I never got to know Geraldo that well, though to be honest I would never want to delve into the perverse depths of his mind or past. He was, as much as it shames me to associate myself with one so reprehensible as he, a companion of great ability. At the time, however, I was almost certain he was to be a source of devastation. Though, perhaps, it isn't entirely inaccurate to claim so… Even if his efforts did, indirectly, aid me. With that mindset, I deigned to "accompany" him on his exploits.
Geraldo was an elf, and a powerful pyro mage adept in runic augmentation of various devices. He was quite fond of his six shooter pistol, a machine of his own make which he deemed the "peace maker." I only ever saw him fire the weapon twice, and for that I am glad; for one round of those magic bullets managed to level a 2 kilometer stretch of a city's mason wall.
I came to meet the tall, muscular rouge with dashing green eyes several years prior to my freedom from the Shadow's intangible shackles. He bashed through the doors of the dive I was frequenting – for at that time in my life I was, as much as it pains me to admit it, a chronic alcoholic – and demanding a drink. For some unfathomable reason, he approached my bar stool, and pat me on the back with a twisted grin on his phiz.
"Buy me a drink, pal?" The degenerate requested. Of all the people he could have walked up to that night, it had to be me. I growled and sneered wordlessly over my mug of cheap beer, my inhibitions already reverted to the primal instinct of a beast. The wily man backed off with a playful grin and raised his hands defensively, "Whoa, there big fellah, wouldn't wanna get on your bad side, eh?"
Few people came to this rustic little "tavern." The booze was terrible, but affordable. The food, while considerably more palpable than my typical cuisine, was practically in violation of every heath code the country had. The atmosphere was dreary and dejected. No one came here to drink socially, they came to get plastered and forget; I was among those patrons.
In spite of this, in a miniscule building where people kept their business to their own, all eyes – all ten of them – fell on the large man dressed in farmer's garb and the eloquent elf with the sinister smile, "A guy like you looks like he has some real demons in his closet, am I right?" I suppose, considering I had not had the opportunity to have many of the scars of my prior "mortal" exploits healed, he was right.
"Well as it so happens, my friend, I am a connoisseur of the forgotten; a troubadour of the unsung; indeed, my friend," He placed the back of his hand over his head and swooned eccentrically, "a shoulder to cry on in the direst of times!" He winked at me and grinned coyly, "All this and more can be yours for the low, low price of a bottle of the finest. A most appreciable offer, if I do say so myself!"
I was absolutely dumbfounded. Such jubilation had never before been seen in the likes of those four walls; and yet there came, strutting about flamboyantly like a peacock in season, some queer youth proffering friendship towards the least likely person to reciprocate it. Had the situation been different I would have rejected him on the spot. Yet something about this elf's mirth was infectious, amusing, and I couldn't help but feel this man would have been ostracized if he were to saunter up to another table after my own.
With confounded eyes I shot my gaze from him to the bar stool next to my own, and with a squeal of glee the mad man fell with great force into the seat, "Oh, you are too kind, good sir!"
-----
An innocent enough beginning, if I do proclaim so myself. After a night of excessive indulgence the two of us set off for the nearest inn, supporting one another as we stumbled down the dirt road.
I cannot recall what meaningful conversation we had, that night, for there was none. The two of us seemed equally in part hesitant to disclose any significant detail about ourselves. As far as I could tell: Geraldo, that roguishly handsome elf with a high alcohol tolerance, was a perfectly agreeable individual - if a little too friendly.
We fell over in the street together when, for no reason in particular, Geraldo decided to drop to his arse. My face fell to the dirt and I spat some out as I steadied myself, vision blurry, to my hands and knees.
"Ya know, I'm comin' off my buzz…" The well-dressed elf remarked. It astounded me how coherent he sounded, considering he could barely stand. I glanced over to him and giggled before relieving my stomach of its virulent contents. The stench of my own breath reviled me.
