by N. P. Martin
The agent shook his head in disgust, as did several other agents. "Because you’re a sick motherfucker, that’s why."
He punched me hard in the stomach then, and I would have went down if it were not for the agents either side of me holding me up.
"They don’t like you very much, do they?" Max said. "I wonder why?"
"I’m glad you’re finding this funny."
"Oh, I am, Creed. Believe me I am."
I was hauled down the steps and dumped into the back of a meat wagon with two armed guards either side of me. The blonde haired agent stood by the doors. "Oh, and I suppose you’re wondering why you can’t use your magic on us? That’s because we switched it off." He clicked his fingers. "Just like that. Enjoy the ride, Creed."
No way…
Once again, I tried to use my magic, but nothing happened.
What the hell have they done?
As the heavy metal doors slammed shut, so to did my mind.
3
The Devil Made Me Do It
I was taken to Division HQ, where I was brought to an interrogation room and handcuffed to a table. Then I was left alone there.
"What the fuck?" I said to no one. I had at least expected Brentwood to have given me the benefit of the doubt, considering all that I had done for him recently. I was being treated like a dangerous mass murderer. To make matters worse, Max’s avatar—still in the form of Evil Creed—appeared in the corner of the interrogation room, and stood there with his arms folded, that fucking annoying, sneering look on his face.
Christ, I hope I don’t actually look at people like that…at least not all the time.
"How does it feel to be treated like a criminal, Creed?" Max asked with blatant delight in his voice.
I was about to answer out loud when I realized there was a camera in the room. It probably wouldn’t help my case if I was seen talking to someone who wasn’t really there. Division probably thinks I’ve snapped and gone insane, having buckled under the pressure of the last few months. Although that did pose the issue of how I was going to explain myself without sounding like I’m off my rocker. "This isn’t the first time I’ve been treated like a criminal," I said telepathically. "Certainly not the first time by Division. What the hell are you doing here anyway? You said you would fuck off for forty-eight hours, and yet, here you are."
"I just enjoy seeing you suffer, Creed. There’s something uniquely satisfying about human suffering in general." He smiled. "It hits the spot."
"Fuck off."
Just then the door opened, and in walked someone I wasn’t expecting to see. At least not yet, and certainly not in Division HQ. "Leona," I said in a voice somewhere between shock and relief. "Thank God. What are you—"
I never got to finish the sentence, because Leona’s right hook to my jaw stopped me talking any further.
Max started to laugh. "Oh, yes," he said with delight. "This is getting interesting now."
"That’s for running out on me," Leona said as she paced the room for a moment, before coming to sit in the chair across from me. She was dressed in her tactical leather outfit and long leather trench coat, which meant she looked sexy as hell and I couldn’t help noticing, despite the fact that she looked ready to punch me again if she didn’t get a satisfactory answer to her next question, which was, "What the hell happened, Creed?"
"What happened is, my usual bad luck kicked me in the balls again," I said, resisting the urge to glance over at Max who stood leering in the corner.
Leona made a face and shook her head. "What are you talking about?"
"Yes, Creed," Max said, staring at leona as if she could hear and see him. "What are you talking about?"
I took a deep breath, deciding just to come out with it. "You know how I told you I was marked by the demon who killed my family?"
Leona nodded. "Yes."
"Well, that demon came to collect a week ago."
"Came to collect? You mean--"
"It possessed me."
Leona drew back away from me as if in defense, a move that made me reach out to her, only to have the chains around my wrists tighten and snap my arms back. "Are you seriously telling me you’ve been possessed by a fucking demon?"
I nodded as I stared angrily at the chains holding me. "Yes."
She stared into my eyes, soon realizing I was telling the truth. "That’s fucked up, Creed."
"You’re telling me."
"She believes you," Max said.
"Stay out of it," I told him.
"It would also explain a lot," Leona added.
"You mean…the bodies?"
