Bartleby: Bloodlines A Hellish Fanfiction by Zephon T'Sol *As a note, this story is a sideline from the main storyline until as such time the original author deems it otherwise. It takes place some months into Bartleby's first year in Hell, well after his Christmas Party. If you have not already done so, go read the collected works of Bartleby's Tales by Alex Reynard. They are a wonderful series of stories about one of the strongest characters I have ever read about. The following is my attempt to follow in those footsteps.* ***WARNING*** The following story contains a very graphic scene of mutilation and bodily harm. If you get squicked easily, then this may not be the best story for you to read. READ AT YOUR DISCRETION. [b][i]Based on characters created by Alex Reynard[/i][/b] Bloodlines On the whole, Hell operated pretty damned efficiently. Souls went to where they were supposed to go when they bit the dust up top, and, depending on where you ended up, you were either greeted with warm smiles and cuddly hugs, or sharp objects and cruel sneers. The division of Hell's Levels had taken place very early on in the formation of the eternal resting ground many eons ago. Satan had determined, in his logically sound mind, that one level could not possibly service all the souls and, even then, that mixing good souls with bad was a completely unacceptable notion. So he divvied up the real estate in a move that would make Mr. Moneypaws from Monopoly proud. Seven levels, each with a title that described the populace therein: Really Quite Nice, Naughty, Jerks, Dickheads, Assholes, *Complete* Assholes, and Scum Of The Earth. A soul, upon their death in the real world, would be processed within 0.00000001 seconds after their demise. Their life story was imprinted as a sort of spiritual barcode upon their soul and would be read as their life expired. A massive computer database, one that would make most tech-support geeks instantly paint the front of their unwashed pants white with nerdlove, kept score on the uncountable number of souls alive and kicking. As they passed the barrier from life to afterlife, the infernal contraption would read that barcode, judge their karma and life-travels, and make the recommendation for appropriate level placement. Many of the souls had fairly clear-cut destinations when they bit the dust, but a demonic reviewboard worked around the clock looking at more complicated cases; the kind which left someone teetering on the fine line between two levels. Besides, as Satan always explained when asked, waiting rooms just plain suck sometimes. When the "Big Fuck You" (as most of the original demons called the Biblical Fall these days) happened, Satan and his followers were many, but came to realize that they would be overwhelmed. Beelzy was already up to his eyeballs in paperwork and couldn't possibly greet every soul entering his domain (much as some of the more idiotic religions on Earth would have their parishioners believe). So, many of the originals volunteered to become the first Hellguardians. Hellguardians were, are, and always will be exactly what it says on the label. They guard their level of Hell, meting out punishment to wrongdoers, helping those in need, and greeting the new arrivals on a seemingly endless basis. Over time, as the Great White Fuckbend went steadily batshit bonkers, their numbers grew from his cast down angels. Many were found, some were not; flung to the furthest reaches of Hell, cursed in ways unimaginable. Searches for them continue to this day, for all souls entering not under their own will and who are good in heart have a home waiting for them. They are considered not lost, merely "awaiting proper greetings". Others joined the ranks willingly. At first, during the darker times, the fallen souls would ask to do what they could to get vengeance upon their creator for being the most backstabbing sonuvabitch in history. Many joined because they wanted to help. Others signed up because they simply wanted something to do. Whatever the reasoning, they were welcomed into the fold and, in time, The Hellguardian Corps was born. Nowadays, in keeping with the uncountable number of souls residing in Hell's limits, the sheer number of Hellguardians is practically unimaginable. Only Big Red himself knows the true number, and "he ain't tellin' nobody!". As well, few know the exact number per level, distribution, and what the Hellguardians were like on each level. As a general rule, all of the demons were alike in their very nature, but given the level, their outward appearance would match where they were: Naughty Hellguardians tended to show few demonic characteristics so as to not frighten their wards, Really Quite Nice demons were practically angelic in nature, usually only their eyes betraying the seeming perfection. Indeed, their horns were sometimes cute things, like flowers or little pinwheels. The lower level demons, on the other hand... Well, leave it to your imagination to draw the conclusions for them. Suffice it to say, methodology of the demons in the different levels varied as much as their body structure. The higher up you went, the nicer the demons treated you, in accordance with your penance. Naughty demons rarely, if ever, punished someone. Conversely, there was only ONE Scum Of The Earth Hellguardian. Let your mind wrap around the concept of one demon running the entirety of the lowest level and you may have a slight chance of guessing just how evil that being really is. And as a final rule, the Hellguardians generally stuck to their prescribed level, rarely deviating to other levels. However, as with any and all rules, there *are* exceptions... *** Bartleby left Perdition Elementary in quite happy spirits that day. Lexi and Xander would be coming over to his cave to work on a school project together (they were planning on chainsawing off random bodyparts, then gluing them back together to make a Barlexider mutant art thing...it was going to be cool). He was already thinking of colors and different things they could attach to it to make it the baddest Frankenthing in history when he heard, coming from above him, "Bartleby?" He looked up and brightened even more. This day just kept on getting better and better! For winging his way down into a pinpoint landing was none other than Razielphustar, Bartleby's dear friend and Arch-Hellguardian. He ran up and gave the squirreldemon a huge hug. "Heya, Raz! Mmmm!" Razielphustar returned the hug with gusto, but then pulled away and set his hands on Bartleby's shoulders. "You and I must talk. Come with me." Bartleby glanced at the portal he had been seeding in the air that would take him home. "But...can it wait? I have a date with Lexi and Xander to..." Razielphustar looked down at Bartleby with a look that was neither mean, nor harsh, nor condescending. There was understanding, but a depth behind it. This was different... "They will be notified that you will be absent tonight. I'm sure that they can amuse themselves until you get back. We have something that we must do." "We?", Bartleby queried, startling as a thunderous *whump!