other fist through the Nazi’s waist, grabbing his lumbar, then ripped him in half, and threw the two parts in opposite directions. Carl then fished a lighter out of his coat and lit a fresh smoke, savoring the flavor as he picked up the Major’s sword, and calmly walked over to the upper torso. “I’ll kill you, you filthy, subhuman-,”