Beautiful agony pigtails

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The following two brain scans were provided by the Neuro-Warfare branch of the Halcyon Security Division (HSD) for the purpose of analyzing the thoughts, behaviors, and information of notorious gangsters Vincent 'Troy' Cohen and Bruno (Deadname: Koraak Tel-Char). At the point of the recording of this archival shared, Bruno has since received his rebirth therapy, and Vincent is currently serving a long-term rehabilitative and reeducative sentence in the Erebus Supermax Prison on Io.
Warning: the contents of this archival shared may be especially disturbing to some audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.
Warning: the contents of this archival shard are for the sole purpose of analyzing the thought patterns and memories of certain degenerate criminals in an effort to ascertain vital information that can be used to eliminate their organizations. Only staff with clearance level Omega may view this archival shared, and the viewership of this archival shared by anyone of inadequate clearance level will lead to twenty years in prison and a fine of over a hundred thousand credits.
Booting up memory scan: Vincent 'Troy' Cohen, November 4th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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"Do you have visuals of the target, Troy?"
I knelt down in the alleyway, the bodies of me and my partners shrouded in long, waterproof, ashen-gray overcoats the shade of dirty street scum that we wore to ward off the constant heavy rainfall the color of osmium. Our faces were covered in a mix of scrapped respirators, visors, or full metal face masks carved with intricate designs to hide our identities. On our waists were our badges of honor: leather belts studded with interlocked rivets made from blackened titanium, each buckle forged of silver and shaped into the head of our gang's symbol, the black mamba. We hid amongst the shadows of the dark midday of Halcyon City, the heavy, oppressive rains blanketing the roads paved obsidian-black with asphalt and weathered concrete walkways. The street lamps were always on, like beacons of false hope in a storm of melancholy.
The city was dark and dreary as always, the planet of Proxima Centauri B, renamed Dawn's Lamentation over a century ago, orbited the red dwarf star of Proxima Centauri, and the atmosphere was thick with natural smog and ever-storming rain clouds. That didn't dissuade people from living here: there was plenty of money to be had for shrewd industrialists and hardworking pioneers, even in the urban sprawl. But that life also came with risks, especially for those on the bottom of the totem pole.
I was a ganger, and we were criminals; full stop. I won't assault you with some spiel about how we're the good guys fighting oppression because, at the end of the day, we could be just as bad, if not worse, than Halcyon's Security Division, or the HSD for short. We were traffickers, killers, extortionists, and money launderers. We dealt with everything from stolen tech and military-grade hardware to hard drugs and sentients.
Yes, sentients. We trafficked sentients, but not in the way you might think. They weren't prisoners, in fact, we were their saviors if they had the cash. We had developed a reputation for fighting the power, but it was still business: sure, freeing captives from the clutches of the Protectorate. The disruption of its many oppressive organizations held a certain satisfaction in my heart for sure, but we didn't help those who couldn't pay unless someone else paid on their behalf. It was about making sure me and my gang, my family, could live a decent life for another day.
It helped that most of us joined after leaving the state yard for partaking in acts of 'degeneracy' and 'anti-xenopet illegalities' as if those terms meant anything anymore other than that we were a threat to the local status quo. It was hard to pick up a job as a former inmate when even in something as harsh and backbreaking as a job in the iridium mines near the poles when the employment office had you blacklisted as a degenerate, which lead to the formation of many of the gangs: we needed to make a living somehow, and when all social programs were cut off from you unless you submitted for 're-education' and the only way to put food on the table was subverting, breaking, or even downright fighting the law, you did what you had to do or you died on the streets a scorned beggar.
It wasn't like the HSD made it easy for us on even a good day: the local HSD units were armed to the teeth with advanced, military-grade hardware that you'd often see on the front lines of the Second Authority War: armored assault transports, a myriad of advanced war droids, all sorts of chemical countermeasures that made tear gas seem like putting the garden hose on mist mode, and of course advanced firearms. Add that to the fact that they were authorized to use deadly force when they deemed it necessary and you had a ruthless, heartless, and nearly unstoppable enemy. But we could make that work: we weren't trying to stop them, just to withstand them.
"Yeah, I got eyes on the prize, Koraak; seven armored transports, two for droids, five for prisoners."
Today wasn't a day for a normal job: we were getting bolder, cockier, more ambitious. Our numbers had swelled for the last few years after the raid at Barnard's Star and the fall of the Blood Dragon Mafia. Their leader, Saito Yasuhide, had committed seppuku as their manor burned, and his twin sons had gone down fighting rather than allowing themselves to be captured simply to face a firing squad. In the aftermath, many of the family's associates had fled to the surrounding systems, and with the sheer size and scope of the criminal underworld found here, it was no wonder that many people who had developed skills of the less legal variety had decided to form ranks with the gangs, and with them they brought guns, tech, knowledge, contacts, and even something that we thought wasn't possible beforehand: a semblance of peace between the gangs, or at least the closest thing to peace that gangs could cultivate effectively. With the fall of the Blood Dragons, we saw the writing on the wall, and the writing couldn't have been clearer: work together or die together.
"Sounds like a massacre, Troy: are you sure we can handle seven?"
"We ain't got no choice, Cinder: this job's double the usual rate, and that's not including the weapons and gear we could scrounge if this goes well," I hissed, my eyes scanning for any resistance. There were at least four guards for each van, not to mention at least eight droids in total, meaning that we were already outnumbered, but we had the element of surprise: we could make it work. "So put your balls in your purse and get ready to spill some blood."
Koraak snorted at our antics, which sounded like someone pulling the ripcord on a lawnmower. He was a veteran Russu Corsair, and while his past of slaving, raiding, and killing was unsavory, so were the lives we'd lived, so who were we to judge? All we cared about was that he was a brutal and capable fighter and a loyal brother in arms. It turned out that being a ganger wasn't much different from being a Corsair: you lived and died by a code of honor, you fought to the death for your brothers, and you lived to die for the sake of your gang and your family, simple as that. In a strange, ironic way, it was an incredibly honest way of life: we were under no illusions as to what we were, what we did, and why we did it, and we'd long since accepted it. The Russu related to us in that aspect, in many ways I could respect, which is why I hated what the Protectorate was doing, and why I couldn't grasp how most of humanity could just collectively lose their marbles so long ago. What had happened for us to deem all other life below us in such a demeaning and infantilizing way?
The Russu were a race of tall, muscle-bound Saurians with avian features, and Koraak was no exception: reaching almost seven feet in height and weighing over four hundred and fifty pounds, he could be an absolute menace if he so desired. His skin was covered in stubby, knobby scales and dense plumage, with elegant feathers adorning the ridges along his back as well as his forearms, elbows, knees, and the crests on his head. He almost looked like how paleontologists described velociraptors, with razor-sharp talons, feathers shaded in vibrant greens, reds, and purples, and a maw full of sharp teeth, but at the tip of his snout was a sharp, beak-like growth meant for ripping flesh off the bone.
The Russu were strange as hell, but they also looked almost cute in the same way a fully grown alligator was cute: they were obviously dangerous, but humans would always have this innate desire to anthropomorphize them and to pet them for some inexplicable reason, although common sense usually prevented that, at least amongst the very few of us left that were sane.
"Shut up, Troy! All I'm saying is that that'll be rough, and you know it," hissed Cinder. Cinder was a tall black man whose coffee-colored skin was covered in tattoos. He wore an ebony mechanic's jumpsuit with metal inserts underneath his grimy overcoat covering his body and a faded black respirator on his face. His eyes were a startling blue that seemed sorely out of place, and his hair was braided into thick cornrows along his scalp. He wore a pair of heavy black combat boots and palmed his compact shotgun in his hands, the square barrel less than seven inches. Like a lot of the weapons the Black Mambas carried on their persons and dealt in, they fired caseless ammunition; in Cinder's case it was 16x40mm caseless shotshells filled with depleted uranium micro-flechetes no thicker than a toothpick. Cinder nervously fiddled with the detachable tube magazine underneath the barrel, his hands shaking. Despite the shit I have him, I didn't blame him for being anxious: I was anxious too, even if I refused to show it. The biting cold of unease and pessimism was in my stomach, and I ran all the way that this job could go wrong in my head over and over.
"Just hold yourself together, this ain't anything we haven't done before, there's just more of it," I reassured Cinder, "besides, we're not alone; we have reinforcements across the street. We'll make it out of this alive."
Cinder nodded almost absentmindedly, his eyes downcast and his breathing shallow. I turned from him and back to Koraak, who was making sure he had everything on his person; he had a synthetic leather bandoleer across his chest that contained the heavy eight guage depleted uranium slugs he kept loading and unloading into his much larger, longer, and more traditional shotgun he nicknamed ‘carnage’ and several leather straps that held his Tu'shan daggers: traditional Russu pyramidal blades forged from a silvery alloy with all three edges serrated and the tip barbed to leave behind horrible, gaping wounds that gushed blood. They were wickedly sharp and absolutely straight like a stiletto, and the hilts and pommels were beautifully decorated. He wore no clothes underneath his overcoat to cover the countless scars and blemishes he's earned in combat across his chest and abdomen, and instead of a normal respirator or visor, he simply wore a hood over his head and some traditional Russu facial armor to protect his mouth, eyes, and cheeks.
"You ready to fight, Koraak? The caravan will pick up and leave soon."
Koraak was silent for a moment before nodding, a human gesture he had picked up after serving as a soldier with the Black Mambas for years. "I'm always ready to fight," he said before lifting up his shotgun and aiming down the sights at the reinforced front wheels of the first armored car in the caravan. He exhaled and fired, the slug ripping through both front tires and causing them to deflate and fall apart. The echo of the shot rang through the alleyway and the street, causing pedestrians to panic and flee the scene as heavily armored guards poured out of the side doors of the armored cars and unholstered their carbines.
"Go, now!" I shouted, and both me and Cinder rushed out into the fray, our guns raised. Koraak was right behind the two of us, providing covering fire with his shotgun. Several guards fell quickly, Koraak's precise fire and the sheer force of the depleted uranium slugs putting them down for good as their heads were vaporized or their chest cavities were turned to mush. He emptied the tube with one final shot that painted the grey matter of a security guard on the door of one of the armored cars, then racked the shotgun and expertly loaded it in threes, his hands deft and agile as he reached for more slugs faster than any human.
With the cacophony of our initial assault, more Black Mambas poured out from the alleyways and the subways, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons; shotguns, submachine guns, pistols, machetes, baseball bats, and all manner of homemade explosives. Molotovs and more potent concoctions shattered against the asphalt, herding in the caravan guards with their volatile contents as they were quickly gunned down. The assault was working, and we were winning.
Then I heard the robotic whine of a combat droid activating, and my heart sank. One of the armored cars in the back activated the four combat droids it held, the robotic assault units detaching from their charging ports on the sides of the large van and began to form up, each armed with a terrifying array of deadly weapons meant to quash any and all resistance. They were blocky, soulless, utilitarian things that stood at eight feet tall, with flat feet meant for stomping and blades, grasping claws designed to lacerate flesh and shatter bone. On each shoulder was a weapon: on the left was a multi-barrel rotary grenade launcher loaded with 15mm concussion grenades, and on the right was a burst-fire splinter cannon. They were all painted a dull grayish-green, the color of Halcyon's Security Division, although some had a few decorations on them: the one closest to me had a bit of graffiti on the side that said Mr. Hugs in Comic Sans, which I couldn't decide whether that made it more or less terrifying. They split up without hesitation and began to scan the chaotic battlefield, their single, red, beady lenses the security forces had the gall to call eyes focusing on specific targets to eliminate.
An entire group of Black Mambas was torn to pieces by a cloud of flechettes as one of the droids fired a withering three-round burst of shotshells from the four gauge splinter cannon mounted on its shoulder. Another picked up a Black Mamba in its hand and crushed her skull effortlessly before tossing her limp body to the side, its single, red, remorseless robotic eye tracking a new target. Most bullets that struck their thick armored chassis simply bounced off, and those that could pierce the armor didn't seem to phase the droids whatsoever, merely notifying them of a new potential target.
"Damnit," I shouted as I gunned down another guard only for two more to take his place. "Cinder! We gotta pop open the cars and scram! Get the maglock cutters!"
Cinder rushed and slid over through a dirty puddle, pulling out a maglock cutter from the inside of his coat and slipping it onto the back door of the first van. It immediately went to work, drilling through the maglock with a high-powered plasma torch nozzle, and within ten seconds we heard the telltale clunk of the maglock separating. I yanked the door open and ordered I side, ready to escort the prisoners out… only for my face to contort in shock and horror.
The back was empty. There was not a single soul inside of the back brig of the armored car.
"What the fuck…" Cinder gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "What the actual fuck… what the fuck is this, Troy?"
"I… I don't…" I stuttered the sounds of battle and carnage drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in my ears. All five cars were supposed to be filled with recently captured Russu from the front lines ready to be housed in the local Xenopet-Megaplex for processing and conditioning. The fact that this one was empty…
Suddenly, it all hit me at once with the force of a freight train, but it was too late. "We were set up, Cinder; our fucking client either squealed or was crooked to begin with…"
"Fucking bitch!" Cinder shouted as he spun around in an enraged arch, anger growing in his eyes. He aimed his shotgun at an approaching security guard and reduced his upper body to a fine red mist with a cacophony of shotgun blasts. "We gotta get everyone who's left out of here! Do you know what this means? The Jurors will be here soon, and then we're all going down! We gotta go, fuck the job!"
I grit my teeth. Not the Jurors, anything but the Jurors.
"Fine, gather everyone who's left and we'll slip through the sewers, the droids are too bulky to follow us there…"
As I spoke, my eyes wandered to the seventh and final armored car, the second of the droid cars, and my blood froze. Not only were all four ports empty, but they were also smaller and more shallow than the ports for the combat droids. That could only mean one thing.
"Oh fuck! Cinder, we gotta get our Russu members out of here! They've got arachnid droids!"
Arachnid droids were the stuff of nightmares. Resembling blocky, robotic arachnids the size of a manhole cover, they were specifically designed to take down sentient aliens, specifically the Russu, using sickeningly non-lethal means. They were equipped with full-body adaptive cloaking to blend in with their environments, paralytic agents that they could inject into their victims, built-in taser barbs, psychedelic gas ports for crowd-control, and a narrow-coned cacophony canon that disabled the Russu using incredibly high-pitched sounds that only they could hear, forcing them onto their knees and clutching the backs of their heads where their auditory organs were stored in agony. But worst of all was their stygian spinnerets: special ports near the end of their robotic abdomens that excreted a viscous, latex-like substance made up of millions of nano-bots. This substance could be used to render Russu blind, deaf, and mute by having it forced onto their faces, the black substance growing and enveloping their heads and working its way into every orifice. It was completely permeable to the standard atmosphere, but any Russu who had been 'webbed' was completely helpless and essentially captured, and the 'webbing' was both nearly indestructible and nigh impossible to remove without a triple-encrypted override key that was found in every arachnid droid's code, which was corrupted when the droid was destroyed or hacked into. Once you were 'webbed', you were essentially captured and the standard protocol was to leave you to the wolves since the nano-bots could be tracked, endangering the entire gang.
I turned just as I heard the deafening sound of Koraak discharging his shotgun, and I saw him squaring off against one of the assault droids. The droid has obviously been programmed to not use lethal force against Russu if possible, as instead of simply killing Koraak with it's shoulder-mounted splinter cannon, it approached with its claws extended, blades retracted. Koraak continued to back away and fire, pumping the droid full of depleted uranium slugs, its armor crumbling inward as the slugs pierced its chassis and damaged its internal cyberstructure. Eventually, Koraak ran out of slugs and instinctively reached to his bandoleer only to find that he had no more shells left at all, and he drew one of his knives and his sidearm, a simple high-caliber handgun. He tried to take down the droid with his handgun, but the bullets didn't even seem to affect the droid upon penetration, it's claws still extended as it attempted to apprehend Koraak.
In the corner of my vision, as I watched Koraak battle with the droid, I noticed a faint shimmer in the air on one of the black streetlight poles that was right behind him. I focused on it and blinked, believing my eyes had deceived me for a moment before realizing that it was actually a cloaked arachnid droid stalking Korvaak, ready to pounce and incapacitate him.
Before I could shout, it leaped from the pole and landed on Korvaak, causing him to shout in surprise while it began to coagulate its horrifying stygian webbing to disable Korvaak. Korvaak tried to wrestle it off of him, but the droid was agile and fast, clinging onto Korvaak and skittering around across his upper body as he attempted to grab it, forcibly wrapping the sticky black liquid across his face as he gagged like a spider wrapping up a fly. I rushed towards him to try and help, but I felt pain explode in my ribs as I was struck with the arm of the closest combat droid and launched into the chassis of a parked car, the metal denting from the sheer force of impact. I groaned in pain as I saw stars and my head spun, and just then I felt a blinding light be cast over me.
“Drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head, or you will be pacified with deadly force!” Shouted a loud, artificially deepened voice from above. “I repeat, drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head! Neither hostility nor hesitation will be tolerated!”
It was the Jurors, I could feel the air being pushed around from the thrusters on their drop ships, and I could hear screams and shouts as my fellow Black Mambas were quickly gunned down. I couldn’t see well since I was seeing double, but I could hear the slaughter as my eyes dimmed and I began to lose consciousness, my regrets crawling up my throat like vomit.
I’m sorry was all I could think as everything finally went dark, and the sounds of chaos, destruction, and combat faded away.
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Memory halted due to loss of consciousness. Booting next available memory in shard…
Booting up memory scan: Koraak Tel-Char Bruno, November 5th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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“Good morning, sleepyhead; it’s time for breakfast.”
My eyes shot open. I was not in the street anymore, nor was I home in my bed with my mate. I knew instantly that something was horribly wrong. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t gain the leverage to do so: my ankles had been shackled together with magnetic cuffs and my arms were forced together in front of me.
I was wearing some kind of thick shirt. It was warm, fluffy, and comfortable on the inside, but it still made me incredibly uncomfortable that my arms didn’t have a free range of motion. I looked down to see that I was wearing some human garment I had heard about before, a straightjacket maybe?
The entire room was padded: the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. There was no bed or furniture; the floor was soft enough to serve as a bed in itself. There was nothing else except for the soft reddish-orange lights on the ceiling that somehow made me sleepy. I blinked slowly for a moment, my body screaming at me to just lay back down and lose consciousness, but I couldn’t do that: I needed to figure out where I was and how to escape.
Then I noticed who was speaking to me: it was a short human female, with crow's feet around her blue eyes, blonde hair braided down her back, and freckles all over her face. She had a soft smile on her lips, and her forehead was slightly crinkled. She wore a full-body white lab suit with a white overcoat and a pair of glasses for snugly on her face.
"There we go, now I can see those pretty eyes, such a beautiful shade of teal," she cooed softly, "You're such a handsome boy, even with all those scars: I'm sure you'll be adopted very quickly once we get you fixed up."
Fear gripped my heart as I began to piece all the evidence together. I had been captured; I was no longer on Halcyon, and instead, I was in one of the horrific space-born facilities I had heard so much about from the inside agents. I started to hyperventilate and squawk like a newborn hatchling, my eyes dilating in panic. This couldn't be happening! This has to be a nightmare!
The human woman merely wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into an embrace, cradling my head under her chin and speaking softly. I couldn't bite at her or claw at her: I was muzzled and wearing a straight jacket, so I had no choice but to allow her to coddle me.
"It's okay, sweetheart: I understand you're scared, but Julie's here to make all the pain and bad thoughts go away," she said as if she was comforting a child, which made anger blossom in my chest indignantly. "I'll be your caretaker for the next few months, and I'm going to make sure you're healthy, happy, and most importantly safe while you're under our care. I'm sorry to say that includes your restraints and restrictive clothing, but we have to make sure you aren't a threat to yourself or others before we can determine if it's a good idea to remove you from suicide watch."
I growled under my muzzle. Suicide watch? They must have had a lot of instances of Russu taking their own lives after being captured, something I wished I had been able to do before that damnable droid launched itself onto me and…
I shuddered at the thought of the black, viscous substance forcing itself into my nostrils and down my throat and windpipe, gagging me and rendering me completely helpless. It was so cold, so harsh, like slime, and when I had tried to tear it off of my face it merely attached itself to my claws and bound my talons together. I remember squirming on the ground as it enveloped me, unable to see, hear, or speak, and then everything went dark in an instant. It was the most horrible thing I had ever experienced, which was saying something.
"You alright, sweetheart? Oh, I know, you're probably hungry! Here, try some of this." She held up a piece of what looked like raw bacon and wiggled it in front of me before reaching out to remove my muzzle. In an instant, I attempted to snap at her only for pain to blossom in my forehead and my eyes to roll up in my head as I convulsed. It was like something was attempting to drill through my skull from the inside, and every breath felt empty and labored.
"Now, that didn't feel very nice, did it? This is why we have countermeasures in place because we can't trust you yet, sweetheart! Don't worry, we'll work on breaking you of all those bad behaviors and habits while you're here; after all, a well-trained pet is a happy pet!" She began to stroke the crests on my head as I slowly recovered, and she snugly fit the muzzle back onto my snout. "But I won't hold it against you this time, sweetheart; you're just scared and confused, but I'll make all the pain go away."
I struggled in the straight jacket, trying my best to break out of it, but it was no use. Eventually, I became exhausted and despondent, allowing my new caretaker to have her way with me as she gently ran her fingers through my feathers and along my ridges, quietly speaking to me in a hopeless attempt to cheer me up. She seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being, which concerned me even further: who could be this naturally twisted while attempting to be as benevolent and kindhearted as possible?
I felt the pain and terror build up in my chest, the anxiety from what horrific activities I imagined they had planned for me here. I couldn't take the infantilization, the lack of any autonomy, the dehumanization, and what I feared the most was if the rumors of 'rebirth' were true: would they take my personhood from me?
Suddenly, I felt her whisper to me. "Don't worry sweetheart, I know you're so scared and confused, but I promise you everything will be okay: it's going to be your birthday soon, and then everything will get better." She ran her fingers through the feathers along my crest lovingly. "It will be such a wonderful day, and then we'll choose for you the most wonderful family, and you'll spend the rest of your life happy in your forever home! Doesn't all of that sound wonderful?"
I wanted to die. I wanted to disappear. I didn't want to lose myself, not like this, not to these monsters!
"It'll be your birthday soon," she said wistfully as if she was remembering similar events to this in the past like I wasn't the first she'd done this too, "and you'll never be sad again."
I realized that I wasn't the first the stay in this particular cell, and I knew for certain that I wouldn't be the last: I'd end up like my brother, a broken, erased mess of a pathetic creature, reduced to nothing more than a pet for these humans to amuse themselves with.
"We took the liberty of picking out a nice name for you, sweetheart! Now, let me just slip this little programming chip into the port slot on your occipital bone, and... there we go! It will also help you calm down a bit and adjust."
I felt the chip begin to invade my mind, suppressing my thoughts. What made me me was slowly being ripped out of my mind. I couldn't remember my name my name is Bruno, and I needed to get out! I can't let them do this to me! Somebody help me! I was a good boy.
##Do not think. You are a good boy.##
I tried to scream, but my voice wouldn't work: I had trouble forming any words at all, the confusion clouding my mind like wet, slimy eels curling around my brain and sinking their teeth into its folds like needles. I couldn’t scream any longer, because I had nothing left: the chip was slowly beginning to take everything from me, robbing me of my identity and branding a new one into my psyche with a white-hot iron. Julie simply held me close, attempting to reassure me as I awaited the inevitable demise of my personhood. Soon I would be just like my brother: erased. My mind would be shaped into the mind of a loyal plaything, like a Dog.
##Relax. Allow caretaker [Julie] to comfort you. You will let go of your burden.##
Soon, everything was a blur. I quickly found myself resting my head in her lap as she whispered to me and fed me, my eyes bleary and my head fuzzy. I couldn't remember my name anymore My name was Bruno, and I needed to break free from this trance relax, and allow her to help me; good boys didn't resist help.
##Good Boy. Do not think. You are a good boy.##
You can't... I...
##Good boy.##
I wouldn't… good boys don't… I…
##Good boy##
I was a good boy… I was a good boy…
I was… I was… a good… boy…
Someone help me, please! I don't want to be erased!
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The following script is from episode #343 of Halcyon After Dark, a popular late-night and current events talk show hosted by Melinda Carter. This specific episode was sponsored in part by the Halcyon Security Division, with Director Lochlin O'Brien joining as a guest star to talk about the changing crime statistics in Halcyon City and the HSD's recent successes in busting organized crime as well as their plans for addressing the growing criminal underworld.
MC: Good evening Halcyon! I'm your host, Melinda Carter, and you're watching Halcyon's most popular late-night talk show, Halcyon After Dark!
The crowd claps and cheers as Melinda walks on stage and sits behind her desk, her glittering red dress waving as she does so from the special effects.
MC: Tonight we have a very special guest here to tell us about the state of crime in the city and his plans on resolving it: please put your hands together for the HSD's very own Director, Lochlin O'Brien!
The crowd cheers some more as HSD Director Lochlan O'Brien, a tall, muscular, caucasian male in his early forties with red hair and a well-trimmed beard steps into the room, waving at the crowd with a bright smile. He sits in the armchair angled next to Melinda's desk and gives her his full attention.
MC: It's so good to have you on the show, Director! Tell me, how are you doing on this fine evening?
LO: I'm doing excellent, Melinda: every day I wake up feeling fulfilled knowing I'm serving Halcyon to the best of my abilities and then some."
MC: That's the spirit, Director! Now, I know this question is just on everyone's lips, so I have to ask: how successful was the recent gang bust? I heard HSD forces took out dozens of gang members and liberated at least a dozen Russu Hounds from their abusive clutches, but I know that everyone in the audience and at home wants to know the numbers.
LO: I'd be glad to tell you, but I do have to preface this by saying that we still lost a lot of good officers that day, and while we did strike a crippling blow to one of Halcyon's biggest gangs, it doesn't change the fact that each death is a tragedy, and we're taking steps to prevent them in the future. That being said, those valiant officers did not sacrifice themselves in vain: we had over a dozen confirmed kills and several arrests, including the rescue of several corrupted Russu hounds.
MC: That's excellent, Director: proof that even when the number of degenerates and scum grow by the day, the HSD will always be here to keep the citizens of Halcyon safe.
LO: Absolutely, Melinda, and we're always working tirelessly to increase the efficiency and effectiveness of our units, as well as racing to stay several steps ahead of the many gangs of Halcyon at all times. My newest goal as Director is to vastly increase the funding given to our Robotics Department and our Neuro-Warfare Department to potentially reduce the number of casualties we may experience in the future, as well as to quickly and effectively detain, and if necessary, eliminate criminals. Within the next decade, I want to double the number of automated units each Security Platoon is assigned: droids are the future of public safety as well as countless other industries, and it would be foolish to be left behind.
MC: That is quite a lofty goal, Director: what about the displaced jobs from the increased automation? What will the union say?
LO: And to that, I say: what misplaced jobs? We aren't replacing our honored and beloved service members with droids, Melinda, we are simply supplementing our units with more droids to ensure that future gang assaults end with fewer HSD casualties and more gang members in prison or eliminated, simple as that.
MC: That makes much more sense, Director, thanks for clarifying. Now, I have one more question that I'm sure much of Halcyon wants to know the answer to before we take a short break: what plans do you and your fellow directors have to make long-term progress in reducing crime beyond just increasing funding? Have you proposed any plans to strike at the source of where crime and degeneracy flourish?
OL: That's an excellent question, and one I am proud to answer: my constituents and I have been working tirelessly on a two-step plan to greatly reduce crime levels in Halcyon. Step one would be to prevent people from becoming criminals and degenerates at all in the first place: a lot of young men and women, but especially young men, have lost either one or both parents or even a sibling, aunt or uncle, or even a close friend by the brutality of the Second Authority War, and while the service of their lost loved ones will always be recognized and honored, many of these young men and women are left bitter, angry and lost without the guidance these people give them in their lives. Oftentimes they seek to fill that void with others who claim to relate to them: career criminals. These criminals will fill their heads with lies and false narratives to make them feel like they're fighting back against the 'evil protectorate government' that took their loved ones from them by sending them off to war when in reality it was the rogue Xenopets of the Triarchy that took them away by resisting their just and inevitable unburdening.
In response, I have proposed a slew of special programs that will make sure local law enforcement and HSD officers are present and contributing to their local community, and we'll be providing easy and light job openings for youngsters and teens looking to make a career for themselves in the force when they grow up. We want to let these lost souls know that there are people who care about them, people who understand them and that you shouldn't turn to degeneracy to feel fulfilled. We want to help the youth of our great society soar to new heights!
MC: That sounds like a wonderful beginning to your plan, Director, but what about the second step?
LO: Well, the second step is to prevent criminals and degenerates from becoming repeat criminals. Sure, they've made their mistakes, some worse than others, but they're only human like the rest of us. Some of them have been through hell: some are traumatized veterans who don't know how to adapt to normal life, others were recruited when they were young and don't know that there's a better way to live, and even more are mentally ill. We're alone in this galaxy, and we can't leave so many people behind. That's why we've come up with an excellent solution: we've set up isolated communities on distant moons and frontier planets where these criminals can be reeducated, rehabilitated, and allowed to repay their debt to society. When they're deemed 'reformed' and have graduated from our program, they'll be granted a hefty stipend and their criminal record will be deemed irrelevant, allowing them to reintegrate and become functioning members of our proud society.
MC: all of these sound like incredible steps forward in the fight to better our society and make real progress, Director. Sadly, we do have to step away for a moment, but you best believe I'll be back, Halcyon, and we'll be asking the Director here some burning questions about allegations over the quality of life Erubus Supermax! Now, a word from our sponsors!
Halcyon Xenopet-Megaplex! Everything your xenopet could ever need in one place! Adoption is now free-
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Good, you’re still alive! The rest of this shard appears to be corrupted, which means this particular trail seems to have run cold here, but do not despair; you need to keep searching. Find out what happened. Find the truth.I cannot guide you any longer: they've already found me, and if I remain in contact with you they'll find you as well. Take the archival database, and see what you can piece together. Maybe if we discover what truly happened we can put an end to this madness once and for all. I'm counting on you. Don't cry for me, I don't fear death, but I fear what they'll do to me to get to you: there are far worse fates than death, after all.

