[Demon Eat Demon]
Lucian stared at the hologram-like screen floating in front of him. The Master System had showed up with a new “Inner Trait.” Inner Traits were attributes given by the Master System that usually enhanced the user with passive characteristics like sturdier skin or better accuracy.
Lucian looked oddly at what the Master System gave him.
“Inner Trait – [Demon Eat Demon]: The user has shown incredible malice that is worth recognizing! Your hatred of evil has stirred the evil within your own heart. It takes a demon to kill a demon. Whenever you wish to kill other humans, your emotions will be altered to give you the cold heart of a demon!”
“What is this…?” Lucian trailed off, unable to believe what he was seeing. “Why the hell am I considered a demon when the ones I killed were cheating people out of their money?!” His jaw tensed as his teeth clenched. He hated that the trait reminded him of “Hellside demon,” the moniker those from the old Heelside District could not escape.
“Fuck off,” Lucian cursed at the Master System and hopped into a car he thought looked best among those in the parking lot.
Later on that night, what was once the boss’ car, a black 1968 Chevrolet El Camino, could be seen cruising down the road back toward the Broken Ring. Lucian had taken the vehicle for his own. He drove the car past the Meager Palace and journeyed until street lights no longer appeared on the side of the road. He stopped only when forced to, coming in contact with concrete barriers.
Flapping in the wind, old police tape appeared around them with “Do Not Enter” printed repeatedly across it. Strangely, there were also charms to ward off demons. People had begun to cling to superstition more than ever since the monsters had arrived on earth.
Lucian had never needed to drive past these barriers in the past, as he didn't own a car then. He used to cross this area on foot.
[Angry Gremlin]
He transformed into his more robust, red-eyed form and casually pushed aside the concrete barrier blocking his way as if it weighed as much as a folding chair. He then sped down the road toward his old neighborhood. He was in the mood to visit Hellside.
The atmosphere in the desolate district was a haunting blend of despair and malevolence. Dead silence permeated this place, disrupted only by the occasional creak of decaying structures or the distant howl of the wind. The once-bustling streets now lay abandoned, their pavements having been the stomping grounds of immoral criminals.
The eyes of monsters reflected Lucian’s headlights as they peered from the shadows of broken structures and overgrown vegetation. Uninhabited places like Hellside were havens for creatures small and weak enough to evade the Wardens' notice.
The memories of heinous deeds lingered, tainting the presence of the district. It was a place where the boundaries of morality had been erased. The streets held tales of depravity now bare to the rest of New DC and a haunting reminder of how low people would stoop for ill-gotten profit and perverted pleasure.
Lucian drove until he reached the Gladkid Orphanage where he grew up, a boarded-up husk now.
The exterior walls of the place, once painted in cheerful pastels, had succumbed to years of neglect, their colors faded and chipped away. Its shattered windows were now covered in wooden planks, as if the building sought to shield its memories from prying eyes, to shroud the abuse that had unfolded within. Nature had begun to reclaim its territory, as creeping vines and ivy climbed the walls, twisting the remaining pastel in a squeezing embrace like choking hands.
Lucian’s early life was spent in abusive foster homes that stole his innocence. Those years made him think the world hated children like him. The last foster family he had been a part of callously sold him off to the orphanage, a place that should have offered refuge but, instead, subjected him to further abuse throughout his childhood and teenage years.
Yet, in an ironic twist of fate, it was within these walls that he discovered the wonder of dreaming for a better future and how to escape destitute cynicism with the ability to genuinely smile. It was the other orphans. They became his salvation, transforming him from the despondent and cynical child distorted by foster care into a caring friend and a loving brother. The pain of his past had been replaced by the warmth of newfound family.
He parked his car discreetly by a dumpster, wedged between it and a fence. This strategic parking was to keep his vehicle hidden from mind-addled druggies and shelter seeking bums. A satisfied nod from Lucian affirmed the car's concealed status.
His body and jumpsuit bore the punctuation of bullet holes from the failed attempt on his life. His grimy attire, caked in dried blood like the dried paint in a picture of violence he had painted earlier. A change was needed.
His search led him to the trunk of the car where he was able to find a gym bag. Luckily, a pack of water sat next to it. Lucian poured the bottles over himself and scrubbed away the remnants of the night, washing away the stains of his deeds. What waited for him in ways of clothing was a muscle shirt two sizes too big and strangely, sweats that fit perfectly. It seemed the late boss always skipped leg day.
Lucian felt both relieved and grateful for the opportunity to clean up a bit since he was about to meet up with some friends.
An expanse of earth stretched from one side of the orphanage, filled with an expanse of graves, each one a resting place for dear friends who had passed away in their youth. His gaze fell upon vibrant flowers adorning their final resting spots. Elina had paid her respects once more, like she always did. In days gone by, she could only offer a handful of flowers, scattering their petals as best she could. Now, a life of success allowed her to lay bouquets on every grave. His own finances only ever afforded Lucian the bare necessities, let alone flowers. He appreciated Elina always giving their friends’ graves what he couldn’t.
