Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-10789912-20160822181355

Mantle

Revelations
November 28th, 2015

As Michael stumbled through the thick snow, the sacred light of Pecutani breaching through the forest's wall of trees, each foot felt as if it was one thousand pounds fighting against the forces of nature itself. Fifty miles in twelve hours time- as could be seen by the sun now almost completely rested and letting darkness take form, was only possible due to the fuel of rage that burnt within him as a constant hellfire in seek of revenge against Leviathan.

He lost his footing from the extreme fatigue and fell against the side of one of the many trees, pushing himself off and almost falling to the ground as the carried on forward. His breath was heavy and his mind clouded by the insufferable bloodlust that had dwelled with him since the day he cut his friends down on the Altenia 5913 decades past, but now this bloodlust had a goal. A set reason. A single target.

The light and sounds of Pecutani began to clear through the forest- he could hear voices, automobiles, and the distinct cries of police sirens. He could see buildings topping trees, which was something he repeatedly imagined on this trail of vengeance. The town was just through one final layer of trees. One barrier. Then, in a milestone towards his mission, he breached through the forest lines and looked forward upon Pecutani itself. To his surprise, he saw more than just the amber glow of city lights in the setting dust. Blue and red lights flashed down the street directly onward. He simply needed to cut between any two houses of his choice (the official entrances were to the left and right points of the town from where he stood), and he was home free.

Pecutani was just as he had imagined. A decently dense, but not large town of small two story homes and simple facilities such as shopping centers and churches. The sky piercing mountains of Alaska stood just a few miles away on the other side of the township, but Michael was already sick from the hills he had to conquer on his way. It seemed to be sitting in one of the very few truly flat areas he had seen in his travel, with roads leaving and heading into the mountains to the sides. He was perfectly on level with the town, needing to just advance into it.

He walked forward in a near trance-like state, and in just a few yards, he set foot on Pecutani soil, cutting between two houses until his feet clicked against cement. The air smelled and tasted so much different. It felt clean, and free of the overpowering scent of frozen pine and sap. He saw as a police car sped from his right and turned into the street to meet with the lights of other police vehicles, which drew Michael to the sight of camera flashes from the press. Though no blood soiled his clothing, it was obvious that a man just having come from the forest with a Machete on his back during a moment of crime would not sit well with law enforcement. Instead of running to see whatever was drawing their attention, his eyes raced to the streets on both sides of him for anywhere to go- or any leads on where to find the bastard of godhood.

Then, too his right, he saw him. Five doors down but on the same block was the face of Leviathan, standing outside of a seemingly abandoned two story house- the color long since faded, though a hint of light blue could be made out. His black hair was slicked backwards over two blue eyes, clothed in a grey overcoat that reached past his knees. Under that was a pair of simple blue jeans. He came to find Leviathan, but it seemed Leviathan had found him. He watched as the god raised his arm and signaled Michael to come closer before walking into the house, opening the door in front of him but leaving it open.

It took no words to start the hatred within Michael, which pulled him in a blind fury towards the house. Even with the sounds of the town around him he unsheathed his machete and made his way to the house in an aggressive march. When he turned and was able to see the wyrm within the home, he lost all control. The building was completely empty, with no decoration or furniture to speak of. That was perfectly fine, as the only thing he wanted was currently standing within that empty space. Running into the house, he pulled his arm back and swung down unto the beast, whom simply grabbed his wrist, stopping all motion from the arm and blade.

The two locked eyes as his arm began to shake in the grip of Jackson's hand. In Michael's eyes, Leviathan saw the fires of hell alight for a revenge so vile that Dread would curse his name. In Leviathan's eyes, Michael saw calmness. The eyes of a man whom had gotten what he wanted. The eyes of someone that had won.

He allowed the blade to fall back against his hand before catching it with his free arm and swinging at the stomach of the beast. Just as the blade was about to strike his abdomen, Jackson vanished into a cloud of charcoal-colored smoke, only to manifest in the same manner at Michael's right side. Without hesitation, he swung in the opposite direction of the previous attack, towards Jackson once more. He watched as the blade passed right through him, offering no resistance. In fact, it phased through him like a ghost through a wall.

Jackson outstretched his right hand, palm open and facing the ceiling, directing his fingertips towards Michael, whom was panting in his rage through his lack of energy. His gravely and raspy yet deep voice left his lips with a tone of someone whom was meeting an old friend once more.

"I knew you wouldn't keep me waiting, Michael. You've come a long way, pretty boy."

