You The Red Cap is an interesting place; where the rich and powerful can discuss the latest Arena fight with drug addicts , where Satanists can enjoy a drink with the White Apostle, and where Martians could play cards with Yetis. 

By unspoken law, no Great Feud can be pursued here, where nothing is too horrible and anything can be bought-souls, Angel feathers, tattoos in dragon blood, and things to maddening to speak in mixed company, and where everyone is equal and no one is great because nothing lasts forever (because nothing lasts forever, much less power or wealth), a place where the beggar in ragged clothing muttering unintelligible things over a cup of rat-meat soup could be an agent  for the Powers-That-Be or the bookish, bespectacled scholar that was actually a neuromancer getting some liquid courage before his shift starts and who is strong enough to do anything from giving you a case of psychosis to melting your gray matter.

 Strange, isn't it, that this was where I felt most at home?

Receiving nothing but a quick once-over and a few protection against evil amulets being grasped as I entered the bar, I sat at my usual spot; the corner booth since I always believed in having my back to a wall.

 It also gave me a good view of the rest of the people here; a gaggle of witches talking about their newest familiar-a crystal spirit strong enough to withstand a direct blast of Hellfire for an astonishingly long period of time (I suspect that the spirit had its own agenda since creatures that powerful rarely stayed bound for long), a Swamp Man with dreadlocks of Spanish moss wearing a cloak and eating algae and minnows, two finance mages discussing how much of a profit the shipment of Hands' o' Glory would make, a fire giant and dryad couple getting back together for the fifth time, professing their love to each other again how it was obviously their fault that she caught on fire. 

 I smiled internally as I saw what was only possible here, in a place where the worst and best in the world gathered, and was utterly inconceivable elsewhere.

 As I ordered my usual of the Black Pandemonium, I noted once again of how The Red Cap managed to solve the common issue of the servants' having loose tongues-and in a place where Issues Of Great Importance were discussed everyday, this was particularly not favorable-by simply cutting their tongues and sewing their lips. 

I thought about how different Avalon was from the rest of the world; instead of having a sun or a night sky dotted with stars, what we have is sky turned red by the multitude of demons flying above for while Merlin gave us a last respite since it was made with the Devil's power it was made as a pocket dimension precariously close to the Gates of Hell. 

And so, for those mad enough to turn their gaze upward all they will find are blood-red demons flitting around above, horrors peering down at the ant farm below, and the spirits of the Damned trying to claw their way in and cursing us for salvation being so close and yet so far. 

While Merlin's defenses stand strong for they were made with the combined might of Man and Devil, we still fear the day they fall for we know we would fall like wheat beneath a sickle and so we choose to ignore what's so obviously above us and because of that we never built skyscrapers.

 A common question tourists have is "How are you able to keep expanding and growing despite living in a seemingly small place?" What they don't know is that in Avalon space will always be available since Avalon is a fluid place; still expanding and increasing its borders everyday with keen-eyed wizards standing at its borders waiting to lay waste to any incursion by the demons. 

They ask us "Why do you stay here if you have such power in the form of magic, such knowledge in out museums in the form of the Ambrosius Institute Of The Eldritch, and such high technology from the future in the form of the Fort Of Time?" And we reply calmly "When Merlin made this place we didn't know how long we would last in the Old World and we didn't have the knowledge, the power, and the tech we now do. We didn't know if death was still lurking on the other side and so we sealed ourselves in and started a new life, started up new farms, and built new lives. Memories and tradition and emotions soak the very foundation of this place, marking it as our home and hearth. And even if we all decided to desert out homes, our businesses, our memories then what would stop Hell from claiming this as their own and giving them a gateway to Earth?"

 Avalon is not a place for those without a steady heart, it is a place where the roads are paved with bricks made with the blood of Demons, a place where people and things from different worlds, different dimensions, and different times intermix, it is place where the taxis run on the distilled souls and what seems like a carriage could be a thing masquerading as one waiting for an unwary driver to swallow up, and it is a place where miracles abound and long shots aren't so long. 

