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Vibora Bay: Even The Mere Reports Of Such (IC)


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Speed-Demon had kept quiet. He was out of his element and more than a little worried about what was going on. When he heard about the bodies, he dare not look. So he kept with the other heroes, falling a little behind, trying to keep his nerve. He wasn't easily spooked, but becoming a hero had involved a great deal more horror and magic than he had expected. He'd originally figured he would deal with petty thugs, gang bangers, drug pushers and the like. This felt out of his element.

 

Still, he was a hero, and he was with them whenever they saw...whatever that thing was.

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Torque needed to see them; she needed to see the evil that had been done. As she slowly approached the car, her boots sinking deep into the soil, she felt a ticking in what would have been her gut a year or so ago, and she tried to draw comfort from her transformed status.

 

I am not human. I am a thing. And things do not feel fear, nor disgust or sadness. I am a cold hard machine.

 

However when she stepped up to the vehicle, she suddenly felt all the rust, plastic and fiberglass she'd eaten at her family Thanksgiving come rushing up to her mouth, and a wave of 'nausea' flooded her as she doubled over, cubes of windshield safety glass and scraps of metal cascading out of her mouth.  She stared down at the mess in wonder, the data not making any sense.

 

How...?

 

It took some time to compose herself after this startling reaction, but eventually she made it into the front door of the house. More carnage, although now she imagined there was more going on than meets the eye. Someone killed the killers. Woodsman? It seemed likely, but it could also be a copycat or a frame-up; Taye really hoped the mysterious vigilante wasn't this brutal. She followed her teammates' voices upstairs, the steps creaking under her weight.

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CHEVAL

 

The mass of writhing body parts, flesh, bone and blood started moving towards them. The sight of the mass coming towards him and Persephone made his stomach churn, it was nausea inducing just to look at it, but even then, he would not falter. Friend, enemy, it did not matter in this situation. His instincts took over, the cry of Ogoun in his head filled him with what was almost hatred of this strange thing as it shuffled towards them. 

 

There was only one proper reaction to seeing such a beast coming for him, such an abomination.

 

Quickly crouching down on the floor, he drove his arm up to the front and under the creature with all his the force he could muster, punching at the abomination.

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Persephone

 

"A month," Persephone muttered as she watched the mass of viscera slither and congeal across the floor. "I won't eat for a month."

 

The green woman, still covered in a protective sheath of bark plates as hard as diamonds, still glowing with a faint violet aura, closed her eyes, bowed her head, and clenched her fists. Then she moved her hands as though she were gently molding clay, though there was nothing in them but empty air. Her head snapped back up, her glowing eyes burst open, and a cluster of vines crashed through the bedroom window behind the monster. Each one was as thick as one of Cheval's arms, and covered in hollow thorns. White fluid seeped and dripped from the thorns. The vines reached out toward the monster, probing and thrashing like the tentacles of a giant octopus.

 

"I don't know if this abomination is even alive or not, but if it is, that's enough designer opiates to make a full-grown elephant sleep like a week-old puppy."

 

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The abomination was...something else. 

 

Cheval felt his fist sink deep into its spidery, slippery bulk, and even felt part of it give way before his assault - but the overall effect was like trying to punch a bag of Jello. He could feel mouths opening inside the mass around his hand, and though the _teeth_ inside couldn't breach his armored skin, they weren't letting go either - he was stuck! Persephone's attack didn't seem to be doing much either - though the thorns did rip a few holes in the flanks of the Clydesdale-sized mass, the toxins they injected didn't seem to be doing much. Perhaps this really _was_ vampire flesh rather than living flesh; it certainly seemed to be hungry as it climbed its way up Cheval's arm towards his face, a limb abruptly lashing out to catch his other arm and pull it tight against his opposite wrist, binding him together like a man in bestial, mouthed manacles. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

With a great unwholesome sucking sound, Cheval managed to tear his arm free from the clinging beast, leaving behind a tremendous sucking wound in its unwholesome hide that suddenly burst into flames

 

His costume covered in blood and gore, his nightvision goggles across his face, Woodsman stepped further into the room from the doorway where he'd appeared and fired another flaming shot into the writhing beast - which wailed like a frightened child and lurched backwards against the wall before suddenly falling apart into a wriggling mass of bloody, fanged tentacles. 

