Fan Fic Sub #5

[Asuka Kazama]

The Convergence of Night and Day
A Hellgate: London Fiction by backfir3

We have come to think of light and dark as two opposing forces, clashing in constant battle for dominance of space and soul. Some seek a side in the battle, they wish to bath their self entirely in the fires of the morning sun, or drown their being in the well of midnight. What they do not understand is that there are no lines separating the light of day and the darkness of night; dawn melts into dusk melts into dawn.
Darkness and Light are forever intertwined. No separation can be made.
Excerpt from the ‘Doctrine of Night and Day: The Cabalist Perspective’.



Daybreak

The Templar’s sword ignited the atmosphere, painting fluttering ribbons of deadly light into the soft evening air. His body sweated lightly in the cool confines of his armour; the technology clung to him as a second skin, pulsing its electricity in time with his own. The moon washed over the figure as he moved, bathing the scene in an eerie beauty, enhancing the fluidity in its ethereal glow. His breathing came steady, his focus as sharp as his blade.

The Marksman watched through the scope of this Triton rifle as the young Templar practised his kata. His augmented eyes traced trails slithering like ghostly snakes as the Templar disturbed the air around him, they captured every movement, recorded every detail.

For a month they had travelled under the blanket of night, on foot to avoid attention, and now they’d reached their destination. A Hell Rift hung, a quarter of a mile to their east, above the serrated walls of a broken castle. The once proud monument lay there in the bloody glow of the rift like a great beast gutted, its crumbled towers clutching at the sky in a final defiance as zombies stumbled through its exposed entrails cruelly mimicking those who had once breathed life into the stone of its walls.

And deep within the body of the beast, great wings beat, pumped with dark energy in the sickening parody of a heart.

“I’ve told you once.” He muttered to himself, “Thoughts like these aren’t going to make the task any easier.”

They had made camp at the bottom of a small dale situated in the thick of the forest. The steep walls of the valley provided cover for the glow of their fusion stove aided by the thick canopy provided by the twisting trees that haunted the lip above them.

Arkiah laid his Triton to one side and lifted his Arclite automatic. He turned it over in his hands, moving it smoothly, inspecting every aspect, seemingly fascinated with every detail. He held it up to the moonlight and let the reflected brightness spill across its surface, his eyes narrow. The Templar, finished with his own preparation, had sheathed his sword and was walking toward the older man.

“My armour tells me we’ve received a communication from the scientist.” He said as he neared the marksman. “Would you like to review it now?”

Arkiah smiled and detached the com-unit from his helmet, a smooth oval disc the size of a pebble. He placed it on a rock to his side and glanced back toward his companion.

“Brinn, I’ve travelled with you for nearly forty cycles and you spend your days like a spring coiled and your nights twice as taught. You’ll either shock me to death by allowing yourself some rest, or wear me out before my time.”

The young man grinned.

“I doubt your stubborn bones will ever allow the latter, my friend, perhaps when we return I’ll see what I can do about the former. I hear expertly augmented Fusions fetch a pretty sum on the open market...”

The marksman chuckled as he set the device to transmit.

“Playback.”

Tiny sparks danced in the air above the com-unit as a frame of translucent blue light began to unfold itself. The face of the scientist etched its way into view. The head hung disembodied above the glistening rock, the effect was more than a little disturbing.

“We’ll receive some interference this close to the gate.” The marksman spoke softly.

“.. y friends,”

The voice of the Cabalist Scientist sounded mechanic and detached.

“I’m glad to see you both well. The journey was a treacherous one and …. are grateful. I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad tiding …. rimus you’ve been sent to destro … is an ancient … must use the device I gav … sure you collect its essence … fate of many lies with … may the light of .. penetrate the darken...”

“End Transmission.”

The head disappeared in a flurry of static as the blue frame folded back in on its self.

“An ancient,” Cursed Arkiah. “Why do I get the feeling we’re being drip fed like invalids.”

Brinn laughed.

“It won’t be long until that’s true enough for you, old man.” He winked, slyly evading the barrel of the marksman’s Triton as he swung it in protest.

“Until then let’s live for the moment. There’s nothing quite like the smell of burning zombie flesh to start the day.”







Destroy All Monsters

The bright lights of the battle shook and shone, dancing across the early morning sky in celebration of the carnage. Bathed between the blood red echo of the hell rift and the sickening crimson blanket of the battlefield, zombies limbs twisted and fell in time to the relentless crack and beat of gunfire; the performance a ghoulish ballet.