There are a multitude of ways to enter Avalon-from the way Merlin did with Stonehenge to contracting a cyber demon to pull you into a computer screen and out into a cyber cafe in Avalon to driving on the Lonesome Road for an indefinite period of time and when you decide that surely you are lost and decide to turn back around will you begin to enter the streets of Avalon to going on one of the subway stops scattered around Creation that lead anywhere from Avalon to Kbxabax! Prime. 

What few realize is that Avalon isn't Camelot, King Arthur is long gone, and that this a horrible place for a horrible group of people willing to do anything to live another day. To live another hour. To live another minute.

Rising out of my reverie and absorbed in the ambience as I waited for my drink to arrive; I observed a group of combat mages taking a break from their patrols and complaining about how demons that controlled the traffic lights were on strike again and were causing havoc with traffic, a flock of skeletal crows made a nest in one of the corners again, and the band was as bad as ever as in the back they played a horrid portmanteau of death metal and polka. I thought about using my Gift to knock them out and end the truly awful noise (nothing permanent, it was just a simple act of jostling their heads hard against the skull until they pass out; quite easy when your forte is kinetics).

Coming back with my drink and ending my thoughts of casual bullying, the servant put down a glass along with my bottle "I won't need the glass," I said bluntly as I stated at it.

 Radiating an ice-cold aura which silently said "Drink me, drink me and feel the touch of Death,"  The liquid inside of it was viscous and as smooth as quicksilver at the same time, swirling within it were figures of the bits of damned souls used to give it its oily taste of disgusting sin that left wanting to come back for more and was said to make you closer to the demons than man, and the text announced to all and sundry "Bottled in the Depths of Hell, This Elixir is sure to Excite and Entice all to Walk a step further from Salvation,"

Summoning up my courage to drink the disgusting beverage I ordered every time for some reason, Austin Barrel, the barkeep of this wonderful piece of Purgatory, remarked to me "You know, Jack, that you're the only bugger stupid enough to drink that swill?"

 "I already know that Saint Peter won't be greeting me with open arms even if I somehow managed to weasel my way in, so I decided to save him some grief and make certain to all just where I'm going when I die horribly at the hands of some impossible creature," I snapped back sharply.

The customers all leaned back and there was a sharp intake of breath through whatever orifice passed for a mouth all around me because all were certain that things were going to get very messy, very violently, and very suddenly. 

Personally speaking, I wasn't mad but I had a reputation to protect and upkeep but Austin was one of the few that I could call a friend and I didn't want to hurt him. 

Knowing this and defusing the situation with a laugh and a wave of the hand, Austin said "Well, if you like it so much then you will probably enjoy this as well," Reaching behind the counter and grabbing a bottle from the cabinet where kept his most scary and most obscure brews He said to me cheerfully "You know, me and the rest of the patrons have a bet going on that you won't be able to keep this down," 

My interest now caught I said inquiringly "Oh, is that so?" With nothing but a chuckle in response, Austin pulled out a bottle of something that I have never seen before, an impressive feat already, and set it on the bar. 

Sitting on the bar was a bottle of something far too bright but yet not blinding and the light it put out left no shadows in the dimly lit bar. Hissing and quickly trying to find any cover from the all-piercing light which could shine so bright that it could bring light to even the deepest abyss. 

And in case you thought that I was merely bright, let me tell you it was brighter than a nuclear blast, brighter than anything I've ever seen or even heard of.

 It seemed all too real, all too powerful to be contained in a bottle and seemed to pierce out hearts and expose every flaw, every crack, and every sin we carried. It was the personification of goodness, love, and loyalty, purity incarnate. We were frightened by it. Shocked. Cowed. Awed. 

And than it started singing. In an ephemeral voice, both beautifully young and infinitely old, that seemed to be a blend of a choir of angels, it sang to us our failures, how unworthy we were, and how fallible we all are; the liquid was promising to drive back the darkness and to usher in a Golden Age. And in a roomful of monsters, that was the worst thing imaginable. 

With a high-pitched wail we threw up our protections to shield us, from mana shields to artists drawing up portraits of a griffin and throwing it in the air to have the drawing come to life to shield them to people from the future putting down forcefields operating on principles yet to be discovered to the band jamming out a beat that coalesced into a wall of sound to me rapidly vibrating the air in front of me.

