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Vicious_Cycle ([info]vicious_cycle) wrote,
@ 2010-01-26 22:15:00


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Entry tags:"welcome to murderworld"

Murderworld
Links from: http://www.scribbld.net/community/marvel_nextgen/105964.html?thread=5874924


Ghost Rider follows the trail set for him. While its clearly a trap, the demon is very hard to kill and he knows it, and somehow, the aura of terrible sin, and this feels like some of the worst in a city known for its sin at times, has always been irresistable to the Spirit of Vengeance. Nick has let the demon have reign for now, gunning the engine and riding deep into the park after the trail.



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[info]vicious_cycle
2010-01-27 10:29 am UTC (link)
He has to work desperately for a time. His hand doesn't want to work right with the tool. He's losing consciousness and he knows it. Its only that work like this is second nature that carries him through.

The vent crashes away, and soundproofed room that it is, no one sees, no one hears. Their own security measure damning them.

He crawls for a time, almost losing it, before he feels himself pass the wards. His hands light, and at first, its all he can do but to warm himself by hellfire - a thought that would disturb many, but for now, its comfort.

And then the pentagrams alight with unholy fury, and he burns, then tears through the vent, dropping himself into an elevator shaft.

With some work, he finds it leads to a maintenance tunnel - a way back to the surface. A way to get to the rooms along the way so they can be maintained. A way to save the victims.

And then his eyes light up with unholy fire. He's made a devil's bargain today. That he had little choice in the matter is no matter. The wicked must pay before the innocent go free.

Leaving the victims to their fates a little longer, and the Champions to whatever awaits them, the Ghost Rider turns and goes deeper, not upward.

An iron door is torn viciously off its hinges with a damned shriek as he enters the artist's room. He tries to use the shock and awe of the moment to catch the man's eyes. A single moment that will leave him forever bathed in the results of his own "art."


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[info]ng_murderworld
2010-01-27 10:37 am UTC (link)
The man covers his body in reflex, arms raising to protect his face from whatever was blowing the door in and sending him falling to the floor. He looks over, of course. Looks over and sees the burning body of the Rider and his eyes, alight with sudden inspriation at the sight of hell's own messenger meet the pits of flame.

He finds himself feeling as though his flesh were being peeled away. Carved by a delicate hand. His own hand. A smile curves its way across his face. Joy flooding him. The burning man had given him the greatest gift. He had become his own art.

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[info]vicious_cycle
2010-01-27 10:43 am UTC (link)
There's a few moments of confusion. How can the man feel joy at such horror and suffering. Nicholas, likewise, recoils at the thought.

And then Zarathos realizes he doesn't care. His is not to care that some enjoy the devil's lash once they're under it, until the devil finds a new tool, his is to send them on their way.

He doesn't free the tied victims, only those still alive on the wall. There are more innocents to save, but more importantly, there are two more sinners.

The reverend is next. For while the woman certainly needs to meet the fate she's wrought, the loss of the one true innocent in this whole place, the unborn baby, cannot be forgiven.

The Rider just melts through the door this time, the heat of the fires licking at him hotter than even he ever remembers them being, the punishment of the artist giving him no release at all with so much evil yet here.

"Reverend..." he growls. "Judgement... it is not yours."

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[info]ng_murderworld
2010-01-27 10:52 am UTC (link)
The Reverend, having been in the middle of a prayer when the Rider so rudely interrupted, continued with his eyes shut and his hands upon his bible. He would not be deterred by the sinful unbelievers.

It was only when he finally finished and looked up, face contorted with contempt and mouth ready to damn whoever dared to say he didn't have this God given right that he paused in his wrath. He could feel his heart spasm in his chest even as his eyes looked into those burning pits. His body giving out even as his soul was torn asunder by the lash of the devil.

The last death he caused was the first he experienced. He did not see through the eyes of the mother. He saw and experienced what that budding life had felt before it was extinguished utterly. And then he experienced it's death. The death of an absolutely pure soul. The penance didn't need to make him experience anything else. That one death, so perfectly needless and unjust, was all the Reverend would ever feel again. Over and over and over unto eternity.

