Among The Shadows, Issue #004

Issue #004 – – – – – controlled by Ewan Farris – – – – – Credits 6

Stay calm, stay calm, Dark Star was thinking as he backed slowly towards the door.  The demon cockroaches were scuttling towards him and he readied his spectral energy to deter them.  But he wanted to find the Gate and since it wasn’t here he presumed it must be somewhere else in the church.  The thing was, since most of the internal walls seemed to have collapsed the only other place he could think of was under the church.  A basement of some kind.  But he couldn’t see an entrance anywhere…

The cockroaches came at him fast and all-at-once.  It felt co-ordinated.  Dark Star was ready for it, turning a cartwheel and then a flip to avoid the first surge, he kicked one of the bloated bugs mid-air and sent it spiralling into a wall.  Landing delicately, poised on his toes with perfect balance, the hero cast a pool of spectral light out to identify the movements of the bugs.  Like a black wave they were undulating across the floor on his left and he put a stop to that by sizzling the area with a potent blast of energy.  The smell of fried insect – not at all pleasant – filled the air.

“Ouch,” Dark Star snapped as he felt a sharp pain in his right calf.  Behind him cockroaches had scuttled up and one had bitten him.  Pointing a finger, he charred the thing black with a high-intensity spectral laser.  Then he leapt past his unpleasant attackers, landing on one foot and pivoting elegantly, while spraying the area with a wide blast of searing power.  Those insects who managed to creep past his curtain of power received the bottom of his boot with the full force of his superhuman strength behind it.

Nevertheless, there were too many.  Despite burning and crushing dozens of bodies, there were hundreds of the creatures.  Dark Star determined that he would need to retreat out of the church soon if he didn’t find the cellar access.  But at that moment he spotted it.  Behind the place where the altar had once been was a wooden stoop, beneath which he could make out a low door.  “That must lead to the cellar,” Dark Star told himself.  Kicking two bugs clear he leapt through the air, pivoted on both the horizonal and vertical axis as he flew, landed perfectly on the black mark where the altar had once been.

Immediately, the bugs swarmed again, en masse.  “Ah,” Dark Star smiled.  “Protecting this entrance are we?  Good to know.”  The insect’s desperation to stop him getting down to the cellar was good news because it seemed to indicate he was on the right track and also because it brought them together in such a perfect pack rather than being spread all over the place.  “Not your best tactical move,” He informed the chitinous swarm.  His power reserves had recharged since his earlier battle and the mild usage he’d given in this fight had not depleted them much.  With a roar he let out a massive burst of spectral energy that lit the church up like the Fourth of July.  Had anybody outside been watching it would have looked like pure bluish starlight had exploded from the windows into the night.

When the dust settled, most of the insects were dead.  Their fat black bodies lay all over the church floor, some twitching, others sizzling unpleasantly.  A couple of dozen had survived but seemed to have lost the will to fight, choosing to retreat to dark corners on the walls and ceiling.  Taking a moment to check his bite, Dark Star was confident that it was a minor wound that he could take care of later.  There was no sting of poison, nor burn of infection that sometimes came with injuries caused by supernatural opponents.

Opening the small door, Dark Star revealed a tiny flight of stone steps leading down.  The hero lit the area before him with a soft glow from his hands and began to descend.  The steps were steep and the cellar was deeper than he would have expected.  When he entered the room he had to stoop to avoid bashing his head on the ceiling.  The air here was musty, mildewy and old.  He could see a pentagram on the floor with the obligatory candles on each corner.

Against the far wall, four women and one man hung from manacles.  They were naked, their bodies streaked with dirt and blood and some kind of green slimy ichor that Dark Star didn’t care to identify right now.  For a moment they all appeared to be dead, but then one of the women opened her eyes.  “Help,” She croaked.  “Please help us.”
“Is this pentragram the True Gate?” The hero asked.
“It was,” gasped the woman.  Her voice was raw and hoarse.  “He closed it.  The gate is gone.”
“Who closed it?” Dark Star asked.
“The gate is gone,” The woman repeated.
“That’s good.  It was stupid to open it in the first place.  But I asked you who closed it?”

Just then the darkness on Dark Star’s left seemed to move.  To shift.  The shadows parted, almost like curtains being drawn apart.  There was a man there.  He was slight in stature, wearing jeans and (inexplicably) a black “Grateful Dead” T-Shirt.  He didn’t look like much at first glance, but there was something about his presence that commanded attention nonetheless.  “I closed it,” He said.  Dark Star looked at the young man and readied himself.  He did not know who this was but the whole situation was already extreme enough that he knew to tread very carefully.  “And you are?” Dark Star asked.
“I am Merihim, feal to Malphas, sixteenth duke of Hell, commander of 30 legions, bringer of pestilence, known as The Wasted One.”
“Oh,” Dark Star said.
“You have come too late, human. For the gate is closed and my servants are here in your world.”
“Why did you close the gate?  Don’t you play well with others?” Dark Star asked.
“I have these five,” Merihim laughed, indicating the coven chained to the wall.  “I can reopen the True Gate for my brethren later if I so desire.  But this new world is so full of darkness that I see no reason to share.  At least not yet.  Once I have turned this world to my will and installed myself as its Prince, then perhaps I will allow more through.  Perhaps.  We shall see.”
“I don’t mean to be difficult,” Dark Star said, his hands glowing more brightly.  “But I may have something to say about that.”
“Indeed?” Merihim chuckled.  “That might provide some brief amusement.”