 Gritting our teeth, we walked slowly but inexorably forward to put a stop to the damned singing. I felt myself feeling faint-headed as the voice reverberated against my evils and that stressed the very fibers of my soul; I saw those with too much darkness in their heart collapsing despite their best efforts to protect themselves and as we saw them get right back up with a bright burning silver light behind their eyes and as we saw them ready their spells, pull out their guns, and chanting Gregorian hymns our already wide eyes grew ever wider and we pushed forward more desperately than ever before. 

Those that were enemies for decades put aside their feuds, for none wanted to become one of them, and joined forces to protect each other.

 With a raging shout that resonated from depths which even I didn't know that I possessed, I put one leg in front of another and thought "Faster. Faster. God damn Jack, you need to be faster," My limping got faster until it was a walk  and then a jog and then a full-fledged sprint. 

I spared a glance behind me and immediately regretted it; I saw those that were struck down by the voice manifest white, fiery swords in the shape of a cross and promptly began cutting down those that were friends only moments before, all without a single sign of pity or remorse. 

I saw proud men and women that had slain a thousand monsters-from demons to vampires to Goliaths, they were people that had never bowed to anyone ever before in their life, but as they saw what was before them they kneeled meekly before them waiting for Judgement to pass upon them, for they had dead eyes as they knew there was nothing they could do against the unyielding tsunami of Power that was in front of them. 

I saw masters of arcane lore who had been alive since the Golden Age of Greece and creatures of night, predators who hunted the streets and stoked fear in the hearts of people, cry out for the first time as they saw the Holy Light of Death descending on them, and they sobbed like children as they laid before them stripped of pride and bereft of anything they could do to stem the flood of soul-shattering fear they experienced.

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 I saw warriors of legend and myth breaking their vorpal blades against the unnaturally hard bodies of the Angelkin and esteemed scholars who had gazed on horrors from the Outside and didn't so much as blink become gibbering husks of the great people they once were, spouting nonsense as their minds fractured as they saw how useless their life's experiences were against a Force that gave birth to the universe and gave form to Earth from the primordial soup it was. 

Shivering, I turned my eyes forward and raced to the bottle in a rush fueled by close by Death; "Please let me get there in time. Please. Please. pleasepleasepleaseplease,"  I feverishly thought as an angelic blade lashed against my back.

 Letting out a cry of anguish, I fell towards the floor as the blade forged by the will of God ignited my blood that coursed with Damnation and sent my body ablaze.

 It burned like an inferno, an inferno that would never go out for it was the Fire of God, it set my skin on fire and charred me black. I was a wreck.

As I laid there, I heard the symphony of tears, pain, and death behind me reaching a roaring crescendo "Why should I fight any more? It's not like it's going to mean anything in the end will it? Maybe I should just accept it," I thought to myself, knowing it was just the work of the Angelkin (because they had to be didn't they? These can't be my own thoughts could they?). 

With a scream that was as much for myself as for the Angelkin I shouted "I WILL NOT BE DOMINATED! I. AM. JACK. MILLORY! I HAVE BATTLED THE ANCIENTS AND LIVED! I HAVE DONE MONSTROUS THINGS IN THE NAME OF MY FRIENDS! I CAN SHATTER THE WORLD! I HAVE OUTWITTED FATHER TIME!"

 I picked myself up from the floor even though my body felt like molten lead, even though my organs had begun to melt, even though every fiber of my soul shouted at me "Just lay down and die, just accept your fate you horrible, horrible man".

I picked myself up despite all of this and dodged the Angelkin and fought back against them for the first time by launching a burst of gravity fueled by my crippling fear, my blazing anger, my dizzying confusion that sent it flying back in a whirlwind of sound from the rapidly compressed air , frustration in the form of an Angelic growl, and flesh sprayed everywhere as it was crushed. 