 

"Okay. Okay. Okay." Woodsman stared at the burning mass of abominations for a moment, unaware that he'd spoken until he realized the others were looking at him. He racked the slide on his repeating crossbow, which was perhaps the only thing on his person not covered in blood. 

 

"Real?" he asked them. After a moment, he realized that might make him sound like a crazy man when he actually did already have some significant doubts about his sanity, so he clarified, "You saw them too? With the teeth?" It was a hell of a question from a nameless man wearing a hatchet caked with gore. 

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CHEVAL

 

The thing was sucking him in, holding on. It was a struggle, much more than it should have been. Marcus was strong. He was iron, he was Ogoun's cheval! And yet, this creature, this beast of flesh and teeth and blood was all over him, impossible to shake off, impossible to break.

 

And yet, he would break it. One way or another, he would break free! 

 

With a groan, he forced his arm out of the creature, a great wound left behind. A weak spot! Somewhere to strike!

 

Before he had the chance, teh thing was lit on fire. Taking a step away from the heat, Cheval looked towards the attacker, as the Woodsman stepped unto the scene. He was dazed, he was shaken. Rambled, even more than Cheval expected of the man, but he had aided them, and Marcus had agreed to trust him. Besides, he had seen the men with the teeth below. "What are they? Vampires of some kind?"

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Persephone

 

"CHEVAL!" The green woman shouted and reached out with her actual hands, grasping at empty air as the metal man was ensnared by the amorphous mass of flesh and teeth. The bloated vines thrashed around faster and more furiously, and the thorns on them grew larger. But the whole mess erupted into flame before Persephone had time to react any further. The vines retreated from the flames through the window and disappeared from view.

 

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"Okay. Okay. Okay."

 

Persephone turned around toward the crossbowman. "Thank the Lord, THERE you are!" She started to dive in for a hug and then stopped herself, remembering just in time who she was talking to. "Good grief, I was worried they had you chained up in the basement, or that some of..." She looked around at the floor and waved her hands. "...That some of THIS used to be YOU!"

 

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"Real? ...You saw them too? With the teeth?"

 

"What, these...THINGS? YES, unfortunately, VERY real." She watched as the white fluid from the thorns sizzled away. "And not even REMOTELY alive. More blasphemous MOCKERIES of life, like that creature on the night of the hurricane. We're all seeing the same horrid things, and the chances of some drug or magic spell that would work the same way on all of US seem pretty remote, so yes, I reckon it's all real." She looked him up and down and took half a step back from him. "Woodsman..." She spoke tentatively. "Where did all that...whose blood is that? Are you hurt?"

 

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Woodsman slid down the opposite wall, still holding his crossbow. "Saw them taking the girls," he said. "So followed. Knew vampires; was going to warn them." His hands twitched on his crossbow. "Started seeing things on the lawn. Killings, maybe. Not sure. Then one of them was eating that girl." His voice was quiet and slow, his heartbeat and breathing alarmingly regular. "So I killed him. Head was still alive so I used knife. Then I thought 'wait, if they can talk, they probably won't like this', so I took the head and went inside the house. Put a bomb in it; surprised them-" He shifted, and suddenly went dead silent at a distinct creaking noise from down below. The silence dragged on, and on; and he sat there like a composed statue, breathing in a slow, regular rhythm that was almost inaudible.

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CHEVAL

 

Vampires. Then he was right about that. Despite the situation, he couldn't help sending a knowing smirk at Persephone, though he quickly taught himself and stopped. The situation was too dire to feel happy about a little victory like that. 

 

He was about to say something about the Woodsman's methods when the other man paused and listened. Marcus followed suit. It was silent, yes. But there was something in the silence. Something too close for comfort. Another beast? Another creature like the one that laid before them? Or something else? Some other terrible monster that lived in this house?