He sat cross-legged, with his back to a brick and mortar wall, and reached inside the fold in his elaborately embroidered trench coat – which was a very fine piece of vibrant green and red fabrics; traditional elfish colors in that world. I caught a glimpse of the holster hidden beneath his armpit and inquired, after sensing the powerful runic flows of Fire, "Y-" I gagged, "You're a pyro, huh?" I hadn't noticed his considerable mana capacity until that point.
He raised an eyebrow and grinned, before producing from his pocket a small tanned and treated hide pouch, "You must be pretty good if you can see it, my rugged friend. I never would have figured you for that type of person."
I chastised myself for exposing my abilities. I would have noticed his seal had I been sober, "Nah… Not really." I broke my speech with a singultus.
"No need to hide it," He reached in his pocket once more, this time producing a thin leather cord and a surgical syringe, "As it so happens I've been doing a tad bit of probing myself. I can barely scratch your seal," He undid the binding on the pouch and inserted the syringe through the opening. I became extremely disquieted as he continued, removing the sleeves from his coat, "You're something else, friend." Using his teeth and right hand he tied off the cord just above the bisection in the cephalic vein, then flicking it with the back of his middle finger to stimulate the tissue.
"I honestly…" I rolled over onto my rump with a nauseas grunt, "Have no idea what yo-you're talking about." I hiccupped.
I watched warily, with no small measure of distress, as Geraldo filled the syringe with a brown, viscous semi-liquid, "Hah, of course, my friend," He plunged the dirty needle into his forearm and slowly drained its contents, "I can practically smell the blood on you." He chuckled after the plunger had been vacated. He pulled the needle free, and brought his mouth to the bleeding hole. With his free hand the elf removed the leather cord and let it drop to the dirty road.
"I think I'm gonna keep mo-moving." I said after an intensely silent moment. I rose to my feet as Geraldo's eyes dilated and he stared into the void.
"It makes the pain go away." He muttered beneath his thick arm.
"Huh?" I regret having said that. I regret having stimulated the conversation.
"You can't kill someone in good conscience," His mostly-pupil eyes glared up at me in the moonlight, a malicious light reflected in them; the glaze of a dead man with animosity, "But people like us need to, don't we? There's no rest for the wicked."
"What are you talking about?"
"Demon Drug," He lowered his arm, gripping the satchel and tossing it to, or rather at me. Rather than attempt to catch it reflexively, I let the vile substance clash with my chest. The adhesive goo splattered about my overalls. The elf grinned with malicious, pearly white teeth, "You'll love it."
"What the fuck do you know about me?" My fright got the better of me as my inhibitions were convoluted.
"Maybe more than you know about yourself," Geraldo rose to his feet and beckoned me, "I'll show you."
-----
What possessed me to follow that monster?
-----
"Miss!" Geraldo hailed the lone woman, a petite young human girl walking through the streets, down a secluded suburban dirt road.
She ignored us and picked up her pace, "Man, let's just go," I implored, "I'm going to have a massive hangover and I'd like to get some sleep before dawn..."
"Can you believe how rude some people can be?" Geraldo did not face me, but from his side I could see the aberration of malicious intent painting his jaw and eyes, "Oh, miss! You dropped something!"
The woman halted a moment and turned to face us. I couldn't tell her features very well in the dark, only that she had shoulder length auburn hair which glistened in the lunar light. Geraldo chuckled and started walking towards her. The sleeves of his long coat, which fell around his waist, as he had neglected to attend to it, drug on the ground.
I felt like fleeing, then; I probably should have. When Geraldo neared the girl he extended a hand, a closed fist emulating the possession of something unknown. Before I knew it, from his other hand, he had manifested a thin, short dagger. He plunged it into her throat with a practiced precision, severing the larynx, then rescinded the blade and repeated the stab along the jugular.
The young woman fell to the ground a split-second later, a small amount of moon-blackened blood plashed in the dirt.
"What the hell!?" I shouted, as though I had not felt the impending premonitions hours earlier.