* behind him signalled the landing of something larger than the both of them. He turned and was shocked to see another Hellguardian behind him, shock turning to all-out befuddlement as Zelampago stood up and straightened his vest. Crystal Avalon, the vixen made of toothpaste, was a good friend of Bartleby's and he occasionally saw Zelampago with her, going about their business... But he never saw the blue wolfdemon without her right beside him. This was getting stranger by the second. He turned and stared at Razielphustar with a question on his lips, but the squirreldemon shushed him, pushing one clawtip to the bat's lips. "Bartleby, something has happened. I've gone through a bit of trouble to set this up, but it was worth it in the end, I feel, so you can finally feel true peace with your death." He knelt and placed his paws on the bat's shoulders as the boy looked at the ground, lost in memories of his first few hours in the afterlife. Zelampago approached and knelt next to Bartleby as well, his rich baritone voice soothing the bat's memories. "Raz has arranged for you to meet someone you know well. I will accompany you two there, for where we are going is very different from here." Bartleby looked up again, noticing that the appearance of two Hellguardians was starting to attract quirked eyebrows from passersby, most of it aimed at the young boy. Many of them wondered what was up, but some knew. Some knew what this was about...where they were going to take him and for what reason. Their hearts reached for the lad, knowing that he would face a darkness, inside and out, before the day was over. "Bartleby...", Raz said, looking down with knowing remorse and steadfast resolution to see his charge through this coming pain. "We're going to the Complete Assholes level. Your father died today on Earth...and is waiting there, chained and bound, for you to talk to him." Time slowed to an absolute crawl. Bartleby was sure that his blood had become as pure cement. The squirreldemon hugged the shellshocked little bat gently. He placed his hands back on Bartleby's shoulders. "We, Zel and I, will take you directly to see him. It won't be scary, I promise, even if we are going to the sixth level of Hell." Bartleby stood there, his mind cleared somewhat by the touch of his close friend, and came to a quick decision. "If it's okay with you...c-can I see what that level is like? Y'know...outside and in? I'm curious about where my...where *he* is going to stay..." Raz and Zel looked at each other briefly, exchanging unspoken words with their eyes. The big wolfdemon nodded in quiet agreement. Bartleby's courage to face his murderer was a viable reason to let him see the second-darkest level of Hell. Raziel stood and took Bartleby's hand, Zel taking the other, and the two demons joined their fingers in front of them, scribing a blood-red rectangle in the air. It grew swiftly, going from outline to material shape in mere moments, finally appearing before them as the entrance to what looked like one of those old, rickety, lever-operated elevators. Bartleby had seen a few old-timey movies and was sure that this elevator could've been ripped straight from a hotel out of those times. As the doors scissored open with an ominous and off-key *DING!*, the trio stepped inside, just barely managing to fit themselves in the cramped space. Before fear could fully penetrate his young mind, Bartleby watched as Razielphustar pressed the *CLOSE DOORS* button and Zelampago, his hand on the dingy-looking lever, pushed it down. The doors closed, the familiar streets of his neighborhood quickly vanishing from view, and the young bat felt the lift begin to descend quickly, rattling as it went. *** When the doors opened once more and they exited, Bartleby had to shut his eyes at first. The heat was *immense*! Terrible, stinging, awful heat. Ash flew everywhere and quickly got all over his clothes. Raz and Zel stood, unfazed and untouched by the maelstrom and, as Bartleby stood up from his semi-ungainly exiting of the portal, he felt a sliver of their power flow into him. His clothes regained their color; his fur cleaned itself and stayed clean. He opened his eyes and felt none of the heat. They were *shielding* him, he realized. And after this realization, he looked around at the desolation that was the second-to-lowest level of Hell. Now *this* would be what those Bible-thumping televangelists were always preaching to their devoted and idiotic followers about. Hell incarnate. Craggy rocks were everywhere. Lava flowed around the formations, spewing ash into the air at its sinuous touch of the earth. The sky was a roiling storm, seemingly trying to tear the world asunder. Horrible looking creatures, barely more than skin-covered bags of bones, flew high above, screaming into the storm and flapping great scarred wings. In short, Nightmare Fuel...Unleaded. "You're protected by our magic, lad!" Zel shouted above the cacophony. "We won't be in this long, but there needed to be two of us here to guide you through so you wouldn't be forced under the rules of this level!" Raz, his hat not moving an inch in the hurricane gale winds, nodded and gave Bartleby a reassuring smile. "It's not far ahead, sweetheart. We're heading for that cave over there!" The squirreldemon pointed, indicating a towering hillside pockmarked with caves and ledges...all with sheer darkness emanating from their entrances. The young bat gulped and tried to quiet his jackhammering heart. He had asked for this, right? The trio set off for one of the lowest cave entrances, the elements hastening their efforts. Both Raziel and Zel shielded Bartleby from the worst of it with their wings, just in case, and they made good time. While walking, Bartleby's mind found itself in as much chaos as the landscape around him again. [i]My father? Here? Dead? When? How? Why am I here? What's going on? Why am I here? My tummy hurts...