 

"I hear it." Marcus was short and to the point, his words directed at the Woodsman as he looked around. He was iron. He was fire. He was justice. He would not be rattled by strange noises. These things didn't like fire, it seemed. That was something he could work with.

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Woodsman didn't speak at first. He made a hand gesture at the door, fast like sign language, but then seemed to pause and come back to himself. "down below. more.His voice was quiet, a whisper that barely carried over the creaking noise from below. He pushed open the door to the corridor, hatchet in hand - and nearly, nearly, dropped the weapon on the ground. "do you see it"

 

Looking outside, the others saw what looked like a filthy, battered child's cradle, and heard a thin, eerie wail that lasted just for a second - then was gone, leaving only the corridor they'd fought through before. 

 

"not here. didn't happen here. didn't happen." Woodsman leaned back against the wall, whispering to himself.

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Persephone

 

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"Knew vampires..."

 

"Wait, HOW did you know they were vampires? And not something else, like...oh, I don't know, rabid cannibal mutant aliens or something? I don't know much about the supernatural, but I fought some vampires once. More blind flailing like a toddler in a tizzy than a fight, really, but I got lucky, and that's why I'm still here to talk about it. But when they went, they went ALL the way. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, in the blink of an eye. These things, whatever they are, whatever they were, they left bodies, just like you and me would."

 

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"Started seeing things on the lawn. Killings, maybe. Not sure."

 

"I...I 'saw things on the lawn' too. History. I'm sure I don't need to explain to y'all what kind. But I had to talk the lawn into showing me those things, like I do. How did YOU see it? Who showed you?"

 

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"Then one of them was eating that girl. So I killed him."

 

"Oh my...Woodsman, after this is over we need to have a serious talk about your methods. I understand that sometimes the weapons are already drawn and innocent lives are on the line and you have to take the shot, but things don't always have to reach that point in the first place, and if you walk into every room looking for a fight then that's what you'll find every ti-"

 

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"Put a bomb in it"

 

"Okay, see, THAT right there is exactly what I'm-"

 

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The Woodsman shifted, and suddenly went dead silent at a distinct creaking noise from down below. The silence dragged on, and on; and he sat there like a composed statue, breathing in a slow, regular rhythm that was almost inaudible.

 

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"I hear it."

 

"Hear WHAT?" The green woman lowered her voice, but only slightly. She glanced around in every direction.

 

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Woodsman didn't speak at first. He made a hand gesture at the door, fast like sign language, but then seemed to pause and come back to himself. "down below. more.His voice was quiet, a whisper that barely carried over the creaking noise from below.

 

"We heard a ruckus in the basement before we came up here, but it sounded like a machine, not..." She waved her hand around the gore coating the walls and floor like cake frosting. "Not THIS."

 

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He pushed open the door to the corridor, hatchet in hand - and nearly, nearly, dropped the weapon on the ground.

"do you see it"

Looking outside, the others saw what looked like a filthy, battered child's cradle, and heard a thin, eerie wail that lasted just for a second-

 

 

"Good LORD who in the WORLD would bring a BABY in here?!" Persephone started to take off running toward the cradle, trying to get the word VEAL out of her mind. But she stopped short when it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

 

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Woodsman leaned back against the wall, whispering to himself.

"not here. didn't happen here. didn't happen."

 

 

Persephone slowly turned back toward The Woodsman, walked up to the wall where he was leaning, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. She spoke in low, even tones. "Sweetie, you need to breathe. Forget everything else for a minute and just breathe. Slow and steady, like this. In," She inhaled. "And out." She exhaled. "In and out, just like the tides. You're not hallucinating. We see it too. But you ARE having a panic attack. So you need to breathe." Tiny buds poked out of the flesh on her other forearm, quickly blossoming into several different kinds of flower. White long-petaled jasmine, bright orange poppies, and rich pink carnations all became instantly full to bursting with pollen which the green woman dispersed into the air by blowing gently on her own skin. The petals instantly dried up and crumbled to dust. Breathe deep, and enjoy a brief respite from whatever ghosts are chasing you. Chasing us. She glanced up at Cheval with a worried expression in her wide glowing violet eyes.