“Hey, Jud,” Lucian began at the first gravestone. “Hey, Marcel,” Lucian carried on to the next. “Herb, doing okay on the other side, right?” he greeted another grave, and so he went on, addressing each headstone. These were his friends who had once shared the common bond of not having a family. When sweatshop pains had broken their bodies, they had been there for each other. When the Gladkid staff had neglected to feed them, they had been there for each other. And when their emotions had spiraled out of control, realizing that no one was coming for any of them, they had been there for each other.
Lucian stopped to linger longer at one grave with the name “Camelia.” The gravestone bore the inscription, “Leader of the Madkids.” Camelia had been the guiding force for Lucian and the rest of the orphans. They had proudly dubbed themselves the “Madkids” in defiance of the Gladkid staff, with whom they often clashed over their basic needs. Tenderly, Lucian placed his hand on Camelia's grave. She had been the one to show him the true meaning of kindness, love, and, above all, how to be a person. Her lessons had touched the lives of every child in the orphanage.
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He missed her the most. On her grave, there were tulips, Camelia's favorite flowers. Elina missed her too. Lucian chuckled, remembering how he used to tease Camelia, accusing her of making up stories when she claimed that her favorite flower was the tulip. In the orphanage, there were no books or TV, so where could she have possibly seen or heard of tulips? Yet, when one of the children discovered a single tulip and offered it to her, Lucian had never seen Camelia smile so brightly. She placed it in a cup of water, and for as long as it lived, she would hum happily as she worked.
Lucian's smile faded as he thought of how Camelia would react if she could see him now.
“Sorry, Cam,” Lucian began, his eyes downcast. “I still can’t get Elina back and I don’t think it’ll ever happen.” He felt as if Camelia were still alive, looking at him with her stern eyes and a pursed mouth. He continued to speak, his tone bashful with a hint of shame. “I also turned back to my old ways. I got my dream, by the way. I became an Anointed. You warned me if I ever became an Anointed to watch out for my anger, but I still couldn’t control it. Earlier, I killed people…”
He had to stop. Camelia would have been in tears hearing that. Her scolding would have been harsh, but not as harsh as her disappointment in him.
“But they were bad people!” Lucian argued, his mind conjuring how she would’ve rebuked him. “Shit. What do you know anyways? I’m a foster care kid. You didn’t see what they did to me. Nobody gives a fuck about people like us…”
She would have countered by saying that they were all kids with no families who had been through a lot. But Madkids never gave up. As long as they had each other, no one could stop them.
Lucian’s head turned to view the graves around him. That was the problem. They didn’t have each other anymore. He only had himself now. With a heavy sigh, he heaved himself to his feet. He had enough of arguing with ghosts.
Like all reunions, there came goodbyes and see-you-laters. He waved at the graves, promised to return and left.
His boots scraped against the cracked pavement, the same pavement that he had imagined running across to a better place when he was still an orphan here. Wild monster calls echoed in the distance. Like normal beasts, they remained ever watchful, guarding their territory.
Just when Lucian was about to reach the car, a bright light shined on him, momentarily obscuring his vision.
“Mr. Corven, it’s been a while,” a voice said with humor, though an unmistakable edge underlined the words.
Lucian recognized the voice and tensed, but kept his face as placid as he could. He had to appear as innocent as possible.
“Detective Rhyner?” Lucian replied with a friendly tone, as if he were glad to have a flashlight shining in his face.
The light switched off and a man came into view dressed in a suit and fedora. He wore a lopsided smile like an amiable neighbor that could be trusted, but his sharp eyes betrayed a deeper suspicion. The man, Detective Rhyner, was a pale skinned, gingered haired person with dark eyes and a large nose, as if he were born to be nosing in the business of others.
“You’re out late,” the detective observed, probing for any signs of deception.
Lucian chuckled, attempting to appear nonchalant. “After all these years, that's all you have to say?” Despite his efforts, tension crept into his posture, and his hands grew moist with sweat.
Rhyner's smile never reached his eyes. He had tangled with Lucian before, a Hellside resident with no track record. Lucian, an earnest MHS worker, was an outlier from a district plagued by a dark reputation. That never seemed right to Rhyner. Lucian was the one good person from Hellside? He didn’t believe it.
“What’re doing here, Lucian?” he asked directly, cutting through the pleasantries.
Lucian replied with a hint of cheekiness, “What else would I be back in Hellside for? I’m visiting dead buddies.” He knew he needed to appear as ordinary and unperturbed as possible.
Detective Rhyner's gaze shifted to the fresh wounds on Lucian's body, still wet and pink.
