Death Sucks

by Andrew Mallen

  “I want it all,” Gordon continued. “No more half measures brother. If we are to do this then it has to be for all of it, for everything.”

  Sin was as awestruck as his minions and the Angel.

  “Winner take all brother. The living, the dead, Heaven and Hell,” Gordon had all his bait crowded onto one hook. “All or nothing brother.”

  Sin frowned. He sensed something not quite right with his brother’s dramatic turnaround.

  “What’s the matter Sin? Perhaps you should have one of your slaves check to see if your balls are where you claim them to be?” Gordon snapped impatiently.

  Maria gasped again, she had never heard her Lord speak in such a way and was beginning to think he was not who she thought he was at all.

  “Aw, there you are brother,” Sin’s smile returned. “There’s the greedy, needy, selfish prick that you so tactfully hide beneath that pitiable facade. Come on out and play brother. Let the kiddies see who you really are.”

  “Are you in or not Sin?” Gordon growled, the sound was as unnatural as a snake’s laughter.

  “And what happens to the loser?” Sin was unable to resist the opportunity to finally claim what he had coveted for so long.

  “Banishment to Yoba for all time to come or death,” Gordon upped the ante. “Winner’s choice.”

  “I will not banish you,” Sin informed his brother casually, as if executing a god were as mundane as ordering coffee.

  Gordon nodded, “I think Yoba would be best left unpopulated.”

  No way! Dudes coloring way outside the lines!

  Sin laughed but it lacked the effect he desired. The forced chuckle was one of nervous fear rather than sadistic confidence, “You can’t even fool yourself! You’re too soft brother, too weak! Don’t worry brother I will spare you the decision! That bitch will die and you will join her as soon as I’ve had my fun.”

  Gordon smiled again, it was not even close to his usual comforting grin. It was dark, threatening, the smile of a gambler with an ace up his sleeve and a gun in his boot.

  “So be it!” Sin roared uneasily. “So be it! You offer yourself for slaughter, who am I to refuse the almighty God?”

  Gordon nodded, “We have a pact.”

  *

  “Ready yourself!” Sin commanded.

  Fuck! Shit! Fuck! Shit!

  “No!” Sin screamed in Bobby’s head. “Do not let fear control you fool! Do not let your heart weaken you! He is not who you think he is, he is no better than me and she is no better than you. Kill her, hack her to pieces and you will have everything you have ever wanted! Everything and anything you have evr desired for all time!”

  Bobby faced his master, “I will not fail you my Master.”

  Sin smiled and caressed Bobby’s cheek with the slick, hot palm of one oversized hand. “You are nothing to them. I never lied to you. I am who I have always been, who I always will be. I wear no disguise, I hide nothing! In me you see only truth. Hear this truth Robert Grant, win this and you will live for eternity in a world of your own creation, a world where everyone and everything exists to serve and to satisfy you.”

  Guys got a fucking good point. I mean he is Satan and all but he shoots straight. Gordo never offered me shit! He made me jump through all sorts of fucking hoops just to learn about my death and even then he strung me along. He hasn’t given me shit! He couldn’t ever get me the fuck out of this fucking robe!

  “Are you ready son?" Sin asked lovingly, as lovingly as a fifteen foot, blood red, horned, raptor footed monster could anyway.

  “Yes my Master,” Bobby lied.

  “Are you ready brother?” Sin called.

  “No,” Gordon replied.

  “What?” Sin growled. “More tricks then, more of your bullshit?”

  “No,” Gordon repeated unruffled. “Not here, we do this on Yoba.”

  “Stop stalling! We do this here and now! The pact is made! Don’t be such a gutless coward.”

  Maria stood shivering at Gordon’s side. It was not the merciless bite of the raging storm that held her heart in its jaws, it was a far greater cold. She watched as Bobby stood beside Sin readying to kill her. She knew she loved the Reaper and prayed she had the strength to do what her Lord asked of her if and when the time came but she would do anything to avoid it.

  Bobby longed to comfort her, to cradle her in his arms, to shower her with tiny kisses and sweet promises until the smile returned to her panicked eyes.

