Necessarily Evil- Apocalypse

by Shad N Freud

  “Rough night?” Sachi quipped with a dirty smirk. Camilla gave her the finger as she plated up some sinfully delicious waffles, decadent eggs, and evil adjective bacon. She looked up at Carl, who was pushing his food around his plate.

  “What’s the matter, big guy?” Sachi asked as she took a bite of her bacon.

  Carl looked at his food and sighed. “What’s the point in doing this any longer? I’m getting bored of killing her over and over again.” He looked up at Marcel. “I know it’s a bit early, but I think it’s time to send her back to the Abyss. In pieces. But first, I say we make her useless to any man she might try to please ever again.”

  Marcel stared at Carl for a long moment, then nodded. “I’ll wait for you outside the room. Just let me know when it’s time, and I’ll drink that potion.”

  ∞∞∞

  Carl whistled pleasantly as he strolled into the training room and picked up a dull, rusty knife. “Good news! I’ve decided to send you home! Bad news, though…I’m going to torture you one last time, then make sure that you’ll never make a man happy again.”

  Carl shut off the regeneration field and removed the now cold iron ball from the succubus’ ruined mouth. He then banked the fire and dropped in an alphabet’s worth of lettered branding irons. He used the flame to heat up his blade, whistling while he worked.

  “Unng. Unnng ung! Unnngh!”

  “Yes yes, I get it. Swearing vengeance, never rest, blah blah blah. Thing is, I’m pretty sure you’re going to take a while to reconstitute yourself. Especially if I’m thorough.” He tested the edge of the blade against her skin, and she screamed. “Dull, rusty…but nice and hot. Perfect to ugly a bitch like you up. By the way, I’ll be the first to admit that your tits were pretty nice.”

  Her eyes widened in horror as he grabbed one of her rather large breasts and pressed the knife against the sensitive skin under the swell. “You can kiss them goodbye, though.” He lifted the tissue with his left hand and began sawing upward with the dull, dinged edge of the red-hot blade, leaving seared, jagged scarring behind, cauterizing the wound as it sliced and hacked until her left tit was in his hand, free of her body. He then tossed the removed body part into the flames, the burning tissues causing the fire to flare purple until utterly consumed.

  She began crying as she stared down at her ruined breast. “One down, one to go,” Carl said with a cheerful smile. “Look on the bright side, you’ll never need to go lingerie shopping again! Of course, by the time I’m done with you, no man will ever want to touch you again, so…” He reheated the knife. “No job worth doing is worth doing half-arsed though, so let’s continue, shall we?”

  Her screams punctuated his sadism as he ruined her body, throwing her severed parts into the fire, burning them away. He paused as he grabbed a long iron poker and ensured the business end was red hot by pressing it against the base of her tail, causing her to nearly pass out from the pain. He then shoved it up her vagina and violently twisted and rolled it around, ruining her inner parts before ripping it free. He pretended to look around for something, then sighed in frustration. “I knew I was forgetting something. I forgot the infernal thermite.”

  Her eyes widened in horror.

  “It’s a mixture of infernal iron shavings and powdered aluminum. Much like mundane thermite, it keeps burning until it runs out of fuel. Unlike the normal kind, though, it does tend to have an interesting effect on demons. It makes the scars and such from our little time together…permanent,” Carl breathed gently as he grabbed irons out of the fire. “But first, I’m going to leave you with a parting gift. I made these myself, made ‘em to look like my handwriting. An artist should, after all, sign their work.”

  The branding irons had begun to glow white hot, and Carl smiled. “Now hold still, or I’ll have to start over.”

  ∞∞∞

  Marcel was sitting in an overstuffed easy chair, sipping coffee he’d brewed in the kitchen. Unlike Carl’s mansion, this one didn’t have a staff, butler, or chef, so they were having to make do with what they had available. Krang, Jin, and Zeke had spent most of their time in the garage, working on fixing their way home, but had run aground. Some of the components weren’t going to be able to be fixed and would need analogue versions created to replace them. Others just couldn’t be replaced.