 

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CHEVAL

 

The sounds, the cradle, everything happening here. It wasn't entirely unlike the feeling he had outside, the feeling of horror that had happened before. It was gone in moments, like it had never been there, but everything about that cradle and that child had felt real, like it was truly there. Not some vision, like it might have been.

 

He remained in the door, while Persephone tended to the Woodsman. What was it he had said? He had killed someone? In defense of others or not, he had pushed a boundary, but Persephone was handling that better than he could, at least.

 

Still, the sounds remained. Something was moving. It was not like him to stay passive, but for now, he had to wait. He planted his massive frame directly in the doorway, blocking any from entering the room. "Take care of the Woodsman. I will deal with whatever is down here."

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Woodsman inhaled, the flowers smelling of home, family, and peace. 

 

But home was full of monsters and family was dead and there was no peace.

 

He stepped back from Persephone, his hatchet in his hand, shaking all over. But you don't drop it, you don't make a noise, because that's how they get you

 

"That's not-" 

 

And then the floor gave way under Cheval. He had no real warning and in any event his arms hit the edges of the hole hard enough that he tore right through it, instead widening the hole as he fell through ceiling and plaster, then through the _next_ floor! There was no basement, this being Florida, but he could feel his feet crack through the foundation and hit something - else. Something sticky. 

 

He looked up - and saw a blazing pentagram emblazoned on the far wall of the room he was in, which looked like a upscale game room half-covered in workmen's tarps, and heard a sinister, mocking laugh and a distinct voice with a noticeable Southern accent that said "Nice of y'all to drop in, boy." The air around him was thick with decay, no, with spiritual _rot_, and he could hear that laughter again. "Hope you'll stay a while!" 

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CHEVAL

 

The wooden building gave away. Of course it did. The entire place was rotten, and someone being made out of iron was not exactly light. Marcus let out a surprised yell as he fell, reaching out to try and grab onto something, but it only caused him to create an even greater hole. Down, through the next floor, through ceiling, plaster, floor, down to the very foundation that cracked under his weight.

 

He rose slowly, his eyes trying to see something in the darkness around him. The floor felt sticky. Did he really want to know what he was standing in right now, or would it be better to not know? His musings were cut short as he noticed the burning pentagram. Rot, decay. The air was thick with it. The entire room was filled, far worse than the rest of the building he had seen so far. And then, that voice. Biting into him. He wouldn't let it shake him. He couldn't let it shake him.

 

"Who are you?" He stood up straight, dusted himself off and looked around. Where was the voice coming from? Who was it? He slowly shifted into a boxing stance, fists held up in front of himself. "What have you done to this place?" Did this demon know him? Maybe, maybe not. If the sticky floor meant what he thought, then at least he had a trick or two up his sleeve.

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Persephone

 

"Woodsman, wait!" Should I grow my bark back out? The green woman had let the super-hard overlapping tree bark she'd used as armor shrivel up and fall from her skin after The Woodsman had destroyed the corpse-blob creature, and now she considered armoring back up as she nervously eyed the axe in his hand. No, that'll just drive him deeper into fight-or-flight mode. And it'll hurt, but anything he cuts off will grow back eventually. She reached out to him, but Cheval crashed through the floor before she could say another word.

 

Persephone's wide-eyed look of concern hardened into a teeth-clenched sneer of anger as she raised a hand and snapped her fingers. More engorged vines and roots came smashing and slithering through the nearest window. She casually lifted one foot and then the other, allowing the giant vines to slide under her and lower her down the hole the metal man's body had punched through the house and the ground. She called over to The Woodsman as she began her descent. "Stay put for a spell and catch your breath! Don't run off!"

 

When she reached the game room, her hair and eyes glowed brighter, bathing the area around her in a soft purple haze. "Cheval, are you alright?" The vines lifted her across the room to the metal man's side, where she did her best to help him as he climbed back up onto his feet. Her gaze slowly slid up the wall to the pentagram and hardened into a glare. She mouthed a silent prayer and subtly crossed herself. "Lord have mercy, I have half a mind to smash this whole God-forsaken house to bits and set fire to what's left."