  Not today buddy. She fucked you hard! It was all bullshit from the giddy-up!

  “Hate her boy! Hate her or she will have you and believe me, she will not hesitate!” Sin warned the Reaper from within his head.

  Bobby tried his very best to heed the devil’s advice but the demon obviously didn’t understand love. He clearly had never felt the all-encompassing, heartwarming, mind melting happiness that accompanied it. Sure, Maria had betrayed him, she’d strung him along to get what she wanted, she’d used him like a tampon then flushed him. With love, real love, there was no guarantees. There were no promises it would all end up butterflies and sunshine. Pain was part of the deal, a big part. It wasn’t cool, it hurt like a motherfucker but if it had you, it had you. It didn’t matter how hard you tried to ignore it or to fight it. Love didn’t care about hate or fear or gods or pacts. Love had its own set of rules, rules that could never be broken.

  He loved Maria. He had since day one on the LIE in Queens. She was the one. The girl he’d spent twenty four hours a day with for nearly three years and never once wanted to escape. The girl he’d laughed at and laughed with when everything else around them seemed to be falling apart. The girl who could make him swoon with a smile and cringe with a frown. The girl he planned on saving the world with.

  “Three days of this world’s time on Yoba,” Gordon announced.

  “Three days! Why?” Sin teased suspiciously. “Surely the almighty God isn’t stalling.”

  “Three days,” Gordon repeated the demand.

  Sin studied the frail, old man as the storm battered him with its relentless power, “No tricks brother!”

  “None,” Gordon replied stoically.

  “Why don’t I believe you?” Sin asked, not expecting an answer.

  Gordon’s eyes darted from his brother to his Angel’s sword and back again. Sin would have missed it if he’d blinked but he hadn’t. He saw guilt in the eyes of one unaccustomed to the game of deceit. Sin was a seasoned professional. “Let’s talk about weapons shall we?”

  “Weapons?” Gordon tried to sound surprised. “They have weapons.”

  “Why so nervous brother?” Sin relished the old man’s discomfort.

  “I do not like putting one of my children in danger,” Gordon replied, there was truth in it but there was something more.

  “Too late for that fool, you’ve put them all on the chopping block!” Sin cried. “It’s more than that though, something else has you.”

  Gordon didn’t answer.

  “You have a plan don’t you?” Sin was onto a scent and like any good hound he would not give up until he was found its source. “It’s her sword. You cheating little coward! What’s the deal with the sword?”

  Gordon kept quiet but his eyes betrayed his silence. They were as filled with guilt as his brothers were with rage. “I knew you would cheat!” Sin cried. “Her sword…there is something about her sword! It is not as it should be! Have you enchanted her blade brother? Have you empowered it?

  Gordon lowered his head but said nothing.

  “Ahhh, you have. You are far more of a deceiver than even I remember brother!”

  Gordon shook his head in unconvincing denial.

  “Our first swords,” Sin announced after a few minutes of contemplation. “Do you remember them?”

  Gordon nodded reluctantly.

  “What no smile?” Sin cried. “Don’t want to reminisce? Can’t remember the good old days?”

  “I remember you were good then,” Gordon broke his silence. �
�I remember we were friends.”

  “What a waste of time that was.”

  Gordon shook his head sadly.

  “We made those swords together, remember? Nothing else existed, we had yet to create life but when we forged those swords we realized we could make anything we wanted.” Sin bubbled with excitement as he relived the memory, “Of course you got all high and mighty and crushed every idea I offered. Every one of my creations, every single one, you denied me because they failed to meet your standards.”

  “You made monsters,” Gordon winced as he recalled them.

  “To your eyes! To me they were beautiful!” Sin cried out as if wounded again by the ancient rejections. “It doesn’t matter. It’s the swords that matter now. Those swords were made of the same clay and forged in the same fire. They differ to the eye but are equal in every other way. I will give mine to my Reaper and you give yours to your bitch. They will be the weapons that decide our fate.”

  A sword! Really? A fucking sword fight with a sword expert! Not exactly stacking the deck in my favor there asshole!