The Templar twisted between the deadly streams. The perfect antithesis of his stumbling foes, the elegance of his movement only matched by the morning light pouring like fluid over his gleaming armour. His sword rich with red, the artist painted his canvas.

In minutes the courtyard was cleared.

“76,” Crackled Brinn’s voice through the com-unit. “What was your count?”

“Twice that. Perhaps if you spent less time prancing and more time killing you’d have a chance of beating my score once in a while.”

Brinn’s laughter filled the marksman’s helm.

“Half my effort was spent trying to avoid my comrade’s fire; I thought you were supposed to be the best shot in your unit?”

“’In the ‘Country,’’ Corrected the marksman. “And these damned rapid fire units don’t seem to share your ideals of friendship.”

Arkiah heard a forced sigh “It’s no wonder most Templar feel superior, when you can…”

The templar’s retort was cut short as the ground beneath him erupted. Arkiah watched the explosion fling his friend through the air, but before he could call out he saw Brinn expertly twist his body and land on his feet.

“Nice prancing!” He called.

The templar gave a mock salute, then, sheathing his blade, he drew his grappler and fired at the creature emerging from the scar of the explosion. It found a home in its hide and the wire snapped taught as the Templar used the grapple to pull himself toward the beast. Just before contact, he produced his sword and made a single swing, kicked out at the shoulders of the creature and somersaulted away. He landed with his blade already sheathed as the hideous behemoth toppled to the ground behind him.

“Now you’re just showing off.”

The creature’s body began to slide back into the scar; the two soldiers walked to the edge and peered in.

“Looks like we may have found an easier entrance.”

The marksman used his enhanced vision to scan the walls of the castle.

“It may look ruined, but there’s an enchantment upon this place.” He told his friend. “The spectral defenses are far too high for us to break through without a Cabalists aid; our friend here may well have just saved our mission from failure.”

He returned his eyes to the pit.

“Shall we?”

He saw his companion hesitate.

“Don’t tell me you’ve actually worn yourself out?”

Weak laughter floated through the static.

“It’s not that, Ark.” The templar replied. “I’ve just… I sense something, a gathering darkness, a power unlike any I’ve felt before. I’ve been told I have a talent for these things, and had my proficiency with the blade been discovered at a young age, I’d surely have been recruited by the cabalists for training. Knowing this, I don’t take these instincts lightly.”

Arkiah felt a shudder shake through him. He’d only known the young man briefly, and these moods had come on him rarely, but each time they had, it had been a worthy premonition.

Each time they’d been cast into pure darkness.







An Exploration of Darkness

A thick mist choked the city, twisted spires and broken towers rose from its clutches grasping for air, volcanic ash rained softly as echoes in the sulphur pirouetted under a blood red sky.

Amet Kar turned from the window of the cabalist laboratory. In his eighties, the scientist’s once thick black hair had dissolved into thin white strings and his skin had taken on a grayish tint. Liver spots spread across his skin as hungrily as the pandemic of some horrific disease and he stooped as he walked. Yet, while his body was frail his mind remained sharp.

He let out a weary sigh and his gaze fell upon the marksman standing to attention in the center of the exposition chamber.

The base of the chamber was a perfect sphere; the walls rose up in a cylinder, the only imperfection being the great doors on the north of the chamber wall and the arched window opposite. Underfoot, uneven slabs of great stone lay crudely fused together, each slab etched with a single ancient rune, the actual floor itself being a thin layer of translucent material which lay suspended an inch or so over the largest slab. It appeared to be glass at first, but it shimmered with an unearthly glaze and at certain angles it seemed to disappear entirely. The same strange material, seemingly more dense, capped the top of the chamber. The blood red of the London sky seemed to flood into the opening, pouring down the walls, bathing the pure white stone of the chamber walls in its hellish hue.

“You may relax yourself, marksman.” rasped the fragile scientist, with a wave of his gnarled hand. “This mission is under cabalist authority, you’ll find no need for your military formalities here.”

The marksman’s posture eased, but only slightly. His augmented eyes narrow and piercing, Amet felt uneasy under their stare, almost as if they were penetrating his very being, reading every particle of him as plain as a children’s fable.

Does he suspect? Does he know our intent?

The cabalist scolded himself for allowing the weakness.

He’s been scanned, his mind is as sharp as his gaze but he possesses no trace of the gift. We are secure!

“Do you know how this chamber came to be given such a name?”

The man remained silent, recognizing the sly rhetoric underlying the tone. He listened.