[/i] They approached the lip of the cave entrance, the two demons jumping the ten feet up easily and in tandem, bringing the small bat along with them as if he weighed no more than a feather. They stepped inside the cave... ...and all quieted. The suddenness of it took the bat by surprise, and he ratcheted his head around to look outside the entrance. Yes, the storm was still raging, the elements outside blowing ash and dust everywhere, but it seemed as if no sound or objects could penetrate the dark wall that was the entrance. Eerie silence reigned here. Zelampago let go of Bartleby's hand then. "You'll be fine now. From here, when we're done, we can portal out back to where we picked you up. Portaling in is strictly forbidden by the laws here." Raz looked down and saw that the bat was nodding, but his soft winghand was gripping as tight as it possibly could to his own. He pulled the boy close and held him for a long time. "This won't take long, I promise. You'll be home soon enough, little one, safe and sound with Lexi and Xander." The bat boy nodded against the squirreldemon's soft chestfur, the familiar scent of his beloved friend calming his nerves until they were manageable. He pulled back and straightened up, looking at them with as much determination as he could muster. Razielphustar would, he reasoned, explain all of this. He always did. He trusted his Raz. And Zel, too. Zelampago was wonderful to his friend, Crystal. She went on about him a lot, gushing about his sweet and gentle nature sometimes, other times about how he was a veritable knight of chivalry, radiating calm but reliable strength. With Zelampago following, Razielphustar and Bartleby Fletch began walking deeper into the cave-like entrance. As it turned out, they didn't have very far to walk at all. A few twists and turns, a bit of a descent, and light began bristling from sconces everywhere. Their path lit itself and eventually they reached a large, heavy-looking iron-wrought door. The massive knocker, shaped like something straight out of a five-year-old's worst nightmare, held a huge steel ring in its mouth. Instead of knocking, however, Raz stepped up to it and addressed it. "Razielphustar Mephrovolontastico, Zelampago Solaricanius, and Bartleby Fletch to see and deal with the detained," he stated, looking at the knocker. The head stirred, blinked, looked down and, with a horribly thick but somehow comical lisp from having a large ring in his mouth, he smiled and said, "Why shure! He'sh right inchide." The knocker also noticed Bartleby standing in semi-wonderment, semi-amusement at the ring and chortled. "Yesh, I know thish ring makesh me shound shtupid, but hey, it'sh a job and shomeonesh gotta do it, right?" Bartleby nodded and smiled a bit, the irony of Hell striking him again as somewhere where if you were a good soul, you really didn't have much to fear at all. He also figured that the door would not be as kind to whomever was currently occupying the room he guarded... [i]'Speaking of which'[/i], Bartleby thought as the door's massive handle slid back and the door creaked open, revealing a fairly good-sized chamber. The ceiling was domed and sloped all the way to the floor, leaving about a forty-foot diameter floor space, in the middle of which was... Bartleby's heart seemed to become a solid glacier as he followed Raz inside, Zel shutting the door behind them and standing to one side. For there, in the center of the room, was his father. Marcus Fletch. The person he once called "Daddy". The heartless bastard that had run him over with his car over a trifling matter. The aged bat knelt, though not of his own will. He was positively *dripping* with chains. In fact, it seemed as if there was a solid pile of them securing him to the walls and floor in uncountable ways, with only Marcus' wings, legs, and head sticking out of it. As they approached, Bartleby saw that his father was staring at the ground, seemingly unbelieving of where he was or what was happening. Bartleby recognized that look, having had it himself so long ago on his first day here, but his father's was more vehement. More angry. As if he couldn't believe he was not in Heaven. More to the point, however, Marcus was staring at the floor due to the fact that now adorning his head were two *massive* horns. They were ebony, a jarring standout from his grey fur, and were curled up and around his large ears. The sheer weight of them forced the elder bat to lower his head to keep his neckmuscles from going berserk. Raz stood in front of the grizzled bat, a few feet away, and addressed him. "You. On the floor. You know where you are?" A mumbling muffle of sound issued and as his father looked up, Bartleby realized that he was also gagged by the chains. He seemed to not even notice his son standing a few feet away, though whether this was to system shock from being here or from Razielphustar's magical ability, Bartleby was unsure. The squirreldemon looked down with clear disdain at the adult. "Yes...that's right. Hell. A very deep part of Hell. Very nasty, too. And you know what that means, don't you?" His lips curled in a sneer and Bartleby saw, for the first time, no sense of jolly amusement in the expression. This was a cruel smirk, one born of hatred and loathing. Bartleby turned back to look at Zel, who merely nodded encouragement to the boy, saying nothing as he stood with his arms crossed. "But before we get to that, we have some...preliminaries to take care of. Your heart will be excised later, of course. For safekeeping as your stay truly begins, but we'll not worry about that right now. There are, however, two big matters we absolutely *must* attend to right away." He waved his hand, motioning for Bartleby to come forward and stand next to him. The young boy gulped and tried to muster his courage again, taking his place by Raz's side. The squirreldemon looked at Marcus and growled at him. "Do you recognize this boy, Marcus? Do you?" Marcus looked up again and seemed to finally realize that his youngest son, dead for nearly ten years to him, was right in front of him, looking not a day older than the day he ran him down. Worse, he looked healthy, hearty...even *happy*! Marcus growled and thrashed, obviously straining at his bonds, but the sheer weight of the chains didn't allow him to budge an inch. Yeah...he knew who the boy was. "Remember, Marcus? Remember your son?" Razielphustar asked, growing angrier. The squirreldemon seemed to shimmer then, and for a very brief instant, Bartleby thought he saw something...truly terrible standing where his friend should've been. He shook his head, clearing his vision and looking back at the red squirrel. No, he was Razzy alright...so what had he seen? Razielphustar continued on. "You murdered him. Remember all those years ago? Let's watch shall we?" He turned and a portion of the wall slid aside, allowing a slimy-looking screen to present itself, flickering to life a moment later. Bartleby watched as a dark alleyway took shape, a scrawny pair of knees and hands coming into view. His breath shuddered. This was the night he died...from his point-of-view! He looked away as the chains binding his father pulled his greying hair back, forcing his head up to watch his son's perspective of being killed. Leaving the alley, seeing the headlights, seeing them grow closer...then grow closer even faster before a tremendous jolt and...static. Marcus breathed heavy, inhaling and exhaling hard through his noseleaf. He blinked a few times and the chains released their hold, letting his head hang again. "Yes, that's right, you foul bastard. How did it feel? I know you felt it, the pain of being hit under all those chains? Hell wills you to, I hope you realize. Think of it as a small taste of things to come," Razielphustar told the chained bat. He grinned