"Everyone thinks you killed those people," she said.
"Does Brentwood think that?"
"He doesn’t know what to think yet."
"Is that why he sent you in here, to get the truth?"
Anger flashed across Leona’s face. "He didn’t send me anywhere. I asked him to let me talk to you first, as a favor to me."
"What are you even doing here anyway? Are you back working for Division?"
"What?" She shook her head. "God, you’re such an asshole at times. I work with you now, remember?"
"Of course I remember," I said. "I’m sorry. It’s just this whole fucking mess. Can you get me out of these chains?"
The door opened then. Brentwood walked in wearing his usual serious scowl. "You’re lucky you aren’t in a containment cell right now," he said, then looked at Leona. "Give us the room."
Leona knew better than to argue with her former boss. She nodded, giving me a quick look before she left the room. Brentwood sat across from me. His stare was long and hard.
"General Brentwood," Max said, as if a new player had just entered his game. "He’s much more intimidating in person than he is in your thoughts, Creed. You don’t give the man enough credit."
"I’m guessing you heard everything I said to Leona," I said to Brentwood, while ignoring Max.
He nodded his bald head. "The devil made you do it? That’s seriously your defense?"
"Why would I lie about something like that?" I was genuinely annoyed that he didn’t believe me.
"You tell me, Creed. You never were the most stable of individuals, and with the kind of insane life you lead, who’s to say you didn’t suddenly crack under the strain? I’ve seen it happen enough times. Some guy’s, they just snap one day and do crazy fucking shit, like go on a killing spree around town. Maybe they also don’t want to believe the bad shit they’ve done, so they concoct some cock and bull story to cover up their madness."
The consternation on my face grew as he spoke, until I finally shook my head in dismissal of his beliefs. "Look at me, Brentwood. Do I look fucking insane to you?"
"You always look a bit insane to me, Creed. It’s hard to tell."
Max laughed at that.
I sighed sharply. "Fuck off," I told him, having to stop myself from shouting it out loud.
"So you’ve really been possessed by a demon?" Brentwood said. "That’s what you’re telling me?"
"That’s what I’m saying."
"Can you prove it?"
"Yes, Creed," Max said, now standing behind me somewhere. "Can you?"
When I said nothing, Brentwood took out his phone. "Because I can prove to you that you killed over a dozen people, Creed."
"What?" I said, dreading what he was going to show me.
"Oh," Max said. "This should be interesting." He went around behind Brentwood so he could stare at the phone. I tried not to look at him while keeping my eyes on the table.
"There," Brentwood said sliding the phone toward me. "Recognize anyone in that video?"
I sighed as I picked up the phone, dreading what I was going to see. It was security cam footage of me inside an elevator somewhere, with an older woman standing beside me. I watched myself on the video reach out and press the stop button on the elevator, before proceeding to viciously attack the woman, biting and clawing at her face like some wild animal. "Jesus Christ," I said, wanting to look away, but watching un
til the end, which seemed to take a long time. Before the video ended, I could be seen standing over the bloodstained body of the woman, as I smiled at the camera inside the elevator.
I looked at Brentwood, and shook my head emphatically. "That’s not me."
Brentwood took the phone. "Well, it sure fucking looks like you, Creed."
I shook my head. "Come on, Brentwood. Do you really think I would do something like that? Do you think I would blatantly look at the camera like that if someone wasn’t making me do it?"
Brentwood merely stared at me as he slid the phone across the table again. "Take a look at those. Crime scene photos of the people you killed."
Even though I didn’t want to, I picked up the phone and went through the slideshow of horror that depicted one mutilated body after another. Some of the bodies were so cut up, they reminded me of the work of Jack the Ripper. "Nice work," Max said chuckling to himself as he stood looking over my shoulder.
"I didn’t do any of this," I said. "I’m not a murderer."
"Try telling that to my superiors," Brentwood said. "They want your head on a stick, Creed."