Michael didn't know how to react to his hospitality, so he tried his method one more time and swung down on Leviathan's head. The blow yet again passed through him as if he was simply air. Leviathan took his chance to touch Michael's shoulder, which made a physical connection. Michael could feel his heart rate excellerate for just a moment before the touch was broken. His fatigue, hunger, and thirst were gone, as if all of his biological needs had been recently met.

"Feel better?" the evil spirit asked. "You've already seen that you simply can't kill me. So, care to speak before the torment begins?"

Michael panted within his wrath and managed to calm down just enough to stop blindly attacking. He thought the situation over for just a second before speaking.

"What do you want out of all of this?" he yelled.

Leviathan seemed to almost take humor from the joke, smiling charismatically as he began pacing left and right.

"The pantheon is over. You took the liberty of severing Mendes' head, Dread was killed by my hand- and your blade, and Enki, as you may have noticed, looses his immortality whilst I am manifested. While the pantheon is over, their effects remain. Enki, the universe. Mendes, sentience and sapience. Dread, humanity. The universe is mine. I hold the throne. Humanity and all sentient life will be purged. All of the pantheon's manifestations will be obliterated, and their influence alongside with it. I will recreate as I see fit."

Michael was in disbelief after hearing such a devilish plan from the lips before him.

"You'd under all of their work just to sate your own powerlust?"

"What exactly have they done except shape this universe to sate their own wishes? I'm doing what the pantheon have done since the universe's birth. Do as I wish. The only difference is that I'm an honest god."

"It's all one huge power trip?! That's all any of this has ever been for you?"

Leviathan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before allowing his hand to fall freely to his side. The blue moonlight from the window behind him glowed around him as he turned to Michael.

"I simply see what's mine and take it. I claim the crown of god, and as god, I will craft as I see fit. Besides, who are you, Michael Asher, to claim of moral superiority? Did you not serve the very gods I will replace, and work towards their goals of ending the human race all the same?"

"I changed my fate, as a dead Abaddon will show."

The two stood still for a moment of uncontested tension, Michael refusing to let his guard down. As Jackson reached behind his back, his fingers tensed around the hilt one after the other like a wave. He could hear what sounded like ice cubes shifting before Jackson spoke up.

"Beer?"

"What?" is all he could say.

"Would you like a drink before it all begins? Malhorn's home style beer, bottled and produced exactly how it was in 1985. I know it was her favorite, and thus became yours. If I wanted you dead right now, you'd be long dead. You have to agree, if there is anything I've been this entire time, it's honest. I'm sure you'd like to enjoy the luxury of exploring the flavor and the memories you've assigned to it one last time."

Though it was unknown whether is was the complex rivalry between the two or the fact Melody had just been brought up, Michael allowed himself one moment of weakness and shook his head, confirming the offer. When Leviathan took his hand out from behind his back, there was the vintage look of the classic white label wrapped around the crystal clear glass. Leviathan popped the cap off with his thumb before extending the bottle forward. Michael reached for it cautiously with his empty hand. No tricks. He handed it right over to Michael, before reaching behind his back once more and pulling out another for himself.

Leviathan raised his bottle and popped off his own cap, Michael following in the custom and raising his own bottle. The two took a drink together. The smooth texture countered the thickness of the drink as it flowed down his throat, tasting rather herbal and with a brilliant juniper-like twist. He could feel the dense liquid sitting well within his stomach.

"Excellent tastes, she had," Leviathan said somehow caringly. "You had a fine choice in women."

Michael savored the flavor and reflected on the memories it brought back. That night at the Coral Gables in Merindino's Bar was the strongest of them all... god, how happy he was back then. Before he saw the true light of Enki's plan, and before every day was a battle between deities, all because of some higher plan or philosophy they didn't agree on. He was brought back to conscious thought from Leviathan clearing his throat to draw his attention.

"If I can't kill you, why even speak?" Michael asked. "Why didn't you wait for Enki to finish speaking to me and just kill me in the woods? Why one more confrontation?"

Leviathan smiled in the same manner someone would after their significant other told them they were leaving them. A knowing grin from someone that knew this event was coming. He released his grip on his can of beer, which dissipated back into smoke before hitting the ground.

"When I was a child being spoken too by Enki and Mendes, whom do you think I heard tales of? When I was being taught in their light, whom do you think echoed through my head as my counterpart? I was appointed the Mask of the Champion as a symbol of my possition under Enki, but whom created that mask? When I spent an unimaginable amount of time in cycling time, whom had built the facility I had to endlessly revisit? When I had to summon Enki as part of his plan, whom had constructed the Icon of Enki I was made to use? When I returned to finally put an end to Natalie, my final loose end, whom was protecting her? We both went our own way from Enki's path, but I did it for my own power, whilst you did it for what you saw as redemption for your actions. Truth is, I've always seen you as a rival of sorts. Now, when I may finally spread my own light, we come face to face. The final milestone in this adventure we've both been on."

