by Brant Danay
The Oneirophage had mere moments to take all this in as the Necrodelic approached, his armored footsteps like gongs, his horned silhouette ominous and intimidating. The combination of the labyrinthine network of bridges and the confusion at seeing the Necrodelic armed and in battle garb sowed tremendous amounts of uncertainty and trepidation in the Dreaming Predator. For the first time in all his billions of incarnations, the Oneirophage backed up. Serpents were not constructed to slither in reverse, however, and the Oneirophage found himself off balance as the Necrodelic seized the very moment of hesitation for which he had adorned the suit of armor, the very moment for which he had plotted and planned, the raison d'etre of the psychological warfare which the onyx armor was. Upon this bridge the two demons would do battle above the lake of plasma, trapped blood over freed blood.
The Necrodelic launched himself through the air in the Oneirophage's direction. His onyx sword slashed, lacerating the Oneirophage across the chest and knocking him further back and onto one elbow, scrambling to hold on to the catwalk with the fingers of his right hand while raising the black widow which was his left for protection. The Necrodelic alighted in the heavy armor with characteristic feline dexterity, but this time accompanied by a loud, tolling clang. That he could even maintain his balance in the suit of armor on a catwalk less than a foot wide was incredible, a testament to his highly evolved levels of demonica.
The Oneirophage vomited a spray of venom onto the catwalk in an attempt to make the Necrodelic slip and fall from the narrow bridge. Instead, the armor-clad demon trod defiantly through the slick green coat of poison that dangerously lacquered the narrow catwalk, as though he were walking on solid, level ground in the middle of a desert. He swung his onyx broadsword overhand, driving the stumbling Oneirophage further back, narrowly avoiding the keen edge of the dark blade as it repeatedly struck the iron catwalk and sent black sparks raining through the gloom.
From his supine position, the Oneirophage lashed out at the Necrodelic's legs with his tail. The Necrodelic effortlessly jumped straight up in the air to avoid the serpent's swiping motion, completely unimpeded by the heavy onyx armor, such was his demonic strength. He leaped over the tail's backswing with similar ease and drove his sword down vertically, point first, impaling the Oneirophage by the tip of his tail. The dream-eater thrashed like a fish on a hook, trying to rip himself free. Chariah held the sword fast, pinning the serpentine warrior to the adamantium catwalk, then tossed his onyx shield onto the Oneirophage, smashing his face and breaking three of his ribs. Chariah, using the onyx broadsword for leverage, vaulted into mid-air, turned upside-down, and catapulted himself forward. He somersaulted through the darkness to land back-first in his weighted armor upon the shield and the Oneirophage beneath, crushing the dream-eater with a loud, reverberating crash and the snap of more ribs breaking. Blood began to drip from the catwalk to the bridgeworks and reservoir below.
The Necrodelic slid from the shield feet-first and twisted as he alighted on the catwalk so that he faced the Oneirophage. The Oneirophage pushed at the mass of onyx shield above, trying to rid himself of its stifling weight. The Necrodelic began to rain gauntletted fists upon the shield, scoring its surface and pulverizing the Oneirophage underneath. The Oneirophage attempted to throw the shield off his chest and over the edge of the catwalk to no avail, as the Necrodelic's blows rained down too fast, too hard, and too heavy. The Oneirophage twitched his punctured tail as the Necrodelic continued his bonecrushing onslaught. Using his tail prehensilely, like a third limb, the serpent demon finally withdrew the broadsword from its cleft and then threw it violently at the Necrodelic, end over end. The whistling blade tore through the air, spinning like a gigantic shuriken. Chariah twisted sideways as it flew past, deftly grabbing it by the hilt with his right hand and then pirouetting on the catwalk to deliver a mighty, spinning, two-fisted, overhead blow with the onyx blade, denting its companion shield down the middle.
The shield slid from the Oneirophage's slick and bloodied chest and head to the side of the catwalk at Chariah's left. The limp body of the Oneirophage was slipping over the edge to Chariah's right. The Necrodelic flung the onyx sword into the distance, end over end with a flick of his wrist, to stick quivering in the crimson wall a thousand feet away. He reached down with his right hand and grabbed the Oneirophage by the hair, preventing him from falling. His left hand retrieved the shield before it toppled into the lake of blood below. Standing atop the catwalk with his ophidian nemesis in one hand and his onyx shield in the other, the Necrodelic began repeatedly bashing the face of the Oneirophage into the shield. After several moments of this, he tossed both Oneirophage and shield high into the air, within inches of one another. As both came down, Chariah leapt up to meet them, spinning in his armor as effortlessly as if it were a mere robe and delivering a flying roundhouse kick to the onyx shield, which then ricocheted into the face of the Oneirophage with an explosion of blood and the loud snap of his septum breaking.