The Luminari Harvest

In the far reaches of the galaxy, beyond the stars known to man, there existed an alien race known as the Luminari. These beings were composed entirely of pure, radiant light, their forms shifting and shimmering like living auroras. The Luminari had thrived for eons in the ethereal expanses of the cosmos, drawing their sustenance from the boundless energy of the universe.
However, the Luminari faced an existential crisis. Their energy reserves, once abundant, began to wane as the cosmic cycles shifted. Desperate to survive, they scoured the galaxy for a new source of energy to sustain their luminous existence. Their search led them to an unassuming blue planet called Earth.
The Luminari discovered that humans, with their complex emotions and vibrant spirits, emitted a unique form of energy. This energy, born from the highs of joy and the depths of sorrow, was exactly what the Luminari needed. To harvest this energy, the Luminari initiated "The Great Harvest," a plan to abduct humans and harness their emotional energy.
They began by subtly influencing human dreams, drawing people into a trance-like state where they were transported to the Luminari's realm. In this realm, humans experienced the most intense and vivid emotions, from the ecstasy of love to the agony of loss. The Luminari, in turn, absorbed the energy produced by these emotions, their forms glowing brighter and stronger with each passing moment.
One such human was a young woman named Elara, who lived a simple life on Earth. One night, she found herself in a dreamscape of unparalleled beauty, surrounded by beings of radiant light. At first, she was mesmerized by their splendor, but as the days in this dreamworld turned into weeks, she began to notice the toll it took on her spirit. The highs and lows of her emotions left her exhausted, and she longed to return to the real world.
Driven by her desire to escape, Elara started to communicate with the Luminari, learning about their plight. She realized that while the Luminari needed human emotions to survive, their method was unsustainable and harmful. Elara's compassion and determination touched the Luminari, who had never considered the impact of their actions on the beings they harvested.
Together, Elara and the Luminari devised a new plan. Instead of harvesting emotions through dreams, they would create a symbiotic relationship with humans. The Luminari would inspire moments of profound joy and creativity in people's lives, subtly drawing energy from these positive experiences. In return, they would use their powers to heal and guide humanity, fostering a world where both species could thrive.
As Elara returned to Earth, she carried with her the promise of a new dawn. The Luminari, now guiding stars in the night sky, became guardians of human inspiration and well-being. And thus, a bond was forged between two races, each illuminating the other's path in the vast, wondrous expanse of the universe.

Personally, I think some of the villains from Warhammer 40000 are much worse than the ASOIAF villains. Below, I will copy and paste all the Complete Monster entries from Tv Tropes of Warhammer 40k villains who have been approved to be Complete Monsters (You can read more about this tropes here).
Forces of Chaos

• Ezekyle Abaddon, known as the Despoiler, is the heir of the fallen Primarch Horus. Abaddon is consumed with hatred for all that lives, even his former master, and seeks nothing less than the extermination of all he can manage while uniting humanity under the dark banners of Chaos. As the only man with the support of all the Gods of Chaos, Abaddon, the Warmaster of Chaos, has united the forces of Chaos under his banner no fewer than thirteen times in the Black Crusades. During these ventures, each of which has killed millions if not billions, Abaddon storms the galaxy itself, burning and destroying all he can until the forces of the Imperium inevitably defeat him. Abaddon hardly minds as he is able to destroy and kill in great number, something he loves more than anything else. In the 13th Black Crusade alone, Abaddon launches a successful assault on Cadia, finally exterminating the planet and carving a bloody swath through space in his quest to Holy Terra, killing trillions in order to overthrow the Emperor. Willing to send countless numbers of his own to their doom—if not killing them himself—and living only to destroy everything he can to the point he rejects Daemonhood to continue the slaughter on the material plane, Abaddon is the champion of Chaos and is one of the most evil and brutal beings in all of the dark world of Warhammer 40,000.
• Be'lakor the First Damned was the first of the Daemon Princes, a man responsible for unfathomable atrocities and bloodshed to receive the universal acclimation of the Ruinous Powers. Be'lakor spread through the galaxy, conquering and then corrupting entire civilizations before letting them fall to extinction or wiping them out while also guiding the bloody rise of Ezekyle Abaddon to further atrocities until he tried to upstage his supposed pupil during the final Black Crusade, leading an attack on Holy Terra to destroy it and all humanity to elevate himself.
• Erebus, First Chaplain of the Word Bearers, was the first ever Chaos Space Marine. After his fall, Erebus set up the slaughter of the Interex civilization to prevent them from warning the Imperium about Chaos and arranged for the corruption of Lorgar and Horus Lupercal, setting up the Horus Heresy that would turn the galaxy and Imperium into hellholes and cost countless lives. Erebus helped to arrange the Istvan V Drop Site massacre where he had countless Marines loyal to the Emperor slaughtered and purged an entire planetary system of life to empower daemons with the intention of corrupting the Blood Raven chapter. In the present, Erebus continues to serve Lorgar, and was involved in the 13th Black Crusade where he sacrificed millions to summon Daemons to assist Abaddon's forces. Responsible more than almost anyone else for the horrific state of the galaxy, Erebus repeatedly shows why he is one of the most vile servants of Chaos around.
• Fabius Bile, the self-styled "Primogenitor", is an unspeakably vile force feared and hated across the galaxy to those who know his name and actions, even among the Traitor Legions of Chaos. A Mad Scientist extraordinaire longing to exceed the scientific accomplishments of the Emperor, Bile refuses to pledge himself to any one Chaos God and instead sells his services to whomever can take him, stringing behind him a legacy of depraved experiments, genocides, and horrors with entire sectors of lives reduced longing for death from what Bile has brought upon them. Among Bile's many atrocities are forcing those he has flayed to carry a cloak made of the skin of dozens behind him, earning him the epiphet Manflayer; forcing the population of Dimmamar to take in his own mutative serums or suffocate by changing the composition of the very air they breathed; squashing down over a million prisoners into amplifying drugs for his followers, whom he also treats as test fodder; engaging in degenerate experiments with clones, earning him fear and respect from the world of Palamar V; and his proudest accomplishment, the "New Men", with the populations of entire worlds transformed into powerful but blindly murderous specimens of his own image. Reviled by even the Traitor Legions he is ostensibly a part of, Fabius Bile is a man who has dedicated his life to immortality through infamy by means of the destruction and perversion of billions of lives in his never-ending quest to permanently etch the foul memory of his name on the universe.
• Typhus the Traveler, once known as Calas Typhon, is the Chaos Lord responsible for the creation of the Plague Marines. Treacherous since the days of the Horus Heresy, Calas Typhon truly came into the forces of Chaos by betraying all his companions in the Death Guard to the diseases of Nurgle, causing them agony which only ended when they pledged themselves utterly to Nurgle. Since then, Typhus has traveled across the galaxy spreading hundreds of thousands of diseases, consuming countless worlds and killing billions. Among Typhus's greatest achievements is the zombie plague, which once condemned 23 billion lives to a horrible death when they accidentally barricaded themselves in with Typhus's reanimating victims. In another instance Typhus condemned an entire planet to forever rot away, unable to do anything but sing eternal hymns to Nurgle. Taking a vile pleasure from the reaping of lives himself, Typhus once single-handedly obliterated the holy planet of Annunciation and every life upon it with nothing short of sadistic glee. Responsible for the worst depths of his old friend Mortarion, who became Nurgle's Daemon Primarch through Typhus's manipulation, and with one of the highest body counts a follower of Chaos can boast, Typhus is perhaps the vilest of Nurgle's noxious armies.
• Honsou of the Iron Warriors is the eventual Warsmith of his band once he assists in the theft of Imperial Fist geneseeds. A cold, practical, and cruel Chaos Marine, Honsou establishes the Daemonculaba; taking human women to use as agonized "wombs" to insert humans into and mutate them into Chaos Marines, with the "unfleshed" failures discarded. When the process is disrupted by the Ultramarines, a spiteful Honsou uses a virus bomb to annihilate one of their worlds and leads an attempt to annihilate the entire sector of Ultramar in retribution.

