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between Elysia and Sipha, part 2, an Elysia and Sipha, part 3. And yet here it is, only a week since part 3, and I'm already posting part 4! I guess that's what switching from desktop to laptop does to a writer!\n\nIn this installment, Elysia and Marcus, Ely, Bartleby, and two HellGuardians venture into the Fifth Level of Hell--assholes--to meet Bartleby's father, Marcus, who had a wish granted to meet with his son for less than selfless purposes, as a reward for graduating from the Sixth Level of Hell--Complete Assholes.\n\nSince reading [url=https://www.furaffinity.net/view/2062549/]Bartleby Bloodlines[/url] by [url=https://www.furaffinity.net/user/zephontsol/]Zephontsol[/url], I've wanted to introduce Marcus in person, and explore who he is. The reason is, the character [url=https://inkbunny.net/AlexReynard]AlexReynard[/url] described in [url=https://inkbunny.net/submissionview.php?id=31620]Bartleby's Descent, Part 1[/url], is typical of people with no self-worth. And People like that are typically the children of those with too much self-worth, who think they're better than everyone else. It's that latter part, that Alex didn't think of at that time, that piqued my interest.\n\nAnywho, if this gets too angsty and dramatic for a setting that's supposed to essentially be loony toons in >XXX-rated paradise-Hell, don't worry. The next few chapters will be nothing but smutty silliness including: blood play on a level several orders of magnitude greater than the sex-scene with Jimmy the cuntboy rat, gender-shifting via giant margarita blender, bestiality and watersports all at once, and the final revelation of what a \"cosmic orgy\" really is!\n\nHowever, it'll probably take me longer than a week to come up with part 5, especially since I need to spend the next two weeks cramming for Spanish class.\n\nOh yeah! I never said this, but I imagine [url=http://www.behindthevoiceactors.com/Caren-Manuel/]Karen Manuel[/url] in her Rogue the Bat voice dubbing the voice of Kaphirez.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "It was over a year between Elysia and Sipha, part 2, an Elysia and Sipha, part 3. And yet here it is, only a week since part 3, and I'm already posting part 4! I guess that's what switching from desktop to laptop does to a writer!

In this installment, Elysia and Marcus, Ely, Bartleby, and two HellGuardians venture into the Fifth Level of Hell--assholes--to meet Bartleby's father, Marcus, who had a wish granted to meet with his son for less than selfless purposes, as a reward for graduating from the Sixth Level of Hell--Complete Assholes.

Since reading Bartleby Bloodlines by Zephontsol, I've wanted to introduce Marcus in person, and explore who he is. The reason is, the character AlexReynard described in Bartleby's Descent, Part 1, is typical of people with no self-worth. And People like that are typically the children of those with too much self-worth, who think they're better than everyone else. It's that latter part, that Alex didn't think of at that time, that piqued my interest.

Anywho, if this gets too angsty and dramatic for a setting that's supposed to essentially be loony toons in >XXX-rated paradise-Hell, don't worry. The next few chapters will be nothing but smutty silliness including: blood play on a level several orders of magnitude greater than the sex-scene with Jimmy the cuntboy rat, gender-shifting via giant margarita blender, bestiality and watersports all at once, and the final revelation of what a "cosmic orgy" really is!

However, it'll probably take me longer than a week to come up with part 5, especially since I need to spend the next two weeks cramming for Spanish class.