  Marcel had left the burgeoning mad scientist’s lair after the third time one or another of them had blown something up and decided to go read in the safety of the foyer instead, his luger pistol sitting on the end table next to his chair. He looked up as Cenere and Camilla strolled down the stairs and smirked as he turned down the music pouring out of the phonograph, the dulcet tones of the Andrews sisters growing quieter as he set his book down.

  “He hasn’t come out yet, has he?” Cenere asked as he straightened his clothes. The training room door was still shut, though faint singing could be heard through the door. Suddenly the singing stopped, and Carl came walking out, whistling a cheerful tune as he stripped off his blood-spattered clothing and dropped it on the floor. “She’s all yours.” He finished stripping off the clothes sodden with blood and walked naked up the stairs, headed for his room.

  Cenere did the world a favor and ignited his hand, spraying Hellfire onto the pile of gore stained clothing. Marcel grabbed the vial of polymorph potion off the end table and quaffed it before standing up. He grunted in pain as he felt his body start to shift, his DNA being played with like a kitten with a ball of string, resequencing itself as he grew in size and girth, his skin taking on a green tint as he cracked his neck and back, stretching as he prepared to walk into the other room.

  “Hello again, dearie. I think it’s time we ended this little game. After all, fish and visitors go bad after three days,” Marcel teased as he took a small burlap sack full of filed infernal rust mixed with powdered aluminum, sprinkling the powder on the places where her skin hadn’t fully grown back yet. The way Carl had tortured her was horrific, and exceedingly painful.

  He whistled cheerfully as he finished coating her body with the aetherically charged thermite powder, packing it into the cavities where some of her organs had been, which were arrayed near her, still intact. It would burn the flesh as well as the soul, but not to the point of non-existence.

  He watched the dawning horror on her face as she realized what was about to happen next and tried to beg him to stop. He just smiled and shrugged, pointing to her teeth and tongue sitting on the tray next to her hyoid bone and lips. “Ever so sorry, but I can’t make out what you’re saying. Now, I know this is going to hurt. A lot. But, look on the bright side! You get to go home!”

  Her eyes widened even further as he poured a line of thermite onto a prepared tray that would burn slower than the victim before burning the floor and breaking the binding circle, allowing her to finally be dissipated back to the Abyss that spawned her. His ersatz powder run finished, he ignited the thermite with Hellfire which glowed an ominous green as the thermite burned, and the powder run crept towards the woman lying on a bed of infernal iron spikes, having been moved there from her chair when Carl decided to extend the session even further. She writhed under her shackles, catching Marcel’s attention.

  “Silly me, how could I forget?” Marcel walked with deliberate slowness as he held up a syringe filled with a clear liquid. “Almost forgot the tetrodotoxin. Hold still now, dearie. This is going to sting a little.” He jabbed the needle into her neck then turned her head so that she could watch the thermite trail grow closer. “Enjoy your trip to the Abyss, you filthy whore.” Marcel growled as he walked out of the room and closed it behind him just as the thermite trail finally reached the demon strapped to the spiked iron table.

  Marcel pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit one with his green Hellfire as Carl strode down the stairs wearing fresh clothes and lighting a smoke of his own with a flip lighter.

  “Let’s get out of here, shall we? Mission to complete, world to save, and all that rot,” Carl called as he made his way for
the door, a slightly manic look in his eye. Cenere looked over at Camilla with a concerned look in his eye which she promptly returned. Carl may have gotten revenge, but closure might be a long time coming. Marcel saw the haunted look in his son’s eye too and decided to ask him about it later. For now, the big guy had a point.

  Mission to complete, world to save, all that rot. An Inquisitor’s raison d’etre.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The transport pulled up to the submarine pen in Bergen, Norway. Marcel hopped out first, and opened the door for his “passengers,” who followed after Cenere as he puffed away at his cigar. The guard at the gate saluted Cenere, who returned it with some irritation as he handed over his papers. The guard hastily made way for the Colonel and his staff, with Marcel at his heels. The base commandant met them on the way to the submarine.