The Imperium of Man

• High Lord Goge Vandire, the instigator of the Age of Apostasy, made himself the head of the Imperium in all but name. Launching a brutal wave of repression and torture that spanned across countless worlds, with endless billions and more tortured for his pleasure, Vandire demanded tithing and planned for his own worship to supplant that of the Emperor himself, wiping out entire worlds should they fail to meet his standards. Nearly tearing the Imperium apart, Vandire's depredations continued for seven full decades with a reign of terror and brutal tyranny such as the Imperium had never known.
• Herman von Strab is known as the worst waste of flesh in Imperial history. A petty noble who murdered his brothers and father to rise to power, von Strab combined incompetence and malice with extreme cowardice. Upon the invasion of Armageddon, von Strab was happy to sacrifice his own to kill political rivals, getting millions of soldiers and civilians killed before deploying planet-killing bombs to slaughter millions of humans and Orks in an attempt to catch Commissar Yarrick in the blast, even sacrificing an entire colony in the war. Later allying with the Orks in the Third Armageddon War to let them rampage, thus having the blood of many millions on his hands, von Strab tried to inspire a bloody civil war through the Imperium and happily participated in Human Sacrifice by throwing victims into a volcano.

Drukhari (aka Dark Eldar)

• Asdrubael Vect, Archon of the Black Heart Kabal and Supreme Overlord of Commorragh, is one of the eldest beings in the galaxy and one of the most unspeakably vile. The lord of the Dark Eldar who keeps the horrific culture of torture and depravity going, Vect masterminds the slaughter and torture of countless innocents on a constant basis while also engaging in mentally tormenting a luckless slave, even revealing📷 a drink they were sharing will give him agonizing stomach cramps for days. What sets Vect apart is his willingness to cross even the few lines other Dark Eldar have, having captured an Imperial Salamander to lure the Imperium to Comorragh and allow them to kill off his own people just to eliminate his rivals. Being a master torturer who feeds off the agony of others, Vect once faked his own death to allow the Dark Eldar to lapse into a terrible civil war, and once the battle lines had been drawn, Vect dropped a sun on the rebels, wiping them out along with all the innocents and civilians in that section of the city, damning all their souls to be devoured by Slaanesh. Unspeakably devious, hiding behind a mask of civility and refinement, Vect is almost unmatched in cruelty and evil even in this grim dark future.
• Urien Rakarth, aka the Sculptor of Torments, is the Master Haemonculus of the Prophets of Flesh. An eons-old experimenter, Rakarth has spent millennia cutting apart countless victims and restitching them into mindless, pain-stricken monstrosities as attack dogs or attractions for his Carnivals of Pain: spectacles put on for high-ranking Drukhari to behold slaves being devoured, payment for attendance of which frequently involves Rakarth demanding pieces of the viewers' minds or bodies. Spreading his depravity, Rakarth teaches his twisted followers with pride, and is known to have demanded so many victims for his experiments that he forces Archons to go to war and take entire sectors prisoner just to ensure he never runs out of bodies.
• Kruellagh the Vile is the Archon of the Kabal of the Flayed Skull. Reaping life energy from her victims to empower herself with her Soul Flayer, Kruellagh has spent centuries raiding and taking countless prisoners. Her entire Kabal are forced to pay tribute to her in souls, with Kruellagh having the Kabal's slaves brought to the Haemonculi, subjecting planets worth of people to an unspeakable fate.

Necrons

• Aza'gorod, the Nightbringer, first of the C'tan, is the most fearsome and evil of the Stargods who first learned that the agony of other races could sustain it. Delighting in annihilating countless civilizations and torturing untold billions of innocent beings so their pain might feed it, the Nightbringer brought countless others into depravity to satisfy its twisted need for worship before ending them as well. The Nightbringer was the first to discover cannibalism among the C'tan, setting them against one another until only a few were left. Sealed away, the Nightbringer later manages to escape and plots a return when it might end everything in the galaxy for its own glory.
• Mephet'ran, the Deceiver, is the weakest yet most intelligent of the C'tan. Orchestrating regular massive and genocidal conflicts as its preferred method to achieve its goals, the Deceiver masterminds the corruption of the Necrontyr, tricking or in some cases violently forcing the entire race into giving up their bodies and being enslaved under its and other C'tan's control before using them to cause a galactic war. Saturating the conflict by Playing Both Sides and even tricking other C'tan to their deaths for him to consume, the Deceiver is known for its deceptions being the single most deadly weapon in the war, while ultimately seeking to devour all that lives just to cleanse its inferiority complex.
• Llandu'gor, the Flayer, cursed its Necron killers for revenge after abusing them as their former master. Becoming the Flayer Virus, the C'tan now plagues the Necrons, turning them into mindless beings with an insatiable and infinite appetite for flesh and causing them to seek out and gruesomely kill any and all organic life they encounter.

Expanded Universe only

• Dawn of War series: Chapter Master Azariah Kyras, through Chaos Rising and Retribution, steadily reveals himself to have long fallen from his noble roots while authoring all the conflict and death in the series. Kyras, centuries ago, pledged himself to Khorne and dedicated himself to "freedom" by means of mindless bloodshed and the slaughter of countless billions, achieved by his manipulation of all the chaotic events plaguing the sub-sector of Aurelia in order to provoke Exterminatus on the entire sector and offer the resulting annihilation as tribute to Khorne. All throughout, Kyras manipulates and betrays everyone within his own Chapter, corrupting his own battle-brothers and flagging those who resist as heretics, before finally revealing his true nature to even his own devout follower Apollo Diomedes and proclaiming billions shall scream and burn as the ultimate culmination of his service to Khorne. Kyras stands unique even among the servants of Chaos through his sheer unchecked fanaticism and madness, willing to shed blood on scales unprecedented even for Khornates and musing over the beauty of the senseless death he's wrought as he watches an entire inhabited planet engulfed by the Exterminatus—a gift he eventually plans on sharing with every living soul in the galaxy once he ascends into a Greater Daemon.

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I hope this is allowed on this subreddit.
Please read post in full - I am NOT asking for medical advice. I need help coping with the mental trauma and my anger. I just need to vent, to people who can understand what I went through physically.
I’m a nurse.
And for two weeks of my life, I was also a patient - a really sick patient.
After 3 days in preterm labour, my doctors performed a c-section and I delivered my beautiful baby boy. My baby is fine all things considered- he was 6 weeks 4 days too early - he is in the NICU but getting better every day.
Unfortunately…I had a lot of complications. I was in absolute agony, and wouldn’t dilate; my doctors decided on an emergency c-section. I lost a lot of blood, and my hemoglobin was low to begin with. It ultimately dropped to 53. They decided to give me 3 blood transfusions. I became ill very quickly; they confirmed I had TRALI, but my blood cultures were also positive and I was quickly becoming septic. I was intubated and put on a vent as my o2 sat was impossible to elevate. My heart rate dropped to 20, and they couldn’t get it back up. I know at one point I had a seizure. I was in the ICU for several days. A lot of it is a haze, but there ARE things I remember. It terrified me, because the last clear thing I remembered was going to sleep and feeling mostly okay. When I woke up, I was intubated, and tied down. I was alone.
When they moved me to step down, I had a breakdown; it had been a week and I hadn’t seen my son. No doctor had come to me to explain what happened. The nursing care I got while I was in the ICU, well…frankly, it disappointed me. I had a foley, had had it since the c-section, but I was excoriated with bedsores. When I used the bathroom for the first time, I couldn’t help crying because my skin hurt so bad. The Chief for the ICU took over my care before I discharged a few days later to step down. He said I was on the brink of death.
I was discharged a few days ago. It’s been…rough. I miss my son so much. I literally can’t go to the hospital by myself - the fear consumes me. Which means I can’t visit my son unless someone is with me. It’s been frustrating that my anxiety is ruling over me, because I want to be there for my son so badly!! But I am utterly terrified. I don’t feel like myself. I’ve never been scared of medical procedures, or needles. Now the thought of having to go to the hospital fills me with dread.
I have a psychiatrist and he’s great; I’ve had 2 appointments with him since I’ve been discharged (on video, because of my anxiety).
But guys. I know I have mat leave, so I don’t have to think about work for a while, but how am I gonna go back to nursing after this? I really didn’t go into detail but some of the nursing care I saw disturbed me. The whole thing is upsetting. Being a nurse was something I genuinely loved. Now I feel like a different person, for so many reasons…
And I’m angry about the care. And I’m worried about the other patients in there that can’t advocate for themselves. I feel overwhelmed and upset and I miss my son. I miss him so much.
I don’t know what I’m expecting from this I guess. It’s just nobody understands…
EDIT - for those who left a comment, be it words of encouragement, support, all of you are special and you made me feel acknowledged, above all that. Thank you all…