  Sin squeezed Bobby’s shoulder to quell his silent protest. “Are we agreed brother?” he asked Gordon.

  Gordon nodded and disappeared without warning along with Maria. Bobby stared at the snow where they had stood. No footprints marred the pristine surface, no evidence existed that they’d been there at all.

  “A fucking sword bro, really?” Bobby turned to face Sin.

  “Easy boy,” Sin replied coolly. “We have three days. A great deal can be learned in three days.”

  “She’s been swinging a sword for decades dude and I’m supposed to catch up in three fucking days? Seriously dude, you just got played!”

  “Careful you little shit,” the primal growl that carried the threat puckered Bobby’s useless asshole. “I need you but if you think I will not take the time to extract punishment for such insolence then you are a bigger idiot than I imagined.”

  Bobby nodded, making sure not to make the mistake of apologizing.

  “Jones is a Master swordsman,” Sin explained but Bobby heard nothing after the first word. “He will have you up to snuff in no time.”

  “Jones?”

  Sin roared with laughter at Bobby’s Scooby Doo reaction. “Yes fool, Jones. You gutted him, you didn’t destroy him, only I can do that. He’s probably waiting to thank you in my chambers as we speak.”

  “No fucking way.”

  “Yes fucking way!” Sin cried in delight. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

  “No…wait!”

  Sin didn’t.

  8.

  “You wanker!” Jones roared as he charged.

  “Stop,” Sin commanded and his Second froze mid-stride yet again. “You will not harm Mr. Grant. You will not insult Mr. Grant. You will treat him as your equal.”

  Jones’s eyes bulged with hatred.

  “You will train him to use a sword and you will do it as fast as you can. Bring masters of the art from the Flame if you must, in fact, I insist. Samurai, ninja, knights, pirates, Romans, Turks, or whoever you require to insure the boy can defeat that bitch. Do not fail me, Jones! If you fail, we all fail!”

  “Yes Master,” Jones seethed.

  “I will return,” and with that Sin strode off toward the shadows he favored.

  *

  Jones did as his Master ordered but took every opportunity to make Bobby as miserable as possible while doing so. Bobby hated the prick but was secretly relieved to have him as his teacher. Jones was a master with the blade, or in Bobby’s particular case a stick since it was all he was allowed to wield. Within twelve hours Jones had Bobby slicing and dicing like Conan and Uma’s love child. Twelve more had him thrusting and parrying like the Chevalier de Saint-Georges sans the powdered wig. When Jones eventually ran out of tricks, he called in reinforcements.

  “This lad here is a proper ninja and he’s going to teach you a few tricks.”

  No more than a teenager, the bewildered young man, freshly summoned from the Flames, bowed deeply while Jones explained, “In his short life this boy killed over eighty of his master’s enemies although I’d wager there are a great deal more down here that can claim him as their killer. He’s as quick as a snake tongue so try to keep up you wanker. Fuji or whatever the fuck your name is, teach this asshole how not do die.”

  Fuji bowed again and grunted one word, “Sword.”

  Jones laughed and flopped onto the steps of Sin’s throne. “No fucking way man! I’m in no mood to get chopped to bits right now.”

  “Give him a sword!” Sin bellowed as he strode toward them from the secretive darkness carrying a sword of his own at his side.

  “Master he can’t be trusted!” Jones protested. “Last time it took nearly thirty of us to stop him.”

  “It was not a request dog,” Sin growled.

  “Yes Master,” Jones replied and tossed the ninja the broadsword he’d been using to inspire Bobby by inflicting cut after wicked cut to his arms and legs every time he failed.

  The young man plucked it from the air by its handle, weighed it briefly before crouched into a menacing stance to face Sin.

  “Master Fujibashya, if you insist on rebellion I will be forced to have every member of your clan raped vigorously by creatures who measure themselves by the damage they cause at the task,” Sin informed him calmly. “I need you to teach this one how to fight. If you honor me with this gift, I will give you something in return. I will bestow upon you and your warriors the honor of becoming my assassins. It’ll be like old times, you can go back to the living world and do all the killing your yellow little heart desires. No more fire, no more torture.”