  “Why was I not informed of your arrival?” the commandant asked in irritation as Cenere handed him his papers, as well as orders directly from the Fuhrer. Of course, the papers were real, as Hitler had signed them himself in Hell with the offer of a week off his torture. The deal was even honored, as Hitler and Stalin were made to change places. The deal had been for a week off his torture, not any.

  Stalin called foul, of course, as he wasn’t all that fond of pineapples. To be fair, Hitler wasn’t either. At least not when they were used as suppositories, bush end first. In the here and now, however, the Commandant read the paperwork as written, and hastily waved him on his way.

  “My apologies Colonel, but considering how things have gone during this war, any edge me might have needs to be guarded jealously. Allied spies keep trying to get access to our plans, after all.”

  “Of course, Herr Commandant. No hard feelings, as only a fool would try to sneak something past your watchful eye. Do continue to be as vigilant as you have been, and I’m sure the war will continue as expected,” Cenere said as Carl did his level best not to laugh at the implied insult. “By the way, Herr Commandant…your secretary has red lipstick, no?” Cenere said as his hand flashed out and wiped away a small lipstick smear on the General’s neck with a tissue. “I’d recommend you use a mirror the next time you clean up. It could help prevent your wife from discovering how…indiscrete a man can be.”

  The general looked at the tissue, paling slightly before he chuckled sheepishly. “Quite the observant eye, Herr Colonel. Well, I shall not keep you further. The Dreizack is in berth seven. Just look for the yellow submarine.”

  “Has it sailed the seas yet, Commandant?” Cenere asked, deadpan, as the group did their best not to roll their eyes. “Can you tell me about the crew’s lives? I need to know. After all, all of my friends here will be aboard, some of them right next door to my quarters.”

  “Ah, I’m afraid I’ve only given the submarine a cursory examination and read only the reports that I’ve been given. It does seem to be larger internally than expected. You could live quite comfortably underneath the surface.”

  “Very well, Commandant. We’ll take our leave now. And, I might add, your dedication to security is a credit to your command,” Cenere added before saluting and leading his folks to the submarine.

  ∞∞∞

  “Here is your stateroom, as ordered, Herr Colonel. I’m afraid your fellows will need to remain in crew quarters, however.”

  “No need. I am ready to billet my own people within my quarters,” Cenere said after slapping Carl’s runestone inside the stateroom and closing the door. The door opened again a moment later to the mansion, and the group hastily entered before the junior officer could ask any questions. Cenere closed the door behind him, and immediately put his hands up, as a rifle barrel pressed up against his head.

  The marble golems were arrayed around the entrance and had taken the group by surprise as they stared at the normally friendly, generally female marble golems who were currently in their wartime footing and had strong male features with equally strong firepower. Cenere turned his head slightly and saw a familiar copper face.

  “I’m not sure how you people got in here, but you stupid krauts will be leaving here in pine boxes,” Jeeves said, his normally urbane voice dark and angry, his placid demeanor replaced by a vicious snarl.

  “I need to speak to L’Orange. Also, I have sealed orders for everyone here, including you, of all people,” Carl said as he slowly reached down and opened his coat, pulling out the package in question. He slipped his hand into the envelope and pulled out a crisp piece of black parchment written in copper ink with Jeeves name on it and handed it over to the Android. Jeeves looked at the letter in confusion, as it had his hand writing and a verification code he would have generated himself. He broke the seal and scanned the document in an instant.

  “Carl, was it? I need to see the documentation as it pertains to the Prophecy.” Jeeves held his hand out, and the marble golems relaxed their stances, going back to covering the door. Carl reached into his coat and pulled out a thin dossier labeled Dire Importance with the papal seal of Impious VI. Jeeves rapidly scanned the document, then lowered the rifle from Cenere’s head. “I believe some explanations are in order.”