"They wanted my head on a stick even before this."
Brentwood sat back in his chair and sighed. "I’ll be honest with you, Creed. I don’t think you killed those people. You’re crazy, but not crazy enough to slaughter innocent people. I don’t think anyway."
"I didn’t do it."
"Well, whether you did or you whether you didn’t, I don’t have much choice but to hold you here."
"What?"
"Even if you are telling the truth about being possessed by a demon, there’s no way I can let you go free so your demon can murder more people."
"So I’m your prisoner now?"
"It looks that way."
"Fuck’s sake," I said clenching my fists. "You can’t keep me locked up in this place."
"Can’t I? Everyone thinks you’re a murderer, Creed. A sick bastard. What do you want me to do? Someone has to pay for all those deaths."
"Oh dear," Max said as he leaned in close behind me. "Did I get you into trouble, Creed? I’m sorry."
Max’s cold laughter caused me to strain against the chains holding me as I tried to get to the bastard. "Fuck you!" I screamed aloud.
"Creed!" Brentwood said. "What the fuck are you doing? Sit down!"
Feeling like an angry idiot, I sat down again and tried to quell my emotions as I clenched and unclenched my fists. "This can’t be fucking happening," I muttered to myself.
"What was that?" Brentwood asked. "Can you see the demon who possessed you?"
"Unfortunately," I said.
Brentwood drew back almost in fear for a second. "It’s here in this room right now?"
"Over here," Max said as he started waving at Brentwood, as if Brentwood could see him.
"Unfortunately," I said again.
Brentwood shifted in his seat, as he seemed to be considering leaving the room. Evidently, he didn’t feel safe in the company of a demon. The moment Brentwood stood to leave, I felt Max take over my body, and then snap the chains holding my wrists as if they were made of paper. I was then dragged along helplessly as he used my body to attack Brentwood. I felt my hands wrap around Brentwood’s throat, as my fingers began to squeeze his windpipe. Brentwood was strong, but Max was much stronger, and easily held Brentwood down on the floor. "What the fuck?" I screamed at Max helplessly from within. "Stop it!"
I was relieved when my fingers released themselves from around Brentwood’s throat. Max relinquished control again, appearing in the room once more as Evil Creed, laughing while I stood in shock, and Brentwood scrambled to his feet. Then a second later, the door burst open and four armed guards came storming in pointing automatic weapons at me, screaming for me to get down on the ground. "I’m sorry," I said to Brentwood as I sank to my knees, and the four guards rushed me. "That wasn’t me..."
My hands were zip tied behind my back, along with my legs. "Take him away," Brentwood said in a hoarse, pissed off voice.
I resisted the guards, turning to Brentwood as I remembered something. "My magic," I said. "How were you able to block it?"
Brentwood snorted once. "Technology, Creed," he said, sounding a little too smug for my liking. "It’s catching up with magic. Get used to it."
That wasn’t enough for me. "How?"
"We can use satellite technology to target any adept, then we put a block on their magic. As you know, it works…just like magic."
Bastard.
"Where did you get the tech, Brentwood? No one in Division is smart enough to come up with something like that."
Brentwood glared at me, but he knew I was telling the truth. "Outside contractors. That’s all I’m going to say." He looked at the guards still holding me and nodded at them. "Take him to his cell."
Before the guards took me away, I shouted, "Just remember who you’re dealing with, Brentwood. You might be able to hold me now that you can block my magic, but you can’t block the power of the fucking demon inside me…"
Brentwood got to his feet quickly. "Is that a threat, Creed?"
I said nothing as the guards took me away.
4
Locked Up
They locked me up in one of the cells on the bottom floor of the facility. The cell was a small room made out of reinforced concrete, except for the front wall which was made of thick plexiglass. "I hope you’re happy now, asshole," I said to Max as he stood staring at me in the corner of the room. I sat down defeated on a bench that seemingly doubled as a bed, even though there was no bedding anywhere in the room.