Oh yeah! I never said this, but I imagine Karen Manuel in her Rogue the Bat voice dubbing the voice of Kaphirez.", "writing": "[b][center]Chapter 5\nElysia and Marcus[/center][/b]\n\n[center]—Scene 1—[/center]\n\nDust obscured all sights only a few meters past the bubble. Black dust—soot from the smell of it. The ground, if one could call it that, was entirely soot. Paws sank into it, many inches deep, crunching it like snow. If there was solid ground, it was far beneath. The close fluttering of alien wings or distant pained shrieks startled the cubs. The gale force wind moaned as if blowing through caves or corridors, but the soot hid the walls, if there were any. The wind blew the soot so hard it felt like stabbing needles. Or at least that’s what Elysia Rosenburg thought when he reached a paw beyond the protective bubble provided by Razielphustar and Kaphirez. Total darkness surrounded them, save the white glow of the HellGuardians' eyes, like flashlighs. Even with such light, all around remained black.\n\nThe duct-tape gray bat cub, Bartleby Fletch, shielded his face with a wing despite being within the safety zone of the HellGuardians. “This doesn’t seem much better than Complete Assholes!” he hollered, trying to speak over the noise of the wind. “Actually, it looks worse! What’s all this ash and stuff anyway?”\n\n\"It’s the smoke that rises from the fires of Level Six!” Razielphustar shouted. “It falls here in Level Five like snow and compresses into a kind of concrete cavern, a labyrinth of seemingly infinite volume and complexity! And it’s always changing! New tunnels form! Old ones collapse! Even if you memorized the entirety of this level, it would be useless, as nothing left of it would remain after a few days!”\n\n\"Plus you can’t see any of the damn walls until you run right into them!” Ely yelled. “That dust is fucking freezing ass cold!”\n\n“That’s why we let souls wander freely down here!” Kaphirez yelled. “Once they step footpaw outside their doors, they know it’s best not to do so again!”\n\n“I still say this is worse than level six!” Bartleby hollered.\n\n“It’s not, so long as you stay inside,” Razielphustar shouted. “Within, the tortures one endures are more psychological than physical. It’s hellish indeed. But you will see that it’s not as hellish as the fires below us!”\n\n“How are we supposed to find wherever this room is?” Ely asked\n\n“I’m the only one who can!” Kaphirez yelled. “As Marcus’s HellGardian, my eyes are pulled in his direction like magnets!”\n\n“Why did they make you my father’s HellGuardian anyway?” Bartleby hollered.\n\n“Because I can be far more creatively sadistic than most!” Kaphirez yelled. “Just follow my lead. We’ll be there shortly.”\n\nThe four ceased talking and trudged through the soot. They all pained to pull their footpaws from the ground they sank into. Ely and Bartleby had long since stopped feeling pain from the frigid dust, as their whole lower legs went numb. Ely’s prodigious nose took in the putrid scent of gangrenous frostbite even through the smell of soot. Bartleby’s prodigious ears detected the crackling and snapping sounds of claws and toe-tips breaking off. It bothered neither of them, for they knew they could regrow their lost parts once inside Marcus’s room, wherever and whatever that was.\n\nEly glanced around him for any sight through the soot whipping about. The ground just outside the protective bubble uplifted and slinked away, in a vague worm-like shape several meters across and only Hell itself knew how long. Ely gasped and shuffled aside, bumping into Bartleby and sending the bat face-first into the soot ground. Razielphustar immediately grabbed Bartleby by the shoulders and pulled him up. The bat hacked and wheezed as the soot clung to his face and clogged his nose and throat: acrid, caustic, freezing soot. It burned his eyes like fire, which poured tears as he squeezed them shut.\n\nRazielphuster took Bartleby’s chin in his paw and softly blew in the bat’s face. All the soot magically blew away, into the wind that raged beyond. He set Bartleby back on the ground, cleaned and healed, and they all continued.\n\n“What was that thing?” Ely asked.\n\n“I do not know,” Razielphustar shouted in reply. “Most of the creatures who the call the ashes of level five home remain unknown to all, save themselves and the Giving Force! But by command of the Giving Force, they retreat from us HellGuardians! That was why the creature fled!”\n\n“And what if you two weren’t here?” Bartleby asked.\n\nKaphirez yelled in response. “It would have dragged you beneath the ash and eaten you, and then shat you out into it! You'd stay buried there until your HellGuardian had the both the chance and inclination to retrieve you! And we often don’t have the inclination!”\n\n“Did that ever happen to my father?” Bartleby asked.\n\n“Only once, when he stepped outside his door and got lost!” Kaphirez yelled in response. “But as he graduated to this level less than a week ago, and given how difficult he finds it to learn from his mistakes, I doubt it will be his last time! We’re here!”\n\n“Where’s here?” Ely asked “I don’t see shit!”\n\nKaphirez pointed forward and shined her eyes in the direction of a house jutting up from the soot. It was a small L-shaped cottage with three stairs leading to a balcony hugging its inner bend, and to the front door. Somehow, the windows, taupe green paint, shale roof, the swing bench on the balcony, and the ivy climbing the cottage walls, stayed unblemished through the storm.\n\nAs the four approached, Bartleby grabbed hold of a rusty punch-steel mailbox on a wooden post. “Evangeline Fletch?”\n\n“Who’s that?” Ely asked.\n\n“My grandmother!” Bartleby answered.\n\n“Who was she?” Ely asked.\n\nBartleby shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “I don’t know! She died before I was born! I only knew my grandparents on my mother’s side! Dad never talked about Evangeline, and he got really pissed off whenever we asked about her!” Bartleby turned to Kaphirez. “She’s not here, is she?”\n\n“No,” Kaphirez yelled. “Her evil makes Marcus seem saintly in comparison!”\n\nBartleby’s eyes widened. His ears flattened against his head, and he gulped in fear, even though he knew he had no reason to. “Scum of The Earth?”\n\n“Yes!” Kaphirez yelled in reply. “Please go inside! There’s nothing to fear in there, unlike out here!”\n\nKaphirez wrapped an arm around Bartleby and aided him up the steps and through the white, four-panel front door. Ely grabbed Razielphustar’s arm as the squirrel began to climb the steps, pulling him back down.\n\n“What’s Scum of The Earth?” Ely asked.\n\n“The seventh level of hell!” Razielphustar shouted in reply. “It’s where the most despicable life forms in existence are forced to relive their crimes through the eyes of their victims—all of their victims simultaneously, in an endless loop until they repent! Even so, most of them never do! Unlike Evangeline, Marcus may yet have a chance for redemption, however many centuries that may take!”\n\n“Redemption and making amends are two very different things!” Ely yelled.\n\n“Indeed!” Razielphustar shouted in reply. “But atonement comes after redemption, from good will. And that can only be practiced in full in Hell’s upper levels!”\n\nEly let go of Razielphustar. The squirrel clutched his top hat as he walked up the staircase and through the front door, leaving it open just a crack. Ely looked down at the soot he stood calf-deep in. He cocked his head and blinked. He furrowed his brow and bit his lip, wondering for the first time just why Marcus was so abusive and self-loathing as Bartleby claimed him to be. He knew then that this Evangeline made Marcus whatever he was, but how? From Bartleby’s words, he doubted he could get an answer out of the bat waiting for him. His fists clenched and his chest tightened in a brief anger as he realized he would be unable to delve into this bat’s psyche, for he needed to delve into everything he encountered. Just as quickly, the anger passed, and Ely sighed and put his paws in his pockets.\n\nSuddenly, burning struck Ely’s eyes and nose, and freezing cold the rest of his body. The caustic scent of creosote flowed down his throat and sinuses. Ely shrieked and bent over, shielding his face with his arms. The dust storm beat upon him... but why? The Hellguardians were in the cottage! He stayed put, lost in thought, and left their protective bubble behind. A rumble in the soot ground, rippling through Ely’s bones, drew his gaze behind him. The ash uplifted and slinked toward him. The same creature that fled the HellGuardians now pursued him!\n\nEly tried to pull his paws from the soot, but outside the protective bubble, he sunk thigh-deep into it, and it sealed around his legs. Ely fell forward, wrapping his arms around the top step of the balcony stairs, hoping to pull himself free with his wolverine strength. The creature rumbled again and poked what Ely could only guess was its head above the ground. Ely pulled at the step until he screamed in pain again, his shoulders feeling as if they’d tear off. The creature lifted more of its body from the ground. Ely could only see its outline, as it was caked in ash. He could think only of a giant earthworm with the lewd face of a crab. With another scream of pain, Ely pulled at the step harder, and it broke from the staircase, sending Ely falling backward into the soot ground. The plank hit the creature’s face, which chomped into it, breaking it into splinters and swallowing. The more Ely struggled, the more his arms, like his legs, sank into the soot. The creature splayed the plates of its face open, and Ely saw their interiors covered by spiraling rows of hooked teeth. Ely paused in confusion, for the teeth were made not of bone, but black concrete, likely formed from the soot.\n\nThe crab-faced worm paused and hovered its mouthparts above Ely’s face. In that moment, the wolverine lost all sense of where he was. His face became limp, and his eyes unfocused. Pain was very real in the Assholes level of Hell, and involuntary. Being this creature’s meal would not be fun in any sense of the word, but agonizing in a way Ely could never have known in life. How agonizing would it be to be left in the soot as this creature’s ashen turd?\n\nThe crab-faced worm plunged its head into the soot, and Ely felt warmth and wetness on his arms. It felt good, like plunging them into a hot bath. Ely sighed in pleasure at the sensation, and at the new freedom his arms had to move. He pulled them from the soot and brought them about. Ely then screamed again upon seeing shredded stumps where his elbows were, dripping blood through its caking of soot.