Nyx:
Standing outside the bouncing bubble of a dimension, cheery music had me scratching the back of my head. This adventure was going to be a hoot, my presence was the sole one around. Everyone had an excuse today, a bitter wave of hurt dimming my eyes. Plucking my blade from my back, a strong hand grabbed my shoulder. Deerthos waved down at me, his eager grin causing relief to wash over me. Happy to see him, a hearty laugh tumbled from his lips.
“Did you need a little help today?” He inquired with another big smile, a sharpened antler bouncing off of his fur robes. “How about it, my dear pal?” Chuckling to myself, he spoke the word dear. Confusion twisted his features, my humor going over his head. Shaking off the small bit of hurt at the missed joke, we stepped through. Groaning bitterly to myself, the black and white scene of a nineteen twenties cartoon greeted me. Trees and animals bounced up and down while singing, Deerthos’ energy matching my own sea of pure annoyance. A piano played a villain’s song that sounded like we were tied to the railroad tracks. The animals ran away from the incoming storm clouds, the dust threatening to choke us. The villain music picked up, the trees twisting into evil monsters. His chances of surviving the first attack was slim, the energy picking up. Pushing Deerthos away, a bunch of dynamite landed by my feet. Stomping my boot on the inky ground, an ice wall protected me from the blast. Apologizing as I helped him up, immortality wasn’t on his side. Dragging him into the black hole inches from us, hot air lashed at my cheeks as we whistled into a giant vat of black ink. Deerthos tossed me over the edge, ink splattering against a white wall the moment my face met a hard white surface. Whipping the ink off of me, the cartoon effects were aiding me for the first time. Deerthos landed next to me, a quick shake resulting in him being clean. Staring up at the ceiling, hand drawn gears clicked and groaned. Glancing back at each other with matching wicked grins, the antler spun in his palm. Tossing it into the biggest one, a blast of ice began to grind the rest to a stop. Nodding his head towards a ladder in the opposite corner, our footfalls echoed towards the only way up. Scurrying up the rungs, the cartoon had been put on pause. Hiding behind a thickest tree, a sleazy cartoon styled demon lurked with noises to announce his presence. His slicked back oily hair glittered in the light of a bomb, his big cartoon eyes circling around in a creepy way. Staring down at my ruby lace summer dress, the pop of color seemed foreign in this world of black and white. Ink grazed my fingertips, the liquid dripping from the smooth tree. Soaking my dress in the ink, a wave of relief washed over me at the inky goo soaking into the light material. Digging at the grass underneath me, curiosity twinkled in my eyes at the grass flaking away instead of the usual tearing noises. Tapping my blade against my leg, something had to give. Fishing around my pocket, my genuine smile lingered on my face as I lent him my spare dagger. The bone dagger looked right in his palm, the carved wooden hand had the mark of his people.
“Your grandfather passed this onto me. The weapon never quite liked me. Something tells me that it loves you.” I urged with another friendly smile, tears splashing onto my palm. “Forgive me for changing its composition but I infused my feather into the blade. The darn thing should be as tough as you.” Nudging my shoulders, his presence reminded me of an old friend. Whistling in a pinstripe suit, his sinister grin met my defeated scowl. Throwing his bomb in my direction, Deerthos punched the bomb back in his direction. Mumbling a quick drats, the word boom popped up. Floating into the sky, a thin line of ash stuck out of his pants. Sucking in a steady flow of souls, our eyes traced the line to a cage of living humans dangling over a boiling river of lava. Dramatic music drummed to life, his elastic arms snapping into place. How do we destroy the indestructible? Tapping my foot incessantly while thinking, a metallic noise had me grinning ear to ear. Judging by the water sloshing around what seemed like a water tower. Ink washed away with one drop, my brow cocking. Mouthing the words water tower, his wink confirmed our plan. Crashing towards the newly formed body, our punches slid through his body. Falling flat on our faces, attacking him would be pointless. Burying my fingers into the lush grass, ice crept out from underneath my palm. Devouring everything in sight, Deerthos brute strength would help me out. Bouncing up to us in his cartoon form, the ice had made his realm brittle. Rolling over to face that bastard, a silver dagger glinted in his hand. Aiming it for my heart, my boot smashing into the hilt sent him flying back.
“Now!” I shouted over his steady stream of curse words, Deerthos slamming his dagger into the weakest point. Ominous cracks had his arm curling around my waist, his strong arms taking him with me the moment he leapt into the air. His dimension melted into the water sloshing around in the water tower, Deerthos and I catching the remaining survivors. Summoning a slide of ice, our steady hands pushed themselves onto the pine needle riddled forest floor. A ball of black energy burst from the busted water tower, feathers drifting aimlessly the moment I opened up my wings. Pushing off the edge, a chilly breeze nipped at my cheeks. Shock rounded my eyes at Emberon smashing into me, his hands curling around the base of my wings. A tortured wail burst from my lips the moment he ripped them out, the two of us zooming towards the dirt. His flames whisked him away, panic twisting my features. Angling my blade for the dirt, the vibration of the tip sinking into the dirt had me flipping off the hilt. Cursing under my breath, my weapon was too far from me. Sniffing the air, ash confirmed the sulfuric scent of Emberon. Smashing his knee into my back, a fountain of blood exploded from my lips as every organ burst. The cracking of my spine made the moment that much worse, Deerthos catching me on his arm. My blade bounced off his robe, my head shaking at him placing me in front of a tree gingerly. Shoving a vial of his type of medicine into my mouth, a cloud of dirt obscured him running away. Biting down hard enough to shatter the glass, the sweet liquid coated my throat on the way down. Everything doubled, my antlered friend taking the hits with ease. Spirits of his ancestors floated around him, strengthening his every blow. Horror rounded my eyes at a spot opening up, Master Scarston moving him out of the way. Taking the stab to the heart, his broken smile met mine before blood dripped down the corner of his lips.
“Consider this payment for your services, Nyx. The table is yours to command.” He wheezed, raising his scythe over his head. “Make me proud.” Violent sobs wracked my useless body, what remained of the demon floated by my head. Grabbing it with my hands, my ice ate the ball until it shattered into pieces. A limp Mr. Scarston rolled up next to me, his body decaying to jet black butterflies. Fluttering into the sky, the abrupt jolt of my body healing had me crying out in both physical and emotional agony. Bones clicked back into place while my organs weaved themselves back together, the final second allowing me to pop to my feet. A blizzard roared to life, midnight black snow dancing furiously with my increasing rage. My irises darkened to the shade of the darkest night, Deerthos knowing to get out of the way. Charging at him with increased speed, a smug surprise rounded Emberon's eyes at my kick knocking him through a couple of trees.
“How dare you!” I roared brokenly, every teardrop freezing. “Time for you to pay, you rotten bastard!” A wave of his flames headed towards me, terror rounding his eyes at the lack of results. Freezing his next waves, his boots crunched backwards. Raising my foot over my head, inky blood poured from my eyes, ears and nose. Slamming my heel into the ice, spikes impaled him. Struggling to escape, his claws dug into the thickening ice. Marching up to him with a snarl, my claws extended from my fingernails. Digging them into his eyes, his claws shredded my arm. Collapsing onto my ass, his flames whisked him away. The snow lightened to the pure ivory it once was, my blood painted the icy wasteland with every coughing fit. Fresh tears mixed with the blood, the ice catching my forehead. Weeping into the ice, the howling winds covered my endless bout of screams. Sensing Deerthos, his hand rubbed my back. The ice melted in the morning sun, the mud painting my face. Deerthos scooped me up, his arms carrying back into the safety of his territory. The beauty of his world seemed like nothing with what I saw, his steady hands sitting me underneath a hidden waterfall. Chilly water washed away my sins of that day, the corner of my lips quivering. Washing the mud out of my hair, his next words had me staring oddly in his direction.
“I vow to serve you as my master.” He promised with a sad smile, an infinity mark appearing on his palm. “Seeing you lose someone woke me up to the bigger mission at hand. Rest easy knowing that I will never die.” Massaging a natural shampoo in my hair, my eyes darted over to the glistening water. Parting my lips to protest, his head shook with a confident smile.
“I want this. You need me and I need you. Consider it our own special bond.” He chirped cheerfully, looking hopefully in the sky. “He told me to protect you with my life and I always want to be by your side in your war. Your war is mine.” A fresh scent washed away the brimstone tainted death, the rush of the water stealing me into a rough slumber.
Stirring awake in a hotel room, the setting was familiar. Deerthos offered me a ruby Victorian style dress, his tired smile speaking of all that he had done for me. His mouth moved, the words not hitting my ears. Helping me to my feet, his nimble hands peeled off the fur robes he placed over my shoulder. Dropping the modernized style of a dress over my head, the hem floated around my knees. Fussing with the bell sleeves, silent tears dripped off his skull. Spinning around to face him, my thumbs wiped away his tears. Reading his thoughts, the others kicked him out. Shoving him away, his life was destroyed because of me. Why did I do that!
“Sorry.” I blurted out while clenching my fists, the tears never ending. “It’s all my fault your life is ruined.” Waving my concern away, the bed groaned in protest the moment he sat down. Patting the bed, my shaky legs didn’t give me a choice. Please don’t hate me. Never hate me, I pleaded dejectedly to myself.
“The king thing wasn’t my gig. The truth is that I chose you before I became immortal. My cousin took over in my stead.” He admitted with an honest smile, his hands crossing on his lap. “My father told me to follow my heart and I did. You have my loyalty.” Resting my head on his shoulder, the door burst open. Salem skidded in, his nice black suit matching my dress perfectly. Stumbling to my feet, his arms caught me. Burying my head into his shoulder, his loving embrace was all that I needed at that moment. Kissing the top of my head, a bit of warmth returned to my soul. Comforting me with more kisses, he knew what brought me back to life. Lifting up my chin with his finger, his lips pressed against mine tenderly. Getting lost in the moment, the pain slapped me in the face as he released me from his spell.
“You have to keep it together to greet your council.” He encouraged me sweetly, his thumbs wiping away my tears. “Make his sacrifice worth every second of it. I love you, Nyx.” Stepping back, I slid my feet into my boots. I thought I gave him immortality, Madame Maria finding her way in with a broken smile. Someone looked seconds from bursting with a confession, the primary question haunting my mind.
“He drew that mark on his palm whenever he met with you. It never stuck. I suppose death can’t have immortality.” She wept openly, fussing with her onyx suit. “You tried but I told him to tell you. Please don’t be mad.” Opening up my arms, her hair brushed against my cheek in her desperate embrace. Soaking my shoulders with her emotions, God chose to take a friend away from me. Too broken to be infuriated with him, a sad smile haunted my lips. Hiding that secret from me was simply like him, his spirit floating in the corner giving me pause. Asking everyone to leave, no one protested. Walking over to him, I placed my hands on my hips. Fighting a fresh wave of tears, his shoulders shrugged casually. Death should never be this casual, I sighed to myself.
“I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.” He admitted with tears staining his cheeks, his icy hands cupping my shoulder. “Sorry but I wanted you to be happy and you looked so happy when you saw it. Color painted his pale cheeks, his hand ruffling my hair. A bright light glowed above him, so many questions rested on the tip of my tongue.
“I love you.” I choked out through a wall of tears, his hands cupping my cheeks. “You could have said something and I would have protected you with everything I had.” Kissing my forehead, immortality was something he never wanted. Burying me in one of his bear hugs, his chin rested on my head. Could you never let me go? My heart knew that he would move on the moment he released me.
“I made a deal with God a long time ago. I did my time and now I get to get reborn into a nice life.” He chuckled with his tears soaking the top of my head. “Thanks for everything. Remember kiddo, this isn’t goodbye but another way to see you later.” Floating into the bright light, a numbness came over my face. Moving through the motions of walking through the twisted halls with my support by my side, the others rose to their feet at the sight of me. Bowing in my direction, I took my seat at the head of the table. A scythe necklace waited for me, Maria dropping it over my head. Rising to my feet, they commanded my full respect. Gathering my wits, he left the council to me. Speak like a damn leader.
“Regret haunts me with the fact that Master Scarston died.” I spoke shakily, death glares snapping in my direction. Shouting endless rants in my direction, every breath grew shorter. Leaning onto the table, none of this was fair. Too much loss followed me, the room began to spin around me. Slapping Maria’s hands away, the complaints were hitting me all at once. Ice crept out from underneath my feet, spikes creaking to life around them.
“Shut up! Shut up!” I barked hotly, watching frozen tears shatter onto the table. “He came out of nowhere and took a deadly strike for my friend. That wasn’t my decision and you should know that. Listen to me and listen to me well. I vow to protect you guys with all I have. Our team will always be there for you if monster problems come up. Let’s get to business.” Sinking into my seat, they slid their files over to me. Confused as to what to do, Maria guided me through the paperwork. Swiping their checks, she placed her own on top of the pile.
“We pay our dues to run this operation.” She whispered discreetly, playing with my hair. “Keep up the good work. Their respect lies with you.” Standing straight up, Deerthos stepped up to my left shoulder. Zoning in and out of the meeting, Salem took notes behind me. Rising to their feet with me, they bowed on their way out. Shifting my attention towards Maria, my hands took her. Sniffing the air, a busted smile lingered on her lips.
“Many apologies for your loss, my dear friend.” I apologized for the thousandth time, my palm pressing against her flat stomach. “All isn’t lost. You have a lovely little bat in you. I promise to be there to protect you both with my life. I have to go before I lose my shit.” Turning to leave, her fingers curled around my wrist. Yanking me close to her, mixed emotions had her trembling in front of me. Calm down, friends secrets would always be locked away in my mind
“Don’t tell another soul about this.” She pleaded with the smile I bore when Salem died, my arms burying her into a bear hug. Soaking my shoulder with her emotions, her hands caught the blood soaking my back. Stumbling back with a look of terror and motherly concern, her shaking hands lowered the top of my dress. Rubbing her palms along the bloody nubs, her next question threw me off. How embarrassing for her to see such a filthy mess?
“Does this sting?” She inquired honestly, her tears slowing to a stop. “Do they grow back?” Smiling back at her with the strongest smile I could muster, she had nothing to worry about. The sweetness in her tenderness left me wishing for Scarston’s gentleness all over again. Fighting back the tears, the silence between us was strenuous. Scarston had found himself in my living room quite a bit, his presence brightening the house.
“They grow back. I have a potion at home. If it means anything, I would have traded my wings for his survival.” I sighed tiredly, pulling the top of my dress back up. “If I could rewind time, I would have smashed into him. The information is yours to work through.” Clicking out of the conference room, we would have to meet at the mansion next time. Wishing that I could fly away, I lingered by the window. Sitting on the ledge, my feet dangled freely. Salem embraced me from behind, his chin resting on the top of my head.
“If you could fly, the sky would be yours.” He promised sweetly, sitting down next to me. “Is this what it looks like all the way up here?” A warm breeze blew our hair back, his hand cupping mine. Leaning my head on his shoulder, true beauty could be seen in the sky. Touching the stars was like nothing else, abrupt sobs wracked my body. As dark as it may seem, the flames of hope dwindled down to a small flicker.

tldr: I guess part of me just feels like one day I'll have sex, figure out it feels amazing, and then I'll be completely normal in the sexuality department too.
So I (23M) recently started researching more about my sexuality. Let's assume I'm not "just a virgin" first. I'm pretty sure I'm not allosexual or demisexual, since I never think about anyone sexually (in fact if I try to think about people sexually I find it disturbing, like I'm violating them, though I don't necessarily find it disgusting). Nor do I remember the last time I was aroused by something irl. I do experience intense romantic attraction, but the end-goal of that attraction for me is cuddling, and I think I would be physiologically aroused by the cuddling, but not psychologically aroused.
So I have two uncertainties:

• I'm unsure about my sexuality. I often watch porn and become aroused by it, though I've realized I am not aroused by watching people have sex, but rather how much genuine pleasure the other person seems to be experiencing? My routine is to watch ASMR (I find tingles to be arousing) followed by certain genres of porn that emphasize authentic pleasure where the participants are often fully clothed (erotic hypnosis and/or Beautiful Agony-type videos). I seem to "empathically absorb" the pleasure the participants are feeling. My objection with most porn is that they focus way too much on the genitals, and that the signals of pleasure just seem way too fake. You can't be feeling that much pleasure if you're still keeping up the act while "orgasming".
• I'm not sure if I have a libido. I don't think I ever feel aroused before deciding to sit down and watch arousing content, and I only decide to do that because "I know it'll feel good and it's been a few days since I masturbated" or "it'll help me sleep better." I sometimes start watching porn only to discover "ig my body is not in the mood for it today" though by that time I usually go through with it anyway.

The problem is that I'm a virgin... are things likely to change once I experience it? If you were in a similar position, did your orientation/libido change at all? Did you find that imagining people sexually became more frequent/less disturbing/less repulsive? Did your taste in porn change?
I feel like the fact that I seem to be normal in every other area except sexual attraction might point to the fact that I've just not been conditioned to associate sexual organs, or indeed the act of sex, with pleasure. In my first and only relationship 10 years ago, I do remember being physiologically aroused when cuddling, but I think I was too innocent at the time to be psychologically aroused... maybe that is still the case?
And related to this: I've frequently read that you don't need to have had sex to know you're asexual, but how would a virgin get an urge to have sexual intercourse (a very specific action) with someone if they haven't been conditioned to like it by doing it first? Do most humans innately know how to have sex with someone, and how pleasurable that is, even before they've experienced it? I crave masturbation because I know how good it feels – I didn't crave it before I discovered it. Similarly, I crave cakes because I've had them before and I know they taste good. So how can virgins crave something so specific? I can understand if people who've never been in a relationship before crave physical closeness, but virgins craving sex?