"Didn't I tell you?" Geraldo laughed manically. He wasted no time, and began to undress, "This is the best!" He tore his coat off in a single motion, and ripped the tank-top underwear with his knife. He kicked his trousers off and dropped his underwear very swiftly, yet methodically, as though it were a second nature to the bastard.
By some twisted fetish the man was already erect, and fell forward atop the corpse of the young girl, laughing the night away. He slashed her clothing strategically with the blade and I stifled cries.
"What the fuck…?" I whimpered with my hand across my mouth. I started walking backwards and tripped over my own feet. I hit the ground violently, knocking the wind out of myself, but could not tear my eyes from the morbid scene.
"It's the best." Geraldo repeated, quieter this time but with no less enthusiasm. The cadaver was completely naked, now, and Geraldo was vigorously violating the body. He craned over her perforated neck, lapping up the blood and tonguing the holes as if they were a natural orifice, continuing to thrust with expedition.
"Oh, Gaea…" I wanted emesis, but my reflex would not comply... Where was everyone? We were in the middle of a street in the suburbs and making no small measure of noise; how on earth did no one take notice?
The tall man looked back at me with apathy as he continued. His chin was stained black with the girl's blood. I tried to break eye contact, but was mesmerized; there was no light in his ocular orbs. There was mana in his body and blood in his veins, but I felt no life in the man. That blank haze over the eyes of the deceased, a glaze of damnation: this is what I saw in the elf at that moment.
He took the knife out, again, which he had left in one of the cavities in the girl's neck, "Sometimes I like to make new holes." He plunged it into her eye and worked it rigorously, until at last he severed all muscles holding it in place, and sliced out the palpebra. He dismounted the body, shuffling to her side and suckling her nipples, and with his open hand he dug his fingers into the carved eye socket, pulling the ball out by the optic nerve, turning it around.
Geraldo threw the eyeball at me, and much like the drug I merely let the eviscerated organ blast itself upon my overalls. Absolute terror is what I felt, at that moment; so thorough that I could not move, could not speak. I merely watched as Geraldo bit down hard and ripped the body's nipple off, and spat it off to the side. He crawled sensuously up toward the mangled head, and lifted her forward, standing and pulling the body to a sitting position by the hair.
My reprehensibility renewed in its vehemence as he brought not the mouth, but the empty eye socket to his groin and penetrated. For a few minutes he pressed onward and inward, never once breaking eye contact with me, never once granting me reprieve from my fear. The socket spilt forth a froth of grume and humor, and the elf's shaft was stained black with the blood.
"The thighs are the best, though; the fat feels so good…" In a single swift motion the man pushed forward with his arms and the body fell down heavily. He stooped over and began deftly carving out orifices to violate in the woman's thighs.
"Gaea, stop… Please just stop!" I protested weakly.
At last the man showed some semblance of emotion, a wry grin as he continued to slice up the thigh and pull apart the flesh and veins, "Why don't you stop me? I know you can…"
Fear.
The voice in my head stated that which I could not.
I sat there and watched the scene until its repugnant conclusion. The very next day I vowed to kill the man the first opportunity I could find.
-----
And so I followed him in this deplorable exploits. For reasons I could not fathom he was always able to avoid unwanted attention, and his crimes were never known to anyone save myself and his victims. His was a power, and a mind, which I knew would bring great suffering. How ironic, then, that he would be pivotal in saving that world from certain destruction.
-----
I don't know what possessed me to try it, but I eventually fell prey to the temptation of the drug. Perhaps it was the fact that the elf's own depravity and subsequent promises of freedom that drove me to that dark chapter of my life. I could not bear to watch the monster act the way he did, and yet I could not bring myself to stop him for fear of the Shadow. Fear of him. Fear of my own inadequacy.
Geraldo manufactured the product himself, a complex concoction of various stimulants which, if proportions were off by so much as a milligram per part, would result in a lethal injection. Through study and emulation I eventually mastered the recipe.