\n\n‘[i]Arms! Regrow![/i]’ Ely screamed in his mind. But it was no use. Outside the HellGuardian’s protective bubble, he could not heal.\n\nThe crab-faced worm reared up again, hovering its head over Ely. He saw the plates of its mouth moving back and forth, pulling his severed arms into itself, and heard it tear flesh and crunch bone. The creature splayed the plates open again. Its soot-concrete teeth broke into pieces, falling onto Ely’s face. Beneath, he saw tooth-like grooves where soot could gather and harden. But the creature still had plenty of teeth left.\n\nAn alien shriek, like grinding metal, deafened Ely as a light shone in his face. Something wrapped around his chest and pulled him up out of the ash as if he weighed nothing. A warm breeze blew away the caustic burning and freezing, and Ely found himself completely clean. He lay in the arms of the squirrel demon Razielphustar. The squirrel’s eyes glowed softer for Ely’s comfort, and he was gently blowing into Ely’s face.\n\nEly threw his head back, seeing the creature burrowing back into the soot and slinking away. It must have made that scream upon finding itself inside the Hellguardian’s protective bubble.\n\nEly closed his eyes. ‘[i]Heal![/i]’ he thought. ‘[i]Restore the lost parts of your body![/i]’\n\nThe next thing he knew, Ely stood next to Razielphustar, paws in paws, looking into his eyes again. His body was intact, though his clothes still shredded. Ely stared with wide eyes and jaw agape at the pouting squirrel. His wolverine strength was incredible. But to effortlessly pull him free of that soot? That took supernatural strength.\n\nEly yelped as Razielphustar suddenly threw himself against and hugged him “I’m sorry Elysia! I should have paid more attention! I would never wish such an experience on you!”\n\nRazielphustar stroked the back of Ely’s neck several times before releasing him and leading him by paw through the door.\n\n[center]—Scene 2—[/center]\n\nThe tiny cottage living room featured Victorian furniture: a couch, loveseat, chair, coffee table, lamp desk, and china cabinet. The upholstery sported flower patterns in neon pinks and purples and blues and yellows, just like the rug over the scuffed hardwood floor. It was hideous! Especially with the ever unlit woodstove in the corner that couldn’t possibly belong to such decor. The soot had gotten inside and coated everything. It hung in the air as a black haze. The wind howled outside.\n\nEly approached the china cabinet. It held no china, but religious decorations: Holy Bibles, from leather and iron bound with gold-leafed pages to the flimsiest paperbacks, every single one King James. Crucifixes of silver, wood, porcelain, and a wonder of other materials all showed the same human, blonde, blue-eyed, short-haired, and clean-shaven Jesus bleeding from all orifices. Brass chalices and porcelain angels with bleeding eyes took up the remaining space.\n\nDeathly hacking and wheezing, and rattling steel, made Ely recoil and spin around with claws and teeth bared. He relaxed and stepped backward in pity and confusion at the sight before him. A duct-tape gray, leaf-nosed bat wheezed at Ely with lidded eyes. For a moment, Ely thought it was Bartleby, until he realized the bat was his own height. He then noticed the whitening muzzle and ears of middle-age, and the sagging face and deep eye-pockets of chronic sleep deprivation. The bat’s eyes were stained a dark yellow from irritation. He wore only a pair of frayed jeans and a green paisley bandana. But iron chains wrapped around him, massive chains, like those used to dock cargo ships. They all attached to a giant padlock on his chest. Smaller chains looped through the rings of the giant chains, dragging behind him in a pile.\n\n“Marcus Fletch?” Ely asked.\n\nThe bat answered in a West Virginia accent, or at least what Ely thought was West Virginia. With how hoarse Marcus’s voice was, it was hard to tell. “Pretty sight, ain’t it, that cabinet?”\n\nMarcus reached over Ely’s shoulder, behind the china cabinet, and pushed it over. The cabinet fell to the ground with crashes and crackles and snaps that made Ely wince. Marcus then doubled over into Ely’s arms in a fit of coughing, hacking, and wheezing, spitting up black bile onto Ely’s paws.\n\nMarcus righted himself and swiped some of the bile off of Ely’s paws, then burst out laughing, only to double over hacking again, and spit up more bile.\n\nMarcus calmed and righted himself again. “Fucking dust,” he whispered.\n\nEly motioned his head toward the fallen china cabinet. “Why did you knock it over?”\n\nMarcus shrugged. “I know it’ll be all better once I fall asleep, but it still felt good.”\n\nMarcus hobbled toward the couch, wincing and whimpering in pain as he dragged his chains. He fell on his back, lengthwise onto the couch, and let his head fall to the side. Ely followed his gaze to Razielphustar, Kaphirez and Bartleby standing next to the toppled cabinet. Razielphustar and Kaphirez looked impassive, but Bartley slowly shook his head, ears flat, eyes wide, and paws covering his snout.\n\n“Hey Ugly!” Marcus grumbled at Kaphirez. “I thought it was just gonna be you, the kid, and the squirrel. What’s with the wolverine?”\n\nBartleby stepped forward, his ears snapping up, and his brow furrowing. He put his paws on his hips. “I brought him!”\n\n“You’ve got two HellGuardians at your side, and I’m in this pathetic state, and you’re still scared of me?”\n\n“No!” Bartleby shouted. “Elysia just has a kind of logic that you can’t compete with.”\n\nMarcus burst into laughter again, and again began hacking and spitting up bile.\n\n“What’s with the chains?” Bartleby asked.\n\nMarcus shrugged. “Well, I never read A Christmas Carol. I only saw the movies, but that Dickens guy had to have seen the Fifth Level of Hell because he got it spot on with that Marley character.”\n\n“But what are they?” Bartleby asked.\n\n“You’re the one who read the book, not me!” Marcus answered. “You should know. Ah, what the fuck? Each link in this chain represents one abominable act I’ve committed in life. For each of these acts that I genuinely regret, its link will fall off. If the chain gets short enough, I graduate. Or at least that’s what Ugly over there tells me. Weird though. She lets you see the chains, but not the TVs.”\n\t\n“TVs?” Bartleby asked.\n\n“Yeah, stacks of em,” Marcus wheezed. “They’d turn on at random and play all the times I beat you and the family, or badmouthed you all for no reason, or stole Janet’s money to buy a few Old Crows, or whatever the fuck other terrible thing I did. They play em on full blast. Usually they turn on when I’m sleeping. It might be tolerable if I wasn’t stuck in mom’s little shithole of a shack.”\n\n“Are you going to tell who she was now?” Bartleby asked.\n\n“No!” Marcus shouted. “But you got a look at that cabinet before I tossed it over, so I think you can guess. Ain’t that right Ugly?”\n\n“Why do you call Kaphirez that?” Ely asked. “I find her very attractive.”\n\nMarcus laughed again, and then hacked up more bile. “I take it you only ever saw the porn star. If you saw what’s underneath, if you saw the clown, you wouldn’t be asking that.”\n\n“You misunderstand,” Kaphirez said. “There is no underneath. HellGuardians have multiple virtual self-images, all of them equally valid. The porn star is just as authentic as the clown, as you like to call them.”\n\n“Whatever, I just want to get down to brass tacks here,” Marcus said.\n\n“And what’s that?” Bartleby asked.\n\nMarcus reached a claw to his head and pulled off his Bandana. Ely narrowed his eyes slightly upon seeing the word [i]FAILURE[/i] scrawled across Marcus’s forehead. “I want you to get rid of this!”\n\n“Why should I?” Bartleby asked.\n\n“I made it out of Complete Assholes didn’t I?” Marcus said. “I got to rip my own horns off from that. I got to see you. I think I deserve that one last privilege, given how they’re making me live and all. You’re the one who wrote this! You’re the only one who can erase it!”\n\n“What you deserve comes from what you do, not from what is done to you,” Ely interrupted.\n\n“Okay then, how about what they owe me? Is that better?” Marcus answered. Ely remained silent. “So, Bartleby, are you gonna wipe this off my head or not?”\n\nBartleby paused. “Maybe. Talk to Ely first. Then I’ll decide.”\n\t\nBartleby stood aside as Ely approached Marcus. Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to be intimidated by you?”\n\n“No,” Ely answered. “You’re just supposed to answer to me.”\n\n“Then ask away! I hate wasting time.”\n\n“Good, so do I,” Ely replied. “How did you graduate from Level Six?”\n\nMarcus sighed and closed his eyes. “I apologized.”\n\nEly raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”\n\n“That’s it.”\n\n“What for?”\n\n“I called Kaphirez a sideshow freak because of her pseudo-cock,” Marcus said.\n\nEly turned to Kaphirez with an eyebrow raised. Kaphirez smirked and nodded in response. Ely knew Spotted Hyena females had pseudo-penises, but Ring Tailed Lemurs? He did not expect that. Would it be different from a Hyena’s? It must be! Lemurs and Hyenas weren’t even in the same order. ‘[i]No[/i]’, Ely thought. ‘[i]Stop speculating. Ask her when you have the chance.[/i]’ He turned back to Marcus.\n\n“But in her porn star body at least, I actually thought it was kind of hot, so I apologized.”\n\nEly crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “That’s all it took?”\n\n“He was sincere when he apologized,” Kaphirez said.\n\n“It makes sense,” Bartleby whispered. “He never apologized for anything as long as I’ve ever known him. I don’t think he’s ever been really sorry for anything actually, or at least since I was born.”\n\n“There are generally two kinds of people sent to Complete Assholes,” Razielphustar interrupted. “People who think they’re better than everyone else, and people with no self-worth at all. The latter group finds it quite easy to graduate from Level Six, but tends to spend many centuries here. The former tends to do the opposite.”\n\n“That’s my one comfort down here, knowing mom’ll spend thousands of years, at least, in Scum of the Earth!” Marcus said. “Don’t get me wrong though. Kaphirez still calls me a cold blooded bastard. And even though this place is heaven compared to below, I’d still jump into the Lake of Fire, blink out into nothing, no questions asked... that is, if they’d let me.”