maliciously and turned back as the screen came to life once more. "Your father, Bartleby, went to prison shortly after your murder. In a rare case of Earth's judicial system finally getting it right, he was tried and found guilty of first-degree murder of a minor. The judge pushed for a maximum allowable sentence and Marcus here earned a 70-year prison term in one of the harsher penitentiaries up there." Razielphustar and Bartleby watched as his father made his way to his cell the first time. How he sat on the bed, looking down and generally no longer so cocky and self-assured in his power. "Oh yes, you thought you could just stay under the radar, didn't you? Stay quiet and let the time pass until you got out for good behavior, right? Well, too bad then that someone's true colors will always show themselves eventually, no matter the circumstances." They watched as several years passed and his father, sitting alone at a cafeteria table was accosted by a few younger punks. One of them, the ringleader, demanded the table from Marcus, even if there were plenty of other tables nearby. What he really wanted was to throw his weight around and show everyone how badass he was. Marcus, naturally tried to keep quiet, but his old anger started to brew again and they got in a fistfight. The guards put the both of them in solitary for a few days for it. "Such a young punk. Reminded you of your son, Chuck. Brash and so damnably cocky, eh?" Razielphustar chortled as the action sped up again to a few days later. Outside the prison, in the recreation area, Marcus sat, alone again, lost in thought about nothing in particular when the young punk snuck up on him. Catching Marcus by surprise, the kid stuck a shiv repeatedly into his back, over and over again as his flunkies cheered him on. Marcus had no ability to fight back, the first cut slicing through his spinal column and severing the nerves necessary to move his lower half. Paralyzed, he had flopped to the ground, where he had been pounced on by the gang, their leader still stabbing. The last blow had been square through his left eye, penetrating deep into his brain and ending his life finally. The screen dimmed and retracted into the wall. Bartleby shuddered, shivering even in the heat, and clutched his arms tight. He had watched his father die a brutal and senseless death. While the screen receded, Bartleby felt somewhat sickened, the horror of watching someone die a truly genuine death turning his stomach, he couldn't help but feel the tiny bit of vengeance that pricked in his emotions as well. Razielphustar pressed on, Bartleby's father starting to show signs of fear and uncertainty. "Did you know why you were picked, dear Marcus? Why you? It's simple really: you looked to be the weakest and the punks wanted to make sure that everyone respected them. So they picked you. You to harass, you to push around and, when that didn't seem to work, you to slaughter." Raziel knelt and picked the large bat's head up by the horns in a cruel vicegrip. "You were killed to force others to respect your killers..." Raziel forced Marcus' gaze onto Bartleby, "...just as you terrorized your family to force them to respect you." Bartleby locked eyes with his father then, for the first time in a very long time. The boy felt his heart wobble as his father, whom he had feared so much so long ago, looked back at him with eyes that were filled with anger, rage, denial...and fear of their own. "Your son is here because we in Hell believe in fairness. You denied him a chance to defend himself so long ago, remember? So, we have bound you so that you cannot even speak against him. He is going to be allowed to do whatever he wants to you." Bartleby became aware of Zel's presence beside him, the blue wolfdemon urging him forward and into range. Razielphustar tied a length of chain around his father's head, securing it in place such that it would force him to look his son in the eyes. Smaller chains pulled his forehead up, causing his eyelids to pull and stay open. There was no escape or rebuttal. Bartleby knew that he would be allowed his chance to do what he wanted. Say what he wanted. Give back what he wanted from all those years ago. Zel spoke then. "Here in this level, Bartleby, non-demons cannot create portals. They must earn that right by moving up to the next level. However, there *are* other methods for attaining that right." The big blue wolf knelt and pulled his vest off, placing it on Bartleby's slim shoulders. The soft leather garment hung like a trenchcoat on the little batling for a spare moment before it quickly rezised to his much smaller frame. "A Hellguardian's vest is enchanted. Anything you want to pull or use or take, just reach in under your arms and you will have it. Anything you need to exact vengeance as you see fit." He patted the bat's back and stood, backing up a bit, Razielphustar moving to stand next to him. The lights in the room dimmed and the two demons faded from immediate view. Bartleby looked around. The floor was his, it seemed. [i]'Whatever you want to exact vengeance...'[/i] The words echoed in Bartleby's mind. He knew, from past experiences, that Zelampago was telling the truth. He had used something similar to this when he had been the 'killer' in the fun Halloween game at school some weeks back. He could pull anything at all from the portal inside the vest: guns, knives, blunt objects, even whole construction equipment if he wanted. All of it. Any of it. Poison, piranhas, various tanks of deadly gas. Anything he wanted. Baseball bats, broken bottles with jagged edges, shotguns. To get his revenge. Boxing gloves. Boiling oil. Hydrochloric acid. To take that which his father took from him. He stood there, staring at his father, his mind warring in ways he hadn't felt in so very long. His father stared up with eyes of malice, still breathing hard from both the physical weight of the chains and the anger simmering in his chest. Anything. At. All. He knew, suddenly. The most damaging thing he could do...and still live with himself. Raz and Zel watched, both wondering in their own ways what the young boy would use against his father first. As Bartleby reached in the vest, they waited. He pulled something small and handheld out. Twirled it in his hands for a second. Looked up and pulled the cap off of the black felt-tip permanent marker. A marker? Raz and Zel exchanged a surprised glance, then turned back as the boy approached his father finally. He knelt and began writing with deliberate strokes on his father's forehead. Marcus tried to move his face away, but the chains tightened and held fast. Bartleby wrote slowly, making sure the letters were nice and clear. He had just enough space to write what he wanted and upon finishing, he stood and replaced the marker in the vest. He then pulled out a large instant photograph camera and snapped a picture. The little handheld device flashed bright in the dim cavern and whirred