The elf was right; it made everything about our "tortured" existence easier. I loathed myself to such an extent that I was willing to subjugate myself to a false world, a delirious reality. The drug eliminated any inhibitions; it bolstered adrenaline and testosterone production; it aggravated and sedated each and every sense; it made one bloodthirsty. It was a potent, vile steroid, sadistic dominatrix and hallucinogenic stimulant all in one.
It was a true testament to my weakness, the fact that I indulged so heavily. I could not bear the thought of summoning the Shadow. I could not bear the thought of killing Geraldo. Fear drove me, as it has all my life, to the depths of my own self-induced depravity. I hurt many people, and the drug made me think it was okay.
The atrocities I committed on the intoxicant…
-----
About the only thing I ever managed to learn about Geraldo was the fact that he once had a lover whom he cared very deeply for. One who perished at the hands of the Nattal Empire many years prior. It was, invariably, those series of unfortunate events preceding my meeting with him which led to the world's salvation.
Though his motives were clearly of revenge, it just so happened that those he targeted were also in the process of developing Magitechnology. I had suspected for many decades that the Empire would eventually produce calamity, though upon meeting Geraldo I began to question these suppositions.
Regardless, all worked out for the best in the end. Though, I suppose that is derivative of one's definition of the word…
-----
"I'm going to kill them all." Geraldo told me that fateful spring morning.
We had finished shooting up a generous dose of Demon Drug that morning atop the hill outside Carol, a city on the outskirts of the Nattal Empire. We had frequented that area because of the beautiful sunrise which shone over the lake in the distance – oddly enough that creep possessed a fancy for landscape. It was here, I had known, where this world's equivalent of the MK-II MT Mana Cannon was being produced; one of the vilest creations in all of existence.
"How can one man destroy a heavily fortified city?" I chuckled, delighted at the prospect. I licked the blood which frothed forth from my arm; I botched my first insertion and had two sizable gashes in the crook of my elbow.
"You tell me." Geraldo grinned and removed the six shooter from its holster below his armpit. It was the first time I had seen the weapon outside of its leather holster. It was a fantastic testament to Geraldo's craftsmanship – for he had revealed to me that he produced the device himself. Not dissimilar to the well-known Peacemaker of more recent years in external appearance, the "Leveler," as Geraldo aptly named it, donned beautiful inscribed silver and a mahogany handle. All about the rotating chamber and down the barrel were countless miniscule runic carvings for high level fire spells, each etched out individually by hand and with intimate attention to detail.
Geraldo had attuned the stock to his mana signature, which acted as a focus for the weapon's magic. Each and every bullet, simple iron musket balls likewise carved with innumerable runes, contained enough stored mana to demolish a city. The caliber of Geraldo's mastery of runic engraving was his one true field of prodigal prowess. It must have taken him years to craft each individual bullet, and a meticulous focus to compare.
"You're crazy." I laughed.
"Coming from the man who talks to a voice in his head?" Geraldo donned a grim countenance and eyed his gun intently. He flipped it around in his hands, and twirled it about vigorously with his index finger through the trigger guard.
"That place needs to go, you ask me." I stared down at the city gates. It was a busy metropolis, a haven of trade and a paragon of knowledge. Dozens of laden carts steered by men and women of many races and creeds rode to and from the mouth of the massive stone arches. Dust kicked up as the heavily trodden streets filled with rush hour traffic; people merely trying to make a meager and honest living with their insubstantial time.
I could feel disturbances in the fluctuations of mana in the city, and I felt some fade. The experiments on the cannon were coming along swimmingly. It would only be a matter of months before the world would see it fired, I surmised. Or so I thought, at least.
The elf held his left forearm out and parallel to his chest, using it to steady his right hand as he lined up the shot. He crooked his head to the side, resting it on his right shoulder, and eyed his line of sight with his left palpebra shut. That sadistic, toothy grin emerged on his face; the one I dreaded, but was intimately accustomed to.