Not only had Chariah timed the deadly maneuver perfectly, he had controlled the force of his kick so that it would knock the Oneirophage precisely twenty feet into the distance, no more, no less, to land on a platform one hundred feet below. The Oneirophage was accompanied on his descent by the shield, which landed once more atop the Dreaming Predator with a clatter before the thud of flesh had even begun to reverberate in the vast hollows of the chamber.
Chariah stood atop the catwalk, a hulking silhouette in his onyx armor. He watched as the battered body of the Oneirophage struck the platform below and the shield landed on top of him. For one eternal instant, the Necrodelic loomed, a bird of prey, a reaper on a zenith, and then the Necrodelic leapt from the catwalk. With his arms spread-eagled he plummeted through the darkness, the air whistling through his helmet as he fell cruciform, gaining more and more speed as he made his descent, and then landing chest first on top of shield, Oneirophage, and platform alike, with an impact so great that pieces and shards of flesh, onyx, and adamantium became inextricably intertwined, embedded in and dangling from one another.
The force of Chariah's kamikaze attack drove both he and the Oneirophage through the adamantium platform, leaving behind a jagged hole of twisted, bloody metal. The Necrodelic's dive of death drove them through the platform immediately below, and then two more below that, as well. By the time their fall was finally broken, they had plunged an additional four stories. The sound of onyx armor striking onyx shield was deafening, a thunderbolt that echoed for several minutes. Blood rained down from the spiky pits of mangled iron high above, soaking the platform on which the Necrodelic and the Oneirophage lay in an ever-expanding pool, creeping out in all directions and then dripping over the sides.
Chariah extricated himself from the pile and staggered to the edge of the platform. He had broken a few ribs himself, and was dizzy from the blow, his horned helmet resonating around his skull, its vibrations ringing in his ears. Meanwhile, the Oneirophage had shrugged off the shield and was rolling to the opposite edge of the platform. Chariah came to his senses in time to make one desperate lunge, but the Oneirophage was too far ahead and rolled away, plunging into the open air.
The Oneirophage landed on a balustraded bridge below and recollected himself. Overhead, he could hear the gong of the Necrodelic's footsteps as he descended an adamantium stairway. Blood oozed from the Oneirophage's broken nose and dripped from a deep gash in his forehead, and internal injuries caused blood to drool from both corners of his mouth as well. One of his splintered ribs had torn through his flesh and protruded from the bruised skin of his breast. Another part of his chest was caved-in, and a deep diagonal laceration from left shoulder to right hip etched a scarlet furrow in his tattooed flesh. While he waited, the Oneirophage tore loose a jagged piece of adamantium railing to use as a weapon, the spider legs of his black widow hand wrapping around it like eight fingers. His right hand produced the Umbilicus from his wrist. With a click he unlocked its saw-edged switchblade, then assumed his battle posture, a coil
ed cobra waiting to strike.
The armored Necrodelic made his way down the stairway, his every step a death knell, his black gauntleted fists drenched in crimson, his onyx armor splattered with drops of blood. He stepped onto the bridge and turned to face the Oneirophage. With dark synchronicity, they simultaneously attacked one another.
The Oneirophage caught the Necrodelic on the side of the face with the railpiece as the Necrodelic slashed a red smile on the Oneirophage's naked torso. They drove each other back and forth along the narrow walkway, neither gaining an inch of ground. The Oneirophage beat the Necrodelic about the head with the piece of adamantium balustrade in a berserker frenzy, knocking dents in his helmet until the Death Addict stumbled with drunken vertigo. The piece of bridge rail eventually cracked after a few deflections from the onyx shield, and then the Oneirophage broke the weakened piece of adamantium in half over the Necrodelic's skull. The Necrodelic swooned and took an unsteady step backwards. Tossing the broken pieces of balustrade over the side of the bridge and into the blood far below, the Oneirophage reared back, hissed, and unleashed a cobra strike that caught the Necrodelic in the face.