noisily, producing a thin 3 by 3 inch photo from its slot. As he waved the photo to clear the image, Bartleby stuffed the camera back in the vest. He looked at the picture for a long moment, holding the small picture with both winghands, then moved to the side so that as he knelt next to his father's head to show him the picture, both of the Hellguardians could see what he had written. "FAILURE" Bartleby pulled the picture up into his father's field of vision. The older bat took a moment to focus on it, then his eyes widened in shock and outrage at having been defiled like this. Bartleby stood again and shoved the picture in his front pocket, intending to either bury it deep in his desk or frame it, he didn't know which yet. "You abused us." Razielphustar could *feel* the courage and righteous anger build within his young friend. He and the big blue wolf stood behind, knowing that what was taking place now was likely the most important thing Bartleby had ever attempted in his afterlife to date. "You used all of us. Mom, Tricia, Mandy, Chuck, me. All of us. You made our lives a living nightmare. None of us could be good enough for you. Nothing we did was ever enough. We were never 'respectful' enough. Didn't know how to give you the proper courtesy of being 'the Man of the House'." Bartleby's fists balled as his anger built, starting to shake slightly. "You *killed* me. For what? To prove you were better than me? To prove that I was insignificant? Or because you were just pissed off and couldn't think straight?" Tears fell now, slowly, one at a time, yet the bat forged on, letting everything he had longed to say out finally. "You failed. I came here. And within one *day*, I found that I did have worth. I was useful to someone, needed by someone else. I helped someone who was trapped. I found friends. I was accepted like you never could have ever hoped to show. I was given real love from better fathers than you. And not just sex, either. Compassion. True strength." The tears came faster, and as much as Raziel ached inside to hold the boy, he knew that Bartleby *must* finish this on his own. "I realized what my worth is. How much I can do. How much I can mean to others...just by being me. In that aspect, Dad, you have failed. That's why I marked you like I did. It'll never come off, either. Ever. You failed. You failed me, Chuck, everyone else as a father. You failed Mom as a husband. And in the end, you failed to reduce me to nothing. Because here...", the small bat moved close again and put his face inches from his father's. Their eyes locked again and the two demons could see that for the first time, Marcus was realizing the true potential and strength that his youngest son possessed now. "Here...I am loved. You...you are just a failure." With that, he stood. Turned. Did not look back. Walked away as Marcus began to hoarsely scream and thrash and throw muffled curses at his son. Did. Not. Look. Back. Instead, he reached Razielphustar and hugged him, hard, burying his face in the soft tummyfur of his close friend. Razielphustar returned the hug immediately and Zelampago knelt and held them both a second later. The two guardians held the small boy that way as his rage left him and sadness of a depth that Bartleby hadn't felt in ages took over. He cried. Loudly. Marcus thrashed. They held the young boy. Marcus groaned and growled. Still they held him. And he held onto them. His rock in the storm of his heart. *** Soon enough, as with all storms, it quieted. Bartleby looked up, tears streaking his cheeks on both sides of his nose. Zelampago and Razielphustar both regarded him warmly. "Dearest," the squirreldemon said, "that was one of the most impressive displays of courage and will I've seen in a very long time. Granted, we would have been okay with it if you had lashed out at him, but we are tremendously proud of you for deciding you didn't have to. You have proven to us and yourself that you are better than him. In every way. And that your heart is stronger than his has ever been, is, or will be." Raziel stroked his young friend's cheeks, wiping away the tears and blotchyness that come with a good cry. Bartleby smiled, hitching his breath a bit and sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand like all boys are wont to. "...thank you," he said, very quietly. He sounded as if the very wind would break him apart. He started to pull Zel's vest off, but was surprised to see it had already shifted back to the wolfdemon. Zel smiled and pulled at one corner. "Genuine Hellguardian Vest. Accept no substitutes." Bartleby giggled shakily as they moved away from the center of the cavern. He still did not look back. Raz looked up at his big friend. "Zel, are you ready to take our brave companion back to the Naughty level?" The wolfdemon nodded and moved to start drawing the portal in the air. Bartleby's brow furrowed. "Wait, you're not coming back with us?" Razielphustar shook his head. "No, dearest. I have one more task I must attend to here before I leave..." Raziel's eyes strayed to the center of the cavern and narrowed grimly. Bartleby knew that his friend was staring at the pile of chains and the miserable creature underneath. What he *didn't* know was what exactly Razzy was staying behind to do. Zelampago did, however. He put a knowing hand on his mentor's shoulder, nodding his head in acknowledgement. "What you must, old friend." He leaned in close and whispered in Razielphustar's fuzzy ear. "Make. Him. Suffer." Raz nodded grimly, his charming smile returning as Bartleby regarded the both of them quizzically, a tired look coming to his eyes and face. The Arch-Hellguardian hugged his young friend again, kissed his cheeks, once on the lips and nuzzled gently. "Don't worry about me. I'll be along in a little while. Go on. Your friends are waiting for you back home. They wait to do what you do for them..." He stroked Bartleby's worn face one last time. "Make you feel better." Bartleby nodded and turned, Zelampago picking him up under the shoulders and hoisting him up to his chest, the young batling settling his head under the wolf's muzzle as he'd seen Crystal do whenever he picked her up from their fun together. It *was* comfy... Zel turned, walked forward, and the two disappeared into the portal. Razielphustar watched them go, watched the portal turn in on itself and dissolve, indicating they had arrived safely across the borders to better places. He sighed, then turned and regarded the pile of chains on the floor. Marcus stared at the floor again, seemingly looking at nothing. Raziel walked up and placed his hands on his hips, staring down at the older bat. "You *are* a petty mess, aren't you, my lovely?" He snapped his fingers and with not a sound, the chains receded until there were only a few; the ones binding Marcus' winghands, feet, torso, and neck remained, and tightened, pulling the bat up onto his knees, his arms spreadeagled. The chain around his mouth