All of that meant nothing to it for all I had done was remove the meat holding in the Heavenly Grace; free of any restraints it grew bigger than ever before and blinded us all as it revealed to us it's true form: a vaguely man-shaped cloud of cosmic-blue energy too great for us to gaze upon wearing a crown of silver crosses and wielding a greataxe made of the same stuff that fueled our very souls but far more concentrated and far more more. 

I charged towards it knowing full well that I could die in an instant at the hands of something so fast I couldn't ever keep up with; I pulled my athame, imbued with kinetic force, and stabbed at a space somewhere vaguely in front of me. 

Hitting nothing but air the Angelkin swiped at me with the axe that I tried to dodge but instead scored a great cur across my side, it was a edge so sharp that managed to split the very oxygen molecules and let out an explosion of energy and sent me hurling. 

By the time I regained my bearings, it was already front of me; time seemed to slow as the greataxe loomed above me and began to move downwards towards my neck.

 Grimacing I activated the rest of my Gift, the ability to slow Time for everyone else except for me, and time really did slow (The reason why I hated to do this is that it left me a random effect on me as soon as the effect was over-from giving me nightmares of random people from around the world and around time to making me vomiting everything I tried to eat for a week to possibly killing me entirely). 

My Gift did nothing to slake the Holy Fire within me and instead of collapsing to my knees like I so fervently wanted, I stood up and imbued my athame instead of a kinetic force of explosion but rather giving it a sharper edge than anyone would've thought possible and stepped forward and slashed at the Angelkin. 

Unexpectedly, it's body was far thought than I had thought and instead of the proverbial hot knife through butter, it was more like a hotknife through steel and from the small cut I managed to inflict on him leapt out even more fire. 

"Well, I'm already as fucked as fucked can be so it isn't as bad as it could've been," Surprising myself with my drollery, I smiled the smile of a man with nothing to lose.

Pushing past the pain and instead focusing on at least killing one of the bastards I pushed on the blade with the weight of my lead body and as the Angelkin realized that somehow the mortal monkey managed to hurt him it slashed towards itself to stop me from doing any more damage. 

Honestly, I couldn't have possibly managed to kill him before it killed me (I mean, my athame is a nice piece of metal if I may say so myself but it's nothing against a being that existed for millennia) and any wound I inflicted would be temporary and my blade wasn't sharp enough to kill it but it's axe was sharp enough. 

Releasing Time I quickly dive to the floor as the axe whistled millimeters above my head and as it passed the wind pressure pulled a few strands of hair from my scalp but not being able to stop its perilous descent after I manipulated the energy behind to be magnified ten-fold, it cut itself neatly into two and the being dissipated surprisingly calmly by simply floating upwards to wherever it came from. 

For the first time in there existence had one of them been defeated, and it showed in the way they all lowered their blades in shock at the impunity I had to dare to not meekly lay my head before them. 

For a second that seemed like a century, the bar was quiet and then someone said "By God, Jack actually managed to kill one of them," in a voice filled with awe and almost religious respect and when I turned to see who said this I saw that it was the last remaining combat mage that was drinking with his now dead pals, he was an arithmagician; a Mage that channeled imaginary numbers, the infinite digits of Pi, and mind-bogglingly complex equations into a blade with a blade sharper than my athame ever could be.

 And with this all turned to look at me with eyes filled with awe, respect, and fear for I had done what they thought was impossible: actually killing of the Angelkin. 

When  the last of its Divine aura disappeared, the rest of them let out an otherworldly wail as they felt lost and pain and defeat for the first time ever, and having never tasted it before it felt so much incredibly more galling. 

With their sorrow invigorating  the rest of us, we fought harder with an energy we didn't know we possessed but at the end of the day we were just humans and bugs and mythical creatures with no chance of winning. 

And that was when Austin popped back up from behind the counter with a double-barreled shotgun loaded with bullets dipped in the blood of slaughtered innocents, forged in the fires of Hell, and made with Hellion steel and shot at the bottle that still sat on the counter, shattering the bottle and with it the vessel that bound the Angelkin to Avalon. 

With twisted, ugly voices that came from having their aims being thwarted, they all disappeared as one returning for the first time not as victors but as failures; we watched them carefully until we were sure they were gone for good. 