“It is here where we conduct our most important tests. It is here the elucidation of the dark arts is attempted; here we strive to spark illumination in the blackness of the pit. We believe that the embers of the true light will be found in the very heart of the darkness. That only through a true understanding of the fires of hell itself, will we find the power to defeat it.”

He smiled as he recited.

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”

The old man’s eyes glinted with a hint of fire.

“If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.” Retorted the marksman as the old man nodded, seemingly pleased.

“It seems you have a deeper understanding of our notions than we’d realized.”

Arkiah understood the importance of the cabalist’s experiments; he’d seen great demons fall to the magic cast by a single Evoker where the expert fire of an entire battalion of Hunters had failed. The marksman also knew of the zeal of the fevered Templar Command, that they abhorred all darkness and that this passion verged, at times, on the edge of madness. That they allowed the cabalists free reign in their notions and exercise only fortified the worth of their darker brothers and sisters abilities.

This didn’t make the unease he felt now any less of an alarm.

The scientist continued.

“There is a ruined castle, many miles to the North. In the belly of this structure lies the door to a vast underground chamber, a place of great and ancient power. It is in this chamber that a Primus has made its lair. The beast was drawn to the vein of power that runs through that dark place, the same that attracted the druids there many centuries ago.

He paused as coughs ravaged his weary frame, Arkiah saw him place a cloth to his mouth and draw away something crimson.

Amet regained his composure and continued.

“Even before the emergence of the Hellgate many smaller rifts had been documented across the country. It seems the energies that converge in this part of the globe inspire anomalies in the fabric of space/time, tears in reality if you will, that produce doorways into other dimensions, and when the Hellgate appeared it tuned these rifts to its own frequency. It is at one of these convergence points that the demon emerged. He is there now, exploring the darkness and, we believe, is close to discovering a way to harness the planets natural energy for itself.”

The scientist met the piercing stare of the marksman, the fire that had sparked there briefly before now burned wildly. Arkiah felt saddened somehow.

It seems the value of fanaticism is found on both sides of the coin.

“We cannot allow this to happen! If the beast succeeds in its task it will be able to harness the true power of the main gate, the walls of reality will be crumbled, all dimensions will converge, and Hell and Earth will exist as one granting the endless fire the means to consume the planet entirely. All will be lost!”

Arkiah shivered; the passion of the cabalist the antithesis of warmth. He could sense an underlying subtext unmentioned, intent was being deflected.

“I understand what’s at stake, there’s no need to curse me with your fever, dark one.”

The cabalist smiled, his stare retracted somewhere deep inside himself.

“Good,” He purred. “Then we’ll begin.”

Amet moved toward the center of the room, the translucent floor giving the unnerving impression that he was walking on air, his cloak billowed as he moved and his skeletal frame could be made out underneath. Like an avatar of death he floated toward the marksman. He produced a small object from under his robe and handed it forward.

“This device must be used on the demon just before it’s slain, it will trap its essence inside safe for us to study. “

The cabalist floated back toward the window.

“There is one more thing; we have selected a young Templar to accompany you on this mission. He must be the one to activate the device, all that can be told is that he possess a little of our gift and that it’s essential to have a natural affinity with the energies of the process for it to be a success. We would send one of our own with you, but we cannot spare any of the focus we’re attending on the main gate. This is a crucial time, am I absolutely clear?”

Arkiah nodded.

“Excellent.”

The cabalist turned back to the window.

“Were your reputation made only of half-truths, I’d have no worry regarding your success. I can sense your abilities, my friend; I have absolute faith in them and you. Now make haste, for the sake of us all.”

Arkiah saluted.

“For the Living.”

“May the light of Hope penetrate the darkness.”

The great doors swung silently outward as the marksman left the chamber.
In the center of the room, the air blurred and shook slightly as two robed figures emerged into the atmosphere of the room.

“He is suspicious of our intent.” The first figure hissed.

“Yes,” Mimicked the second. “Yet our orders would be followed to the death, this one has faith even if he knows not himself.”

“The young man’s sacrifice will give us our champion.” Whispered Amet, his voice suddenly filled with a deep sadness.

“This is the only way.”







The convergence of night and day

The cavern opened up below them like the maw of a great beast rising from a terrible depth, sharp and splintered rocks bit at them as they descended into the absolute blackness of the throat.

The external lights of their armour cried out with futile effort into the suffocating blackness, their breath caught thick and heavy between metal and skin as the steady hum of the electronics and scrape of steel against rock echoed around them. Hope faded faster with each glimpse upward, of the terrible darkness closing in on the daylight above them. The beast swallowed its prey slowly, savoring the taste.