\n\n“I suppose you won’t tell me about Evangeline,” Ely said. “So why do you think your son owes you the favor of erasing the word ‘failure’ from your face?”\n\nMarcus hacked up more bile, covering Ely’s footpaws, to which he gave only a passing glance. “I lied. I don’t deserve it. And he doesn’t owe me shit. But I figured... what the fuck’s the point of morality when you can’t die? Huh? I bet you can’t beat me on that one.”\n\n“No, I can’t,” Ely replied. “There is no point to morality when you can’t die. But this isn’t a question of morality; it’s a question of conscience.”\n\n“Bullshit semantics!” Marcus growled.\n\n“It’s not, actually,” Ely said. “Morals are manufactured by people, packaged by people, sold by people, and bought by people. But conscience is something you can find in nature. Consider nonevs. Meerkat leaders will rush into a burrow full of pups to weed out venomous snakes with no regard for their own lives. Separate two monkeys by a glass wall. Give one monkey a chest full of food, and the other the key to the chest. The monkey with the key pushes it through a hole in the glass, and the monkey with the chest then shares some of that food out of a sense of fairness, even though he could’ve gotten away with eating it all. Dolphins will—”\n\n“Shut up!” Marcus shouted. “I get your point. But I’m still calling bullshit. They say you can’t even feel pain in the top two levels. So what’s the point of conscience if there’s no death or pain?”\n\nEly winced for a moment at Marcus’s claim. One could feel pain in the upper levels, if one wanted, or thought he needed to, or if the environment demanded it. Ely huffed and clenched his fists, trying to forget the claim. He had more important things to discuss with Marcus.\n\n“What’s the point of existing if there’s no death or pain?” Ely asked\n\n“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to answer a question with a question?” Marcus growled.\n\n“She taught me that it’s the best way to change people’s minds,” Ely replied.\n\n“Well, you haven’t convinced me,” Marcus grumbled.\n\n“Well, maybe if you stop interrupting.”\n\nMarcus sighed and looked up at Ely's face. He nodded.\n\n“People care for their lives because they know they'll end one day. That’s why they plan for their futures, educate themselves, exercise moderation when they must, so they can get the most out of what little time they have. But if your time is not limited, if your life never ends, then what’s the point of any of that?”\n\nMarcus shrugged and rocked his head. “Beats me. Sounds like there isn’t a point.”\n\n“Exactly!” Ely replied. “An existence without death or pain can only have one point: the pursuit of pleasure, hedonism. That’s the only possible reason anyone can have for an unlimited existence.”\n\n“I fail to see what that has to do with me,” Marcus said.\n\n“It has everything to do with you,” Ely replied. “People like you would try to coerce others, to take away their pleasure, their only reason for being, just to make themselves feel important.”\n\n“Then can’t they just send me to some therapy support group?” Marcus asked.\n\n“There’s no evidence to suggest talk therapy is more effective than tarot cards,” Ely said. “I know a rat who was sent to Jerks because he insulted other furs without realizing it. He was put in a room where three rabbits would constantly insult him. As much as it hurt him, it made him realize very quickly exactly how he would take away the pleasure of others. I suspect the same for you, and for all who need to learn such lessons. You have to experience the pain you caused others in order to truly understand it. And only after understanding it will you make any effort to change, to prevent yourself from taking away decent furs’ only reason for existing. Therapy would do nothing to that effect.”\n\nMarcus paused and blinked at Ely. He looked down at the floor and narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. After a minute, he snarled, screamed, and then hacked more black bile onto Ely’s footpaws.\n\nRazielphustar and Kaphirez stood side by side, arms crossed, grinning at Marcus. Bartleby, once again, had his ears flat, eyes wide, and paws covering his mouth. He parted his paws to speak.\n\n“That’s incredible!” Bartleby shouted. “Dad’s speechless! He’s never been speechless! Not as long as I’ve ever known him. It’s amazing! It’s... it’s... it’s...”\n\n“Shut up!” Marcus shouted before coughing. “I suppose you feel pretty fucking proud of yourself, eh wolverine?”\n\n“No,” Ely said. “I don’t know what to feel.”\n\nMarcus grumbled, and then turned to Bartleby. “I talked to your friend here. You think you can wipe this graffiti off my head now?”\n\n“No!” Bartleby said. “But I’ll give you something even better.”\n\n“What?” Marcus growled.\n\n“If Kaphirez agrees to it, I’ll give you one day in the Naughty level,” Bartleby answered. “You won’t be let outside of Ely’s room, and Ely and Kaphirez’ll watch you the whole time. You do what they say. If you don’t, you’re day's cut short.”\n\n“You trying to tease me?” Marcus asked. “You trying to give me a taste of paradise and then send me back just to make me hate this place even more?”\n\n“Partly,” Bartleby answered. “But partly, it’s to give you something to look forward to. Hopefully, it’ll motivate you to improve. Kaphirez, is this acceptable?”\n\n“Of course it is,” Kaphirez answered.\n\nKaphirez approached Marcus, who shook his head at her, and then gazed into her eyes with wide, terrified ones of his own. Kaphirez furrowed her brow at Marcus, trying to understand his fear. After some seconds, Marcus huffed, shrugged, and nodded. Ely squinted, noticing the odd exchange.\n\nKaphirez shook her arm and caught a massive iron skeleton key that flew from the sleeve of her overcoat. She turned it in the padlock on Marcus’s chest, and with painful clanging and rattling, the chains fell from his body onto the couch and floor. Marcus heaved for breath with the weight off his chest, and then rolled onto the floor in another coughing fit, hacking and spewing up more black bile than ever. After a time, he pushed himself up and staggered to stand, grabbing Ely by the shoulder.\n\n“When your time is up, you’ll come back here, and the chains will go back on,” Kaphirez said.\n\nBartleby puffed out his chest and put his paws on his hips. “If you make it to Dickheads, I’ll give you a week. If you make it to Jerks, I’ll give you a month. If you ever make it to Naughty, which I doubt, then I’ll take that ‘failure’ sign off your head.”\n\nMarcus laughed, and then coughed, and flipped Bartleby off. “Glad to know you still love your old man.”\n\nEly Grabbed Marcus’s claw and bent his middle finger backward. Marcus winced and fell to his knees, crying in pain. Ely let go and lifted Marcus to his footpaws by the shoulders. He looked aside and held out a paw. A mirror three by two meters appeared in front of Ely.\n\n“Where’s that go?” Marcus asked.\n\n“Somewhere in my room,” Ely answered. “But I don’t know where, since it reflects this room instead of its destination. CastleVania will decide where to take us.”\n\n“CastleVania?” Marcus asked. “Like that Playstation game my other son was so obsessed with?”\n\nEly nodded and waved a paw at the mirror. “Shall we?”\n\nMarcus waved his paws in Ely’s face, speaking with a sing-song voice, “Shall we?”\n\nEly walked through the mirror portal, rippling its surface like water. Kaphirez followed. Marcus hesitated, rubbing his claws together and biting his lower lip. Then he huffed, slumped his shoulders, and walked through. The mirror shattered, its pieces evaporating as they touched the floor.\n\n“Now Bartleby, perhaps it’s time for you to return to [i]your[/i] room,” Razielphustar said.\n\nBartleby looked up at the squirrel demon and smiled. He swiped a thumbclaw through the air, tearing a hole in space like tearing through paper. A small cave decorated with craftsman furniture, a wooly brown rug, and lit by a green torchier lamp, showed through the hole. Bartleby leaped up into Razielphustar’s arms, who cradled him.\n\n“I’m still surprised by the amount of mercy you can muster under the toughest circumstances,” Razielphustar said.\n\n“Can you cuddle with me and do... other stuff too?” Bartleby asked, adding a lewd tone at the end.\n\n“Of course!” Razielphustar answered.\n\nThe squirrel demon nuzzled Bartleby’s nose with his own, and stepped through the portal.\n\n[center]—Scene 3—[/center]\n\n“What is this place?” Marcus asked.\n\n“I don’t know,” Ely answered. “I’ve never been here before.”\n\nMarcus stood with a wing wrapped around Ely’s shoulder, still exhausted and barely able to stand despite being relieved of his chains.\n\nThe two of them stood at the foot of a staircase carved from the giant mouth of an upward sloping tunnel of a cavern hollowed from green, gray, and blue marble. Corinthian columns, polished flat floors, walls, stairs, arches, and windows were carved into the marble, equal in presence to the natural formations. Water seeped from cracks in the naturally formed walls, into steaming springs of crystal clear water that dotted the cavern. Cool air blew down from vents in the ceiling, mixing with the steam to blow warm, wet breezes at the furs. Glowing white moss covered the ceiling, illuminating the cavern. Ripples of light danced along the cavern walls from the springs. Despite the springs, the cavern smelled of only the cleanest stone.\n\nEly stood still, eyes wide and jaw agape at the sight. His hackles rose despite the heat and steam. It seemed, no matter how much of CastleVania he saw, it could still amaze Ely when it wanted to.\n\nMarcus cared nothing for the sight, not that he couldn’t, but far more pressing matters urged him. Ely stared with a cocked head as Marcus unwrapped his wing from the Wolverine’s shoulder and hobbled toward the nearest spring hugging an S-shaped wall, about as deep as a cubbie pool. A waterfall from above fed its near end, while another waterfall at the end of the spring poured off a cliff.\n\nMarcus wobbled and then fell over, face first, into the spring. Frantically, he raked his claws through his fur, brushing away as much soot from his body as possible. It blackened the water, which cleared again as the far waterfall pulled the sooty water away. When he could clean no more from his body, Marcus floated dead-fur style in the spring.