“…Are those bullet holes?” he inquired with disbelief. The senses that had been ingrained in him over the years as a cop told him to ask that question, but his mind found the question ridiculous.
Lucian capitalized on the detective's uncertainty.
“Rhyner, you feeling alright? If bullets went into a person, they’d be dead,” Lucian remarked, staring at the detective as if he were dumb.
“Uh, no, I don’t think, um…”
“Remember, I’m an MHS worker. These holes are actually from a monster that looks like a porcupine,” Lucian explained, his mind reaching out to the last entry he entered into his Monster Guide. “Those shitty Wardens didn’t stay back and defend us like they should—”
“Wardens are heroes!” Rhyner interrupted, nearly shouting. “Lucian, cut the crap. Just because you work with them, doesn’t mean you can go around talking shit. They’re the reason New DC still stands. Have some respect.”
Lucian had wanted to rile up emotions to disorder Detective Rhyner’s thoughts.
“Ah, you’re right, Rhyne. I guess I’m a little pissed since I’m full of holes and in immense pain.” Lucian put a hand to his forehead. “I think those monsters were diseased too. What are you here for again?”
The detective backed off a step at the mention of “disease.” It wasn’t unheard of for monsters to kill with such methods and those methods were usually contagious. Lucian only wanted to keep the detective on his toes.
“Dead gangsters massacred in the old Industrial District. You heard of Sammy ‘Bountiful?’” He scoffed and added, “And don’t call me ‘Rhyne.’” A notebook and pen appeared in his hands so he could jot down notes.
Lucian recognized Rhyner's tactics. They had danced this dance before Hellside was shuttered. Detective Rhyner had been assigned to Lucian after Elysium dealers’ bodies were discovered near Lucian's previous residence. Someone must’ve informed Rhyner of Lucian's involvement with the loan shark, and he was testing Lucian's honesty.
“I owe Sammy a lot of money,” Lucian answered truthfully then twisted in a lie, “I’m kind of on the run. He and his boys nearly got me back at Meager Palace, but luckily and unluckily, I got kicked out. They almost had me when I went back for my stuff.”
Detective Rhyner’s eyes narrowed as he spoke, “Sammy’s missing. His boys have implicated you as the primary suspect in not only his disappearance but also the murder of his associates. They claim you beat them all up and drove away with Sammy after.” After these accusations, he began looking for Lucian in the usual places. When he couldn't find him there, he decided to search in this restricted district, knowing that the young man occasionally visited.
“I beat them all up? Like a kung fu movie?”
The detective coughed awkwardly hearing how ridiculous it sounded when Lucian put it that way. He straightened out his tie as he continued to press, “So, you’re denying that you beat them up?”
“I didn’t beat up a bunch of gangsters with guns, no.”
“You didn’t become Anointed?”
Lucian suppressed a choke, staying composed.
Rhyner had his suspicions after what he heard from Sammy’s crew. He wasn’t at all confident however. Not just anyone could become Anointed. Luckily for the city, not a single person from Hellside was able to become one. It was as if the Master System had given them mercy.
“Would I be in my workout clothes in Hellside if I were Anointed?” Lucian said carefully, his eyes focused on Rhyner’s expression, watching to see if he was buying this bullshit or not. “I would be in the Heart Rings with a girl under each arm and an Elysium crystal this big.” He gestured with wide open arms. He played this card before with law enforcement, to appear as just another crystal smoking slum dreg.
The detective made a face of disgust, saying, “You should stay off that shit…” before continuing his querying, “You walk here?”
“Do you see a car?”
Rhyner’s dark eyes scanned the area. When his gaze went over the dumpster nearby, Lucian held his breath. However, there was nothing to worry about. His previous precautions had worked as the car could not be seen.
“Fine then,” Detective Rhyner grunted and put away his notebook. “I might need to get a hold of you later. Got a phone?”
“Give me a ride,” Lucian began to negotiate, “and I’ll give you my contact info.” He then went into a coughing fit, feigning being sick.
Rhyner immediately covered his mouth remembering Lucian’s words of monster disease.
“Fuck no,” the detective denied. “I’ll just ask around for you in the Broken Ring. Don’t go too far.” He then shuffled away as quick as he could.
Lucian held out his phone and began chasing him, all the while coughing.
“Detective, my number…!” Cough, cough. “Give me a ride. I think Sammy is near the place I’m staying at!”
“As if I’d believe that!” Rhyner spat and threw himself into his car before speeding away. He looked in his rear-view mirror to see Lucian trying to chase his vehicle. “Fucking Hellside demons—absolute garbage humans. They should’ve killed the lot of them when they shut their shithole district down.”
Lucian watched the detective drive off, coughing in mock desperation. As the car disappeared into the distance, Lucian couldn't help but smile inwardly. The dance of deception had worked. Lucian knew he had successfully sown the seeds of doubt in Detective Rhyner's mind, at least for now.