The floor came to meet them and they jumped down, landing heavy on the earth floor of the cave.

“There’s spectral residue here,” Spoke the marksman softly. “Fresh enough to be a worry, be ready.”

The templar replied by drawing his sword. In his hands it was more than a weapon, with it he could conduct great symphonies of death. Even with no identifiable light source, its smoke-blue blade shone brightly in the dark of the cave. The dragon head hilt snarled as it spun through the air, the purple trails of energy danced playfully in its wake.

“After you.”

The heads up display of the marksman’s helmet traced the residual energy against the dank atmosphere of the cave and they began to make their way along the main tunnel.

Up ahead a dull purple glow began to pulse.

The tunnel opened into a massive chamber, the walls stretched up endlessly, seemingly further than the distance they’d descended could permit, and the floor fell down into absolute darkness. In the center of the chamber, a huge hexagonal disc, at least three hundred feet wide, hung suspended in mid air. Purple beams of energy connected the disc to the connecting tunnels on each wall of the cavern and Arkiah tested one with his boot.

Solid.

From the tunnel behind they heard a horrific cry. They spun to meet the threat.

“Dunder Liches!”

The marksman’s Triton rifle, heavy and cumbersome, seemed half the size and weight in his expert hands. He felt its weight, caressing its grip with the care of a lover, hold it close he steadied himself and let out a sigh.
Then he fired.

The first Spectral screeched as it exploded, and even before its entrails had hit the dank ground three more had fallen to the marksman’s skill.

“My turn.”

The templar rushed in while the marksman reloaded his rifle.

His grapple caught the first spectral in the shoulder and he activated the pulling mechanism. This time he dug his boots into the earth and the Liche was dragged screeching toward him. Just before it made contact, he detached the grapple and fired it an overhang just behind is target, it connected with the rock as he shifted his weight, drawing his sword and slashing in one motion. The Liche exploded behind him in a flash of spectral energy as the templar was dragged passed his target by the grapple line.

The ground to Brinn’s right erupted as a pack of fellbore teleported into the chamber. Ducking a spectral blast from the single remaining Liche, the templar rushed forward as the fellbore charged to meet him. The hollow fire of their eyes shone brightly in the darkness, mirrored by the bursts of particle fire from the marksman’s Fusion rifle as his rapid fire unit kicked into life. The templar twisted through the deadly display, decapitating one fellbore and, digging his boot into the flanks of another, he sprung himself toward the remaining spectral.

Before he reached it a beam of energy shook through the air above him and the creature exploded in a burst of purple fire.

“150.” Arkiah boasted. “Nice and even.”

“Take all the fodder you want, marksman,” Mocked the younger man. “The final prize belongs to me.”

From somewhere deep in the depths of their minds, a telepathic growl echoed.

“Then why don’t you collect your trophy, human.”

From the midnight of the pit of the main chamber, the Primus rose on its great wings. Its body burned with pure hellfire, its roar crying in the both anguish of its suffering and insatiable desire to render flesh from bone. Its tail lashing through the air with a life of its own, a terrible serpent, its barbed tip splashed acidic venom onto the rock walls of the cavern.

Arkiah watched the stone bubble and melt like plastic over a flame.

The creature’s hands clung to a huge blade which burned with the same fire that consumed its body. The beast landed on the disc, its wings folded it let out a mighty roar that threatened to collapse the ground in from above them.
Brinn had already begun to race across the light of the bridge.

Arkiah fired two shots from his Triton, discarded the spent rifle, then snatching his Arclite he activated his speed augmentation and raced after his companion.

The two shots hit home and the demon shook with rage, sweeping one of its giant blades in a terrible arc. Arkiah caught up to his friend just before they made contact. The templar rolled onto the disc as the demon’s sword sliced through the bridge behind him, shattering its connection and exploding the energy that had held it together in a concussive crash. The force of the blast sent the demon reeling backward while throwing the marksman into the air.

Arkiah fired a salvo of rapid fire beneath him to guide his propulsion and, landing on the edge of the Primus’ sword, he raced up the blade as the demon began to regain its senses.

He reached the hilt and launched himself forward.

The impact of the demons tail caught him midair and sent him flying backward toward the edge of the disc. Just as he lost himself to the abyss, he felt something snag his leg.