"Watch this…"
-----
Every one of my primary senses was shot, beginning with vision. Time seemed to freeze when the bright light emerged from the mouth of the pistol. The blinding, pure white radiation scorched my oculus. This was followed by a thunderous roar which blasted the atmosphere so violently that all auditory faculties were rendered immediately useless; I was left with a ringing in my ears.
I fell back and covered my ears, clenched my eyes, but this could not prevent me from losing my breath or the stinging flare of the magical discharge which singed my flesh. My body rocked as each molecule was disturbed, down to the core of my aorta, and I felt as though I would merely disintegrate. It was tantamount to a nuclear warhead detonating; it was nothing short of a miracle that the runes on Geraldo's weapon were able to shield us from the concussive and reactive force of the bullet.
For several moments I was enfeebled, huddling on the ground in the fetal position with my hands clasped around my ears and my eyes wired shut. My entire existential being trembled, and as my senses returned, first audition, I could hear myself screaming. Under the tones of my violent vociferations I could hear the maniacal laughter of the elf off to my side.
Another minute later I opened my eyes and stifled the pain in my cranium long enough to regain control over my voice. I could barely see; multi-colored spots stained my entire vision. I groped around blindly as I tried to reorient myself; attempting to discern up from down and reality from illusion. When finally I managed to lift myself to my rump I followed the sound of Geraldo's increasingly fierce laughter, "Look! Look!" He wheezed.
My eyes cleared, and I gazed, dumbfounded, at Geraldo's countenance of jubilation. He was on his back rolling in laughter, his pistol on the ground at his side, smoldering and red-hot, burning the grass around it. I caught a glimpse of his right hand, which had been charred black with melted flesh. Firing his own weapon had given him third degree burn and he simply ignored it.
I shook my head and gazed down at the scene before me… and I was baffled. The carnage below was inconceivable. An entire section of the city simply vanished, replaced instead by a fiery swath of dirt and ash. It was as though a black hole had opened up at the point of impact, devoured everything in a 2 kilometer diameter, and then vanished, spitting hellfire as it attenuated from the physical realm. The city's delineation progressed normally… and then abruptly ceased to be.
The massive quantity of discharged mana disrupted the magnetic field of the entire planet temporarily. An artificial Aurora Borealis manifested, visible for many kilometers, and the sky darkened with the dust which clouded the sun. The beauty of the phenomena contrasted grotesquely with the chaos just below it. The beautiful blues, greens, yellows and whites contested with the reds of the burning city below.
"What have you done…?" I murmured hypocritically. I myself have been responsible for numerous such sights in times prior and since.
"It's great! Look closely," He screamed, "Look at the idiots squirm! Look at the rabble fumble about in confusion!" He was delirious, "Just wait for it, wait for it. The confusion will pass and they'll start lamenting. Screaming in agony at the tragedy! The people will grope about like newborn babes, asking 'why, why!?'"
"Why?!"
"Just like that!" He accosted me with a condemning finger, glaring up at me with those dead eyes, "But who's going to answer, hmm? Their gods have long since abandoned them, if ever they were present. They will suffer and they will die, just like everyone else. Isn't it beautiful?!"
"Why?!" I repeated ritualistically.
"Why? There is no 'why.' Haven't you been listening? This is life, man. If you can't deal with it, then stop me!"
Perhaps it was the Demon Drug, perhaps it was my own hypocritical, self-righteous sense of justice, perhaps it was my duty or my fate, but I took him up on the offer.
-----
Mana welled and I broke my seals. Almost immediately I sensed the Shadow appear several leagues away. It was the first time I had summoned it in this world, and as such it's power would not quite be equivalent to my own. However, if I were to combat both Geraldo and the Shadow simultaneously I would most certainly fall. I deigned to kill the elf swiftly, for the "good" of the world.
Geraldo caught on quick, a manic expression of mixed fear and adrenaline-infused odium marring his handsome countenance. He hopped up and gripped his pistol with his left hand, jumping away from me with an uncanny agility as I manipulated the ground at his feet. A dense spike of soil and stone ruptured the earth, tearing away the sod and grass, but missed its mark, "Holy shit, you've been holding back on me, man!" He referred to my now completely exposed mana signature and capacity.