\n\nEly approached Marcus and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up onto his knees. Marcus gagged and choked as black water seeped from the sides of his muzzle. He breathed in the water willingly! Why? Especially since he couldn’t will himself not to choke on it. Ely balled a fist and swung down over Marcus’s shoulder, striking him in the diaphragm. Marcus gushed blackened water into the spring. He then fell onto his back over its edge and dunked his head in again, breathing in another lungful. Again, Ely pulled Marcus up by the shoulders and pounded his gut with a balled fist to make him spew it back up. After so many times, Marcus spewed clear water from his lungs.\n\n“That’s so much better!” Marcus sighed, his voice ever so slightly clearer and smoother.\n\nEly nodded, Marcus’s actions suddenly making sense.\n\nPawfalls made Ely tense and spin around with claws bared. He relaxed and breathed deep upon seeing only Kaphirez.\n\n“Wherever your room took us, it’s for the sake of Marcus,” Kaphirez said. “Perhaps it’s the springs?”\n\n“Springs are nice,” Marcus grumbled. “But what I could really use is a hard fucking drink!”\n\nKaphirez looked up into the architecture, blinked, and smirked. “Perhaps you can have just that. I believe this place is a liquor cellar.”\n\n“Huh?” Ely and Marcus said at once.\n\nKaphirez walked further into the cavern, down a flight of stairs carved out of the cliff. Ely ran after her. Marcus struggled to push himself up to stand and ran after as well. His lungs cleaner, Marcus could exert himself more. But he still hobbled down the stairs, gripping the wall with his claws. Upon reaching the bottom, it became his turn to gasp and stare wide-eyed and jaw agape in amazement.\n\nThe three stood in a carved chamber with a natural dome almost the size of a football stadium. Columns and arches stood decoratively, separating the snakewood shelves all several stories high, all filled with wooden casks—millions of casks from the look of it! Around the perimeter, cubbyholes with shelves carved into the walls held stacks of bottles in every shape, size, and color. Kaphirez crossed her arms and approached a gold plaque on a small white marble monolith. She bent over and scanned it. She stood back up and turned around to speak.\n\n“This network of caves spans almost five kilometers horizontally, and two vertically. Liquors from all over Hell are kept here. And the spring is fed from above while the rocks are heated from below, keeping the water pure. It says this whole cavern sits above Lava Shores.”\n\nLava Shores? Ely remembered Bartleby saying something about a place called Lava Shores during their dinner. One of the bat’s lovers was supposed to be a lifeguard there, but that was all he remembered. Another thought suddenly pushed that one out of his mind.\n\n“Why would CastleVania make a liquor cellar?” Ely asked. “I always thought alcohol was disgusting. I mean, I am only thirteen.”\n\nKaphirez shrugged and looked back at the plaque. “Possibly for guests. Possibly because your room is a PseudoSoul, and won’t let anyone inside unless it wants to. It would be great security. And it certainly has the perfect climate for aging liquor. It says here that the cold above nearly freezes this place, while the heat bellow nearly boils it, on twenty-eight day cycles.” Kaphirez stood and looked around. \"Seems we're between cycles right now.\"\n\nThe sound of glass breaking drew the attention of Ely and Kaphirez. Marcus leaned against a wall, holding what looked to be a wine bottle with a broken neck—bits of glass by his footpaws. Marcus upended the bottle and poured its contents into his gaping snout. Much of it fell from his lips onto the floor. After swallowing what he could, he lowered his head and poured the rest over his hair. He immediately grabbed another bottle and reared it back, but paused after a paw grabbed it. He turned to see Kaphirez glaring at him with a squint and smirk. With her other paw, she waved a finger in his face.\n\n“If you just want to get drunk, Marcus, you could always drink my piss.”\n\nMarcus gulped and flattened his ears. He let go of the bottle and lowered his head submissively. He twiddled his thumbclaws. Ely cocked his head and blinked in curiosity, noting that his son did the same thing when nervous.\n\n“What happens when you drink her piss?” Ely asked.\n\nMarcus turned away from Ely and shook his head. “Don’t ask.”\n\n“He gets drunk!” Kaphirez said. “Drunk off of pure, one hundred percent, two hundred proof. I fill up his stomach until it’s damn near ready to burst, and then gag him with a Koosh ball so he can’t barf it up.” Kaphirez chuckled. “Then I do the same to his asshole until his entire colon is about to burst, and then I plug that with a Koosh ball!”\n\nMarcus’s head was in his paw, shaking. Ely winced, wriggled his fingers, and stuck his tongue out.\n\n“That seems rather harsh,” Ely said.\n\n“Do you know a better way to encourage an alcoholic to practice moderation?” Kaphirez asked. “You said yourself that such firstpaw experience is the best way to learn said lessons.\n\nEly frowned and narrowed his eyes. He did say that.\n\nKaphirez looked at the bottle. “Did you even read this label?”\n\n“Why should I?” Marcus asked.\n\n“Zelampago whiskey,” Kaphirez said. “One hudred percent single malt Otto Filé corn. Caraway smoked. Aged forty-eight years in Baltic porter seasoned lesser bloodband oak casks. Matured eight years in Koshu seasoned Mizunara oak casks.”\n\n“I’ve never heard of lesser bloodband oak,” Ely said.\n\n“It’s named for the alternating ring colors, white and crimson,” Kaphirez replied. “It’s been extinct on Earth for a few million years. Too bad, too, because nothing’s better for aging liquors.”\n\nEly squinted and cocked his head in the other direction. “Why age or make liquors at all? Can’t you just create them?”\n\nKaphirez replaced the bottle in the cubbyhole. She turned to Ely with her paws on her hips. “You can, yes. But you’ll always get exactly what you imagine. If you do it the earthly way, you can get something new and unexpected. That and, let’s face it, it’s hard to remember [i]exactly[/i] what your favorite liquor tastes like. Most people get it wrong.”\n\n“Except me,” Marcus grumbled. “I’m not allowed to get it wrong.”\n\n“Do you mean you can’t create alcohol?” Ely asked.\n\n“I can’t create anything!” Marcus answered.\n\nEly looked back and forth between the cowering Marcus and the cubbyhole stuffed full of this supposedly magnificent whiskey. Marcus couldn’t create alcohol, and the only way he could have any was in indescribable agony. Ely nodded and smiled as he had an idea. Perhaps he could learn about Evangeline Fletch after all. Ely approached Kaphirez and held up a paw.\n\n“Don’t interfere,” Ely said.\n\nKaphirez shrugged and raised her brow, and then stepped aside. Ely reached into the cubbyhole, pausing to notice a vent carved in the rock of its arch blowing ice cold air onto the bottles. The perfect environment for aging liquors. Presumably, such vents treated all bottles. Only the casks alternated between freezing and scalding.\n\nEly grabbed two bottles of the supposedly magnificent whisky. He turned and held the bottles toward Marcus. Marcus looked back and forth between them and Ely.\n\n“The fuck is this?” Marcus asked.\n\n“This is for you,” Ely answered. “For you to do anything you want with, under the condition that you tell me about your mother.”\n\nMarcus snarled and growled. He bared his claws and wrinkled the skin on his neck and face, spitting through his teeth. Then he stopped, lowered his head, let out a single great sob, and [i]pfft[/i]ed with his lips. Marcus fell back onto his ass and chuckled. He reached out a claw and wriggles its fingers at the bottles. “Give me the bottles,” he grumbled.\n\nOne bottle filled Marcus’s claw. “One now, the other after you’ve spilled everything.”\n\nMarcus sighed and broke the neck off the bottle on the floor. He didn’t feel more than tipsy, having not swallowed much of the last bottle. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He swilled a mouthful, not caring that he nicked his lip with the edge of the glass.\n\n“I’ve got a condition of my own,” Marcus said. He shook his head and took another swill. “Don't ever tell Bartleby any of this. If he ever learns who his other grandmother was, it’ll be from me.”\n\nEly nodded.\n\n“I guess you already know she’s a religious freak,” Marcus said. “But you still don’t know shit. I had two brothers and two sisters! We all had to sleep in tents outside ‘cause the house was so fucking small. Evangeline told us all she had five kids ‘cause she was building ‘god’s army’. She taught us Latin and Hebrew. Populus reputo suus 'ita stupenda scire trium linguarum. Any rayty bkk avt hqlvn.”\n\n“What was that?” Ely asked.\n\n“Latin and Hebrew,” Marcus answered. “I said people think it’s so cool to speak three languages. But it only ever humiliated me. She made us memorize the whole fucking Bible in all three languages! We had to recite whole chapters in all three every night, and she’d smack us in the face with a yardstick when we made a mistake. You’re still planning on giving me that second bottle, right?”\n\nEly nodded.\n\nMarcus took a third swill, nicking the other side of his lip. “Good, because I’ve already said way the fuck more than I ever wanted to. But if it means getting more hooch then... she made us drink the ashes of Bibles mixed with holy water she stole from the Catholic joint down the street, even though she said the Pope was Satan’s bastard butt baby. When we really pissed her off, she made us gargle ammonia. Or sometimes she’d just beat our bare asses with a Bible until it ripped to pieces, and then went on crazy-bitch rants because we ‘destroyed’ it, even though it was in her claws, and even though she burned bibles every night for dessert. And I don’t care what you give me; I’m not telling you the shit she said to us. Anywho, I guess we got a bit too rebellious, because one day she came home with a gun and told us all to tie ourselves up. She went on about how we were all gonna kill ourselves and go to hell for committing suicide. She said we’d be doing ‘God’s work’ ‘cause we’d spend our eternity ‘in battle against the forces of darkness’.”\n\n“You didn’t believe they’d actually kill themselves, did you?” Ely asked.