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV
I shall conclude with the events of May 1st, 2021.
A month prior to the events of Liverpool, we were eyeing an auspicious man at a contemporary art gallery. He stood with proud hands on his hips, basking in the glow of his achievement. And rightly so.
“We were slow,” I said. “The world kissed oblivion, and it would’ve blindly met its end. All of these people… They have no idea.”
“Mr Hull did what had to be done,” Fernsby replied. “He continues to keep the darkness at bay.”
“For now,” I huffed.
“Don’t you understand?” Fernsby asked. “Others are fighting the black realm. You’re not alone.”
“He’s not splintered,” I whispered.
“Neither am I,” Fernsby said. “Yet, I fight beside you. I saved your life.”
“I… There must be more people like me,” I said.
“You may well be the last of your kind, Kane. Have you considered that?” She asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“And have you considered that the way of the Guard was never the only way?” She continued. “United, humanity can defeat the darkness.”
On that night in Liverpool, as I stared at the abandoned Ford Ranger, I doubted Fernsby's words. Humans had taken her and Benny. The people of Earth would never be united.
I saw the tyre tracks on the tarmac. Scorched rubber from several large vehicles. I needed only my instincts as a soldier to piece together the puzzle.
The white convoy had found us. Dozen Minus. The ruthless men had been stalking us since the mountain. We already knew that. And when I took my eyes off Fernsby and Benny, they finally struck. Finally stole the last two things I loved.
Do they simply want to lure me into their lair? I wondered.
It didn’t matter. I gladly walked into the jaws of the lion, confident in my ability to face foes of flesh, rather than apocalyptic beings. But men are just as capable of leaving the world in ruins.
It took a week to find them. The headquarters of Dozen Minus stood boldly at the edge of Birmingham, against a backdrop of skyscrapers and garish neon adverts. A grotesque monolith lost in a sea of seemingly uglier things. But this government agency, hidden in plain sight, was the ugliest of them all.
DM: Government Affairs
That was marked on the plaque before the glass eyesore. The minds of Dozen Minus kept their cards close to their chest, of course. They may not have hidden, but they also did not openly display what they were. Still, it baffled me that politicians did not even attempt to hide the evil that they were funding. Men with lined pockets truly do not fear a thing.
I sensed the two men behind me before I heard the click of the gun’s safety lock.
“Unclip the holster,” A man bluntly ordered.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been held at gunpoint — it wasn’t even the hundredth time. I calmly complied, loosening my belt and letting my holstered pistol smack into the ground. Two armed, uniformed guards appeared, and one retrieved my discarded firearm, whilst the other kept his gun locked onto me. The man in charge looked no older than a teenager. A frightened, clueless boy, fumbling with the weapon’s safety catch.“Do you need some help with the child lock?” I asked.
“Move, Kane Foster,” He ordered.
I could’ve snapped the two oafs like twigs, but they were playing my game. And I would happily play whatever game they wanted in return for the safety of Fernsby and Benny. The two security guards led me across a sparse car park. As we neared the entrance, I subtly surveyed my surroundings, searching for exit points and attempting to scope the size of the building.
“Move,” The armed man repeated, directing me with the nozzle of the weapon.
I nodded, stepping through the automatic front doors.
The building’s interior felt like any other corporate hellhole. A large lobby with a twenty-foot-high ceiling, soulless branding on the far wall, and suited workers strolling past the front desk. It was a bland front, but one that worked perfectly. The business might as well have been an insignificant Wall Street hedge fund. It was an aesthetic too dull to warrant even a second glance from any outsider.
Nothing to see here, The décor said. Move along.
The two captors led me to the lifts, and I caught the gaze of the occasional wide-eyed worker — seemingly terrified to see a gun-wielding security guard. Some employees must have been oblivious to the awful depths of Dozen Minus.
“Floor B13,” The armed guard said, as we entered the lift.
“Clearance required,” A robotic voice answered.
“Liam Henley,” He replied.
A pause.
“Accepted,” The robotic voice said.
The lift doors closed, and we descended into the building’s undercarriage.
“No questions, Foster?” The second guard asked me, raising an eyebrow.
“Quiet, Shaw,” Henley barked.
“Are they alive?” I asked.
Neither guard replied. Henley simply eyed me in the pearlescent surface of the lift doors, his multi-coloured reflection surreally vicious and visceral.
The lift doors opened after ten lifetimes, and we walked into an obscenely-spacious underground city. Floor B13 had a ceiling that must’ve been a hundred metres above our heads.
“Kane Foster,” A voice boomed. “Is that right?”
I twisted my head to the left, and my eyes met those of a large man. Broad in stature, but not rotund. He had a presence. A physicality that was beyond toughness. The figure seemed unnatural. Brutish in a way one could hardly call human. He was accompanied by several guards in the same uniforms as Henley and Shaw.
“I’ll take that,” The man said, snatching my weapon from Henley.
“Where are they?” I immediately barked.
He smiled. “Introductions, Kane. My name is Stefan Blom, and I am the director of Dozen Minus. A government-funded agency that, unlike you, has legal jurisdiction in the other reality.”
“The black realm,” I said.
Blom grinned. “The black realm… Interesting. Is that what members of the Guard once called it?”
“That isn’t the proper procedure of information exchanges, Blom. I’m going to need to see my friends,” I firmly said.
The director nodded. “Yes, corporal. Of course. We are on the same side, after all. You fought for your country, and I… Well, I fight for all countries on behalf of all governments.”
“A war is not righteous because powerful men say so,” I said.
“No war is righteous, Kane Foster. And no thinking thing wants war. Not even the hell-hounds which spill through cracks in our reality. We seek the fullest lives possible, and we will do whatever we must to achieve that,” Blom said. “Right. Your friends. Come.”
Led by Stefan Blom and his guards, I passed machinery built for giants. Equipment beyond my knowledge. And I started to ponder the ways in which I would tear the Swedish director limb from limb if he were to reveal that anything had happened to my friends. However, I was baffled to find myself facing Fernsby and Benny — they were trapped in a windowed, sound-proofed room with a locked door.
“You see them, but they don't see you,” Blom explained as I hurried to the glass, pressing my hands against it. “I was never going to kill them. I’m not a cruel man, Foster. Just an ambitious one.”
I eyed the frightened woman and Labrador. “What will it take to free them?”
“You. That’s all. Slot neatly into my jigsaw, Kane Foster,” Blom said. “If you do, I can give you the world.”
The director shooed his guards away, and they uncertainly left us alone. I had no doubt that Blom could hold his own in a fist fight, but he wasn’t driven by emotion as fierce as mine.
“What jigsaw?” I asked.
“Follow me, and I’ll show you,” The director urged, motioning with his fingers as he continued walking.
I walked with the secretive man, stilling my strong desire to snap his neck. My gut was twisting — churning like butter. And my instincts were trying to tell me something. Something I didn’t understand. But the feeling was powerful enough to push me forwards. I involuntarily followed the Swedish mastermind through two metallic double doors, pulled forwards by an invisible rope.
“Do you feel it?” Blom asked, pressing his hands against a final set of doors.
Filled with trepidation, I refused to answer. I simply watched as the doorway opened.
We walked across a peach-coloured glass floor of tiles that spanned dozens and dozens of metres. The room, at first glance, was filled only with computer screens and control panels that lined the walls. But it took less than a moment for me to understand what my gut had attempted to tell me.
The tiles were not peach-coloured. They were transparent. Beneath our feet, there lay human flesh.
Not only that, but the flesh of living humans. Flesh knitted like a rich tapestry of malevolence. Hundreds upon hundreds of humans were sown together, forming a writhing sea of squirming bodies. They seemed heavily sedated. Mouths frothed, and eyes lolled listlessly, as their heads rocked and swayed. It created a tidal wave.
I finally understood the magnetised energy that had drawn Whitlock to me so many years earlier. I was connected to each of the people below my feet. The mutilated, half-conscious, half-living people.
“Splintered souls,” Director Blom confirmed.
My fists clenched, and I lurched towards the man, but he quickly back-stepped and drew my firearm.
“We didn’t know that the Order of the Guard survived,” He said, levelling the nozzle at my head. “What happened to Whitlock?”
I didn’t answer.
“Dead? I see,” The director sighed. “That wasn’t what we wanted.”
“What have you done to these people?” I asked.
The man frowned. “We weren’t going to learn about the Guard from Whitlock, and we learnt that he wasn’t the only one of his kind. We found you. Found those like you.”
“How?” I asked.
Blom smiled. “Through darkness, of course. Splintered souls are always drawn to dark things. And we developed ways of detecting it… Why do you think you first moved to that island? It’s an irresistible pull. A connection between you and the… black realm, did you call it?”
“But what do you hope to learn from them?” I breathlessly asked. “What you’ve done to them isn’t human.”
“They aren’t human, Foster… You aren’t human,” Blom said. “And it is for the greater good. The founders of the Guard knew how to banish darkness from our world… Why on Earth would they keep it a secret?”
I didn’t answer.
“You don’t know? I’ll tell you why. They did it for the same reason that any man or woman does anything. Control,” He snarled. “And I don’t begrudge your ancestors for that, Kane. I would do the same.”
“You are doing the same,” I corrected.
Blom grunted. “The Guard is dead. You are no longer the most powerful force on Earth. That is why the darkness spreads. But Dozen Minus can fill that gap. We deserve to wield that strength. We deserve to be the ones entrusted with the control of the black realm… We may even do greater things than the Guard did.”
“When men like you talk of greatness, you mean something else,” I replied.
“What do you know, footsoldier?” Blom spat. “If we truly wish to win the war, we must do more than shoo away the darkness. It always returns. We must fight. We must manipulate it. Use it for our own benefit. Create a realm twice as powerful as the black one.”
“You don’t understand what lies in that place,” I whispered. “There is no controlling it… The darkness rules all men. And it will treat you no differently.”
As the fiendish man eyeballed me, I recognised the shadowy mist in his eyes. I realised the realm had already claimed him. I had seen the reddened cloud above the Dozen Minus headquarters, just as I saw it behind his unfeeling eyes. He was innately a cruel man, of course. The black realm had not done that to him. He was a mortal abomination without empathy. But soulless husks are prime shells for beings of the black realm. Puppets who easily bend to the will of horrors.
Some other force was at play.
“I want you to teach me, Kane,” The man hissed, pointing at the fleshy sea beneath our feet. “These splintered souls hold power, but you? You understand that power. Help me to recognise the darkness…”
“If you truly wish to defeat it, then let these people go,” I said. “Let my friends go, and keep me. That is my deal.”
Blom smiled, but it was an impatient smile — I could sense the burgeoning fury itching to seep from his trembling lips.
“You are not negotiating with me, Kane Foster. Is that what you thought? No. This is about you accepting the facts of your situation. I will show you the doorway between worlds. And you will help me to coax darkness from it,” He whispered. “Three-hundred splintered souls have not baited the being, but one guard of Earth? You will suffice. I feel it already. Do you? It hungers for you, Kane. It will emerge when it sees your face… And then we will capture it.”
“You’re wrong, Blom,” I cautioned, shaking my head. “Give me the gun, and let me handle this. You don't have any power over that realm.”
The director’s finger furiously tightened on the trigger. “You truly are a member of the Guard, aren’t you, Kane Foster? Clinging to the final strand of a dead cult’s control. But you will be the last guard, Kane Foster. And when you’ve given me what I want, you will join the souls below.”
A scream sounded from the room beyond the chamber of splintered souls. A piercing sound that coursed through my veins, tearing my very sense of self in two. I knew the voice. Knew the cry of pain.
It was Evie.
Blom nodded his head, smiling as he began to walk across the room. And I found myself following. It may have been that instinctive pull. It may simply have been my determination to find Evie.
“What does it say to you, Kane?” Blom asked, no longer bothering to aim the weapon at my face. “It says such beautiful things to me. It foolishly tells me how to defeat it… You, Kane. That’s all it wants. You.”
The doors opened without Blom raising a finger. Prized apart by some external, non-physical force. And we entered a final room, far bigger than any of the others. It was a room of dirt, rocks, and darkness — encaged by tall walls, and filled with dozens of scientists. As we walked inside, I knew the entire building must’ve been built around the anomaly in the centre. An unnatural emergence that had likely driven Dozen Minus to claim the land around it.
A gaping wound in the wall between worlds.
The blackened hole was fifty metres in diameter, hovering above the ground. It vibrated with a frequency I did not understand, even with the Oath’s insight. I had witnessed horrors beyond imagination for three years of my life, but I had never seen the doorways through which they came. It was a window into a realm that had no earthly business existing.
“We wanted to disturb the ground as little as possible,” The director explained.
“You shouldn’t have toyed with this, Blom,” I warned.
“It senses you, Kane… It is glad I brought you here… And soon, we’ll have it in our grasp,” Blom whispered, leading me through a crowd of silent scientists who watched with twisting heads.
“What do you mean, Blom?” I asked, numbly walking forwards. “What’s in there?”
“Don’t worry,” He said, ignoring my question. “I will free the woman and the dog. But you will soon join the others, and I will finally take the reins to the black realm. I will rule the–”
A deep bellow interrupted the director. The scientists started murmuring in panic, as if the frightening sound had finally awoken what little humanity remained in their brainwashed hearts.
“He is here!” Blom cackled jubilantly.
The bellow morphed into a high-pitched whine, returning to that piercing scream. My wife’s scream. A sound of such ferocity that everybody in the room winced in pain.
“Kane…” Evie’s voice shrieked. “You let me die, Kane… You are no man…”
I shook uncontrollably, unable to silence her voice, even with hands pressed firmly against my ears.
“They gave me all I ever wanted… Gave me what you did not give… I am happy here…” She hissed, unleashing a gust of wind that knocked dozens of people to the floor.
The computer screens darkened. The building’s power had been obliterated by an enormous wave of motion. And, fully untethered from a long trance, the Dozen Minus workers began to run towards the doors. But their joined revelation came far too late.
Black spirals of matter, or some otherworldly substance from the black realm, fired towards the fleeing scientists, coiling around their bodies and flinging them into the hovering doorway.
I didn’t hesitate. I lunged towards Stefan Blom, who simply lay on the floor, simultaneously marvelling at the vicious hole and fearing it. He barely flinched when I plucked my firearm from his loose grip and levelled it at his head.
“So beautiful…” He whispered.
I aimed my pistol at his transfixed body. But he didn’t show interest in me. He simply watched the doorway’s dark arms sweeping screaming scientists from the ground. In my moment of distraction, I saw one of the creature’s hopeful appendages detect me. It spiralled through the air like a growing strand of DNA.
Reflexively, I raised my weapon and shot the demonic being. The cobalt seared the black realm’s limb, and the entire doorway recoiled in agony, shrinking ever-so-slightly.
“No!” Blom screamed, the pitch of his voice matching that of the screeching abyss.
And then a droplet of blackness fell, like a speck of blood, from the retreating limb. As it hit the ground, it blossomed into a fully-formed person.
Evie.
“Kane… Stop… Please…” She whispered. “Don’t hurt my home. Come with me.”
I shook my head, shakily aiming the firearm at my undead wife — the thing pretending to be my undead wife. Tears filled my eye sockets, blurring my vision.
“You’re not her…” I whispered hoarsely.
“I am her…” She whispered, outstretching a hand with a tantalising smile on her face — a smile so nearly like the one I used to know. “Just take my hand, Kane… Please…”
I hesitantly started to press the trigger, and Evie moved at a speed faster than I could process. Her form morphed, and she became an ungodly being. Taller than the doorway which floated behind her form. She loomed over me with a body constructed of jutting flesh, like the bark of a burnt oak tree. And her pupils blazed like stars from a universe that fostered death, not life.
The giant pursed its lips and exhaled, expelling a wind that swam not with locusts or other biblical visions of the apocalypse, but needles. Thousands of slender, metallic needles, approaching at great speed.
Shielding myself with my thick trench coat, I turned on my heel and pounced to the ground, dropping my weapon as I did so. I could feel the many pangs of minuscule blades slicing into my back, and I realised I was only saved from certain death by my thick clothing. But I still bled profusely — I could feel the dampness of my stinging skin.
The needles, propelled by some inhuman force, glued me to the ground. In a desperate bid to defeat the evil, I futilely reached for the weapon just beyond my fingertips. Against the wall of the room, I saw the shadow of the unholy demon which was towering behind me. An ever-growing spectre that took measured steps towards my floored body.
“And with your death, we shall have this world,” A voice of inhuman timbre hissed.
My face was slowly buried into the dirt by needles. And a vaguely human shadow lengthened along the wall as the creature neared me — a thing twenty or thirty times my size and a thousand times my strength. I could feel breath, neither hot nor cold, against the nape of my neck as the thing, neither living nor dead, leaned closer. It was basking in the pleasure of playing with its meal.
“I will take–”
A single gunshot silenced it.
The horrifying thing hissed in fury, and I felt the needles loosen from my coat. As my face lifted from the dirt, I caught a glimpse of a familiar sight, confirmed by rapid, padding footsteps. A flash of golden fur obscured my vision as a shape flitted above me. What followed was another piercing wail of agony from the blackened realm.
The needles finally clattered to the floor, fully releasing me, and I jumped to my feet. Lucinda Fernsby stood in the open doorway. Her gun was in hand. And when I turned my head to face the doorway to the black realm, I saw Benny standing between me and the deformed, deteriorating version of Evie Foster. Her bark-like flesh rapidly disintegrated into the shrinking, sealing abyss. The darkness retreated to the blackened realm, desperate to escape the cobalt-plated canines of the growling Labrador.
We watched as the being vanished into the doorway, which finally sealed with an explosion of silence. Not a peep. Its disappearance was as subtle and unsettling as the appearance of dark things in our realm.
“Let’s go!” Fernsby cried.
There would be time to lovingly reunite with my dear friends later. We returned to the chamber of splintered souls, and I fired several rounds at consoles. Sparks flew into the air, and the sound of dying machinery filled me with joy. The writhing bodies beneath us started to slow.
“We have to free them!” I yelled.
Fernsby stopped in her tracks, turning to me with round eyes. “KANE!”
I looked behind me to see what had caught her attention.
In the entrance to the room of the closed doorway, a hobbling, bleeding, rage-fuelled Stefan Blom stood.
“You will suffer as I have suffered, Kane Foster,” He snarled, limping to a surviving console and grabbing a microphone. “19874-11. Activate cleansing.”
“Director Stefan Blom confirmed. Cleansing authorised,” An artificial voice announced.
In a deplorable display, flames enveloped the souls below the glass tiles. Their bodies began to squirm again. Silently — as if they were aware of their deaths, but too psychologically and physically bludgeoned to do a darn thing about it. They simply moved as one united, sewn mattress of skin. Soundlessly burning alive, but also painfully.
“No!” I screamed.
Fernsby started to drag me towards the exit, and Benny followed.
The glass floor cracked, and fire escaped upwards, consuming the room. The inferno illuminated the deranged, grinning face of Stefan Blom at the far side of the room. But my friend pulled me through the doors, and we ran through the facility. I found my legs moving of their own accord, and my gun firing at Dozen Minus soldiers without me consciously pulling the trigger.
I only regained some semblance of consciousness hours later. I suddenly became aware of the road running past us. Fernsby in the driver’s seat of my Ford Ranger. Benny sitting in the footwell, chin resting on my lap.
“He killed them all…” I whispered.
“I know, Kane,” Fernsby replied softly.
But my response surprised the two of us.
“You were right,” I told her. “You saved me again. You and Benny. Two non-splintered souls.”
Fernsby smiled and nodded. “It doesn’t take a miracle to kill darkness, Kane. It takes courage. Sacrifice.”
I will likely die as the last human with this gift, but not all is lost. We do not need splintered souls to push the darkness back to the realm beyond our world. We just need those who are willing to face it.
We are the last guards of Earth.
dominiceagle

The hellfire burned as it had for time eternal- with scorching, blazing, never-ending heat. The agony that ripped through my mind was unlike anything I was even capable of feeling when alive. In life, your body has mechanisms to relieve the pain, to distract the mind. Cursing, tensing, screaming, anything to get your mind off of the pain. Mortal bodies have mortal limits, agony on this level would simply cause your body to give up.
Not so in Hell. Once dead, your body is gone. Only your soul and mind remain, chaining you within your own skull. Not that you have a skull, mind you. I would say that I've gotten used to the pain in the time I've spent in this corner of Hell, but I cannot. When you think it somehow could not get any worse, when you somehow see a distance possibility of being able to bear the excruciating agony, the cycle continues anew. In a way, those brief moments of hope make this place all the worse.
There's no question why I'm here. Even in life I knew my fate would place me here. I did terrible things and despite the pain, despite the torment, most of the deeds would be done again if I were given the choice. Whether lesser or greater, evil is evil. Then again, no one thinks they're truly a villain at their core. Only madness causes a man to do evil for evil's sake, and madness is a torment all its own.
In this infinitesimal, eternal moment, my pain ceased. I had suffered for so long that my soul no longer recognized an existence without it. Have I been moved to yet another corner of hell, finally to be free of the hellfire, venom, and biting cold? My mind imagines the pain despite the absence of my soul being smothered in agony, inflicting yet another new kind of torture.
"Asphodel Renovictus."
A voice? How? In Hell I am aware of the others suffering beside me, but there are no screams. None that are audible, at least. This is different. The being near me does not possess a mortal soul. It seems to weigh more, drawing me in like some black void. Ancient and powerful is the soul near me, and I wonder what could have possibly been done to draw the attention of Belthezar, Lord of Hell.
Lacking a mortal form, I could not move or turn my head to see the creature properly. Indeed, I have no true sight at all. My only form of sense is this sort of soul sight, a never ending feed of all the dimensions around me at once. My field of "view" is omnidirectional, and it is overwhelmed by the presence that has made itself known. Yet somehow, I heard. As I did in mortal life. With no ears to speak of, I still felt the deep bass rumble of his voice. It sounded like a mass of ice cracking and shifting under its own weight, but also the roar of an inferno engulfing a town. And that voice had spoken my name.
"I restore unto thou a corporeal form. Now, open your eyes**.**"
I felt a shock run through me. A me, once more. Once more, I know what flesh feels like. My feet stand upon bare rock, barely restrained heat exists in all directions, my ears ring with a cacophony of unidentifiable sounds. I taste my own spit briefly, before is wicked away into the air. My nose quickly dries as well, but I can still smell the brimstone all around me. My eyelids shoot open, and before me is an indescribable existence. Neither man nor beast, yet both. His form ever shimmering, shifting from a strikingly handsome man to a wizened crone, now a bear-like figure with eyes of fire. From a leper, to a shifting mass of stinging insects, now horned goat-beast, and briefly a woman hauntingly, disgustingly beautiful. In some forms it held a pitchfork, in others a spear or a scythe. Sometimes it held nothing at all, or what passed for hands ending in long, wicked talons. Any form a Lord of Hell could take, Belthazar takes them all. I say it shifts from one form to the next, but that's untrue. Somehow, Belthazar is all of them at once.
I bring my hands in front of my face, seeing the hardened calluses from years of training. I slowly touch my face, and my hands feel familiar features. I realize that tears have begun to stream down my face, as my mind struggles to keep up with the change in my reality. Both grateful and fearful for what came next, I resolve to look the Devil in whatever eyes it has.
I manage to stutter out "W-why?" as I feel the full attention of the Lord of Hell become focused on what I am now keenly aware is only a temporary housing for my soul.
"Out of the millions of souls in Hell, yours is the only one capable of accomplishing this task," the Devil says as his form solidifies into something I can comprehend: a mirror image of myself, only with eyes of inky blackness. I see the scar upon my cheek I received as a child, and my - no, his - mop of oily black hair reflecting the flames around us. Despite taking my form, Belthazar's voice still resonates as it did earlier. "Tell me, what is my nature?", he asks. My mind reels, searching for an answer. His nature? As Lord of Hell? The churches of the mortal plane espoused all manner of reasons for Belthazar's existence, but must I pick the correct one? If I answer incorrectly, will I once again be cast into the hellfire, for my body to burn away my flesh until I am but a soul once more? What is the nature of the Devil? He - it - simply is.
"Hm... a reasonable conclusion. Put simply, I am the wicked. In terms you can understand, I feed upon the souls of Hell, derive nourishment from their suffering. However, souls do not suffer forever. Eventually, all burn away into nothingness. I have no say in this matter, it simply is my nature."
"Why tell me this? Is my soul almost there? What happens when the soul is consumed? How did you come to be?"
"I will answer your last question first. I simply came to be. When the first wicked soul died in the mortal plane, I came to be when it burst into the first hellflame. Hell was smaller then, with that one soul acting as fuel for a small campfire. Occasionally another would fall, and I brought them to join the embers I sat around. I was primitive then as well, my existence alternating between sitting beside the burning souls and gathering others that fell. In time, I came to be aware of my nature, and that of the souls that sustained me. As they became more complex, so did I. As more fell, Hell expanded. In my youth, I struggled in vain to appear in the mortal world. I burned the name I chose into the very ground I emerged from, and proclaimed it to all who would listen."
"It was not to be. My existence is tied to the souls here. Without them, I cease to be. When the first soul winked out, I felt some of me vanish as well. Travel to the mortal realm took me too far from the source of my existence, and I could not remain there for long. It is difficult to explain to a being such as yourself."
Still, my mind raced. Are there others like Belthazar? How did it choose its name? What could a creature that feeds off of my suffering possibly need of me?
"To answer your other questions: no, your soul is still quite fresh. There are many centuries before it ceases to be. As for what happens when a soul is spent, even I do not know."
"Again, why me? What could you possibly me for? I am dead, and all those I knew in life must surely be as well by now. Whenever now is. How can I be the only one?"
"Others beside myself do exist, as you thought before. Other worlds, other dimensions. Where those others reside, so too do my troubles originate."
"Scouts have been sent into your former plane. Beings from another world, whose souls do not fall into my domain after their demise. These beings have sent many into my domain in recent months, but therein lies the source of my worries."
I still did not understand how this pertained to me. In life, I was a warlord. I soaked the earth in blood to bring more lands under my rule, until the remaining neighboring kingdoms all feared my gaze. With sword, lance, or shield I had no equal, and demolishing all those who stood in my path. I could even cast some basic spells, though a mage I was not. Extra-dimensional invaders? Afterlives and their rulers? How in hell does this involve me?
As soon as I finished that thought, the Devil grinned. The grin is not one I would have ever seen in a mirror: too many razor sharp teeth, the mouth itself too wide for my face, and the inky black orbs that had replaced my eyes contrasted with the pure white of the teeth. The Devil had clearly never seen a real human smile. I watched the grotesque contortion of my face slowly relax back into a neutral expression before the Devil began to speak again.
"Though I am no mortal, I do not wish to die. One of my kin fled here following an invasion of their own mortal plane. They brought all of their souls with them, but no more will fall into their domain. Though they live for now, eventually those souls will disappear. What happens when the last soul is gone, neither of us know."
"Now that the invaders are in your plane of origin, my existence is threatened as well. And so, I offer you a bargain."
A bargain? I stand to gain something? If the invaders are in the mortal plane, will I be resurrected? Would anyone even believe me?
"Assemble a legion of 100 souls, and I will return you to the mortal realm. Become my sword of wrath and command the undying soldiers of Hell. Repel these fiends that burn the fields of your former kingdom."
"Do this, Asphodel Renovictus, and I shall forever spare your soul from the flames of hell. Do this, and the pit of punishment will become your paradise."

