The Mercenaries of Havenshaw Crypt

by D. Sutter

  A fat red troll with a fuzzy head of hair popped out of the window. Between his pointed teeth, he said, “come to poppa’!”

  As an alternative, Megamouth flew around the left side and slanted right, coming almost full circle around the tower. The serpent curved around both sides, but broke off into two separate trains. He howled with his foghorn and sent one of the snakelike groups into the side of the tower, smashing the demons like insects across the stone. The other serpent directed for them and Megamouth stopped flapping. They dropped instantly, but were grabbed out of the air by a pair of hands.

  “Mine, mine,” the creature said. It was a red troll, possibly the one from the other window, who was bigger and stronger than Megamouth.

  “Please let us go,” Megamouth pleaded. He couldn’t fight back, for the demon had wrapped around his legs, arms, and torso.

  “No way. I’m gonna’ have fun with you.”

  Something hard and rod-like poked into Megamouth’s leg. With limited options, he shoved his salami nose into the red troll’s yellow teeth. The thing released them when his front teeth cracked out of his gums, and Megamouth fluttered out of the window.

  A lava fountain exploded directly across the way and when the exhibit cleared, he could see the coliseum waiting beyond. Megamouth flapped harder than he had in his whole life. A purple demon latched onto his pants leg. They were much bigger than the black trolls and weighed him down. It started to climb his body, carrying with it the ten or so demons trailing behind, latched to its legs.

  He flew over the wall of the coliseum. Three of the thrones around the top of the stands were empty and the stands full of patrons, the battle in progress. The painted children were clashing, steel connecting with steel.

  Megamouth could feel the demon on his lower back. He looked for Porticus while at the same time digging for his shadow gun. The old man was close by, his eyes closed, rocking back and forth like father, obviously directing his psychic attack. Part of Megamouth’s shit wing broke off and along with it went the string of demons. He and Rufus began to descend at a rapid rate. Megamouth pulled out his shadow gun, pointed it toward Porticus, and compressed the trigger. His brother’s eyes shot open.

  Porticus’s grey hair became a wave as he did a back flip to avoid the ray. The crowd cheered when he landed on his feet, perched on the rim of the coliseum. Despite their awful ways, the Five (or Two) had loyal followers. Porticus bent his brittle knees, ready to spring. His jeans ripped and he tumbled forward. Megamouth again pulled the trigger.

  As his body somersaulted forward, Porticus warped, turning pitch black. His jeans were swallowed by the shadows, his button-down work shirt engulfed by the darkness. The silhouette was sucked into the gun.

  They were barely buoyant——Megamouth flapping his one shit wing, Rufus waving the racket too large for him to hold——when Megamouth noticed Manservant. He was crouched on his throne, pointing his eye laser directly at them. Without giving Mega a second to react, the blue laser sliced through the stadium. Megamouth could smell burnt shit as they fell.

  He tried to brace for the landing by bending his knees, but when he hit the half-chewed leg shattered and he crumpled to a heap. The painted children fell on him, wielding weapons, covered in war paint, and started to destroy his torso. His chest cracked in half, screams encompassed him, and his other leg shattered into shards. Rufus dropped the multi-tool and vanished inside the chest pocket. A high-pitched whine rang out and all the children stopped, whimpering and covering their ears. The loud footsteps could only come from one person.

  Sure enough, Manservant stood over them, his body covered in metallic green armor, wires covering his arms and body. A series of computerized beeps came out of his mouth like Morse code. It translated as a fluorescent scroll across the backdrop of the coliseum’s walls.

  “YOU FOOL.”

  Along the upper rim of the coliseum, massive wires started to slither, blocking anyone’s exit.

  “YOUR DUTY IS NOW TO ME. I, DICTATOR, WILL ALWAYS BE THE LEADER OF THIS MISERABLE REALM. EVEN WHEN I’M GONE THERE WILL BE ANOTHER TO TAKE THE REIGNS. I REPRESENT ONLY ONE OF A GROUP WITH THE SAME IDEALS.”

  Megamouth reached for the multi-tool and Manservant poised the laser at his face. He went to press the button for the tool’s shield, but accidentally pressed the wrong one.

  “Yuh-oh.”

  The laser melted the left side of Megamouth’s face and his vision depleted. Glass shattered and out of the corner of his right eye, Megamouth saw his germ wing collection escape into the atmosphere. He pressed another button and the rectangle shield spread over his body. Blue light bounced off the translucent shield and hit Manservant in the evergreen suit of armor.

  His rounded, helmeted head gagged forward over and over. The germ wings invaded his lungs. Both of his hands, covered in multi-colored wires, clung to his throat as he gasped for life. He bent over and fell out of Megamouth’s sight.

  The children were coughing as well, dying. The wires started to creep inside the stadium. Megamouth felt the individual pieces of his body go numb.

  “What have I did?” he said.

  The fragments of his megaphone connected into one uniform cone directly on his face. The smithereens of his body miraculously merged. Then, he evaporated into thin air.

  CHAPTER 10

  “MY CHILDREN ARE SLEEPING, there’s little to do. I’m blinded darkness, my vision askew.”

  The rocking chair squeaked in the desperate silence of the wooden shack. Father Necrocious, for once in his life, felt at peace. It’d been a long time since last he was able to pursue actual rest. His candle burnt out, the smell of flames gone from the singular room. The ones belonging in the crypt were laid down eternally.

  He knew Megamouth killed Porticus by accident. Maybe if he behaved long enough at Mount Pus, then Megamouth could return to Havenshaw Crypt and they could live at home together...maybe.

  A shadow slinked past Necrocious’s back. He ceased rocking and leaned forward in his chair, lighting a match and moving it nearer to the worn out, blackened candlewick.

  “Shhhh...” he said, bringing a long withered finger to his wrinkled lips.

  The shadow faded into a darkened corner.

  “My children are sleeping, there’s little to do. I’m blinded by darkness, my vision askew.”

  The Father began to ease the chair forth and back, forth and back. He tried to reason with the Sandman, but the shadows were non-compliant, in a constant state of motion.

  “Time for more children,” the old man said and grabbed for the decanter resting on the round mahogany table.

  END.

  D.G. Sutter is the author of La Maquina Oscura and the collection Oddly Chilling. His short fiction has appeared both online and in several small press print anthologies. When not writing he can be found on the North Shore of Massachusetts, fighting the cruel Atlantic with his fishing pole. Keep up with him at www.dgsutter.wordpress.com.

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