The Oneirophage tossed the Umbilicus in his hand, caught it, and then used the straw to spit precise jetstreams of venom directly into Chariah's eyes, blinding him. He flipped the Umbilicus into the air again, then plunged the switchblade at the opposite end between the eye slits of the Necrodelic's horned helmet and tried to carve the Necrodelic's eyes from their sockets. The Necrodelic was too powerful for that, but the steady stream of blood pouring from the eyeholes of his black helmet augured deep and serious wounds that would continue to blind him. The Oneirophage ripped the onyx shield from the Necrodelic's grasp and began blasting the top of his skull with it. The Necrodelic shook his head like a wolf between blows, flinging blood from his eyes before the onyx shield bludgeoned him once again. The Oneirophage drove the Necrodelic along the bridge to the far wall, then bashed him in the face with the shield. Chariah crumpled in a heap against the wall, his back leaning against it for support. The Oneirophage laid the onyx shield over the Necrodelic's fallen body and clubbed it with his tail, whipping his tail around with sideways gyrations and spinning motions. The dry slaps of scale against gemstone were followed by the crepitus of breaking bones. The Oneirophage continued bludgeoning the Necrodelic with his tail until it was raw and bleeding.
The Oneirophage paused, espying the onyx sword above, still sheathed in the bleeding wound of the fleshlike wall where the Necrodelic had thrown it. The black blade jutted out like the shadow of a crucifix, one hundred and fifty feet overhead. The Oneirophage spun the Umbilicus in his hands, over and under and through his fingers, until he had created a lasso long enough to retrieve the weapon. He cast the Umbilicus upwards to draw the sword from the wall, but the blade would not budge. The sentient spaceship was holding it tight to protect its master. Cursing, the Oneirophage climbed the Umbilicus like a vine to the stuck sword. Once atop the straw's zenith, he pulled and tugged at the hilt of the sword, but to no avail. The flesh of the wall constricted and tightened around the blade. He twisted the sword inside the wound and then began ripping at the flesh around it with his bare hands. Preoccupied, he failed to notice that the Necrodelic had arisen on the bridge far below .
Chariah grabbed the base of the Umbilicus and began to shake it, hoping to dislodge the Oneirophage from his precarious perch, but the dream-eater held fast to the hilt of the sword with both hands.
"Drakhus," spoke Chariah, and the wall relinquished its grip on the onyx sword. The Oneirophage held it in his right hand, while the living black widow that was his left hand gripped the Umbilicus, and he wrapped his serpentine tail around the lengths of straw. Chariah lifted the entire contraption in his mailed fists and began swinging it like an enormous rattan cane, smashing the Oneirophage into the sides of the adamantium bridges far above. He then swung the Umbilicus overhand like a club, bouncing the Oneirophage's bloody body off of platforms and up and down stairways. The Necrodelic's berserker fury was such that the Umbilicus was a blur as he swung it around in a wicked frenzy, so fast and with such force that the Oneirophage could neither react nor retaliate for several moments, until finally he managed to swing the onyx broadsword at a downward angle and bisect the elongated Umbilicus.
The Umbilicus was a resilient instrument, and the Oneirophage was able to transform even this truncated piece of the sorcerous straw apparatus into a weblike contraption that knotted itself around the balustrade of a catwalk. Moments later, the Oneirophage was delivered to the railed bridge, spinning the Umbilicus in his hand. He held it to his rainbow lips and inhaled, calling its sundered portions back to it. Those cloven pieces happened to be in the fists of the Necrodelic, and dragged the sable demon through the air with their flight.
The Oneirophage lay in wait, and swung the onyx sword when the Necrodelic hurtled into range. The blade cracked its kindred armor open and tore a deep gash in the Necrodelic's abdomen and chest. The Umbilicus then shrank back into itself, leaving the Necrodelic suspended in mid-air with nothing to hold onto. The straw slipped from between his gauntletted fists, and the Necrodelic plummeted a thousand feet into the blood reservoir below.
The Oneirophage immediately followed, leaping from the bridge with arms outstretched like pinions and head reared back to deliver a kamikaze cobra strike. He held the onyx sword in his right hand and the Umbilicus in his left, prepared to attack with both. His prism-plaited hair streamed in the air behind him, as did the Darkprism, blown over his shoulder by the winds of his descent, straining against the chain that held it around his neck. The Oneirophage focused on the concentric ripples and bubbles that marked the spot where the Necrodelic had landed in the blood reservoir. As the crimson plasma grew closer and closer, he could make out the dark form of the Necrodelic beneath the currents. He raised the onyx sword over his head and began to bring it down in a deathblow, with the force of a one thousand foot free fall behind it.