"Happy?" Max said screwing his face up. "I don’t really do happy the way you humans seem to. There is a certain inherent satisfaction in the situation, however."
"Even though you’re locked up in here as well?"
"I’m not worried about that. I can break us out of here after I grow bored with your predicament."
I nodded. "Great. That’ll really help matters."
"We could go off-world. I know some interesting dimensions where we could go."
"No thanks."
Despite what I said, breaking out off Division could end up my only option if Brentwood and his superiors insisted on keeping me locked up. By their reckoning, I was too dangerous to be let out, at least not while I was possessed by a demon. It was looking increasingly likely that I wasn’t going anywhere soon.
"So is this what you normally do to the people you possess?" I asked Max. "You fucking ruin their lives before killing them?"
"Usually," Max said. "You are just playthings after all."
I shook my head. "You’re a total cunt."
"Oh, come now, Creed. All is not lost. And besides, didn’t I agree to help you find the souls of your family members?"
"The ones you killed, you mean? Yeah, you did, but that was before your serial killing got me thrown in here."
Just then, Leona appeared in the corridor outside, standing by the Plexiglass as she looked in at me sadly. "Hey," I said going to the glass. "I’m really sorry about this. I feel like fucking Hannibal Lecter in here. Quid pro quo, Clarice... did the cries of the lambs bother you?”
Leona gave a slight smile and shook her head. "Weirdo. It’s not your fault."
"That I’m a weirdo?"
She laughed. "No, Jesus…of course you’re a weirdo, but that wasn’t what I meant."
"Thanks."
"I meant it’s not your fault you’re in this place."
"I’m sure Brentwood isn’t thinking that."
"His back’s against the wall on this one. He says he can’t release you."
I sighed and shook my head. "What a nightmare. I bet you wished you’d stayed in Washington."
Smiling, Leona put her hand to the plexiglass, as did I. "You’ll figure this out, Creed. You always do."
"The damage is done, and there’s a string of bodies to prove it. I don’t see how." I shook my head as the seriousness of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. "
All those people dead...because of me."
"Hey," Leona said firmly. "You’re not responsible for killing those people. It wasn’t you."
"I wouldn’t be so sure of that," Max said from the back of the room.
I couldn’t help but turn my head as I telepathically said, "What the hell do you mean?"
When I turned back to Leona, she was frowning at me. "What’s wrong, Creed?" she asked.
"Nothing," I said.
Leona looked past me into the room as if trying to find something. Or someone. "Can you see it?"
"You mean the demon?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"Well, the motherfucker is standing right behind me," I said. "Or at least a projection of himself. Or rather myself." I shook my head as if the whole situation was a confused mess. "I mean, he copies my image."
"So you...see yourself?"
"Yes. A more evil version of myself, as joyful as that sounds."
"That’s fucked up."
"Yes, it is rather fucked up, isn’t?" Max said gleefully.
"Is it talking to you right now?" Leona asked, unable to keep from looking past me into the room.
"Unfortunately," I replied. "He’s an annoying fucker, I’ll give him that."
"He?"
"He calls himself Max. You believe that? A fucking demon that calls himself Max."
"Would you have preferred I call myself Veltron or Belthane or some other ludicrous name instead?" Max asked.
"I couldn’t give a fuck what you call yourself, asshole," I shouted aloud, not caring anymore who heard me. "I just want you fucking gone."
"Yes, all in good time," Max said. "Provided I get what I want."
"Well, maybe if you had consulted me first before going on a fucking killing spree, we might have been able to come to an arrangement sooner, and we’d be on our fucking way now," I shouted back, again out loud, after spinning round to face him. "But you didn’t. No, you had to be the big bad demon and kill a load of innocent people, just so you could feel big or superior or whatever the fuck it is you get out of picking on defenseless beings. You’re nothing more than a child killing fucking cunt!"