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[info]vicious_cycle
2010-01-27 11:02 am UTC (link)
And there's one more. In its own way, the cruelest, but most needful thing. The Rider has had Nick in control of the body before. He's reigned in the demon.
This time, for the first time, as the last step of the bargain, before he can set to freeing the victims and seeing to the Champions, Nicholas needs to let the Rider drive.
He's flesh and blood again, but its the Spirit of Vengeance who drives his steps. He opens the door into the woman's room, nearly naked from the damage done earlier, his wounds somewhat healed over by the time as the demon rider.

"Ginger." he calls softly. He doesn't want to know how the demon knows her name. He just does.
"You've been waiting a long time for someone you could count on, for something real and true and forever." he says softly, in tones a demon shouldn't have.
"You've found him... in all your efforts, for all your work, you finally have his attention. Look into my eyes."

Should she do so, the very human eyes lick with hellfire, ringing the dark mirrors of the penance gaze.

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[info]ng_murderworld
2010-01-27 11:15 am UTC (link)
She sits on the abused body of her latest lover, tears of anger dripping unheeded down her cheeks.

His voice draws her attention she gazes at him without seeing. As if hypnotized, her soul aching for the words he spoke, she slid off the empty shell of a man and fell to the floor. Her legs were weak as she sobbed, making it difficult to stand. Stand and go to the man that would finally be perfect.

She crawls across the floor. Using the door frame for support as she stands, one hand reaches out in disbelief. Shaking as her fingers touch his chest. And then she is against him. Holding him to her desperately and kissing him. Kissing him and finally able to see him, to hear him. She looks up, into those eyes that promise her everything she's ever searched for.

Her grip tightens, perfect nails digging into his shoulders as her body is wracked with sobs. All the pain of those she loved... they never loved her. She had hoped for so long that she'd been wrong, that somewhere inside one of them there had been a glimmer of true affection. But there wasn't. There was only more pain. More fear and heartache. There wasn't even hatred. None of them even cared enough to hate her for what she had done. They were only frightened and in pain.

She would never know love... and she would never know hate. She could only watch and cry as she died in her own arms again and again. Feeling nothing of any real consequence. She meant nothing to no one... not even herself.

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[info]vicious_cycle
2010-01-27 11:31 am UTC (link)
Realization comes flooding back to him. The world, the deception his body just played host to. The tiny little corner of a private hell she just reserved for herself. And he knows he should somehow pity her. There should be an ember of doubt or remorse or... something. That the human soul has enough empathy to find forgiveness, and to pity the monster.
But he has no soul. His parents sold it on the day he was born, the day they carved damned sigils into his innocent hands, and he would never be innocent or pure again. This woman made her hell, and now she has to lie in it, alone.

Nicholas can't help but wonder as he frees the survivors, these people who may now be haunted forever by what they've seen and experienced, scarred by their victimhood... first the men, then the reverend's victims, then the models, and then through each layer of hell, navigating the maintenance tunnels, demanding that the strong and able restrain the violent, carry the weak, anyone with medical training tend to the worst of the injuries...
Despite the commands, the insistence man care for man, the strong help the weak, and that together, and only together, they will find light and escape, even if they will never find peace...
Do they know he's not here for them? He never was. Their suffering might have gone unheeded, they might have died alone and unheard, as many others did in their company. There was no salvation for the victim, save that there was damnation for the wicked, and only that darkness drew him there.
Some of them might call him a hero. He saved lives. Some may fear him nearly as much as the sinners, and perhaps rightly so. They, at least, had souls, however wicked. There was in them depths to which they couldn't sink. The woman sought love, even if she was willing to deny it to others to try and find it. The reverend sought the Lord's punishment for the guilty, however overwrought, and in that, Nick can't help but remember his own reflection in the man's eyes - be careful when you stare into hell. The artist sought beauty.

But Nicholas? Nicholas is empty and damned. Whatever good he might do on this Earth, it may never be an untainted thing.

He nears the surface, and the light, leading his unholy procession of sinners and saved, examplars of vices and sins who now have to find somewhere to start again. His hands light - the pentagrams always light first, unholy shimmers lighting and playing over the surfaces of the scars.

Within moments, the flickers are an inferno, and the Ghost Rider is reborn. With the maintenance doors opened, he's able to call his very own pale horse - the bike roars up the tunnel, responding to his master now that he needs it again. These people will have to fend for themselves, hopefully for each other now.
The Ghost Rider isn't a hero... but he has heroes to save.

The final door from hell bursts away in a blaze of flame, and the Demon rides the Earth again.

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