The Necrodelic lay waiting, submerged in the lake of blood. His hatred of water did not extend to bodily fluids, and blood was another one of his natural environments, another one of his territories, another one of his lairs. When the Oneirophage burst through the surface, brandishing the onyx broadsword in an arcing quietus, Chariah swam to the side as gracefully as the shade of a shark, grabbing the Oneirophage's left arm in both of his and restraining him from behind while the force of his momentum plunged them both to the bottom of the reservoir. Chariah struck pressure points in the Oneirophage's wrist to make him release the onyx sword, then held his arm fast against his armor, hand and fingers splayed forward as they descended into the crimson depths. Chariah's suit of armor was like an anchor, sinking them even more rapidly. Scarlet bubbles whirled upwards from the bottom of the reservoir, and then suddenly the adamantium floor of the giant cylindrical chamber came into view through the liquid vermilion haze.
The reservoir's bottom was alive with machinery, mechanical hearts beating, engines burning, fans whirring, filters spinning, vacuums sucking, incubators bubbling, submersibles skimming, and large ominous purification devices gurgling, churning, boiling, homogenizing, and amalgamating. The entire collection of intricate machinery resembled a torture chamber, a submerged torture chamber, a torture chamber at the bottom of some Stygian, Acheronic, or Phlegethonic ocean, where mermaid dominatrixes dwelled.
The Oneirophage began to struggle as he glimpsed the sinister machines. Chariah tightened his grip on the Oneirophage and pinned his arm back at the elbow, so that his hand protruded outright. As they crashed into the adamantium floor, Chariah maneuvered the Oneirophage so that his hand plunged directly into the irising blades of a meat grinder. The flat razors opened and shut, opened and shut, and as they opened, Chariah thrust the Oneirophage's right hand into their midst. When the blades closed again they severed the Oneirophage's hand, to be borne away upon the crimson currents to the innards of the ship.
The Oneirophage clutched his fresh bleeding stump
with his spider hand, then cradled it to his chest and swam away from his enemy with one clawing arm. The Necrodelic followed, unsheathing the onyx sword from the bottom of the reservoir where it had stuck fast and hacking at his nemesis with the black blade, once lacerating the Oneirophage along the length of his spine. Finally, defeated, the Oneirophage sought to escape into the blood sewers and excretory systems he could hear running through the lower parts of the ship. He located a small iron grille and ripped it from its hinges, then plunged into the depths below the reservoir, allowing himself to be carried off into the hazardous tunnels by the suction below. The Oneirophage rode the rivers of blood down and away, into a gauntlet of narrow labyrinths and treacherous traps.
Chariah treaded blood for a moment before swimming back to the surface and climbing onto the black adamantium shore of a nearby platform. He would attempt to flush the Oneirophage out of the living pipes from his oracle chambers through the use of controlled floodings, and raise the temperature of the blood to a degree far beyond the boiling point, as well. Hopefully, he would be able to collect the corpse of the Oneirophage to smoke. However, he realized there was a strong possibility that the dream-eating demon would be dissolved, disintegrated, mutilated, or shot into space by the deadly organic processes below. Either way, he did not expect to see the Oneirophage alive ever again.
22
His bleeding arm-stump forming a crimson confluence with the rivers of blood, the Oneirophage drifted along the sanguine surf of the Omnibeast's living sewers, enduring the sharp turns and declines of the narrow pipes as the blood flowed with the speed of whitewater rapids. Some of the tunnels were barely wide enough for him to squeeze through, bruising his body and abrading his skin and scales. It was a claustrophobic labyrinth, a cramped and unforgiving maze. The sewers were giant veins and arteries interspersed with natural and mechanical valves, and pipes composed of iron that had been ripped from blood cells. These pipes often contained jagged edges around their entrances, exits, and corners, tearing his flesh as he sailed past their saw-toothed spikes. He maintained his strength by sucking dreams from the ship's blood with the Umbilicus, tearing fantasies from iron like baby leeches with his straw as he floated, imbibing the very currents that bore him through the liquid labyrinth.