Children of Terra

~Are we still in 2039?~ ~Staring at the concrete mega-walls~ ~In a line to the Mega-City, One~ ~Vykan, further and further out of time~       In the simplest way, MC-One could be described best as 'Night City but everything is big.'  Pointedly, the decon corridor was industrial yet suffocating -- large groups of travelers passed through at a time like some gross airport check.  Once free of the claustrophobic mess, Vykan was awestruck at how much life could stretch out and yet nothing major seen.  It was simply a feeling.  Nearly everywhere else -- save Night City -- was hued in the undertone of stagnancy or decay.  Mega-City One, took such descriptors and stamped them under-throng.        He said as much to Pruflas as they stood just on the other side of the decon check.  " . . . whoa."        Pruflas was looking ahead, and just as expected, no horizon anywhere.  Multi-story buildings, neon hum, cables, noise, ads, and people, all under smog -- the pungent ester of life.  The demon grinned.  People here were more rebellious than Night City, many looking as punk as ones did 60 years ago, while even more strapped in weaponry.  Don't underestimate the 'zazz of the mohawk.  He elbowed Vykan.  "C'mon.  We need to move."        Stepping into the mass crush, the pair made way through the outer blocks, somehow lesser than the depths further within.  Shouting and activity only got more and louder from the progress.  More than once, Vykan had to stop at the sight of a noodle shop next to a brothel.  And many such like it.  He began laughing seeing people actually move between the two.  "Oh, what a sight of humanity!"        Pruflas noted that.  "Seems you fit in."        "For now."  Vykan had an amused grin for a while after, watching how chaotic and yet alive the world was in the moment.       ~Miles, miles and miles~ ~Mega-City One~     Zones, by virtue of efficiency, dictate there must be breaks to serve other aspects of supporting infrastructure.  While you can get away with combining commercial and residential with some compromise; eventually the need for manufacturing, maintenance, and industrial solutions becomes untenable for just monolithic concrete blocks to meet.  The pair were in such a district now.  People here were more heavily mechanized for purpose.  Limb supports, fatigue dampeners, strength and stamina implants.  A lower density as well.        Permeating all was a sense of sheer human resistance.  Vykan had prior passed through the scar-lands of once-America.  He saw the devastation of the West Coast, felt the remnant stings.  Here, a subtle difference.  As he walked through the industrial section, seeing the determination on the faces, he felt vitality.  People adapted.  Pushed down to one knee but refusing yet to lay down.  It was uplifting.  Casting a glance back, the concrete buildings reflected the reddish hues of sunset, drowned out as the neon beat the darkness back.  It was this quiet of early night that pockmarked distant gunshots.  Vykan chuckled.  " . . . And, there it is.  Duality."        Streetlights flicked on, bathing the two in harsh yellow along that whine of high current cables overhead.  Pruflas looked back.  "Darkness and light are equal measure.  It's how - "        Now that evening settled to night, the rocking explosion ahead lit against the block buildings.  Pruflas' eyes could discern what was truly wrong in the scene; far, far fewer people ahead, windows shut closed, doors blocked.  That usually meant . . . The demon's thinking was cut off as Vykan continued past him.  Pruflas called out.  "What the hell are you doing?"  He gave up on policing his language, since the id was too indifferent toward higher order control.        "Eh.  I've got the plan for next time we encounter a no-win scenario like in -- Palomar, was it?  Go ahead and just kill me."  Vykan walked directly forward, taking him closer to the likely gang war happening.        "But, how?  The blessing - "        "My weakpoint's the heart.  Explode it or whatever the hell."        The Duke was shocked.  Wasn't that too obvious of a weakpoint?  No, he's already died at least three times, of course it wouldn't really matter if timed right.  He jogged to catch up, sounds and flashes of what was now looking to be a shootout between two hab-blocks spanning multiple stories high ahead.  "The heart, huh?  Is there symbolism there?  The legends usually have some irony in the Stygian blessing."        "Gut feeling at the time."  Vykan looked up at another explosion.  The gunfire highlighted quickly dissipating rocket trail.  The ground between the two buildings was covered in dirt, debris of loosened concrete, and glinting casings.  It sounded like metal rain and thunder.  He continued forward, stepping from the industrial dirt to cracked asphalt.        "Vykan, what the fuck?"  Pruflas wiped settling dust off his shoulders.        "Not my problem, this war.  If they attack, I'll probably run, but if they block me from getting to the coast, I'll either kill 'em or die."  