Michael took one last drink from his beer, for he knew this would be the last time having its taste on his tongue, before dropping it to the ground. Unlike Leviathan's, his crashed into the ground and sent what was left of the beer onto the floor.

"I wanted this all to be over!" Michael exclaimed, lifting the machete to shoulder height. "This lifelong nightmare was supposed to end!"

"I promise you, once I kill you, all of this will end mere moments later."

Michael swung at Leviathan's neck, but yet again the god vanished before him, before appearing once more at his side. When Michael turned and tried to swing again, his arm was stopped by a grip around his wrist, and then countered with a headbutt to the face.

"I already know how your story ends, Michael," the deity mocked. "We need not rush to that chapter. Enki prepared your fate the moment you had cleared that boat of survivors."

He charged again, plunging the blade forward as the blaring sound of even more police sirens filled the streets of Pecutani. The machete passed through his abdomen as if it was made of gas as red and blue flashes breached the window seal from a police car advancing down the road. Leviathan simply looked at him, repaying the attack with a smile as Michael could feel the area around the blade tensing up and offering resistance. It had become as solid as a normal body in a display of power. He tore the blade from Leviathan's flesh, flinging a dark ichor that dissipated completely before touching the floor away from the god.

The god only gave a tired sigh as he transported himself in a viel of mist behind Michael and kicked him in the back, sending him a few feet away. He then snapped his fingers, creating the same sound as a powerful gunshot. The police car advancing down the street came to a sudden pause outside of the house. The sirens stopped their song, though the lights continued their dance. The next audible sound was slamming doors. Turning around, Michael could see that Leviathan had no visible wound on him. The false resistance his body temporarily offered was just that- temporary and false.

Michael's next attack was cut short before the blade was even fully lifted, when he saw a pair of pistols aimed at him from the door he had left open behind Leviathan. Two blue uniforms, both donning matching hats. The men measured roughly 5'7" and 5'11" from what he could estimate.

"PCPD deputy Andrew Harris, drop the weapon immediately!" the taller of the pair exclaimed.

Michael's eyes glanced over at Leviathan's, which were filled with success. He allowed the machete to fall from his hand onto the floor, before sliding it over to the officers with his foot, hands in the air. The other officer put his pistol away and moved behind Michael, putting handcuffs tightly around his wrists before searching his body for any weapons.

"And you would be?" Michael snarked as his privacy was violated, Leviathan hardly able to keep a laugh back.

"PCPD officer Don Tefoux, responding to an apparent gunshot and coming across armed combat was not how I expected my fucking day to go. Why don't you introduce yourself?" he said, carrying a French accent with him.

"His name's Michael Collins. Proud deep sea fisherman and religious fundamentalist. Don't worry, he only bites on dates," Leviathan cut in as he felt officer Harris putting handcuffs on him as well, though his smile only grew as he finished.

Tefoux glanced over at Leviathan and then at Harris, not knowing how to respond.

"And that would be Olen Grant. Modern philosopher who minds only his own consent. At least he knows how to use a pole," Michael added, the smile transferring to his face from Jackson's.

Holding on to the handcuffs, Harris picked up the machete for confiscation and pulled Jackson outside, Tefoux with Michael just behind them, where Harris opened the back door to the police interceptor sedan and pushed Michael in. Tefoux forced Jackson in beside him, before Harris tossed the machete in the trunk the pair took their seats in the front. Harris in the driver's seat, he grabbed the small police communicator from his dashboard.

"Officer Harris and Tefoux, two individuals in custody, apparent assault with a deadly weapon. Firearm audible but not found among the individuals. May be a false alarm on that account. Confenscation of one machete. No further news."

Just as Harris lifted his finger from the radio and was just about to press his foot down on the gas, Michael saw Jackson's mouth stretch into a wicked smile.

"If your original order was to join the research surrounding a certain murder victim up the street, her name is Arya Tremblay. The murder weapon was my hand acting as a scythe. She died from two cuts- one to the abdomen to spill her innards and the second to her throat to end her. Her parents are Trytin Tremblay and Venessa Tremblay. No full-blood siblings."

Harris and Tefoux both looked at Leviathan in disbelieve as he turned his head to Michael and winked, a blue sparkle within his eye when it opened. All three of them heard what sounded like the sound barrier being broken, with hardly enough time for Michael to yell "Fuck!" before they all were transported away. 