disappeared suddenly. Marcus groaned and smacked his lips, coughing a bit before finally speaking for the first time since his arrival some hours ago. "Fuck you." Raz, quicker than lightning, dealt a fast slap across Marcus' cheek. "Watch your tongue, failure. You have yet to realize how bad you really have it. But my intentions are to get that point hammered into your head before I leave." Marcus spat to the side and growled at the Arch Hellguardian. "You must feel pretty good about yourself, Mr. High-and-Mighty...bringing the little wuss in to feel like he could..." The rest of the sentence was cut off as Razielphustar lashed out at Marcus again, this time whipping his leg up into a brutal roundhouse kick. Bartleby's father had enough time to realize that something was wrong before the pain hit and he looked to his right...where the lower half of his jaw now laid after being kicked clean off his face. His tongue hung loosely and blood poured from the wound, pooling underneath him. "AaaUuuauuUUUGGhhhhahHHH!!" Marcus wailed, as the sheer pain of missing the bottom half of his face rolled over him in waves. He hung from the chains, his body further embarrassing him as his bladder emptied on the floor, mixing with the blood to make a disgusting mess. Raziel sneered and pulled the de-jawed bat's ears, lifting his head to make their eyes meet. "What's this? Not in the mood to smartass anymore? Pity." He let go and the bat's head flopped back down, the pain beginning to dull slightly. Razielphustar turned and walked a bit away from Marcus before facing him again. Marcus looked up, hazy eyes unsure at what was coming next. The squirreldemon smiled even more viciously than he had and shed his vest, tossing it to one side. As Marcus watched the demon pull his top hat off and fling it without looking to land on a nearby hatrack that sprang up to intercept it, his pain cleared completely when he realized that Raz was *taller* than he had been just a second ago. Nearly six inches and still growing. His body began to lose fat and the tight pants that snugged his waist fell off on their own, leaving the Arch-Hellguardian naked before him. But the worst was the eyes... The...the thing's EYES were glowing deep crimson. No shining, merry gaze. No, there were no pupils or corneas...just crimson and vermilion and a hundred other shades of red. Marcus watched in growing horror as his tormentor continued to metamorphose, his arms elongating, his fur becoming ragged and untrimmed. Raz spoke then and his voice carried no mirth as it had. It was like hearing a million demented hornets buzz angrily while chewing on a thousand live scorpions. "Here's a fact you may not know about us demons. Our normal form is quite pleasant...for the appropriate level. But up to this point, I and my companion had been resisting the urge to acclimate to this environment. All the better to keep our young friend happy and sane." Fingers stretched and jagged, ripping claws poked out at the ends. His knees switched orientation and became digitigrade. Spikes jutted out at various angle points. And still, those eyes... "But now that he's left, I can go right on ah...hhrRRRr[b]rRRRR AHEAD AND ASSUME THE FORM THIS LEVEL SAYS I SHOULD BE.[/b]" His crop of hair became shaggy and unkempt, mouth filled with razor-sharp fangs, seemingly every square inch inside bristling with them. His ears pointed back and grew larger. His face contained no scrap of the cheery creature that had been here earlier. "[b]WE OF THE DEMON KIND...CALL IT OUR 'SHREDDED' FORM. ALLOW ME TO SHOW YOU WHY.[/b]" What stood before the father of Bartleby Fletch was worse than a monster, worse than any bad dream could ever create. This thing was the sheer definition of 'unholy'. Indeed, it shouldn't even exist! But there it was! How? HOW? Unfortunately, Marcus Fletch was afforded no more time to dwell on the matter, for Razielphustar the Shredded decided that the wait was over and the torture would now begin. He bent at his legs and sprang, screaming in rage and delight, his shriek exploding Marcus' large eardrums in an instant. The chains loosened on Marcus, but he scarcely had time to even recognize this as Raz tore into him, laughing with demonic glee. He swept a large hand down, tearing the bat's left arm from it's socket, leaving a ragged, flowing stump. Marcus screamed loud, unable to even comprehend that this level of Hell was so twisted in its punishment. For he was still *hearing* without eardrums, still screaming without a jaw. Hell would allow him to vocalize his pain, to understand that what he was experiencing this instant was brought upon himself. The large demon continued, raking his claws underneath Marcus' chest, opening him up and letting his guts spill onto the previous mess on the floor. The bat's bowel-control failed then and he shit all over his lower regions in a loud and horrible mess. None of this fazed the demented thing in front of him as he grabbed Marcus' hair then and pulled his scalp off with a few sharp tugs. The bat kept screaming, the sheer *agony* of all of this was overwhelming, every blow seemingly the worst he had ever experienced and yet, the next would top it! Raz gouged his claws into his prey's right arm then. With a loud, sickening sucking noise, he pulled the skin and musculature off of the arm, tearing the wing to ribbons. With the skin hanging loose from his claws, he opened his mouth wide and slurped noisily at the shreds of muscle and sinew hanging from his fingertips. Marcus, now in an almost transcendental amount of agony, could only watch as the demon seemed to savor every lick and bite. But this was not the end. Oh no. Razielphustar sneered, growled again, and leaped nimbly over the tortured bat, extending his claws to shred at the miserable prisoner's back. As he landed, he turned and grinned. Marcus' head ratcheted backwards as the chains tightened to the demon's will. He could see now what had the monstrosity grinning like the cat that just ate the entire pet shop's worth of canaries. His member, once a relatively normal looking piece of squirrelmeat, was now a horrible, pointed tool. Spikes covered every inch of it and looked to be made of bone. Worse still, the monster was *hard*, dripping a substance that seemed to boil the very ground as it landed. Marcus knew then what the final act of his punishment would be...and this would be somehow the very worst. Without a word, but only a shrill shriek of demented pleasure, Razielphustar grabbed both of the damaged bat's legs, hoisted them up into the air and rammed his stiff demoncock into Marcus' tailhole. Still having no jaw prevented Marcus from fully being able to pronounce his severe displeasure at this act, but the wail that emitted from his ragged maw sufficed anyhow. There was no kindness, no love to this savage act, only the brutality of someone who wants something and doesn't care what he has to take from anybody else to get it. In and