Vykan looked back as though it was the most obvious idea in the world.  "I mean, it makes sense if you wanna hop back in.  But I objectively have no reason to go around this."        And now I understand why that id is the way it is.  Pruflas hopped back in.  It was a bit cavalier to risk dying from an errant shot, presenting a target was unwanted attention, and using magia for something so . . . mundane, felt weird?  Pruflas stopped his thoughts once he realized his patterns.  Oh boy, I'm starting to think like him now.  The demon returned his attention to the outside view.        The battle was tall, not wide.  Once they traveled the block sufficient to pass between the buildings, the contrast made itself all the more bizarre.  Vykan shook his hair of concrete bits, but he really did just pass through un-accosted, save powder filth on his travel garb.  See?  If they wanted nondiscrimination, they would be on street level, shooting up the whole area.  Vykan turned and walked backward to look at the battle for emphasis.        What Pruflas really found weird was Vykan's perspective on human behavior.  You are a loony.  It was all the demon could manage from the garble of thoughts.        Vykan laughed, but continued down the path unabashed.  East is this way, right?        Not quite, make a right at the next intersection and see if the alleys are more direct.        Vykan hummed to himself, along the neon washes.  People on the streets in the new district were more of the goth and emo variety than the punk from before.  A lot of ah, ladies of the night, too.       ~Winding down alleys and through lobbies when possible~ ~Heading East~ ~To transportation across the Atlantic~ ~Vykan, last of the korybante misthophoroi~     A solid day of walking.  The memories of the decon check, a whole daylight's journey had blended by now, and still Vykan was walking through metropolitan labyrinth.  Night was fully set by now, activity at its lowest point.  Which is still a lot, but most people kept irregular schedules anyway anymore.  He was turning a corner when he saw a long familiar sight.  Personal belongings strewn all along an alley.  A hand clamped over a mouth, muted scrambling, hope yet alive.  Callous disregard.  Vykan was long past decorum now -- death multiple times will do that.        He leapt forward in reflex, as the male staggered away to draw a pistol out and shouting:  "Fuck you, man!  Back up!"  The male fired, hitting Vykan right in the invulnerable throat.  The second shot hit just below the left eye, turning Vykan's head to the side.  Not enough.  Vykan flung his hand out, grabbing the male by the throat and slamming him so hard into a dumpster the spine broke.  The male squealed out as his legs gave out.  The sound of the pistol clattering was loud enough to echo.        Vykan mounted the thrashing male, pressing his thumbs into both eyes.  There was a sick relish in the fact that the male's scratches could draw no blood on Vykan's arms as he pressed down.  He powered the full force of Stygian flesh, pressing, pressing.  Forcing.  Vykan's heart was pounding in his ears before he could hear it.        -kan!  Vykan, enough!  You won!        Vykan looked down.  The man was alive, barely.  Blood poured from his sockets, eyes pulped.  Groans and garbled pleas as the twisted legs limply dragged behind flails.  The Stygian let a breath out, hot with the fire of rage.  Dismounting, he stood and backed away.  Vykan refused to face the female.  "Pruflas.  Out.  Now."        You're speaking out loud.        "Now!"  Pruflas was equally forced out as much as leaving, slipping backward.  Vykan refused to turn away from the rapist.  "Get the pistol, first.  Check on her.  Calm her down.  And don't give me an excuse, incubus.  Do your job."  Waiting until he heard noise, Vykan then picked up the male by the throat and dragged him out of sight around the corner dumpster and flung him against the wall in a heap.  Squatting over the body, Vykan interrogated.  "Do you have a crew?"        "F-fuck you.  Judge."        "Do you have a family?  A little brother?  A little sister?  A grandparent?  Any ties of weakness?"        Adrenaline seemed to give the male a bit of vim.  "I said, fuck you, fucking bitch."        The oath-ties upon Vykan's heart tightened further.  Wrath was beginning to fill the id.  He grabbed the male by the hair, twisting his head until the man began to gasp in pain.  Forcing the male against the ground, Vykan spoke.  "You called me a judge.  I disagree.  I am a demon.  You're a pretty good shot, by the way.  Got me good."  He grabbed the broken spine with the other hand, making the male howl.        "Fucking psycho!  We'll kill you!"        "So you do have a crew!"  Vykan laughed as he pulled on the spine, feeling with his palm the sensation of sinews tearing.  "Give me the name!  The location!  I want your name so I can kill your family!"        "Augh!  I spit on you!  