The templar’s grapple pulled tight and jerked hard causing the marksman to lose grip of his rifle. He cursed as he watched the weapon fall. Without hesitation, he swung himself up and snatched hold of the wire. The templar activated the pull and Arkiah was lifted back onto the edge of the disc.

The demons tail held above him like a scorpion poised to strike. Defenseless, the marksman resigned to his fate. The templar’s blade spun through the air in a deadly cartwheel, slicing the barb away clean. The marksman dodged the corrosive fluid as it spurted from the wound as remains of the melted sword clattered to the floor of the disc behind him.

Both weaponless now, the two companions stood either side of the Primus as its trashed its fury.

“The device,” cried Arkiah. “Activate it before it can focus!”

The templar reached behind him and detached the Cabalist device from his armour. Activating the mechanism as the scientist had shown him, the attachment blade sprung from its hidden chamber. Brinn dove toward the demon and embedded the device into its back.

The result was breathtaking.

Arkiah shield his eyes as the dampeners in his helmets goggles malfunctioned with the strain. The scream of the great beast melded with the cries of the young templar as the light began to consume them both.
Arkiah tore away his useless helmet and flung it to the side, his augmented vision compensating for the burning brightness.

“Brinn!” He called, but his voce drowned before it even passed his lips.

Arkiah watched in awe as the demons physical being began to melt into pure light, the device channeling the energy into the templar. Brinn’s body shook and convulsed so forcefully that Arkiah was sure every bone must be breaking under the pressure of it.

What in the name of the Light have they done?

Then just as suddenly as it had begun, the light dissipated, faded into an anticlimax that stunned the marksman who stood waiting for more to happen as the body of his friend slumped to floor of the disc. No trace of the Primus remained.

Arkiah regained his senses and sprinted forward, as he neared the body he slowed and let out a gasp.

The templar’s armor had fused itself to the young man’s body; where the metal ended and the skin began was no longer discernable, his fingers twisted into horrific steel claws and a single inch long horn protruded from each temple. The face of his helm had melted away, his face encased in a metallic frame, his skin etched with scars.

Fascinated, Arkiah stepped closer. Impossibly his friend was still breathing. He reached forward just as the templar’s eyes snapped open, glowing with an inhuman fire.

The marksmen jumped backward as the Brinn/Creature leapt to its feet. It staggered and almost fell, but caught itself. Its gaze rose and fixed on the marksmen’s own.

Before Arkiah could speak, the creature dove forward, slashing its claws at the exposed face of the marksman. Arkiah spun to avoid the blow. He kicked out behind him but hit only air as the creature blinked to safety.

It appeared behind the marksman and staggered to its knees.

“What… what have they done to me?”

“Brinn, I’ll get you help, but you need to focus! Your voice is still strong, you can control this!”

“Ar.. Arkiah, I can’t… control it. I hear its voice inside me, I can feel its lust. It’s too… too strong,”

The creature rose shakily to its feet and held the gaze of the marksman on last time.

“I am sorry, my friend.”

Before Arkiah could reply, the creature that used to be Brinn roared a final time as energy exploded from its back forming a pair of spectral wings. They beat down hard sending it soaring into the darkness of the cavern roof. A great tremor shook the place as it broke through the rock and soared through the opening.

“Brinn…”

The marksman stood alone in the chamber and watched his friend disappear into the darkness of the midnight sky.







An Exploration of Light

The scientist watched the fetus in the growth tank as he made adjustments to the equipment. It was a strong and healthy subject, the first of over a hundred to live through its first month and its vitals were showing no sign of failure.

He brushed his fingers through his long, unkempt dark hair and caught his reflection in the stainless steel of the tank. For a man in his early fifties he looked much older.

These bones have a way to carry you yet, so don’t even think of getting too old.

He allowed himself a smile.

This is the only way we will survive the coming fire. Remember that when you tell yourself you cannot sleep at night.

The laboratory door opened behind him, he hardly noticed his friend join him beside the tank.

“This is the first one grown from samples of the Angel’s blood that has showed so much promise. This is an exciting time indeed.”

Amet sighed.

“You are right my friend. Sometimes, however, I find the hope of the end little comfort for these dark means. After all, we may be Cabalist but we’re all human first.”

His fellow scientist clasped his shoulder as he turned to leave.

“You do yourself no justice, you have striven for decades to find a chance to procure the safety of humanity and this is the only way.”

Amet nodded and watched the man leave the room.

He made a couple of final adjustments, and then dimmed the lights as he prepared to leave.

With a final glance toward the fetus in the tank he whispered,

“Good night Brinn, sleep well.”