I brought my diamond to bear in the form of arm blades and lunged at the man. He deftly dodged, rolling behind me in a display of acrobatics I've never seen him offer before, and tossed a runed knife at my back. I swiftly erected a wall of sedimentary rock behind myself, which I had been accumulating from the surrounding area since I broke my seal. A heavy blast from the Ignis Khara Crepitus engraved knife demolished the stone, and the rock rained down on me. I bolstered the density of my flesh with mana attunement, and as each stone fell upon me I re-absorbed it into my flesh.
What happened next was a miracle. The ever expedient Shadow manifested behind Geraldo, who was now standing and preparing to pull the trigger of his "Leveler" on me. The massive eruption of pitch black flame sundered the earth and the force of the areal impact knocked me off my feet. Geraldo was so thrown off by the sudden appearance of such a massive mana capacity that he rounded on the creature with his pistol and fired.
-----
A single round - that's all it took. One meager iron shell, carved with runes housing illimitable power, managed to end the demon which I had, at that point, never bested alone my entire life. A bright light, a thunderous roar, a deafening crackle, and a concussive blast strong enough to send both Geraldo and I tumbling down the hill at terminal velocity.
When I came to I was with my back to the remains of the city wall, that massive stone rampart which stood defiantly over the plains, equaled only by the hill in height… at least it was. Between Geraldo's magic bullet and the dying epitaph of the Shadow, the vast majority of the hill's crest had been leveled. It was then nothing more than a smoldering crater, ablaze in an inferno matched only by the rubble behind me.
I rose to my feet. I couldn't tell if I was disoriented because of the concussion I had been afflicted with - slamming into the stone wall - or if it was because the drug had had time to circulate throughout my bloodstream. Either way, I was in a foul mood.
"Zien…you gotta help me…" I heard a faint whisper to my left.
The sight brought me no small measure of excitement, not all of which could be attributed to the drug. The elf's entire left side had been eviscerated. If he hadn't suffered such intense burns, his insides would have been sloshing out as he spoke. It was a wonder he could even speak. His arm had been seared off; his leg was blown in half and jagged, charred bone protruded; his torso had melted inward near the stomach; one of his kidneys must have been rendered useless; and he lost his vibrant blonde hair as well as his eye. The elf extended his right hand out towards me and I couldn't help but think of Whyte, for some reason… Why did I have to think of her at that moment?
The smoke was billowing forth in waves around the city wall and down the hill, obfuscating sight and asphyxiating the air as I neared the man. A relieved grin pained his face when I clasped his hand. I grinned as I brought my diamond to bear, a dagger in my left hand, and severed his arm in a single stroke.
He did not bellow, did not wail. He was silent, tears of betrayal staining his face, "I've always wanted to do this, Geraldo, ever since I met you." I laughed. He fell back and prepared himself for his ultimate fate; the man had resigned himself to my whims. A look of apathy and something else marred his one good, dead eye as I knelt down to his groin and carved away at the remnants of his charred britches.
The freak was erect; getting off on his own demise. This made my intent all the more valid, in my eyes. I gripped his member with one hand and sliced with the other, the blood vessels draining from the elastic tissue as I lifted it over his face, "Pretty vile, no? A contemptible, diseased implement of fornication, this monstrous entity. I wonder how it tastes?" I felt ecstatic joy as I pried the elf's already slack jaw open and shoved the flesh down his throat. He expectorated blood as I rubbed his throat and initiated the reflexive swallow.
He started gargling, the look in his eyes never changing. I sat there with him for several minutes, the world ablaze all about me - cries of confusion, pain, and outrage from the city eerily silent behind me - but I could not tell when he had coughed out his last breath. Even in death that twisted enigma exhibited the same countenance as any other situation.
Those glossed-over eyes of his, which seemed to me as living death, changed not in the least as he gazed up into the sky for his last waking moments.