Go to hell!"        Vykan released his grip, before grabbing his head with both hands and slamming it against the ground.  "Just got back from there, actually.  I'll send you down to see for yourself."  The male tried to swing his arms.  It looked like breast strokes.  He pressed down once more, this time unrestrained, until the head popped and spilled its contents.  He sat down on the body, covered in gore like a hyena fresh off a kill.       ~Probably an hour or so later~ ~Pruflas returned~ ~Rounding the corner of the alley~     Vykan could feel it in his heart.  The call of something beyond himself.  The call of his oath coming due.  To be the wicked to the callous.  So, I must go further knowing there's more.  He recalled his words then.  'I know one day I will be just the same . . . '  He sat in repose until the demon inevitably returned.        Pruflas was visibly angry.  "What the fuck, was that?"  The duke looked down at the sight.        Vykan held a bloodied hand up.  "I never told you my oath, did I?  It wasn't a very far thinking one, it seems.  I promised Stygia I would be the demon against demons.  That I would bring hatred, and sorrow, and despair to those that do the same.  I specifically promised that I would never seek to be better, that I would only be worse."        Pruflas was pacing.  "We need to lift that curse.  I will not be party with a fucking psychopath!  It was tolerable before!  You've gone too far!"        "This is already too far?"  Vykan got up off the body.  "Did you find the name of the gang?"        "Why should I tell you?  You've gone mad!"        "You want a banner of righteousness?  You want moral superiority?!  You want to be virtuous, the underdog, the scrappy weakling everyone roots for?!  I am none of those things!  I never said I was!  And I never, will, be!"  Vykan stood and faced Pruflas.        Pruflas leveled his gaze.  "What you did was monstrous.  Yes, he was a rapist.  I know, I saw!  You tortured him and murdered him.  Why?"        "I told you this was no fairy tale.  Have you truly given no thought on who we fight against?  The demons of biblical hell!  We can play the what-if game all day and all night.  But here's the hard fucking truth, Pruflas."  Vykan stepped closer, eyes narrowing.  "Once I wash my hands in the blood and guts of all your demon pals, I will be the greatest monster in the world.  Make your peace with that and ready to kill me if needs be.  Do what you have to, to stomach that.  I told you my weakness.  I told you to be my scale.  I don't actually care if you hate me or want me dead.  Because I know at the end of the day, you need me."        Pruflas snarled.  "They're called the Golden Himalayas.  I don't want to see you for a long time."  The demon turned away, Vykan staring at the back.  A mote appeared in front of Vykan, guiding.        For the best.  Vykan stared at his bloodied hands.  I was never good to begin with.        The Wrath of Stygia followed the mote.  Only death was his wake.  Far too indiscriminate for one such as the duke of Limbo.      ~As night passes into day~ ~The mote long gone~ ~Deep within a mega-story~ ~Vykan~     The building had gone into lock-down.  It was fascinating in a way, watching as massive blast shields doubled as quarantine barriers.  The building long in darkness stood like a lone pillar among the rest.  Vykan had butchered everyone he found that gave even an ounce of hostility.  It was beyond an abattoir.  It was hell on earth.  The camera feeds would be used for decades afterward in Judge training and desensitization exercises.  Because Vykan did go too far.  He was the type to murder innocents in the way of his goal, to gain immediate advantage against people.  Using a family home as a barricade?  He used the family's death as a lure to draw more and more out.        It was noted among the Judges Emeritus of Mega-City One the totality of the slaughter.  Vykan had eradicated to the last an entire block of a gang.  Because his face was clear -- at many points staring directly at a camera in mania -- it was immediately decided to release to the public so as to not create a gang war flare-up.  The great truth was it didn't matter.  Gangs used the excuse to fight anyway to snatch the sector.  Who cared if none of the others was at fault?        Vykan was tempted to take the shortcut out, but he knew Pruflas would be pissed to get forced back to the ocean.  Well, let's see . . . Vykan sat down on a chair in an executive suite.  Blood and burnt gunpowder washed out all other smells.  I think I'll just give up and turn in.  Pruflas said the Judges here have kill authority.  That means I'll need to fight back if they try.  I'll need to lever the fact I'm willing to surrender so they can prop themselves up in a televised political show.  In other words, all I need to do is give him time to figure things out.        Vykan laughed in the lonely room, knowing full well cameras were pointing at him.  I really am a demon, aren't I?