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

He saw the fear in her eyes - and knew he'd seen it before. Faces of friends, of enemies, of strangers passed through his mind - even the gods fearing something as simple as a lone man with a simple weapon. Because they know what you are. They know you're not like them. 

 

Down below, the voice continued to taunt Cheval. "Me? I'm nothing, boy. It was the people here who made me. They bled each other for so many things!" There was a distinct tap-tap-tapping from somewhere nearby as Cheval pulled his way free, perhaps the sound of a large spider scuttling somewhere. "So much blood, over so many years. Then it all stopped. and Ah truly thought Ah would starve. And then _they_ came, the Hungry Ones, and things have been goooooood." A low laugh as a face began to form in the pentagram - a face that matched that of...PERSEPHONE! 

 

"Why hello there sugar!" she declared as Persephone joined them down below. "Well well well, this is new! All this time Ah've never seen two like you together before. Or does baby make _three_, darlin?" The face in the pentagram winked at Persephone. "Does Daddy know you're out whorin' around with some voodoo witch doctor and a murderer? But then you always _did_ have a taste for that sort of thing, didn't you, honey?!" 

 

Upstairs, Woodsman stood up from where he'd knelt on the floor the moment the plants crashed through the wall. "I'm not insane," he whispered as he pulled his crossbow out and loaded it. "I'm not insane." He blinked and was standing in the baby room again, hearing its eerie wailing and knowing his duty, and then was back where he'd stood on the second floor again. "I am not insane. It's real." And then, hooking a line around a protruding piece of wood, he began his descent down below. 

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Persephone

 

At first, the green woman gave only a subtle roll of her eyes in response to her doppelganger's taunts. But then it mentioned a "daddy," and a "baby," and "murder," and suddenly she was twenty-one years old again. Staring down at test results, and then a nice, handsome young man kneeling in front of her with a ring. The sight of either one should have made her feel happy, excited, but instead they filled her with anxiety to the point of nausea. She saw her entire life drawn on a giant map spread out beneath her, a well-trodden path carved out and paved over by her mother and her grandmothers before her, and she knew it wasn't her path, it wasn't the life she wanted. She saw the angry, screaming faces of the protesters at the clinic, and the determined grimace of the volunteers locked arm-in-arm to create a tunnel for her, a different path for her to walk. She saw the quiet and still handsome but no less angry face of that same nice young man, only not so nice anymore once she told him what she'd decided, what she'd done. She heard the spectre hurl barbs about "voodoo witch doctors," about "having a taste for that sort of thing," and she remembered the next time she saw that not very nice young man, years later, the subtle, smug disdain on his face when he saw the new man on her arm, a fellow student at her new school, a man of the wrong color. Her former lover's expression said so much that his mouth didn't have to say anything. I never thought you'd sink so low. But after what you did, I should've known. I can't believe I wanted to marry you. I dodged a bullet. The word "murder" kept echoing in her skull, and her thoughts slid forward in time, to less than a year ago, the looks of sadistic hunger on the faces of the vampire pack shifting in their final moments to anguished screams of pain and fear as they crumbled into ash when the roots and branches around her responded to her newfound symbiote's psychic commands, impaling those bloodsuckers like shish kabobs.

 

Persephone clenched her fists. The overlapping layers of hardened bark as strong as steel once more sprouted from her skin and covered her like the scales of a dragon. The engorged vines which had conveyed her down into the whole sprang to life once again, whipping furiously. The purple glow from her eyes gained a slight glisten as she glared and screamed at her own face in the wall. "It wasn't murder! They weren't alive in the first place! Now GET OUT OF MY HEAD AND GO BACK TO HELL!" Gigantic thorns burst forth along their lengths as the massive vine-tentacles flailed and smashed into the wall with enough force to pulverize it.

 

Edited by Grumblefloof
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CHEVAL

 

Persephone was there besides him, carried by her vines. Good. Good. He needed someone calm hear now. Not being alone with this abomination would be for the best and... then its taunts were directed towards her instead. It took on her face, and everything turned much more personal, it seemed.