  A second rune stone appeared on the wall, as did another door. In walked a rather handsome human wearing a vintage version of the ecclesiastical robes with a rather gorgeous tiefling on either arm, all in a state of drunkenness and utter surprise when they saw the current occupants. The girls looked at L’Orange and slapped him before leaving in a huff. He looked utterly confused as they left, calling him a sleaze in their thick Bostonian accents, before his look turned to one of understandable rage.

  “Who the Hell are you people? And what, by Lucy’s pretty teeth, are you doing in my home?”

  “Sir, I-,”

  “Shut it, Jeeves! I want to know, right now, why these people are trespassing! And why you haven’t shot them yet! Especially since they look like a bunch of Krauts to me. Well? What is it then? What in the Hell is going on here?”

  “They’re time travelers. Here on business of a Direly Important nature. With documentation that proves as much.”

  “As well, I might add, as a sealed letter for you, Cardinal L’Orange,” Carl said as he handed the crisp piece of black parchment over, written in red, with L’Orange’s own handwriting. The sobering Grand Inquisitor of Greed and Lust took the note and broke open the seal before dropping the note on the ground like it was white hot steel. “As you can see, your grace, we are who we say we are. Which brings us to an unpleasant bit of business. You see, Cardinal, I’m the man that will eventually replace you. My name is Carl Beaumont the second. That man over there? Senior. And not a traitor. The Pope knows. And, for the sake of the entirety of our existence, you can’t change how things will play out. The only things we’re changing are those that need to be changed. And…we might need to borrow your mansion.”

  L’Orange looked around the room at the assembled persons and nodded. It all made sense to him. The birds he picked up at the bar must have slipped something into his drink, so he was going to do the reasonable thing and go sleep it off. He smiled at everyone, and staggered up the stairs without another word, closing the door to his room.

  “We’ll try again in the morning,” Jeeves said with a sigh. "In the meantime, can I offer you all my apologies for my behavior? This whole…war business has put me and the golems on edge. The sooner it ends, the better.”

  “No apologies necessary, Jeeves. But you and I will need to talk privately after we all get bunked down for the night. It concerns the future,” Carl said cryptically to the copper colored man. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of Blackjacks. The zippo he lit had the Inquisitorial Brand etched into the face, the Litany inscribed on the other side.

  This led Jeeves to look at his hand quizzically. “I thought most Inquisitors used Hellfire to light their cigarettes?”

  Carl ignited the Baneflame, showing the copper man why he couldn’t. “I would, mate, but the Baneflame makes them taste terrible. So, Zippo it is.” Carl
nodded as the others made their way to their assigned rooms, Camilla and Cenere smirking as Cenere took off his hat, tapped on the door, and a small plaque formed where the door knob would be, Do Not Disturb engraved rather exquisitely into the brass. Jin, Krang, and Zeke made their way to the library, to go read up on temporal dynamics. The time car wouldn’t fix itself, after all. Carl watched them leave, then turned to the copper skinned butler. He motioned to follow and strode into the kitchen to go grab a bite to eat.

  Jeeves looked at him with an odd expression as he followed Carl into the kitchen. Carl handed him a second note, this one scrawled in Carl’s handwriting. “Don’t open this until after I’ve died, or after we go back to the…present? Future? This time travel business gets confusing. Regardless, keep it sealed and hidden until either thing happens, yeah? I have some suspicions of what may come, but I don’t want to spook anybody in the group.”

  “I’m not sure if I follow.” Jeeves said as he looked at the letter, staring at the wax seal. He looked back up at Carl, “Why would you give this to me? Wait, you’re the next ‘owner’ of the mansion, aren’t you?”

  Carl shook his head. “Spoilers. Sorry, mate, need to know, and all that. There will be things you’ll need to know, but not yet. And, everything else will get covered tomorrow, after L’Orange gets his lazy arse out of bed.”

  ∞∞∞