With a grateful look, I nodded to Austin for pulling my ass out of the furnace and saving us all; completely ignoring the fact he was the one that brought the bottle out in the first place. 

"Where in the name of all of the fucking gods did he find such a dangerous thing?" I dazedly thought as it slowly dawned on all of us that we weren't going to die we all let out a huge sigh of relief. 

And when the source of my adrenaline was gone, I collapsed to my knees because I had a huge cut across my back that didn't stop bleeding the entire time and is hurting like a bitch, my guts were spilling out from me from the other cut that left my wound smelling like bacon- "URGH!" I threw up as soon as I thought that and when I saw my intestines quiver, I fought my urge to vomit again. 

Also, my skin looked like a hotdog someone had put on the barbecue and forgot to take out until it was all shriveled up and smoking. Frankly, it's a miracle that I haven't passed out from the pain yet, but one thing all long-term residents of Avalon get quickly enough is a high pain-tolerance. 

My mind was ajar with the pain thrumming through my body and I could barely recall my own name through the rapid rocketing change from fighting for my life to being relatively safe. 

"You know, not that I'm hurt or anything, but I'm going to take a nice, long nap now," I announced to no one in 

particular and promptly fainted.

My dreams were never pleasant to begin with but now they were particularly bad, with visions of me being tortured by a Cthulhoid monster; it was like a ball of furry tentacles with no body that was green and oily, as hard as steel but when it grabbed you it felt like a sickly dog. A number of floppy needles, like pieces of broken glass, dangled at the end of its limbs like string, and a single yellow eye with vertical slits peers out at me malevolently from a wide mouth filled with teeth like a shark's rich with intelligence overflowing with contempt. A proboscis like a fly's emerges from its abyss-like maw and forces its way into my mouth and lays its spawn inside of me. They quickly hatched and ate their way out of me, and I grew insane with terror as I saw the fuzzy heads pop out of my skin. 

On the brink of madness, I can do nothing but watch as the monster reaches up to my head and sticks its needles into my cranium, sending out shockwaves of bone-shattering pain throughout my body. My pain only excites the maggots inside of me as they crawl even faster.

Thankfully, the dream ended there and instead switched to an empty white room that seemed to stretch onward forever. 

There, The Historian stood in the form of one of his Scribes calmly sitting in a leather chair, not uncommon to one would find in a manor's private library and said with the laziness that accompanied the voice of immortals "So Jack, how was that experience for you? I hope that will encourage you to "get a move on" as people say these days," 

"Fuck you, you old piece of shit," I spat out angrily

"Resorting to vulgarities already Jack? How crude of you considering that you are no spring chicken yourself" He quipped as the Scribe quirked an eyebrow. 

"You're right. At 47 years, I'm not a easily impressed fresh-faced green horn that has no idea of how the world works. I am a seasoned wizard that has seen worse things than you and killed more intimidating people in more fucked up situations, so don't think I won't kill you," I said icily. 

"Such big words, for an overgrown ape that's slightly stronger than the rest of the herd" He murmured softly as he looked at his fingernails. "Screw off, Historian and get out of my dreams" "And leave you with the brain-eater?" He replied disdainfully as he watched me struggle to control my fear. 

"I knew we could come to an arrangement, Jack" "Don't think I won't get my revenge" I started to say when he interrupted me with "I had many people say that to me over the years and yet here I am, still alive," He said coolly.

"Now, you've spent half of one of your three days unconscious and none the closer to your quarry. It isn't looking so well for you, Jack," He commented with masterful scorn as he walked out of my dream.

Thinking furiously of way to not have to work for him, I couldn't find one and resigned myself to finishing this as fast as I could. Even though I was a private investigator, none of my cases had led me to Earth and I was intrigued as to what I might find.

Finding no reason not to wake up, I shrugged my shoulders and made a mental effort to wake up-and found myself inside of a giant slime. "Oh great, this day just can't get better now can it," I thought as I flailed around trying to extract myself out of this thing and getting digested after defeating a seemingly undefeatable divine seemed rather anti-climatic.