 

While Persephone grew armor and thorns, Cheval was at a loss for words. He tried to process everything the thing had said. It had been made by people that lived here. It fed on the misery. It fed on the pain. And it knew things about them, knew things about Persephone, things that he might be able to guess, if it was his place to do so.

 

"Stop!" He reached out to her, trying to gently take hold around her arms.

 

This was a spirit. A spirit of pain and murder, it lived in this house, it could not leave it. But then what would happen if the house was destroyed? Would it die... or be set free?

 

"Whatever this thing is, it cannot leave this place, else it would have done so. What if you set it free by destroying it?" If he'd managed to take hold of her, he would turn her around, to look at her as he continued. "Whatever is in our past, it is the past. Do not let this thing twist that into something it wasn't." He wasn't good at this. Everything in him burned to just break this place, but that thought about the spirit being freed, it held him back still.

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"It doesn't mean you." 

 

Woodsman landed among the group downstairs. He was going to say more, but when he turned his head to look at the trees in the wall, the trees in the wall driven through by superpowers he briefly lost the ability to speak entirely, instead ramming a bolt home in his crossbow as if that was the only language he understood. 

 

The demon could talk though. 

 

"You!" Its voice was all laughter now, coming from the very walls. "You know what they'd do if they knew, don't you? Freak-boy-monster, last son of a dead world!"

 

Woodsman laughed suddenly, a high, dangerous sound. "You - you called me boy."  

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The was a dull THUD as Torque landed on the ground next to Persephone, scanning the room with her infrared. "Pardon me, " she said addressed the demonic face. "But you know NOTHING about my friends." Then she turned to the others. "My apologies for the delay. I was perhaps overly cautious in securing the perimeter."

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Persephone

 

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"Stop!" Cheval reached out to Persephone, gently taking hold around her arms. "Whatever this thing is, it cannot leave this place, else it would have done so. What if you set it free by destroying it?" He turned her around, to look at her as he continued. "Whatever is in our past, it is the past. Do not let this thing twist that into something it wasn't."

 

The green woman didn't resist the metal man's grasp. In fact, he could feel her relax into it. Persephone silently looked up into Cheval's eyes for a few moments, then turned down and to the side, resting her cheek against his chest as she hugged him tightly. The giant vines ceased their thrashing, though the basement wall which once held the pentagram and the mocking face had already been smashed to rubble.

 

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"It doesn't mean you." Woodsman landed among the group downstairs.

 

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"You!" Its voice was all laughter now, coming from the very walls. "You know what they'd do if they knew, don't you? Freak-boy-monster, last son of a dead world!"

 

Persephone looked up from her embrace with Cheval, but she didn't break it yet. "I guess it was silly to hope that slapping the mouth off its face would shut it up, but you know me, ever the optimist. You look like you're feeling better. Glad to see it."

 

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"My apologies for the delay. I was perhaps overly cautious in securing the perimeter."

 

Persephone eased out of Cheval's arms and slowly turned toward the two new arrivals. She smiled weakly at Torque. "There you are, Sweetie. I was starting to worry that something in the house got you."

 

Then she turned to The Woodsman and the smile fell off her face. "So who IS he talking about? WHAT is he talking about? This Thing can see inside of us, and he's showing us the worst parts of ourselves, the things we're ashamed of. He's lifting up the rocks in our souls and forcing us to look at the secrets squirming around beneath. The only defense against that is to get out in front of it. Benjamin Franklin was a notorious philanderer, but a scandal-proof one, because he had all his affairs out in the open. I can't approve of the man's conduct, but I can appreciate the tactical value. He can't use our secrets to tear us apart if we don't have any, and he can't shame us if we own up to what we've done."