\n\nMarcus laughed and took another swill. “Oh, I believed it! The way she had us brainwashed? I knew they’d do it. And they were proud to damn themselves to hell just so they could pick fights with devils. One by one, they all blew their own brains out. And then she handed the gun to me, and I chickened out.”\n\n“You killed her instead?” Ely asked.\n\nMarcus nodded, and then laughed again, shaking his head. He swilled half the remaining whiskey and poured the rest over his head and chest. He then let the bottle roll from his claw until it touched Ely’s footpaw.\n\n“By the way,” Marcus slurred. “I never asked you where they all went.”\n\n“Level four, dickheads, the prison level,” Kaphirez answered. “And only because they died before they could do any serious harm to others. They’ll probably stay there for ages.”\n\n“And all the better for it,” Marcus mumbled. “So I spilled. Now gimme the other bottle.”\n\nEly handed Marcus the second bottle. Marcus reared it back.\n\n“I suggest you save it until you can drink your whiskey without bathing in it,” Ely said.\n\n“Good idea,” Marcus mumbled, and set the bottle down.\n\nEly cocked his head and blinked at the used bottle. In curiosity, he picked it up and poured the last splash onto his paw. It had the color and texture of chili oil, but smelled, aside from whiskey, like a world of dark fruits, spice, caramel, wood, smoke, and rye bread. He licked it off his paw, enjoying the similar flavor and the creamy texture that coated his tongue and teeth with a buttery feeling. Then the taste of alcohol suddenly came through, and Ely winced and shook his head, snorting exhales.\n\nMarcus laughed again. “There's one thing cubs are always good for!”\n\n“You gave your sons alcohol?” Ely asked.\n\n“And daughter,” Marcus answered. “I wasn’t a bad thing, or at least not compared to others. I knew they’d never have more than a taste. It’s just... those faces were too damn hilarious.”\n\nEly furrowed his brow and looked aside. He pursed his lips and shook his head. His own father gave him alcohol just to laugh at the faces he’d make. But beyond that and the occasional too-busy-to-speed-time, lost temper and yelling and swearing, which he usually apologized for, and the very occasional slap, which he always apologized profusely for, Lucius hadn’t been indecent to Ely. Lucius was far from the perfect father. But he tried to be a good father, and was never an outright cruel father. Lucius and Brandi Rosenberg. Mom and dad. They were far from perfect, especially with Ely’s strange behavior. But they were never willfully cruel or neglectful. That was enough for Ely to have loved them. So why did it take Bartleby and Marcus rambling about their own parents to make him think of his for the first time since his death? Was it because he still had no heart? Ely brought two fingers to his neck and felt for his absent pulse. No need to reprimand himself this time. The answer stood right behind him.\n\n“Kaphirez?” Ely asked. “Is it because I don’t have my second heart that I don’t miss my parents?”\n\n“It is,” Kaphirez answered.\n\nEly lowered his paw and looked down.\n\n“I wouldn’t miss mom even if I did have a new heart,” Marcus grumbled. “In fact, I think that’d just make me laugh at her even more.”\n\nEly folded his arms and turned toward Marcus. “Malignant narcissism.”\n\n“The fuck?” Marcus asked.\n\n“Evangeline Fletch,” Ely answered. “What you described is a typical, albeit extreme, case of malignant narcissism.”\n\n“Meaning?”\n\n“Meaning, your mother had the emotional well being of a toddler,” Ely answered. “She knew factually that other furs had their own opinions, but she couldn’t come to terms with it. So she tried to destroy everyone else’s opinions. Ironically, she had to disguise her own opinions as someone else's, or else she might have to answer for them. That’s why she clung to the bible. Even though she made up her own form of Christianity, in her deluded world, she could still say she was just a follower.”\n\n“Yeah... that’s pretty much her,” Marcus mumbled. “Just make sure Bartleby doesn’t know.”\n\n“Not until you tell him yourself,” Ely replied. “That was the contract.” He looked around and raised his brow. “I don’t think there’s much else here in the cellar for you Marcus. Perhaps CastleVania should take us somewhere else.”\n\nMarcus nodded and tried to push himself up. He wobbled as he stood, and stumbled forward into Ely, grabbing his shoulders again to help himself stand. His head rocked in circles from alcohol. Ely wrapped a paw around Marcus’s shoulder to help him keep his footing. He extended his other paw and another square mirror formed. Marcus squinted and sneered at the mirror, reflecting the cellar.\n\n“Another mystery portal?” Marcus asked.\n\n“It seemed to give you what you wanted last time.”\n\nEly walked through the mirror portal, almost dragging the hobbling Marcus with him. Kaphirez huffed, crossed her arms, and followed. The mirror shattered. Its pieces evaporated as they touched the floor.\n\n[center]—Scene 4—[/center]\n\nMarcus jumped and hiccupped as he heard the sound of glass shattering behind him. He turned his head to see the pieces of the mirror portal falling to the floor and evaporating. He growled and turned his head back.\n\n“I’ll never get used to that,” Marcus mumbled.\n\n“You’ve only ever seen it twice,” Ely said. “Don’t say things that are so irrational.”\n\n“And don’t you treat me like such a putz!” Marcus growled.\t\n\nMarcus swiped a claw across Ely’s face, slashing a fair wound across his cheek with a thumbclaw. Ely recoiled and held a paw to the cut, even though it didn’t hurt. For a time, the two stared each other down, motionless. Ely dropped his paw from the wound. He cocked his head and blinked at Marcus.\n\n“Just because you beat me doesn’t mean you get to be cocky motherfucker at me.”\n\nIn a blur of motion, Ely lunged at Marcus and grabbed him by the throat in both paws. Marcus dug his thumbclaws into Ely’s fleshy pawpads, drawing blood, which Ely ignored. Ely lifted Marcus into the air by his neck, making the Bat choke, wheeze, spit, and flail his legs about.\n\n“Don’t think you can bully a wolverine, Marcus,” Ely snarled. “Even as a cub, I’m way stronger than you could ever hope to be.”\n\nEly threw Marcus through the air, surprised that the bat landed on soft black and red checkerboard blankets. This was his bedroom! Ely looked around. He saw the columns of black opal and the black granite and snakewood walls. He saw the red with gold swirl rugs atop the color mosaic quartz floors. He saw the Craftsman/Victorian furnishings and bramble-shaped giant wrought-iron chandeliers. And he saw his giant bed, the blankets of which Marcus struggled against, tying himself up even more until he grew tired and simply tore through them with his claws. Ely snorted to suppress a laugh at seeing Marcus sit up, still clutching his whiskey bottle.\n\n“Oh, yeah!” Marcus shouted. “Laugh it up, asswad! Lift me up by the throat and toss me like a fucking ragdoll so you can tell me how strong you are, just like that fucking mountain lion who shived me in the back after I stopped being so damn entertaining!”\n\nEly wiped his cheek, and then rubbed his paws together, healing his wounds. “I don’t want you to entertain me Marcus, just respect me.”\n\nMarcus laughed and fell over onto the bed. “Respect you... after what you just said to me?”\n\n“Whatever I say, I have no desire to enslave you, unlike the mountain lion you mentioned,” Ely replied. “Also unlike him, I only want to understand you.”\n\nMarcus sighed and relaxed, letting the bottle of whiskey fall from his paws. “There’s not much to understand, cubb'o. Where the fuck am I anyway?”\n\n“My bedroom,” Ely answered.\n\nMarcus sighed again and rolled around, wrapping himself in the torn checkerboard blankets. He gasped and looked over the side of the bed as his bottle of whiskey rolled off, but sighed and relaxed as he saw it thud safely against a rug. He looked up to see a silver serving cart with a massive domed platter.\n\n“Where did that come from?” Marcus asked.\n\n“I didn’t create it,” Ely answered. “It must be from CastleVania, to you.”\n\nMarcus struggled with the blankets again, grunting and groaning. With both arms free, Marcus managed to unwrap himself and reach out to grab the cart and pull it toward the bed. Sitting cross-legged on it, he threw the dome to the floor. His eyes widened and the full length of his tongue hung out upon seeing what was beneath.\n\n“Ribs!” Marcus squeaked.\n\nFive whole racks of spare-ribs, smoked to a red and black crust, sat on a bed of romaine lettuce in the center of the platter. In front, behind, and on either side sat silver serving boats filled with: red beans and rice in a hot red sauce; flaky layered biscuits so tall they couldn’t stand upright with a silver saucer of whipped butter and a silver creamer full of honey beside them; fire grilled corn on the cob slathered with butter, pepper, lime juice, and cilantro; whole okra fried with a crust as thick and ripples as the crusts of the best fried chicken; whipped potatoes mottled with parsley and swirled with dark roasted garlic; and small shell macaroni and cheese made with Cheddar aged so long and fine it took the texture of softened butter, and mixed with bacon bits and minced, sautéed red chilies.\n\nMarcus inhaled the steam billowing from the dishes. He dripped saliva from his tongue and fangs onto the platter and dishes. He wriggled his claws over them, trying to decide what to eat first, until his eyes settled on a pewter and black ceramic stein carved into a panorama of castle walls and towers, and a full moon in the sky. He opened the stein and heaved to lift the two liter vessel in both paws. Marcus gulped as much as he could before setting the stein down. He gasped for breath and licked the foam from his snout.\n\n“Ice cold pilsner,” Marcus whispered.\n\nEly approached Marcus with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. He crossed his arms as his shoulders had tensed slightly. Marcus leaned on both arms against the serving cart, his face buried in them. Marcus was Sobbing? His whole body shook. Such behavior, from someone as appalling as this bat, confounded Ely. Why? Ely had to understand. It would eventually traumatize him if he could not.\n\n“Why are you acting like this?” Ely asked.\n\n“I forgot what beer taste like,” Marcus whimpered.\n\nMarcus struggled to push himself up to sit. Still weeping, his claws still shaking, he tore off a spare rib and bit into it, slathering it with drool. He dropped his head, sobbing again, as he chewed.