  Bobby watched as the ninja considered the offer. The warrior didn’t budge, his eyes remained locked on Sin. “All of them?” he asked.

  “All of them. One big happy family.”

  Fujibashya couldn’t refuse, there was nothing to gain by doing so and everything to lose. He nodded, stood tall with his sword by his side and bowed once again to seal the deal.

  “Good,” Sin turned his attention to Bobby. “This is my sword, the one you must use to slay my brother’s bitch. Use it. Feel it. Fuck it if you have to but know it like you know that absurd little cock of yours by the time we leave here.”

  Sin tossed the huge weapon toward Bobby. Bobby panicked, reached out awkwardly to catch it but only managed to give it the first taste of his blood. Jones roared with laughter as the blade clattered to the floor at Bobby’s feet along with the four fingers of his right hand. Sin joined in on the sick hilarity.

  Motherfucker! That thing is sharp!

  “It’s a sword you stupid knob!” Jones cried. “A sharp sword! Oh my word, what is this world coming too?”

  The ninja watched without a hint of emotion.

  Fucking robo-ninja over here.

  “Heal,” Sin blurted out as his laughter subsided.

  Bobby’s fingers leapt from the floor and onto his hand as if they were magnets and the oozing stubs made of iron. They burned hot and deep as flesh and bone mended. “Fuck me!” Bobby howled, flailing his hand in an attempt to shake off the pain.

  “Soon,” Jones snickered.

  “Pick it up,” Sin ordered, he wasn’t amused anymore.

  Bobby did as he was told.

  *

  Everything he knew about swords he had learned from video games. He doubted even the bottomless imaginations of the greatest game designers could phathom what lay in his still tingling hand. It wasn’t as crude as a Viking seax, refined like a Musketeer’s rapier or as efficient as the Katana favored by ninja like the one watching him poker-faced. Bizarre didn’t come close but close enough, no surprise considering who created it, where he was and every other factor of his life since death.

  The handle’s length easily accommodated both his hands but was too thick to wrap his fingers around completely. The nubbed grip felt weird but clung to his palms as if coated with glue. A small trident of barbed points capp
ed the pommel, the center spike twice as long as its neighbors on either side. Two crescents, each sharpened on both the inner and outer curve, mated at the base of the wide blade to form the hilt. The blade was long and wide and its thick spine tapered drastically to a wicked edge. Instead of one point the blade had three to match the pommel on the opposite end. More like a spearhead than a sword tip, the larger center spire sheltered the shorter outer spikes under its deadly wings.

  Bobby hefted the intricate weapon. Despite its size it was as light as a long dead branch and perfectly balanced. Standing ready, knees bent, elbows tucked, wrists broken, grip firm but delicate, Bobby felt sword’s power coursing through him. Ugly as it was lethal, it pulled him toward Fujibashya, hungry for battle and thirsty for blood.

  “What do you think?” Sin asked like a proud parent.

  Bobby spoke his mind, “It’s fucking crazy.”

  Sim smiled, his dark lips parting before the jagged ranks of his rapacious teeth. “Good. Fuji will teach you skills that have been long forgotten in your time, skills that will give you an advantage over even the greatest of warriors. Listen to him, learn well but learn quickly boy, time dwindles.”

  “Yes Master,” Bobby replied as he eyeballed the subject of Sin’s praise but doubted the young warrior could teach him what he needed to know to survive what was to come.

  “Time’s wasting maggots!” Jones screamed. “On with it!”

  Bobby jumped. Fujibashya did not.

  *

  Master Fujibashya Hanzo proved Bobby’s doubts as empty as a junkie’s bank account. The ninja moved with liquid speed, jumping as if immune to gravity and dodging as if channeling his inner Neo. Bobby tried to keep up but knew that even if he studied the art for a thousand years, he’d never come close to the assassin’s level of skill.

  “Come on you useless cunt!” Jones roared, watching Bobby trip over his own feet while trying to emulate his teacher. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that!”

  “Oh fuck you you tea-drinking, dentally challenged, ass-licking, nut-slurping, pedo!”

  “Feeling frisky then?” Jones stood up. “How about I test your progress then?”