“As per the report, we believe that the initial team was exposed when an unsecured petri dish allowed the raw culture to briefly aerosolize between the laboratory and the incinerator.”
“The end of the world, all because someone forgot to tighten a lid. What a joke.”
–General Jon Tyson. Washington, DC. 47 Hours After.
----------------------------------------
Couldn’t let her win. Had to keep moving.
That bitch had really done a number on Spike. As he stumbled through Tartarus with blood leaking from his wounds, he thought of all the ways that he would dismember her. So long as he could keep her in his Rez, she’d get what was coming!
Spike concentrated. Leah, Leah, Leah. It had all happened so fast, but he knew that fucking scarf anywhere. Most of Pandemonium did. Leah was the legend that every Hunter wanted to be. Unlike Mother and Hades and all the other veterans who’d retreated behind the Styx the moment it’d been built, Leah still Hunted. She wandered the wastes, doing the dirty business that the rest of them needed to keep the wheels of the world spinning another day longer. There was a point after Spike left Xander’s crew that he’d consider joining hers instead of making his own. Who wouldn’t want to Hunt with Leah?
But not anymore. Clearly, her rep was built on a bed of lies. That bitch had purged his entire crew! All so she could keep the human to herself. Xander hadn’t been lying when it came to her. Leah The Righteous was just like every other scumbag out there, ready to hack a fellow Hunter to pieces the second they got the chance.
Spike could still see the faces of his friends too. Camilla, Rocco, Desmond… No, wait. Fuck. Damian. That was his name. Damian. He’d been the newest to the team, after they’d lost that other guy to a hollow herd. Then again, who the hell was that?
Spike grunted, and more ichor spilled onto the pavement. He was worse off than he thought. Rehollowing was setting in fast, and the stutters would be back with a force at this rate. He had to move faster. Hades would be his best shot. No one else would lift a finger for him now.
Spike reached Elysium just as the sun began its descent. Like most of the other shit that humans had built around here, Elysium was an old-world architectural fetish, with its buildings all linked together by sharp edges, and the one in the middle leaned way out in the courtyard like it was about to fall over any second. Hades had long since changed whatever bright colors it had before with a solid matte black coat, filled the central fountain with rotted blood, and replaced any trees in sight with skulls on pikes. But it was the purple, neon lights at the top that really caught the eye, spelling out the word “Elysium” for all of Pandemonium to see. The ultimate lure.
Spike limped forth. Like all other hours of the day, there was a line gathered that stretched into the nearby street, with a troupe of guards managing the crowd and collecting covers at the front. No surprise, really. Everyone was ready to kill just to get inside Elysium’s walls.
He shook his head and shoved his way through the line, ignoring the bitching of those nearby.
A dark-skinned guard with half his face missing held up a hand. “You know the drill. Back of the line.”
“This can’t wait,” Spike said. “I’ve got business with Hades.”
“Oh? And who’s he supposed to be expecting.”
Spike grunted and flipped open his duster. More viscera spilled from where he’d been shot. “Can’t you tell I’ve been drained? I’ve gotta see him now.”
Stolen story; please report.
“Put out a contract!” someone hissed from behind. “I’ve been waiting for over three hours.”
“For fuck’s sake!” Spike roared. “I didn’t get mugged in some back alley shithole. This happened outside the Styx.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have been wandering outside!” another asshole sneered.
Spike was about to rip someone’s arm off. The lack of respect was almost more than he could bear. He drew his badge: a wolf skull crossed with bones and cast in silver. “See this? Means I’m a Hunter! Back the fuck off, all of you, or I’ll make sure Hades knows every single one of the assholes who got in my way.”
A circle formed as some of the crowd took his threat seriously, but the dark-skinned fucker still stayed in place. “Getting shot doesn’t give you a free pass. Report through proper channels and we’ll look into it.”
“It’s not who shot me that matters, but what they did it over.”
“And what’s that?”
Spike grinned. “Nope. Not for your ears, grunt. This goes straight to Hades and no one else.” These peons needed to know their place.
The guard softened a beat. “Hope this is important. You know how the boss gets when his time’s been wasted.”
Oh, he’ll let me grind you into paste after hearing what I have to say. Spike winked. “Think I’ll be fine.”
The guard stepped aside. “We’ll send a Runner to let him know.” With a nod over his shoulder, another rushed inside. Spike hobbled after.
Elysium had been a giant convention center before the Hollowing, where rich humans gathered around to show off all the bullshit they’d created. Each building had convertible interiors that allowed for wide scale renovations. Whatever galleries and showrooms the humans had used them for, Hades had gone to lengths to change the entire place into a never-ending social venue. Eight to ten floors a pop, with everything from dance halls to fight clubs to drug dens to gambling rooms to rage pits. Every wall was laced with strobe lights, and every corner had an LCD screen playing some old world shit. The walls quaked to the beat of the music, only breaking for the cries and howls of rezzers letting loose. There wasn’t an inch of floor that stayed cast in the same color for more than a few seconds, as the neon lights constantly melded between reds and blues and greens and purples. The further into Elysium one went, the deeper into the pit of depravity they’d end up. No one could complain. Rezzer life was shit, and if it wasn’t for Hades, they’d all be tearing each other to pieces.
Spike walked by a Lust hall, and his tongue salivated to the noise. The dens were the real winner here. Hades had come up with all sorts of mind-bending rezzer drugs over the years, and each unlocked some missing part of their human physiology that they’d lost after hollowing. Lust was the preferred crowd favorite. It did something that made their sex organs feel like they were working again, and from what Spike had experienced, it made him wonder why humans ever did anything else. He’d also done his share of Gluttony, which was the only thing out there that truly sated the Hunger, along with Pride, which gave a rush like there was no tomorrow. Then there was Wrath as the preferred favorite of fighters before duking it out. Envy and Greed looked fun too. He’d heard that they made the mind feel like it was made of clouds. Nothing could beat Sloth on that front, though Spike would never touch it in a million years. Made users look like they’d drained their own Rez.
Of course, all of those drugs only accelerated hollowing, and had to be taken in moderation. Spike had lost some real good memories by spending too much time in Elysium.
He limped onward, ignoring the lure of everything in sight. Rehollowing was getting rough, and he could feel his mind starting to slack. Unless he got good care soon, he’d be back in the stutters.
Spike entered Hades’ hall, built at the heart of the central building of Elysium. Something about walking into it always made his neck tighten. The room had supposedly once been a conference hall, but Hades had gutted the audience seats to make room, and placed his throne on the stage. Gargoyles sat to the sides, the seat had been padded with fabric in the color of blood, and between the supports and stands, there wasn’t a spot of his throne that hadn’t been carved into skulls or bones. The walls weren’t much better, as they were laced with spikes and crimson banners to match the aesthetic, at least where there weren’t more fluorescent lights poking from the ceiling.
The hollow pit in the middle was what really made Spike flinch. Dug into the foundation perhaps twenty feet down, a group of body-starved hollows were chained to the walls, forming a ring that forced them to stare at each other as they stood for all eternity. It was said that people who crossed Hades worked their way down there.
Spike gave the pit a real wide berth.
“Well, well,” his host beckoned, “if it isn’t one of our hardest Hunters, bleeding all over my hall.”
There he was, the bastard himself. Lord of the underworld, founder of Pandemonium, and leader of rezzer culture: Hades.