out the demonic penis went, tearing, shredding Marcus' most tender flesh, rending it easily and messily. Blood flew everywhere from his ass with every harsh thrust until, with a high-pitched and final shriek, Razielphustar the Shredded came. Having been asked by his friends, Bartleby had once discussed what being laid by a demon felt like. He had described it as a joyous experience, one that seemed to alter reality and his very being. Marcus would, on the other hand (and if he could talk properly), say that this was so mind-numbingly horrible that he would rather have his soul evaporate than to ever experience it again. A liquid that felt like the result of combining nuclear waste with hot magma shot through his lower gastrointestinal system and ate it away from the inside out. His guts, already hanging from his body, began to smoke, steam with the sheer heat, then literally fall apart as the viscous substance ate through them and landed on the floor, adding to the mess with loud, wet, sizzling splats. As he finished, Raziel twisted his arms and broke the bat's legs in so many places, he may as well have just decalcified the bones inside. They looked like they held no more than jelly and could not support any weight at all, hanging limply from his body. Showing no sign of exertion, the awful being pulled out and stomped around to the front of his prey's field of vision. Marcus was nearly delirious with pain. His eyes rolled around in their sockets, his eyelids fluttering as he wavered on the edge of passing out. Raziel stepped back and admired his handiwork, seeing that veritably every part of Marcus had been destroyed...except one. As a final exclamation point, Raziel bent, put his face as close as it could be to the bat's, reached underneath him, and messily pulled/tore/destroyed the bat's malehood. The screech that emitted from his prisoner went into the almost ultrasonic frequencies. The foul demonic being looked at the small prize in his hand and tossed it, uncaring, over his shoulder. It bounced wetly on the dusty floor, rolling out of sight. Now, he had finished. Raziel stood up and walked over, waving a hand and letting the chains drop the messy remains of Marcus Fletch to the ground. He wasn't concerned. The bat would be going nowhere for a very very long time. The door wouldn't open for anyone but a Hellguardian. It couldn't be forced and couldn't be tricked. Marcus was trapped here...and even then, the wounds that he had just inflicted would remain for an incredible amount of time; in this level, there were no instant heals. There was no "All better!" button. Pain existed here to teach, to guide, to show the way, and as such, it would not be nulled. The bat lay there in a heap, unmoving save for ragged, hoarse breaths. His left eye, having shut and sealed from the clogging blood, lay down in the pooling mess of bodily fluids, blood, and demon seed. His right eye was weary, pain-filled...and perhaps even a tad remorseful. For what, Raz couldn't say, but maybe there would be hope for Marcus after all...but not for a long time. Razielphustar tapped the wall in front of Marcus, showing a ticker that counted down. The days:hours:minutes:seconds format on it ticked downward at a standard pace. Marcus could barely see it...barely even focus..but what he saw, particularly in the days column, horrified him. The number there was unbelievably large...at least 5 digits... "[b]THIS CLOCK STARTED WHEN YOUR PUNISHMENT BEGAN. IT WILL COUNT DOWN THE TIME LEFT IN THIS LEVEL FOR YOU. WHEN IT RUNS OUT, YOU WILL MOVE UP. LEARN WHAT IT IS THAT YOU NEED TO LEARN, AND TIME WILL DROP OFF OF IT.[/b]" The squirreldemon grinned that vicious, hateful grin once more. "[b]REFUSE TO LEARN OR GROW, AND TIME WILL ADD. IT'S YOUR CALL, MARCUS.[/b]" With that, Raz turned towards the hatrack, where his clothes had hung themselves a few minutes ago. As he walked, his Shredded form dissolved, shrunk. His fur unmatted, grew clean and smooth; his features softened, his eyes regained their normal color. He dressed quickly, donning his hat last and creating a portal next to it. He looked back, as Bartleby had not, at the worthless creature now laying in a puddle of filth in the middle of the dank chamber. "I will not return here. Your Hellguardian has been selected and will be here when you finally pull yourself together." There was no grin now. "And believe me...he's worse than I am." Razielphustar looked down, then back at Bartleby's father, the word "FAILURE" still written and clearly visible on his skinless forehead. "So you know...I *wanted* to do this. Requested it, actually, because I genuinely love Bartleby. He has a light which we do not see down here too often. He has more friends and family here that care for him than you ever could have. They are his family now. You...are just a bad memory...one that he will eventually forget forever." He turned and strode through the portal, doing as his charge had done: not looking back anymore. *** Marcus...could not think. Could not be anything but sheer pain. He had no idea what was in store for him. Didn't care. Fuckall, everything *hurt*. And he knew then, as the insanity known as Hell's Madness set in, that it would be this way for a very...VERY...long time. He raised his head and began screaming, his hopeless wail joining the myriad others in the sixth level of Hell. *** Zelampago stepped out of the portal connecting the two levels of Hell onto the street in front of Xander's house. He held Bartleby close, just as he held his own charge, Crystal; closely, protectively, being something sure and solid. He strode slowly towards the gaggle of furs that had met outside the house. They had been summoned here, per Summon Droids at Raz's request. All had been filled in on what had taken their friend and companion away. All were in one state or another of sorrow and empathy for their hurt friend. Xander, his parents, Mrs. Schaddenfreude, Lexi, Criss Nero, Llywyalla, Gillian, Crystal...they were all there. As he approached, Bartleby stirred in his arms, turning his still-tearstreaked face towards the small crowd. Zel knelt and set the boy down on his feet, giving him one last reassuring hug and a soft pat on the behind to get him moving. Bartleby needed no encouragement and practically *flew* towards Xander and Lexi, who caught him as he stumbled over his feet. They peppered him with kisses, tight hugs, and soft words and tears. As Zel straightened, he watched the group as a whole move in on Bartleby. He straightened his vest and looked up at the sky, sensing that Marcus' first punishment had begun. Good. He turned his gaze back on the bat and his friends as both Xander's parents and Mrs. S. offered the young boy a place to stay for the night. Gillian offered her trashbin. Crystal, her pool. Still, the bat said nothing, only hugging his friends tight to him, crying harsh but silent sobs. Zel looked away. Had he had his way, he would've punished