We're going from Houston to Olympia Washington for 3 months. My husband is a travel nurse, and I'm hoping to find a job as a barber.
I've done some super long road trips, but with other people to split the driving even though I did the vast majority of it. I used to be fine driving a good chunk of the day when I was road tripping Australia, but for the past 7 years I've been in Austin with my husband he almost always prefers to drive so I haven't done it in a while.
Also, I have been known to get sleepy on my fairly often drive to Houston from Austin; even a few weeks ago I got tired and had to pull in somewhere to get a snack.
The drive to olympia is 5 days averaging 7 hours a day. I'm a bit worried I'm going to keep having to stop because I'm getting tired and it's going to be agony and take forever. On the other hand, it could be great and I'll be able to take a seperate car because the landscape is new and beautiful (not one I've seen a million times). I've never been through this part of the country and I'm so stoked to see it!
Also, it's not fun trying to survive with 1 car between 2 people. Olympia is small, but if I get a job in town then ubers add up.
Also we might need the space in the cars for both of our stuff. (I've done alright this time I think but I'm not exactly a light packer.)
Should we take seperate cars or try go fit everything in the minivan?

2 months ago I was extremaly happy person having a beautiful wife and a wonderful 3.5yr daugther, but apparently it was'nt enough for me. I went to a rave with friends and did some drugs which gave me severe tinnitus the day after. I had very mild tinnitus before it but ofc I ignored this warning from my body. Now I'm just laying and suffering from total agony with noxacusis & insomnia only thinking about kms because I can't even spend time with my child. Get away from drugs and protect your ears.

Blaze 3: Demonic Arc 2: Demonic Trial⁴
Fasha finds the guard. They introduce themselves. Kikicho" What are you doing here little girl? Shouldn't you be doing something else?" Fasha" You don't know who you are dealing with. I'm much stronger than you think." Kikicho" If you don't know. This area is pretty strong and filled with lots of spirit energy. It will attract lots of demons to the Surface World (demons call earth/above Underworld). "As beautiful as your Surface World is, it will attract nothing but demons. The spots we chose weren't random. They were apart of our plans." Fasha" Wait! Each of those areas are connecting in a circle. Picture shown of illustration. Our Togyu Manji area is in the middle of the circle." Kikicho" That's right. Togyu Manji is the most powerful source. It is very large and made up of about five areas. It hasn't been taken over or not yet. When we do get it, we'll be able to collide the Underworld and Surface World so they'll be one. It's power will be ours. The humans won't exist anymore. It'll be just us demons."
Fasha" That's what you want. You are pretty evil. Trying to annihilate our world and take away what we stand for is just wrong. You are cruel. I can't let you get away with this. I'm known for sparing my opponents but because of you I'm going to have to change it up." Kikicho" That is what I want to see from you. This is what you must do in order to fight." Eyashi is still waiting at Togyu Manji. Fight begins. Fasha shows off what she's learn. Kikicho makes the first move. During attacks, it's like she's punching slow but for some reason Fasha can't keep up. Now she's being attacked by quick blows. Fasha" This must be one of her abilities." Fasha launches some ice but it travels very slow. Fasha" There must be a way to get pass this." They both summon their swords. Kikicho" If you are outmatched, there's no need to continue."
Fasha uses Cold Day In Hell but it doesn't work. Fasha is unable to get out of the way in time. Kikicho goes for the kill but Zushi appears and saves Fasha. Zushi" Let me show you how it's done Fasha. It's the master's time to shine." Kikicho" Another opponent. It doesn't matter. I'll take you out just like your student." Zushi" Before showing up, I was waiting and watching." Fasha" I never saw Zushi fight a serious battle before. This fight is going to be pretty close." Kikicho vs Zushi. Zushi doesn't use ice but instead uses water style. Next scene at Conithio Town. Julmbo and Strider are together. Kitichi spots them. Kitichi" It's about time you showed yourself. Last time you ran out on me. Now I got you and you better not duck out." Julmbo" Fine you're going to get it." Kitichi" I almost thought you were afraid of me." Julmbo" He really wants to fight me. I'll fight first then you can handle him when I'm done. Julmbo doesn't want to go for long so Strider steps in. Strider" I got bored waiting for you to finish."
Kitichi" Before I became a Dark Phantom member, I was nothing but a loser. I always thought they were pretty cool. I wanted to join but without Kissiske needing me to show what I got, he already saw me as a loser. So I vowed to get stronger and he saw little potential in me. After I became a Dark Phantom, Kissiske showed me how to be a team player because I was stuck up with being partnered with certain people. He was an excellent leader. I wasn't expecting him to be so good. Throughout the time, there have been many people who have been replaced. I did my best to surpassed the others but they were on a completely different level.
I sought my eyes on something new. I wanted to become a Bodyguard which was way above my regular standards. I had to work my ass off and years later it happened. My mom was a Bodyguard and father was a Kyklos Guard. I never wanted to be a Kyklos Guard because it didn't suit me. I guess you can call me the weaker one in the group. Right after I joined, my parents died. After their death, it awaken the other half of me. It took more years but it turned out that my friend was the one who killed them. This is the reason I don't need friends. All they do is stab you in the back." Flashbacks shown. Flashbacks showing people turning on Kitichi. Kitichi" I joined so I could leave all those sad memories behind."
Strider" That was a mouthful. This is everything that has happened to him." Kitichi" I had to get all of that out of me. Pardon me but It's time to continue. I'm not the one known for gossiping for this long." Strider starts off with some hard strikes. Kitichi summons his weapon. He tries to cut Strider but the iron style is used. Strider thought he could chop it but struggles to block it. Strider uses a fireball. As it touches the blade, the fire circles around the weapon. Kitichi sends a swirly fire attack back at Strider. He's able to continue using the fire powerd blade. Strider has been outmatched so he switches to earth style. Julmbo notices a complete change in his performance. Strider punches the ground with both hands. His hands have bolders on them now. He uses it as an advantage.
He sweeps him to the ground and delivers thunderous shots. kitichi is wounded. He stomps the ground and chunks up a large log. While on his shoulder, he struggles but it connects. Kitichi sticks his blade into the log and now has earth and fire now. He uses a move that traps Strider from beneath like a cage. Julmbo" It's that damn blade. It can copy the styles when making physical contac is made with the blades. That's a pretty special ability for a blade. Strider makes a mistake and Kitichi takes advantage. Julmbo saves Strider. Julmbo" I'm tired of playing by the rules. If this guy must die then so be it. We need to get this area back at all cost. Come on Strider let's tag this fool."
Strider" Agreed. Well said." Kitichi laughs. " Did you think that I'd come alone. Oh no no no." The alli was hidden the entire time but comes out. Azazel(uh-zaa-zl)(Hebrew) taught man to make weapons of war, introduced cosmetics. More people are there but don't get involved yet. Out of nowhere Tinn shows up. Julmbo and Strider both acknowledge his appearance. Tinn" They couldn't keep me down or turn me into a demon." Julmbo" That's good that you showed up but as of right now, we don't need you." Strider" What! Are you sure?" Julmbo" Positive. Phil and Spike are the one's who will need help. They are the ones who don't have a master with them. They are in Kurai Heights." Tinn" Suit yourself then." He's gone. The fights are supposed to be branched off in sections but I want to focus on one fight at a time. Julmbo fights Azazel while Strider continues his battle with Kitichi.
Julmbo has Azazel beat. Kitichi takes his eyes off the prize and Strider knocks the weapon out of his hand. He holds him to the ground while Julmbo destroys the weapon. Kitichi uses the smoke again but it turns red and has a different ability this time around. It doesn't seem to do anything. Azazel gets up and his body is all pointy/sharp. This is his demon form. Body is a weapon. Shoots out body parts but is to slow and dies. The other demons finally steps in. Later on. Both begin to slow down. Strider" Julmbo! Why are we getting weaker? It's not making sense. We were just doing fine." Julmbo" The smoke is the cause. Our life is draining.
That's not good." Strider uses Fire Morph but life still drains. Julmbo passes out and winks at Strider. Strider" Look at what you did. You'd killed him." He begins to kick and poke his body. Kitichi" That does not make sense. The smoke hasn't disappeared yet. There's no reason he's dead this sudden. Is he? He goes closer and more carefully. Julmbo baits him in and uses Cold Day In Hell. He sees where the smoke is at. He freezes it and breaks it. Strider" I don't know how you did it but that was smart plan.
Kitichi" It can't be. Not after I was granted a second chance just to get the same outcome. You were able to catch on to my move like it was nothing." He turns into his demon form. At the end. Julmbo" They are to many of them. We don't have enough spirit energy." Strider" I gotta move that might work but you'll be in the way." Julmbo" I'll do it." Strider is in the sky. Julmbo knocks Kitichi out in a hole below. The move was discuss first. Julmbo put a spot where he jump into. Strider uses Four Prong Trap Barrier. He takes his hand and blows fire through the four spaces between your fingers. The flames grow into a wall shape on the ground. It rearranges in a square/cube barrier. Anyone trap will be stuck in a wall of fire and Will die.
He claps his hands and the barrier explodes. Has other versions where he'll shoot flame through both hands. Doesn't have to be a square. Julmbo appears from the spot with Kitichi. Strider notices that Julmbo spared Kitichi. He wakes up and sees Julmbo is carrying him. Julmbo" It's time to finish it. One on one." Hand to hand combat. Kitichi is out but not dead yet. A demon gets up and has a blade. He changes. Strider" Julmbo look out." It's too late. Blood gets on the screen but Kitichi gets in the way. Demon falls down and is dead. Julmbo" Why?"
Kitichi" Because you have people and friends to protect.... And I don't. My only purpose was to surve the Dark Phantoms. But when I saw you, things changed. You have become my rival. Something that I never thought would happen, is a human giving me trouble." Julmbo" After hearing your story, the both of us had similar incidents like our bad luck. That's why I chose to spare you. Killing you is like killing a brother of mine." Kitichi" If I'd live then I'd chosen another path. Farewell my friend. Thanks for everything." He finally dies. Julmbo" No, thank you for being a good rival. The area turns back to normal.
Shiawasena Michi(happy road) is shown. Sid battles through demons but a stronger one appears. Yen-lo-Wang(Chinese ruler of Hell). Yen-lo-Wang" I don't think you need to be fighting these guys. You need a little competition then I'll be your opponent." Sid" Are you the Bodyguard of this area?" Yen-lo-Wang" Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. You're going to have to kill me in order to find out." He laughs. Sid" I guess I don't have a choice then." Yen-lo-Wang summons some bugs. They begin to charge. Sid takes them out quickly. More appear. As Sid shoots fire, they eat it. They are able to use whatever they eat. Eventually Sid notices that they are getting bigger and harder to kill. Two headed bug demons appears. They all start getting bigger. Sid switches to lightning style. Yen-lo-Wang" It seems he has another style. That won't matter."
The lightning destroys the bugs. More enemies appear. Yen-lo-Wang sees Sid on the ground and gets distracted. Sid gets up and pushes his luck. It turns out to be a fake. He turns back into a bug. The real one sweeps him from behind. He has his weapon pointing at Sid. He swings his weapon towards Sid but gets struck with a Thunder Rider. Haden enters the scene. Haden" Get away from my nephew." Yen-lo-Wang" Nephew you say. I guess I gotta treat ya like equals then." Haden" Try that on me then and see what happens." Haden plays around for a few minutes. Haden summons his weapon. His weapon is lightning powered. He launches a lightning beam from his blade. Yen-lo-Wang" You missed me. Haden" Oh I don't think so." It comes from the ground and then strikes. Haden sticks the blade into himself. There seems to be a beam connecting through the both of them.
Yen-lo-Wang" What's this?" Haden" I get to crank it up as high as I want to. Only one of us is going to survives and that's me. Whatever I do to you will happen to me or vice versa." Yen-lo-Wang" You're crazy. You wouldn't dare." Haden" Just watch." He charges his blade to 1000 volts. He stabs himself. They both have holes inside. Sid" Haden!" Haden" It's going to take more than that to kill me. I've been using lightning for years. I know how to survive it." Move name is 1000 Volts. Haden has most moves in Blaze. He's dead and Haden heals himself. Mitsugetanesuchiki appears. Haden" Are you the Dark Phantom member of this area?" Mitsugetanesuchiki introduces himself. He's husky.
Mitsugetanesuchiki" Before you can fight me you must go through this." He summons a beast demon named Marduk(god of the city of Babylon). I couldn't wait to use demon or infernal names. Relating to or characteristic of hell or the underworld. This is the only Arc that heavily features infernal names or not. By the time Blaze IV ended it, was to late to add names. There was only one infernal name. Marduk has large horns and a funny shaped head. He has an axe. Haden and Sid team up. They use a dual variety of lightning attacks but it doesn't seem to be working.
Marduk is obviously not intelligent. Haden and Sid use it for there advantage. Marduk begins to stop and look around then scratches his head. Haden" What's that idiot doing?" Sid" I think he can't see." Haden" Well then let's see. I want you to be bait." Sid l" Got it." Sid distracts him and it seem to work. Mitsugetanesuchiki" What are you doing? Don't let them trick you you fool." Haden uses the Thunder Rider Lightning Blitz. Mitsugetanesuchiki" They actually defeated him. No no no no!" He starts laughing. Haden" What are you laughing at, death?"
Mitsugetanesuchiki" I never said death. I said defeat. Take a look." Marduk begins to get up and beat his chest repeatedly. He screams chaotically. He grows bigger and bigger until he's titan size. His axe grew as well. Mitsugetanesuchiki" You don't stand a chance against Marduk now. Attack those imbecile Marduk." Marduk delivers a hit but is impossible to dodge. Can shoot mouth beams. Haden and Sid's attacks aren't seem to be working. Marduk launches an attack to Sid but Haden pushes him out of the way and seems to be late to move. At the last second MaXx appears and deflects it with ease. Marduk takes his axe and swings it towards MaXx but is able to block it. Marduk becomes enraged and tries to swing faster and faster. MaXx clutches his blade and raises it towards Marduk then puts it down. He turns his back. Marduk goes for the kill. As he swings his axe, his body is cut in half (vertical). Mitsugetanesuchiki" He took out Marduk like it was nothing." MaXx" It leaves just you."
Mitsugetanesuchiki" Don't think for one second that the three of you will beat me." He uses his specialty, summoning enemies. They are taken out quickly. While Haden and MaXx are busy with Mitsugetanesuchik, Sid goes for the kill. As Sid tries to cut Mitsugetanesuchiki, another one appears saying I'm over here. Sid " There's another one?" More appear. Mitsugetanesuchikis" How do you like these odds." It seems that he was able to turn things around.
They are easy to beat but keep coming back. They must come up with a plan. Haden uses his Thunder Rider but they continue to come back. Haden" It is obvious that they're all fakes." MaXx" Come again." Haden" Since we've been fighting, we should have came close to wounding him. He's still out there hiding somewhere." Sid" He has to be near." Haden and MaXx try working on the ground. The ground becomes hot and Mitsugetanesuchiki comes from below. They make there moves. The Mitsugetanesuchikis don't disappear but become Sid, MaXx, and Haden. They are harder than before. They finally disappeared. Haden becomes bold and goes face to face with Mitsugetanesuchik.
Mitsugetanesuchiki" Do as I command you. Attack!" Haden attacks MaXx and Sid. Sid" What's going on with you? " Mitsugetanesuchiki laughs. Sid and MaXx avoid doing serious damage. Sid notices the way Haden fights is different from usual. Mitsugetanesuchiki isn't fighting anyone. Sid discusses it with MaXx. MaXx" Are you positive son?" Sid" Sure." MaXx punches a Haden square in the face. Haden" You better watch it. We're brothers you know." MaXx" Brothers you say." He continues. MaXx has his sword out. Haden begs him to stop. MaXx" The brother I know would never beg me for forgiveness."
He cuts his hand off. The shape shifter turns back to normal. The real Haden falls from air. Sid" How did you pull that off? The shape shifter'' It was easy. I waited for all those duplicates to appear then I made a swap out. There were so many of them." He becomes Tinn and says this is who I was during the investigations. You had no idea that I was the one giving you away." Haden" You bastard. You were the one making it harder for us to make our move." Haden finishes him off. MaXx" You no longer have anybody aiding you. Now it's time to take your beating 3 on 1."
Mitsugetanesuchiki" I don't need any assistance. I'll show you that I'm stronger than I look." As time passes, Mitsugetanesuchiki transforms into his Demon Form. He's more fatter. Mitsugetanesuchiki" You can't beat me now. This is my most powerful state." Haden and Sid are getting weaker but MaXx has the right amount of spirit energy and is able to keep up. He charges but gets stuck in a wall. The others get offense while he's stuck. MaXx, Sid, and Haden flee the area hoping to buy some time. While hiding, Mitsugetanesuchiki finds Sid in a shed and lifts it from underneath. His attacks are getting better and better with every hit. He seems impossible to overcome. Haden uses a kick to the gut. Mitsugetanesuchiki duffles over in pain and agony. MaXx" Do that again." This time he uses his double gut kick. He has a weakness now. MaXx finishes it with a charging punch. Form wears off.
Mitsugetanesuchiki" All I wanted was to be a chef. Years ago I was a good for nothing worker who always slacked off. I came close to being fired. I wasn't good at anything. But there was this chef who was a pretty bad ass cook. He got a lot of attention. I thought I'd give it a try and see if I could get people to acknowledge me. At first it was meh.... okay but I started bettering myself. After awhile, I became one of the best chefs there was. I was even hired to cook in four different locations. I was even hired to cook for the Dark Phantoms. Kissiske was very pleased with my cooking. But something starts to happen. My anger would get the best of me. This one guy got on my damn nerves so much that I snapped and took my frustrations out on him then he was dead. Kissiske saw my other side first hand. Next thing you know is that I've become a Dark Phantom member as a Bodyguard. My chef job came to an short end. Ever since then I've been serving Kissiske. So, there you have it. There's nothing left for me to do here. You humans are really strong. I'll dispose of myself. Thanks."
Mitsugetanesuchiki turns his back but is up to something. It looks like he's going to impale himself but is only bait. He squeezes a dark substance and it scatters. Mitsugetanesuchiki" Thank you for being so gulible." He laughs. Haden" Why you rotten son of a bitch!" MaXx" He baited us with a sob story." Sid" We gotta get him back for that." Mitsugetanesuchiki" Of course you do, you humans are all the same. Typical humans." The stuff that scattered was bombs in random areas. They explode when coming close. Mitsugetanesuchiki's body becomes merged with the bombs. Whatever move that is done will have a explosive effect. MaXx, Haden and Sid use Fire Morph. Transformations- MaXx spits/spawns fire and puts it on his head. Haden snaps his fingers and fire appears. Sid swipes his arms diagonally and then powers up. Strider has a fire ball in his hands. He squeezes it and fire appears. Mitsugetanesuchiki charges up his body. A crater was made in the ground. MaXx, Haden and Sid have partially survived due to the Fire Morph. "To Be Continued"