\n\n“I couldn’t even remember what food taste like,” He sobbed.\n\nEly’s hackles raised at this display of vulnerability from a creature he knew thus far only as a savage. He shook his head slowly. “Are you... enjoying something simple? Like food?”\n\n“Your goddamn fucking right I’m enjoying something simple!” Marcus screamed, spitting out chewed rib.\n\nMarcus slowly stopped sobbing and heaved for breath. His claws steadied, and he stopped drooling and wiped his muzzle with his wrist. Noticing a rose folded napkin beside the platter, he grabbed it and shook it open. Marcus half-folded the napkin and tied it around his head as a makeshift bandana, covering up the word [i]FAILURE[/i] once again. He then dug into the feast set before him, chewing, clawing, slurping, snapping, gulping. He chugged from the stein each time he got food stuck.\n\nEly paid no attention to Marcus’s manners, but to the napkin tied round his head. A realization then struck Ely. As Marcus ate, Ely talked, pausing several minutes between each statement to compose the next. Marcus began to sob again as he listened.\n\n“I understand now, why Bartleby titled you a failure. ...He could just as easily have written monster on your forehead, but he didn’t. ...He knew you weren’t a monster, not like your mother. And I think, even though he never knew her, he knew somehow that what you became wasn’t entirely your fault. ...You are capable of compassion, and humility. But you’re so afraid of being that you’ve tried as hard as you could to destroy these things within yourself, and that makes you a failure. ...It makes you a failure because your mother won. She beat you. ...Even though you killed her, and even though you had all those years afterward to fight those memories, she still controls you. ...You failed Marcus. You failed to truly defeat her. ...But you’re not a monster. You’re just a weakling, that's all. ...You have my pity.”\n\nBy the time Ely finished, Marcus’s face was half buried in mashed potato. He had Ely’s pity; and a pitiful sight he was. He bawled into mashed potatoes, blowing snot into them and sending them flying through the air. He squeezed his eyes shut so tight they hurt. He clutched the bars of the serving cart with shivering claws. Marcus accidentally pushed the cart forward and fell off the bed onto the floor. He curled his knees into his chest and wrapped his wings around himself, sobbing into them.\n\nEly knelt down and gathered the ball of Marcus in his arms. Ely lifted the bat and rolled him back onto the bed where he splayed out. Ely sat on the bed next to Marcus, lifted him by a shoulder, and pulled the bat against his own. Ely wrapped an arm around Marcus’s shoulder, which immediately calmed him. Marcus’s head fell against Ely’s shoulder. Why did Ely do that? Certainly, this bat didn’t deserve any affection, nor was he owed any. It was the pity. Marcus seemed to him like a wounded baby bird squeaking for help that it knows won’t come. Disgusted as he was with Marcus, Ely, in life, and apparently in death as well, could never turn away from such a sorry sight.\n\nAfter a time, Marcus quit crying and slowly breathed deep.\n\n“Now you know why I didn’t want to talk about her,” Marcus mumbled.\n\nEly looked away, trying to find a response to that statement, but none came to mind. Thankfully, a tiny wooden chest on the second rack of the serving cart distracted him. Ely took the box in one paw and flipped its top open with a thumb. He held it to Marcus.\n\n“I think CastleVania just served up dessert,” Ely said.\n\nMarcus’s eyes went wide again, and he licked a string of drool from the side of his muzzle. He reached into the red velvet lined box and pulled out a cigar, a gold zippo, and a gold-colored guillotine cutter. The cigar had an inky black wrapper so oily it almost dripped. It was a gran toro, almost comically large. Marcus had to lick the drool from his muzzle several more times as he ran the cigar across his fluttering leaf nose.\n\nMarcus dropped the zippo and cut the cap off the cutter before tossing it behind him. Ely grabbed the zippo and lit the cigar as Marcus put it in his mouth. Marcus shuddered as he puffed, and sighed as he blew out the smoke\n\n“I forgot what that was like too,” Marcus whispered. “And tomorrow, it’ll all be gone.”\n\n“You’ll still have your whiskey,” Ely said. “I suggest you savor it next time, so you can remember what that tastes like as well.”\n\n“I never really liked booze,” Marcus whispered. “It was just brain-killer to me.”\n\n“Why did you hesitate to accept your son's offer?” Ely asked.\n\n“I already said why,” Marcus mumbled. He took another drag of his cigar. “I didn’t want to leave if it just meant going back to the torture. That would make it even worse. Then I thought, fuck it. I just wanted it to end, even if was just for a day. I forgot what a bed feels like there too. I even forgot sex feels like.”\n\n“Perhaps I can fix that,” Ely said.\n\n“What?!” Marcus shouted, and shoved himself away from Ely. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”\n\n“Bartleby told me you were homophobic,” Ely said. “But I can’t imagine a reason you should be, besides religion. But think of this. Your mother is exactly the type of fur God approves of. How close do you think she came to actually getting into Heaven?”\n\n“You’re right,” Marcus said. “Let this be a great big fuck you to the both of them.”\n\nEly fell backward and rolled over. He crawled toward the head of his bed and grabbed a pillow. He wriggled his legs forward until they rested beneath him, and he stuck his ass into the air. As he felt claws pull down his tattered pants, Ely wondered why he did this. He knew he’d give in to sex with another male—and not just a cuntboy—eventually. But why Marcus? And why did he not even think about offering his asshole to this failure of a father until after he already had? Once again, it was pity. Ely couldn’t bring himself to turn away from such a sorry sight as this. But one question still bothered him. Why was it so easy to convince Marcus, a supposed homophobe, to sodomize him?\n\n“And fuck you too, Mr. Mountain Lion!” Marcus growled. “And all you little greasy green imps to boot! Who’s the bitch now, motherfuckers?”\n\nWho was the bitch? So that was the reason. Ely relaxed and let his eyes close. He felt a probe prying open his ring, and a slick venous cock filled his anus. Of all cocks in the world of furs, it was those of bats, oddly enough, that most resembled those of the old humans. Marcus dug a claw into Ely’s hip as he thrust in and out. The cock was cold at first, but quickly warmed. It became pleasant as it rolled over Ely’s prostate, causing a sharp pressure linked to a pleasure in his groin.\n\nIt was less than a minute, however, before Ely felt warm liquid seeping deep into his rectum, to be pulled back by Marcus’s glans. Marcus cried out and thrust harder and faster as he kept pumping cum into Ely’s ass. Ely began counting seconds: five, ten, twenty, for twenty three seconds Marcus squirted into Ely before his cock settled down.\n\nMarcus’s cock then yanked out of Ely’s ass with a pop, and the bat flopped onto his side next to Ely, asleep before he hit the bed, cigar still in his mouth with a lengthy ash at that point. Ely pulled his pants up, sat down, and cocked his head and blinked at Marcus. Ely took the cigar from Marcus's lips, brought it to his own, and deeply inhaled. He winced, coughed, and wheezed. It was like swallowing wet ash! It reminded him of the soot from level-5. How could anyone enjoy this? Ely licked the air. \n\nA svelt black paw took the cigar from Ely's hand, between its middle and ring fingers. It brought the cigar to the face of a ring tailed lemur with goat horns and leathery wings, in black lace lingerie and a black leather trench coat. She took a drag of the cigar, blew most of the smoke out of her mouth, and the last tiny bit out of her nose.\n\n“Kaphirez?” Ely said. “I didn't even know you were here.”\n\n“I stood in the shadows the whole time,” Kaphirez replied, taking another puff. “Bartleby said all I had to do was watch him, after all. By the way, you're not supposed to inhale, just pull the smoke it onto your tongue and taste it. Also, don’t judge Marcus's performance too harshly, considering how sleep deprived he was.”\n\n“So what now?” Ely asked.\n\nShe looked at Marcus. “I can see the image of his chain, even though he left it physically back in Assholes. The biggest link in that chain was letting his mother control him. She still does, but at least now he sincerely regrets it. That link is now gone. It will still take a decade at least to rid himself of enough to graduate, but he took the very first step toward that goal thanks to you. It seemed the Giving Force really knew what it was doing, intertwining all of us.”\n\nEly leaned over the bed at the bottle Marcus dropped. “What about the bottle?”\n\nKaphirez looked down at it as well. “That could also be a good thing. His cravings for it will be unbearable, but he won’t be able to touch it, knowing that that one bottle is all he gets in all his time in Level Five. It will be torture the likes of which you can scarcely imagine. But in the end, it may also help him overcome his alcoholism quicker.”\n\nEly leaned back and fell onto his bed. Marcus snored to one side of him. Soon, the bedding shuffled to his other side, and leather-draped arms wrapped around his chest. Kaphirez stared into his eyes from above.\n\n“He got his rocks off, but not you,” Kaphires said. “Personally, I don’t think that’s fair.”\n\n“Whatever you wish,” Ely said, shrugging.\n\nKaphirez smiled. “Thank you.”\n\nEly heard claws unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. A paw pulled his gray, ovoid, slightly flared cock from his underwear. A searing hot tongue wrapped around it four times over, and fangs rubbed either side of it. The burning, unlike in Level Five, only added to the pleasure. Ely heard the sizzle, and smelled it, as Kaphirez burned off the skin of his cock to directly suck the muscles and vessels beneath. His cock felt so raw, but so good. Ely sighed as pleasure built up around the base and tip off his shaft. The pleasures oozed toward each other as Kaphirez slurped and smacked her muzzle over Ely’s cock. Ely could not count the seconds of his orgasm, for he was already asleep by the time he cummed, longer than ever before, in the HellGuardian’s mouth.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "
Chapter 5
Elysia and Marcus