Marcus Fletch right upon his first arriving. But Raz had wanted his young friend to have a last say. Bartleby had done much in his short time here, Zel knew. Razielphustar was *his* good friend, as well. They talked about their cases and invariably, Bartleby's name came up. The boy, who was showing signs of his sorrow quieting, had done much for his friends. Had improved lives...touched them in ways that they never knew possible. He had become a lover to some...a friend to others. A deep friend to both Lexi and Xander, and a surrogate son to still others. He had freed the angel Llywyalla, and though her curse remained, she indebted herself to the young bat, proclaiming in her paradoxical way that had he never stumbled on her she'd still be hidden. He had done so much and still, Zel knew that this young boy's destiny was not yet fully realized. He had much more ahead of him. But for now, the time for healing would begin. His last personal monster had been laid to rest today, but in the process of excising the tumor, his heart had been damaged. Where Bartleby went from here was up to him, but he definitely would not be alone if he so chose. Zel snapped out of his reverie when he realized that Crystal was tugging on his pants pocket. He knelt and held her tight to him in their special way. "Is Bartleby gonna be ok?" she asked, tears in her eyes from concern towards her special playmate. Zel stroked her cheek, much as Raziel had done for the batling, and smiled. "He will be, dearheart. He needs time, yes...but he will be." They watched as eventually, Bartleby separated himself from Lexi and Xander, all three teary-eyed and runny-nosed. They exchanged more hugs, more kisses, more nuzzles and cuddles, until Bartleby expressed his desire to think things out on his own for a little while. He needed peace and quiet to let his mind calm and sort it all out. But he would return. It wouldn't be quick, but he would be back soon. Mrs. S. told him that he was "free to take as much time as he needed from class". Xander's mom extended an open invitation for meals if he didn't want to cook. And, of course, all offered their presence if desired. Bartleby thanked them all, cast a very appreciative look in Zel's direction, and opened his personal portal to home. "He will be, dearheart," Zel repeated, knowing that he spoke truth. Bartleby would move on, eventually. And he would return, immeasurably stronger than he had been. EPILOGUE As Bartleby lay on his bed, cuddling his plushiefox, Terry, he let his mind wander blankly. A lot had occurred today and he would be up all night thinking about it, likely. He wished that he could just sleep it off. Sleep was what his body needed, what his mind, soul, and heart desired most. Yet, all were adrift in thought and more thought. He wished that he had a way to fall asleep, cuddling the little plushiefox tighter. Hell's Giving Force is indeed a force to be reckoned with. It can do many things: halt, reverse, or speed up the flow of time; divert power from where it is created to where it is needed. It can give as much or as little strength needed for required tasks, or, as often was the case, summon those who are needed, through a Summoner Bot or just a simple twinge. Bartleby's unconscious request was, by comparison, a breeze for the all-powerful guidance. A silent portal opened in his room, casting soft pale light and shadows everywhere. Bartleby didn't look back...knew who was there. Was grateful. He hadn't pushed his friends away for anything. He had *wanted* to be alone...several hours ago. But now, he was wanting company. And company arrived. The Arch-Hellguardian Razielphustar Mephrolovontastico, without a word, shed his clothing and climbed into the bed, wrapping his strong arms around the boy. Bartleby turned and rolled into it, smelling that wonderful, friendly, warm scent of his close friend. Raziel set his head on the boy's...kissed the top of it gently. No words were said. None were needed, after all. All that was needed was love. And love, as Big Red himself was wont to say, was the best trait of Hell's Giving Force. It could give and take as much as you imagined. All you needed do was ask and love would find you. Bartleby had found love here, in a place that had always been told to him as one where it wouldn't even exist. He had found a new family to help him wait for his true family. He had friends...close friends, deep friends. His bloodlines were tainted, yes, but Bartleby had proven that anyone, regardless of age, experience, or upbringing, can move past what they once were and show to those who would doubt that he could be something truly amazing. He had the one thing that was necessary for it: He was loved. And as the pair silently drifted into sleep in the cool chamber, Raz smiled, knowing that the love Bartleby was given would be returned. It always was, after all. And nothing would ever change that. The End...for now... Author's Note: This was singlehandedly the most devastating thing I have ever written in my life. Personal demons were excised for me, too, as I traveled alongside our familiar bat friend. I won't go into specifics, nor even say that the circumstances were identical. And yet, it was liberating. I let go of those demons while following the young boy through his difficult time. More to the point, however, this is my first fanfiction. Alex Reynard, one of my greatest friends, has created a universe so rich with life and love, that writing for it is almost impossible. And yet, I managed somehow. There was much to tell this time around, and I couldn't have done it without his support and words of encouragement. We sat up long nights and talked/giggled/brainstormed about this piece. He eventually gave me the go-ahead to write it in his stead and for that, I am eternally grateful. Here's to you, amigo. Also, on the shoutout list: -Obsidian, who gave love and support through some difficult times, despite having her own. Love you, Kitten. -Alfador Fox, for being the goddamn awesome proofreader he is. You rock my world, little cubby. -Kris Reizer, for unwavering support through all I have been through these past months. I love you more than I can ever say. This was a real effort, mostly because I wrote the bulk of this in one day. I don't know why my muse works like this, she just does. As it is, as I write this note right now, it's just after three a.m. in the morning and I've been up for nearly 24 hours. Not by choice, mind you, but that's just how the job is. Still, I got it done and I feel so damn proud in my ability to write. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this little story and if you got something out of it yourself, be it the courage to stand up for yourself or the will to garner love from it and share it with others, then I as a writer have been successful. Bartleby: Bloodlines Writing begun: Oct 15th, 2008 Draft Completed: Nov 20th, 2008 Editing Finished: Mar 6th, 2009 "Ride the Light."