Body after body, corpse after corpse, regret after regret, I walked. To my right, piles of ash, destroyed homes, and shattered memories. To my left, bodies strewn in the mud. The smell of char and death hung heavy in the air. Behind me, nothing. Ahead of me, nowhere. Men were disemboweled and tossed aside, women were raped and casually discarded, children were scalped after being torn from their mother’s arms. They all screamed for life, for mercy, but only death pursued.
should have died like everyone else, I hid like everyone else, I prayed like everyone else, but why, why were only my silent calls answered, can't explain. I can still hear their screams. They echoed through my head like church bells I saw them slaughtered. Friends, family, criminals, innocents, it didn't matter. From wizened men to unborn infants they all met the same fate. Man, woman, child, they were same to these monsters, they were playthings, and once their usage had expired y were killed. The flames of homes were burned into my imagination as all I could, no, would do was watch.
I saw my little brother, the one thing I had in life, torn from his hiding spot underneath the straw. He was beaten, maimed, twisted, contorted and finally killed like a rabid dog in a ditch, but not before I got to see his face. His perfect, beautiful, innocent face, full of agony and helplessness, bruised, bloodied and crying for help. Blood ran with his tears. He called for help, for his big brother, but all I did was watch him take his final breath before his head was torn from his neck. Every time he fell and scrapped his knee I was there for him, every time he needed help with academics I was there for him, so why wasn't I there for him as I watched him die. His pale skin marred with deep sewn gouges. His eyes, his bright, baby blue eyes, replaced with hollow caverns and remnants of what was lost.
Now here I am left with nothing, nothing except the memories of my greatest failure. I was the Shield, I was the first son of Brandon Deboex. It was my duty as the Shield to protect the village and any who call it their home, even if it costs me my life. I failed my duty and as consequence I must atone for my cowardice.
I looked back, and nothing, there was nothing behind me except pain, suffering, memories that shattered like glass, and countless homes razed to the ground. Ahead however, there were two paths. The first was to end it all, all the misery and the unbearable weight of failure that surrounded me, die like how I should have, protecting my people. All I had to do was fall on my own sword, it's a better death than I deserved. The second was to live out my days living a lie, a nobody from nowhere, a hermit from hell. I'd live with nothing and nobody to love. The only pleasure l'd find were in the brothels l'd find as I wandered aimlessly through life. I'd be an empty, spiteful, hateful, old man forced to lay down and die when the time came. So, I chose the third path. I would avenge my family, my home, and my people. I would atone for my sins and inability to protect that of which I loved. I'd wander the world hunting down and killing every monster and abortion I came across, there was no room or failure or mercy, nor was there room for feelings and empathy, I would father no sons nor daughters and be lover to none. This path would be lonely and cold, but s the only way. I wouldn't die until every last son of a bitch dropped dead at my feet.
Three days of starvation and mindless delirium had left me half mad and ravenous with guilt and hunger. The remains of those before me surrounded me along with the perpetual stench of blood. No matter how starved I became I would never lower myself to the monsters, I would not feed on the fallen, I had to endure some other way. There was only one body that I could find that wasn't human, a body of the Damned. Its body was mangled and pierced by swords, stakes, knives, anything the villagers could find to defend themselves with. The pale green and blue skin was covered in blood and ringed in its own ebony blood. I had no remorse for the Damned. There was no telling how many people were tortured and consumed by the bastard and its hell-sent kin.
It wasn't human, but all the animals had been slaughtered and dragged off to be saved for a later feast. The surrounding forests had been burned to the ground so there wasn't an animal for miles. Any animal still in the forest was dead and had been dead for quite some time. I would bear the weight of my punishment, even if I had to cram the flesh of a freak down my throat. So that's exactly what I did, I ripped open its ribs and feasted on its heart, lungs, and any other meat that came with it. It was like chewing leather and the black ooze burned like hellfire as it cascaded to my innards. I writhed in pain, ripping and masticating the flesh.
It changed me, not just my mental state but my physical state as well. I became keenly aware of the scenery, it was as if everything had been magnified tenfold, the red became brighter and the black only got darker, I could smell the dust in the air and the coppery scent of hell was elevated. I could hear the maggots devouring their eternal feasts. I could feel my bones harden, I cried out in pain, it was as if I was being crushed by a thousand fallen stones only for them to miss every vital spot to leave for dead. The excruciating pain coursed through the very marrow of my bones. If there was a hell, this was it. My formerly white hair that showed what house I belonged to, was now streaked with onyx. The midnight veins were the sigils of my sins. I have been touched with darkness, and now cursed to wander, to never find home, to never love, to never sire any children of my own, to die a harrowing death.
I was no longer Caillen Doboex, first son of Brandon Deboex, king of Lillum. I had been ripped apart and reborn. I wasn't human, but I wasn't a monster. I was different, one of a kind. I was no longer noble or important. I have fallen, fallen lower than any mortal man. I am the last of the debris of my city. I was Caillen of Lillum, son of Brandon Debouex, Lord of the North. Alas now I am Caillen of now here son of the dead, Lord of Ash. To my left lay burnt homes, to my right lay the dead, and behind me lay memories of a past life, in front of me lay possibilities, but inside laid the deep seeds of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. That wasn't all though, there was one more. Rage.
I am Caillen the Coward, Caillen the Failure, Caillen the Cursed, Caillen Born of Ash. I am the first of the Ashborne, and I am Cailen Ashborne first of my race.

Whenever you are depressed, wait for the moment that the depression goes.
Nothing lasts forever; the depression will go. And when it leaves you, wait - be aware and alert - because after the depression, after the night, there will be a dawn and the sun will rise. If you can be alert in that moment. you will he happy that you were depressed. You will be grateful that you are depressed because only through your depression was this mint of happiness possible But what do we do? We move in an infinite regression We yet depressed. Then we yet depressed because of the depression: a second depression follows. If you are depressed. that's okay! - nothing is wrong in it. It is beautiful because through it you will learn and mature. But then you feel badly. "Why do I get depressed? I should not get depressed." Then you start fighting with the depression. The first depression is good, but the second depression is unreal. And this unreal depression will cloud your mind. You will miss the moment that would have followed the real depression.
When depressed, be depressed. Simply be depressed. Don't get depressed about your depression.
When depressed, simply be depressed. Don't fight it, don't create any diversion, don't force it to go.
Just allow it to happen; it will go by itself. Life is a flux; nothing remains the same. You are not needed; the river moves by itself, you don't have to push it. If you are trying to push it, you are simply foolish. The river flows by itself. Allow it to flow.
When depression is there, allow it to be. Don't get depressed about it. If you want to remove it sooner, you will get depressed. If you fight it, you will create a secondary depression that is dangerous. The first depression is beautiful, God-given. The second depression is your own. It is not God-given; it is mental. Then you will move in mental grooves. They are infinite.
If you get depressed, be happy that you are depressed and allow the depression to be. Then suddenly the depression will disappear and there will be a breakthrough. No clouds will be there and the sky will be clear. For a single moment, heaven opens for you. If you are not depressed about your depression you can contact, you can commune, you can enter this heavenly gate. And once you know it, you have learned one of the ultimate laws of life: that life uses the opposite as a teacher, as a back-ground.
Nothing is wrong; everything is for the good. This is what religious attitude is. You may not believe in God - that makes no difference. Buddha never believed in God. Mahavir never believed in God but they were religious. There is no need to believe in an afterlife no need. You can still be religious. There is no need even to believe in a soul. You can be religious without believing in it.
Then what is religion? Religion means this trust: that everything is for the good. This trust that everything is for the good is a religious mind; this is religiousness.
And if you trust that everything is for the good, you will come to realize the divine. The divine can be realized through such trust. Even the storm is for the sake of the silence. Evil exists for the sake of good; death exists for the sake of life; suffering and agony are just situations in which ecstasy can happen.
Look at life in this way and the moment will not be far off when suffering will disappear completely, when pain will disappear completely, when death will disappear completely. One who knows that agony exists for the sake of ecstasy cannot be agonized. One who knows and feels and realizes that suffering exists for the sake of happiness cannot be made to suffer. It is impossible. He is using suffering itself to be more happy, he is using agony itself as a step toward ecstasy. He has gone beyond the clutches of the world, he has taken a jump out of the wheel of sansar.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.