 

She moved a few steps away from everyone and held her arms in front of her, wrapping them around herself as she looked off into the darkness. "Cheval's been under the microscope from Day One. I doubt he's got any skeletons in his closet we can't read about on the gossip sites. Me, I've got a little tabloid fodder, but not much. My biggest scandal is just being 'Persephone' in the first place. I killed some vampires my first night out. It was self-defense, and I didn't know what I was doing 'till it was done, but I'd do it again. I once spent a Saturday morning at Planned Parenthood. I knew EXACTLY what I was doing then, and I'd do THAT again, too. But you can't kill what's already dead or what wasn't alive in the first place. I know that sounds like I'm splittin' a hair four ways, but it's the God's-honest truth. I'm no killer. I'm a liar, obviously, but only when the truth would do more harm than good. I never saw the point of truth for its own sake, not when all it would do is hurt people's feelings or put them in danger. But I'm not a killer, or a thief, or a cheat. I've always played fair. I never threw the first punch in a fight, or stole something that wasn't mine, at least as far as the law was concerned. I've never cheated on a man I committed myself to, or knowingly helped a man do likewise, and whenever I found out I WAS the other woman, I ended things then and there." She turned back to Cheval and Torque. "My sins are collective, not personal. If my family didn't own this plantation back in the day, then they owned one just like it. All the misery and blood and death that happened here in those days, everything that kept this Thing as fat and happy as a woodpecker in a lumberyard, well if that didn't happen on our watch then it may as well have. The whole time I was growing up, every dollar that put food on my plate and clothes on my back was soaked in blood, blood my ancestors squeezed out of yours, and I haven't come near to making up for any of it."

 

She turned back to The Woodsman. "So what about you? It's obvious he's trying to drive a wedge between us 'cause he feeds on the drama. We're like a Real Housewives marathon and the party platter sitting in front of it, all rolled up into one. But why does he think YOU'RE the weak link in the chain? It wouldn't surprise anyone to learn that you've hunted game or killed in self-defense. Today alone you 'killed' a lot of things that were already dead. But I don't believe for a second that you ever 'murdered' anyone. So how is he twisting YOUR truth around?"

 

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"I'm not from around here." Even through the mask, this was maybe the first time they'd heard Woodsman's actual voice - a young man's, free of the harsh gravel he always seemed to be speaking through. "I'm not like you."

 

He racked the slide on his crossbow and shouted at the dark, tree-slain house and the monsters within. "Is that what you want to hear?!" He scanned the room, stepping back so there was something solid behind him. His voice cracked from little use, at least at this volume, and he added - "You've got nothin' I don't tell myself in the mirror every mornin'! You want a fight? We'll give you one! And you need to stop calling me boy, because I'm a Woods_man_." There, if he was going to Hell, he was going to go with some goddamn pride.   

 

At Woodsman's words, a figure took shape in the midst of the woods Persephone had shoved through the wall - a twisted, burning shape of a man in black and red, a suit as black as sin matched by a tie as red as blood. "So tedious," it sneered, flames crackling around its edges, "Talk of peace from the hero, psychotherapy from the child-killer, heroic speeches from the monster? _I_ am going back to bed - and if you want a fight, you can enjoy the company of...my children." And as the creature faded, the resolve of the united heroes having silenced its taunts, the already-cracked floor under Cheval began to fragment altogether as small pink hands pushed their way through... 

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When the monsters pushed their way through the floor, Woodsman dealt with this new crisis by grabbing the rope he'd rappelled down on and beginning to climb again. Nope! flicked through his mind, and not for the first time he realized he thought that word in Sparkler's voice. Speaking of witch... "Gonna burn it down!" he called down below as he ascended upward as quickly as he could make it, making his way back to the second floor in the space of just a few seconds. So tired...but he could almost rest. 

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CHEVAL

 

Cheval cursed as the floor cracked and buckled. Tiny pink hands pushed their way out, this creature's children pushing up, going for them. 

 

So, what should he do? Destroy the house, risk releasing everything? Fight these things one by one? Run?

 

No, he was Cheval. He did not run. This was just another beast, another abomination created through horror and pain, another monster to be slain. And the Woodsman had the right idea.

 

"Persephone, stay behind me!" he shouted, flames swirling around his right hand, before he punched down, straight into floor boards with the grasping hands, releasing a blast of fire from the impact, deep into the area below, before quickly stepping back.

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