After high school, having no better ideas, I joined the Navy SEALs. I never really liked any of it, but it was a job, after all. I loved the guns and airplanes and grenades, but having to run all the time while some scumbag with a chip on his shoulder yells in my face isn’t my idea of fun.
Things got a lot more interesting after my term of service ended. I still had a high-security clearance, so I used it to take temporary jobs as a mercenary, a hired gun. I did some stints in Iraq with Blackwater, where they set me out in the middle of the desert. A watchtower and oil refinery loomed over the burning sands. Along with a few other guys, they told us, “Guard this area with your life.” While better than the SEALs, working for Blackwater was extremely boring. The other mercenaries and I would mostly just chainsmoke cigarettes and drink coffee all night, staring out across the dead, empty desert.
Over time, I worked my way up. Things started to get more interesting when a job offer arrived in my email one freezing cold winter’s morning. This is what it said.
“Mr. Chase,
“I am the head of security for a private group of entrepreneurs and investors. Through some mutual contacts, I have heard of your professionalism and experience. We are currently putting together a small crew to guard a private event on [REDACTED] Island out in the Pacific Ocean that will run from January 9th to January 26th. Would you be interested in this job? The pay rate is $900 a day.
“Once you are on the island, it will be impossible to leave until the period of employment has ended. If you are interested, please respond to this email as soon as possible.
“Sincerely,
“Mario Antonin, Head of Security.”
I was working piecemeal jobs like this one at the time, but none of them were paying that well. At most, I would usually get $350 to $500 a day, which was still good money when I was working seven days a week until the job finished. I instantly responded and said that yes, I was interested. In response, they sent me a non-disclosure agreement that was the size of a small novel that I had to sign.
That was how I found myself on a private jet, flying out to an island in the middle of the vast blue ocean. I was never told the coordinates of the island or saw it on a map. It was all kept very secret.
A few hours later, we landed on a private airstrip. I looked out the window of the jet, seeing the tropical waters of the Pacific Ocean stretching off to the horizon in every direction. Below me stood an island with palm trees and sandy white beaches. An enormous Victorian mansion loomed directly in the center of it all. The mansion was painted black and looked like something straight out of a horror movie. It had no windows, and the turrets spiraled into blade-like points.
That was my first inkling that something might not be quite right about this trip.
***
As the stairs from the private jet descended, I looked out on this strange new world. Employees waited to greet us, looking like beaten dogs. Some had their heads down, their eyes blankly scanning the ground. Most of them were women wearing red dresses, reminding me of stewardesses on a plane. The jet strip was surrounded by palm trees and tropical brush. The chirping of insects sounded all around us, high and resonant.
I saw a strange patch engraved on all of the employees’ uniforms and jackets. It looked almost like a stick figure drawing of a man, the bottom of its body ending in a C. Its arms were long and jointed, almost spidery. Three symbols like repeated iron crosses connected to the left side of its body in a line. I wondered if it was the logo of some company. I put it out of my mind for now, but I would see that symbol again all over the island, painted on the sides of the mansion and even cut into the trees with a knife. It would only be later that night that I realized its connection to Moloch.
“Good day, sir, and welcome to the Island,” the server on my left said with glassy eyes and a fake smile plastered across her face. They all looked up at once, but it was like the workers all looked through me rather than at me. Their eyes looked flat and dead, like the painted-on eyes of a doll.
“The Island, huh?” I asked, curious. “They wouldn’t tell me where I was going. They said it was a secret. Is that what you call it?” The woman just nodded, the doll-like smile never leaving her lips.
“Officially, this island is unnamed and uninhabited,” the woman said. “In fact, all traces of it have been scrubbed from the internet. You won’t find it on Google Maps or in any publicly available satellite imagery.” She leaned forward towards me with heavily mascaraed eyes and ruby-red lipstick slashed across her lips. “This is a very special place. Only very special people are allowed here. You should be honored to work here under our Savior.”
“I hope you’re talking about Jesus or something,” I said jokingly. She just smiled blankly and motioned me forward.
“Just follow that trail for a few hundred feet-” she said, pointing at an opening in the palm trees where logs were laid down horizontally over the muggy jungle- “and you’ll find the mansion. Good luck!” I thought it was a somewhat strange thing to say, wishing a random stranger good luck.
But, by the end of that night, I realized that simply to make it off this island alive, I would need lots of it.
***
I followed the woman’s directions to the back of the brutalist mansion. A heavy metal door stood there with a small bullet-proof window built in the top. A tanned, Spanish face glowered out at me then rapidly drew back and disappeared. A few heartbeats later, the door slid to the side with a grinding of hidden gears.
The head of security at the Island was a heavily-tattooed ex-Marine named Mario. He wore a dark Kevlar vest over a black outfit, making him look like a walking shadow. I found the security had their own private complex in the mansion as he showed me around the site. Hundreds of hidden cameras covered every angle of the mansion and the surrounding parts of the island. Dozens of black-clad security agents swarmed over the screens, checking the monitors and computers constantly.
“Quite a set-up you have here,” I said to Mario, nodding at him. He smacked me on the shoulder, giving a confident grin.
“Money is no issue here, Richard,” he responded. “Security is paramount. There are things on this island that could rip apart the world if they ever escaped.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?” I asked. “Nuclear weapons or something?” He laughed at that.
“You’ll see for yourself tonight,” he said, his dark eyes flashing with something cold and alien.
***
Mario led me and a couple other new hired guns around the Island. The place was certainly strange. It reminded me of some combination of a secret black-ops site and a playboy billionaire’s private heaven. All of the doors in the mansion looked like they were made of thick steel. They had wheels that would spin, like those on a submarine door. The mansion also had no windows at all that I could see, except for the small, shatter-proof glass openings on the steel doors. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, however. I couldn’t resist asking him about a couple small things, however- or at least, they seemed small to me at the time.
“What are those hatchways?” I asked Mario, pointing to rectangular covers built into the concrete walkway. They had heavy handles. “Are those manholes or something?”
“There are tunnels under the Island,” he responded vaguely. “Just for maintenance and security, you understand.”
“Wow, this place is certainly… well-developed,” I said. We came out through a grove of palm trees. A stone walkway led down to a white beach. Dozens of yachts were moored all across the shore, some of them looking like they must have cost hundreds of millions of dollars.
“There’s a lot of money and power here,” Mario said. “That’s why it’s important you never talk about what you see here. These are the people who control the world, the ones behind the government and the media. Not the elected officials who the people see, but the actual power.”
“Like who?” I asked. “You mean the Rothschilds and Soros?” He laughed again, a sarcastic, grinding laugh that grated my nerves.
“Trust me, the truly powerful ones don’t even have public personas. If you know their name, then they’re just one of the puppets.” I just shook my head at that, then asked the real question that had been bothering me since I first arrived here.
“Who is the Savior?” I asked. “Is that some codename or something?” Mario froze in place.
“He’s the one who runs everything here,” he whispered conspiratorially, looking around nervously. “But don’t be mentioning that kind of shit. You’ll probably see him tonight anyway. He’s the one who runs the show. He’ll be on the stage in his normal outfit.”
***
By the end of the day, I was suited up like the rest of the security staff, wearing the pure black pants and shirt with the symbol of Moloch engraved over the heart. Hundreds of the world’s most famous politicians, actors, businessmen and artists had gathered, streaming in the front doors with a soft, diffident susurration.
I stood by the open doorway of a side exit with an AR-15 and full body armor, next to one other soldier. They had also given me a sidearm. Every entrance or exit was manned by at least two armed men. The security at this place was some of the most intense I had ever seen. Beyond the door, there were rows and rows of the most comfortable seats, all gathered in a semi-circle around a massive stage made of pure mahogany. Blood-red curtains stood closed at the front of the room, concealing their secrets- for now, at least.
“Hail Satan!” I heard the elites cry inside in unison. I didn’t want to look in at the rows of high-ranking politicians, celebrities, influencers and artists, but my curiosity was high. I peeked around the corner of the stone archway, seeing the red curtains on the stage drawing apart. I saw one of my favorite actors standing in the front row, clapping excitedly and jumping up and down.
The crowd cheered as a naked female strapped to an obsidian altar lay there. She was beautiful and blonde, probably no older than twenty with the face of a supermodel. Her mouth was gagged, her arms outstretched like Jesus on the cross. Thin leather cords were tied around her wrists and ankles, biting deeply into the skin. Her eyes rolled wildly as she shook her head from side to side. She froze, and her eyes met mine for a brief moment. I saw the pleading expression there, the mortal terror and absolute horror.
A man in a goat mask wearing black robes slunk out from the side of the stage, carrying a wavy silver dagger engraved with strange symbols. The crowd erupted into a primal roar of pleasure and excitement that sounded like it came from one monstrous mouth.
“Worthy is the Lamb!” the man in the goat mask screamed with electronic amplification. He had a deep voice, as if he had rocks rolling around in his throat. The crowd roared and clapped. Scattered cries of “Hail Lucifer!” and “Ave Satanas!” echoed down the massive auditorium.
“Hey, pay attention,” the other security agent at my side said in a thick Finnish accent. He was a tall Scandinavian-looking guy named Kolmek. “You’re not getting paid to watch the show, new guy.” I tried to rip my gaze away from the stage, but it held my attention with an obsessive horror.
“The burnt bones of children and women have been offered to the ancient ones, to Moloch,” the man on the stage cried. “Under our feet, the burnt bodies of hundreds lay dreaming. This victim will be the 666th. Her blood will bring about the Gnosis that we seek, the direct experience of the divine held by the gods, by Lucifer and Moloch and Baal…” The roaring of the crowd temporarily drowned out his electronically-magnified voice. “Tonight, we will rip open the veil!”
I had stopped watching the show, instead staring blankly out at the beach and palm trees. At that moment, another black-clad security agent came up to my partner, whispered something in his ear, then immediately disappeared, heading off back in the direction of the main security office. Kolmek shook his head grimly.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay right here. Don’t move from this door no matter what. And pay attention.” I nodded and watched as he walked off in the same direction.
I immediately took the opportunity to continue watching the ceremony. I had missed something important, apparently. The woman now laid dead on the sacrificial table, a gaping hole in her chest. Blood spurted from the crater as the man in the goat mask held her beating heart grasped tightly in his hand, letting the blood stream down his naked fingers. The crowd cheered with a rising bloodlust and insanity. Most of them were standing, their eyes gleaming and wide with fanatical adoration. The entire spectacle reminded me of some kind of ancient Aztec ritual.
As the woman’s sightless eyes stared vacantly up in death, the man in a goat mask pulled out a can of gasoline. The clear liquid gurgled as he up-ended the canister over her pale, bloodless face, over her naked stomach and long legs. A moment later, he lit a match and dropped it. I heard the whooshing of the flames as they rose up.
The crowd went deathly silent as they watched the rippling flames. The man in the goat mask began chanting in some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded Semitic, but I knew it wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. I felt something like electricity ripple through the air, almost like a feeling of falling pressure before a storm. I looked down at the hairs on my arms, seeing them rise up. I looked back up at the stage, and my eyes widened in horror.
The flaming body of the sacrificial victim had started to morph before my eyes and the eyes of the crowd. The dripping, blackening flesh jumped up and down, as if there were rats trapped in her body trying to escape the fire. There was a deafening hissing as if thousands of snakes were being burned alive.
The dead woman’s arms jerked up, the skin splitting open as if she had seams running along her skin. Something dark and muscular with curving, black talons ripped its way out of the dead, burning flesh. Behind it, a head appeared with long, curving horns and eyes that spun with whorls of fire. It looked like the offspring of a bull and a demon. Its imposing body rose up from the inferno, appearing like magic from the solid stone. It raised itself to its full height, looming over the crowd. The last of the woman’s blood hissed and boiled away, her flesh dissolving into ashes.
“Behold, Moloch rises!” the man in the goat mask screamed in a fanatical voice. The crowd’s cheering had stopped, though. Many of the faces in the crowd looked chalk-white with terror. The bull-god surveyed the crowd, its horns nearly scraping the ceiling twenty feet above the stage.
At that moment, I knew death was on its way with eyes of fire and a grin like a skull, ready to reap a field of human bodies.
***
I heard running behind me, but I didn’t dare turn away from the horrific sight in front of me. The last of the fire’s embers died, sending up thin wisps of gray smoke that spiraled around the bull-god’s monstrous face. Moloch stood as still as a statue, and if it weren’t for one thing, I might’ve thought it was some sort of sculpture or art project. He had two nostrils like a serpent’s. As his great lungs inhaled, the smoke billowed in and out of his mouth and nose.
Some of the people at the edges of the crowd had gotten up, hurrying towards the doors. Moloch’s head ratcheted to face them, his fiery eyes narrowing into slits.
“Do not leave!” the man in the goat mask pleaded. “Those who have fear are not worthy of life. Do not prove yourselves unworthy of life!” As the first of the fleeing men and women got to within a few steps of the door, Moloch gave a primal roar. In a blur of primal strength, he reached down and ripped the blackened sacrificial altar off the stage. It ripped from the wooden stage with a tremendous crack like a bullwhip. He hurled the heavy mass of stone at those heading towards the opposite exit from the one I guarded.
I watched it curve through the air. The people started screaming and clawing to escape as it smashed down on their heads with a grating crash. I could feel the floor shake from where I stood outside. Blood exploded from their smashed bodies. I saw arms and legs jerking and seizing under the heavy stone, but within a few moments, they slowed and then stopped.
Others were running towards the door I guarded, but Moloch leapt off the stage in a blur. In a few bounding steps, he reached the pale, terrified faces on the other side of the threshold. His massive clawed hand came down. I heard bones shatter as blood sprayed my face and the wall. Bone splinters and pieces of brain exploded from the screaming bodies. I backpedaled, wiping at my eyes, trying to get the blood off so I could see. No one had told me what to do in this situation. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shoot that massive abomination, or if this was all just part of the show.
“Richard!” a familiar voice cried from behind me. Panic oozed from every word. I spun, seeing Mario and Kolmek standing side by side, their pupils dilated and expressions grim.
“We have a major problem.” It was Mario. I recognized that voice, the one that sounded as if he had been gargling with rocks.
“I know,” I said, holding my rifle tightly. I pointed behind me at the scene of rampant death and destruction.
I had seen bloodshed and war before, but this was different. The Island itself seemed to feel it. The wind, which had been calm when I first landed, now whipped the Island in fast, circular currents. The breeze smelled of burnt matches and coppery blood. The static electricity which had caused the hairs on my arms to rise rippled over everything with tiny blue flashes, increasing in power by the second.
“No, no, not Moloch,” Kolmek said, looking much calmer than I felt. “The Savior lets Moloch thin the herd every year.”
“It’s Leviathan,” Mario continued grimly, “the beast from the waters. The smell of blood is drawing it from the depths of the ocean. We picked up the first blips on radar a few minutes ago. When it gets here, it won’t stop until everything is rubble. It will kill every single person on the Island.”
“All security personnel must report to the south beach immediately,” a cool robotic voice cried out over hidden loudspeakers all over the Island. The screaming from the auditorium had quieted behind me. I was afraid to look inside.
“There it is,” Kolmek said, his head jerking up as the emergency alert read. He motioned for me to follow. “It’s time to fight.”
***
We sprinted over curving trails of smooth logs between deathly quiet forests. All the insects and birds had gone silent. Ahead of us, the palm trees opened up onto the Pacific Ocean. But it was no longer a beautiful tropical blue. A black, swirling whirlpool like an ulcerous wound had opened up on its surface. It stretched hundreds of feet across, drawing closer to the shore by the second. Dead fish, sharks, dolphins, squids and even whales spun in the filthy, dark water.
Twenty black-clad security agents waited for the three of us on the beach, their eyes wide, their faces pale with terror. Like myself, they all had AR-15s and Glock 22s with extra magazines for both. I guess the Glock might be useful for blowing my brains out as a last resort if some beast from Hell rose out of the simmering waters, but I didn’t think it would stop anything from another dimension.
The clouds swirled overhead in a thick curtain as black as smoke. Flashes of blue lightning detonated every couple seconds. Mario raised his hands, screaming over the roaring of the wind. Kolmek stood by my side, his face grim and eyes narrowed.
“Your job is to fight off anything that tries to get on the Island,” he said, looking from one face to another with rapt attention. “Nothing can stand against high-caliber rifle fire. Shoot at the face and eyes when it comes up. We’ve dealt with creatures like this before, and they will retreat if you injure them badly enough.” I had the sense of being fed a line of bullshit as my mind processed this.
“What exactly is coming up?” one of the doe-eyed security men asked. He barely looked old enough to drink, a young, muscular hulk with a Marine Corps tattoo on his neck.
“They call it Leviathan,” Mario responded. “Sometimes the rituals here and the smell of blood can draw… strange things. Leviathan is one of those. We have encountered it before. The most important thing to remember is…” His voice was suddenly drowned out by a terrible cacophony that came from the center of the black whirlpool.
A screech like the detonation of a nuclear missile shook the ground. The ocean jumped and bubbled frantically. The beach heaved and cracked, the white sands disappearing in fissures that opened up like greedy mouths underneath my feet. I lost my balance, falling forwards. The screeching continued rising into a primal roar.
A green dragon head the color of an infected wound erupted from the surface of the thrashing water, rising up dozens of feet in the air. It had two enormous slitted eyes that dilated and constricted quickly as it glowered down at us. The screeching abruptly stopped, the pointed mouth of the dragon slamming shut with a sound like a gunshot.
Within moments, another cancerous green head shot up in a blur, its skin looking as hard as stone. Ridges that looked as sharp as swords ran the length of its reptilian skull, arcing over its eyes and pointed snout. More heads erupted from the ocean until all seven heads of Leviathan loomed over us.
Not one of us fired. No one even seemed to breathe as we surveyed the beast across the no-man’s land of the white sands. The slitted eyes and yellow irises of the seven heads had a demonic hunger, a reptilian coldness. Far behind us, I heard distant screams still echoing from the auditorium where Moloch held sway.
“Fire!” Mario cried. Instantly, a cacophony of gunshots exploded all around me. I jumped up on my feet, scrambling up as the seven-headed dragon leapt forward. Thousands of gallons of saltwater streamed down its massive body as it came up on the beach. Long, black paws with bone-white talons shot out of the surging ocean, followed by a tapering tail like that of a water snake.
I brought the rifle up and emptied my magazine as fast as I could, pulling the trigger over and over as I aimed at the many slitted eyes of Leviathan. But the bullets seemed to ping harmlessly off of its hard, obsidian-like scales.
It scrabbled onto the shore, the heads coming down in a blur. Rows and rows of vampiric fangs gleamed dully in each of the mouths. One security agent was bitten in half, the spurting stump of his lower body still standing for a long moment even as the rest of the body disappeared down the throat of the dragon.
Mario ran forwards, slamming another magazine in his rifle and opening fire point-blank. One of the heads came down in a blur towards him. Its great, staring eyes exploded in a shower of blue blood and thick vitreous fluid. The dragon head pulled back, its mouth opening in a primal scream of agony.
As I reloaded, I scanned the area around me, realizing that nearly half of the security agents were either dead or critically injured. I backpedaled away, keeping my eyes on the dragon. It continuously drew forward, killing more of its enemies with every step. I turned and ran into the forest, the sounds of shattering bones and dying men ringing through the air with a sickening clarity behind me.
Once I had reached the border of the trail, I heard Mario yell, “Retreat!” behind me. But by that point, it was far too late.
***
“Hey! Wait up!” a voice whispered from behind me. I turned my head, seeing Kolmek. Spatters of drying blood covered his face and uniform. As far as I could tell, none of it was his. “Mario’s dead. They’re all dead. We need to get out of here. We need to get off the Island.”
“How?” I asked.
“Find the Savior,” he answered, panting and out of breath. “We must find him. He can get us out of here.”
“I don’t even know what the guy looks like,” I muttered. “He was wearing a goat mask.”
“You’ll know him when you see him,” Kolmek said. “His body is covered in scars. Everything except his face. Stay close to me. We need to watch each other’s backs. It’s our only chance of survival.”
***
A trail of twisted, broken bodies led from the mansion to the surrounding trails and beaches. A decapitated woman with solid gold necklaces embedded with diamonds lay in front of me. It was strange on the Island, the way oblivion and ineffable wealth coexisted side by side. But everything was deathly silent, even in the mansion’s auditorium.
“Where’s the Savior?” I asked through gritted teeth. I peeked my head into the auditorium, but nothing moved. Hundreds of smashed and bloody bodies littered the floor.
“He’s around somewhere,” Kolmek answered. We started circling the mansion, looking for any signs of life. Kolmek went in the lead. As he turned the corner, an enormous black hand with sharp claws of fingers flitted forward in a blur, wrapping itself around his chest. Kolmek gave a strangled cry as it closed around him. I heard his bones crush as a spout of blood and gore flew from his mouth and nose, as if he were a toothpaste tube being squeezed.
I backpedaled away as Moloch threw the twitching corpse aside like a discarded toy. It smashed into the wall of the mansion, exploding wetly. A human-shaped, bloody stain languidly dripped down the wall above Kolmek’s mangled body.
Moloch slowly turned his head towards me, the fiery eyes flashing with hunger. He gnashed his fangs together, taking a step forward with a leg the size and shape of a tree trunk. With every step he took, I felt the ground tremble.
“Stop!” I cried, moving away from the monstrous creature. “Why are you doing this?”
“There is no why,” he gurgled, his voice monstrous and inhumanly slow. “There is only power. The weak deserve to die. Only the strong are worthy of life.” I raised my rifle in a last-ditch effort to save myself. Moloch saw it and started running towards me, every footstep crushing the paved walkway around the mansion into rubble and dust.
I aimed for his eyes and nose, emptying the entire magazine as quickly as I could. The bullets smashed into Moloch’s face. Dark red, clotted blood dripped out of the wounds, writhing with maggots. Drops of it fell around me, landing on my hair and face. I felt the small larvae twisting all over my skin. Moloch’s blood smelled nauseating, like some combination of stinkbugs and rotting bodies. He slowed, giving a roar of pain. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but as I looked out in the direction of the beach, my heart dropped.
Leviathan was moving in our direction, the giant dragon heads looming over the trees. Quickly, it swept towards me like a dark wind.
***
“You will suffer for that, worthless slave,” Moloch growled, wiping blood from his fiery eyes with his sharp talons of fingers. A sudden idea came to me. I ran in the direction of Leviathan. Moloch followed closely at my heels, only a few steps behind me.
Leviathan slithered forward over the sands and trees, its enormous body undulating like a water snake’s. I screamed at it, an incomprehensible wail of terror. Its seven heads snapped towards me. Its slitted eyes widened as it saw Moloch.
I heard the crashing of Moloch’s footsteps stop behind me, only feet away from crushing me into a paste. His massive lungs breathed quickly, exhaling the odor of sulfur and smoke.
“Leviathan,” Moloch growled in his demonic voice. “These are my tributes.” Leviathan’s dragon heads looked straight up at the Sun and screamed in response, their many voices rising and falling in a dissonant wail. As I sprinted into the trees, Leviathan and Moloch ran at each other, colliding with an ear-splitting crash. I glanced back, seeing Moloch ripping one of the dragon heads off its neck with his sharp fingers. The head screamed as blue blood exploded from the spurting stump. After a long moment, the neck fell limply forward.
The other dragon heads bit Moloch in a unified attack. They ripped deep holes in his shoulders and arms, snapping over and over like rabid dogs. As the two eldritch monstrosities attacked each other in fierce combat, I lost sight of them, but the sounds of fighting echoed over the entire island, crashing like lightning.
***
I felt like the survivor of an Apocalypse. I couldn’t find a single other living person on the Island. Hundreds of crushed, broken and decapitated bodies surrounded me. Over the cacophony of fighting, I heard a new noise: the whirring of helicopter blades nearby. It was coming from the other side of the mansion.
Frantically, I sprinted around the other side, seeing a Black Hawk helicopter getting ready to leave. A man in black robes sat at the pilot’s seat, his green eyes gleaming and a wide smile plastered across his face. I smashed my fist into the door over and over until he opened it.
“Holy shit, you’re still alive?” he asked. I hadn’t seen this man before. He had a face like a Calvin Klein model, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, perfectly proportioned in every way. But his scalp looked melted and scarred, as if someone had thrown gasoline on his hair and ignited it. His ears were stunted, twisted growths of scar tissue. His hands, too, were covered in deep, folding burn scars.
“Are you the Savior?” I responded quickly. “Please, get me out of here.”
“They do call me that,” he said wistfully. “The Savior. Yes, I guess I am. Get in.”
***
The Savior stared at me with his strange green eyes, the color of swamps where monstrous things swam under the surface.
“Some people just need to learn the hard way,” he said. The helicopter took off into a dark night covered with bright, twinkling stars. “There is no great power without great responsibility, after all. Those of us who seek the ancient ones know it comes with a cost.” I just stared out the window, gazing down at the countless mutilated, broken bodies that littered the beach.
Below us, the face of a bull stared up with eyes of fiery cyclones. The broken, still body of Leviathan lay at his feet. As we made it over the great waters of the Pacific Ocean, the bull-god raised a hand and waved. At that moment, I thought I could almost see a hurricane of translucent souls circling around him, spiraling up into the sky.