—Scene 1—


Dust obscured all sights only a few meters past the bubble. Black dust—soot from the smell of it. The ground, if one could call it that, was entirely soot. Paws sank into it, many inches deep, crunching it like snow. If there was solid ground, it was far beneath. The close fluttering of alien wings or distant pained shrieks startled the cubs. The gale force wind moaned as if blowing through caves or corridors, but the soot hid the walls, if there were any. The wind blew the soot so hard it felt like stabbing needles. Or at least that’s what Elysia Rosenburg thought when he reached a paw beyond the protective bubble provided by Razielphustar and Kaphirez. Total darkness surrounded them, save the white glow of the HellGuardians' eyes, like flashlighs. Even with such light, all around remained black.

The duct-tape gray bat cub, Bartleby Fletch, shielded his face with a wing despite being within the safety zone of the HellGuardians. “This doesn’t seem much better than Complete Assholes!” he hollered, trying to speak over the noise of the wind. “Actually, it looks worse! What’s all this ash and stuff anyway?”

"It’s the smoke that rises from the fires of Level Six!” Razielphustar shouted. “It falls here in Level Five like snow and compresses into a kind of concrete cavern, a labyrinth of seemingly infinite volume and complexity! And it’s always changing! New tunnels form! Old ones collapse! Even if you memorized the entirety of this level, it would be useless, as nothing left of it would remain after a few days!”

"Plus you can’t see any of the damn walls until you run right into them!” Ely yelled. “That dust is fucking freezing ass cold!”

“That’s why we let souls wander freely down here!” Kaphirez yelled. “Once they step footpaw outside their doors, they know it’s best not to do so again!”

“I still say this is worse than level six!” Bartleby hollered.

“It’s not, so long as you stay inside,” Razielphustar shouted. “Within, the tortures one endures are more psychological than physical. It’s hellish indeed. But you will see that it’s not as hellish as the fires below us!”

“How are we supposed to find wherever this room is?” Ely asked

“I’m the only one who can!” Kaphirez yelled. “As Marcus’s HellGardian, my eyes are pulled in his direction like magnets!”

“Why did they make you my father’s HellGuardian anyway?” Bartleby hollered.

“Because I can be far more creatively sadistic than most!” Kaphirez yelled. “Just follow my lead. We’ll be there shortly.”

The four ceased talking and trudged through the soot. They all pained to pull their footpaws from the ground they sank into. Ely and Bartleby had long since stopped feeling pain from the frigid dust, as their whole lower legs went numb. Ely’s prodigious nose took in the putrid scent of gangrenous frostbite even through the smell of soot. Bartleby’s prodigious ears detected the crackling and snapping sounds of claws and toe-tips breaking off. It bothered neither of them, for they knew they could regrow their lost parts once inside Marcus’s room, wherever and whatever that was.

Ely glanced around him for any sight through the soot whipping about. The ground just outside the protective bubble uplifted and slinked away, in a vague worm-like shape several meters across and only Hell itself knew how long. Ely gasped and shuffled aside, bumping into Bartleby and sending the bat face-first into the soot ground. Razielphustar immediately grabbed Bartleby by the shoulders and pulled him up. The bat hacked and wheezed as the soot clung to his face and clogged his nose and throat: acrid, caustic, freezing soot. It burned his eyes like fire, which poured tears as he squeezed them shut.

Razielphuster took Bartleby’s chin in his paw and softly blew in the bat’s face. All the soot magically blew away, into the wind that raged beyond. He set Bartleby back on the ground, cleaned and healed, and they all continued.

“What was that thing?” Ely asked.

“I do not know,” Razielphustar shouted in reply. “Most of the creatures who the call the ashes of level five home remain unknown to all, save themselves and the Giving Force! But by command of the Giving Force, they retreat from us HellGuardians! That was why the creature fled!”

“And what if you two weren’t here?” Bartleby asked.

Kaphirez yelled in response. “It would have dragged you beneath the ash and eaten you, and then shat you out into it! You'd stay buried there until your HellGuardian had the both the chance and inclination to retrieve you! And we often don’t have the inclination!”

“Did that ever happen to my father?” Bartleby asked.

“Only once, when he stepped outside his door and got lost!” Kaphirez yelled in response. “But as he graduated to this level less than a week ago, and given how difficult he finds it to learn from his mistakes, I doubt it will be his last time! We’re here!”

“Where’s here?” Ely asked “I don’t see shit!”

Kaphirez pointed forward and shined her eyes in the direction of a house jutting up from the soot. It was a small L-shaped cottage with three stairs leading to a balcony hugging its inner bend, and to the front door. Somehow, the windows, taupe green paint, shale roof, the swing bench on the balcony, and the ivy climbing the cottage walls, stayed unblemished through the storm.

As the four approached, Bartleby grabbed hold of a rusty punch-steel mailbox on a wooden post. “Evangeline Fletch?”

“Who’s that?” Ely asked.

“My grandmother!” Bartleby answered.

“Who was she?” Ely asked.

Bartleby shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “I don’t know! She died before I was born! I only knew my grandparents on my mother’s side! Dad never talked about Evangeline, and he got really pissed off whenever we asked about her!” Bartleby turned to Kaphirez. “She’s not here, is she?”

“No,” Kaphirez yelled. “Her evil makes Marcus seem saintly in comparison!”

Bartleby’s eyes widened. His ears flattened against his head, and he gulped in fear, even though he knew he had no reason to. “Scum of The Earth?”

“Yes!” Kaphirez yelled in reply. “Please go inside! There’s nothing to fear in there, unlike out here!”

Kaphirez wrapped an arm around Bartleby and aided him up the steps and through the white, four-panel front door. Ely grabbed Razielphustar’s arm as the squirrel began to climb the steps, pulling him back down.

“What’s Scum of The Earth?” Ely asked.

“The seventh level of hell!” Razielphustar shouted in reply. “It’s where the most despicable life forms in existence are forced to relive their crimes through the eyes of their victims—all of their victims simultaneously, in an endless loop until they repent! Even so, most of them never do! Unlike Evangeline, Marcus may yet have a chance for redemption, however many centuries that may take!”

“Redemption and making amends are two very different things!” Ely yelled.

“Indeed!” Razielphustar shouted in reply. “But atonement comes after redemption, from good will. And that can only be practiced in full in Hell’s upper levels!”

Ely let go of Razielphustar. The squirrel clutched his top hat as he walked up the staircase and through the front door, leaving it open just a crack. Ely looked down at the soot he stood calf-deep in. He cocked his head and blinked. He furrowed his brow and bit his lip, wondering for the first time just why Marcus was so abusive and self-loathing as Bartleby claimed him to be. He knew then that this Evangeline made Marcus whatever he was, but how? From Bartleby’s words, he doubted he could get an answer out of the bat waiting for him. His fists clenched and his chest tightened in a brief anger as he realized he would be unable to delve into this bat’s psyche, for he needed to delve into everything he encountered. Just as quickly, the anger passed, and Ely sighed and put his paws in his pockets.

Suddenly, burning struck Ely’s eyes and nose, and freezing cold the rest of his body. The caustic scent of creosote flowed down his throat and sinuses. Ely shrieked and bent over, shielding his face with his arms. The dust storm beat upon him... but why? The Hellguardians were in the cottage! He stayed put, lost in thought, and left their protective bubble behind. A rumble in the soot ground, rippling through Ely’s bones, drew his gaze behind him. The ash uplifted and slinked toward him. The same creature that fled the HellGuardians now pursued him!

Ely tried to pull his paws from the soot, but outside the protective bubble, he sunk thigh-deep into it, and it sealed around his legs. Ely fell forward, wrapping his arms around the top step of the balcony stairs, hoping to pull himself free with his wolverine strength. The creature rumbled again and poked what Ely could only guess was its head above the ground. Ely pulled at the step until he screamed in pain again, his shoulders feeling as if they’d tear off. The creature lifted more of its body from the ground. Ely could only see its outline, as it was caked in ash. He could think only of a giant earthworm with the lewd face of a crab. With another scream of pain, Ely pulled at the step harder, and it broke from the staircase, sending Ely falling backward into the soot ground. The plank hit the creature’s face, which chomped into it, breaking it into splinters and swallowing. The more Ely struggled, the more his arms, like his legs, sank into the soot. The creature splayed the plates of its face open, and Ely saw their interiors covered by spiraling rows of hooked teeth. Ely paused in confusion, for the teeth were made not of bone, but black concrete, likely formed from the soot.

The crab-faced worm paused and hovered its mouthparts above Ely’s face. In that moment, the wolverine lost all sense of where he was. His face became limp, and his eyes unfocused. Pain was very real in the Assholes level of Hell, and involuntary. Being this creature’s meal would not be fun in any sense of the word, but agonizing in a way Ely could never have known in life. How agonizing would it be to be left in the soot as this creature’s ashen turd?

The crab-faced worm plunged its head into the soot, and Ely felt warmth and wetness on his arms. It felt good, like plunging them into a hot bath. Ely sighed in pleasure at the sensation, and at the new freedom his arms had to move. He pulled them from the soot and brought them about. Ely then screamed again upon seeing shredded stumps where his elbows were, dripping blood through its caking of soot.

‘Arms! Regrow!’ Ely screamed in his mind. But it was no use. Outside the HellGuardian’s protective bubble, he could not heal.

The crab-faced worm reared up again, hovering its head over Ely. He saw the plates of its mouth moving back and forth, pulling his severed arms into itself, and heard it tear flesh and crunch bone. The creature splayed the plates open again. Its soot-concrete teeth broke into pieces, falling onto Ely’s face. Beneath, he saw tooth-like grooves where soot could gather and harden. But the creature still had plenty of teeth left.

An alien shriek, like grinding metal, deafened Ely as a light shone in his face. Something wrapped around his chest and pulled him up out of the ash as if he weighed nothing. A warm breeze blew away the caustic burning and freezing, and Ely found himself completely clean. He lay in the arms of the squirrel demon Razielphustar. The squirrel’s eyes glowed softer for Ely’s comfort, and he was gently blowing into Ely’s face.

Ely threw his head back, seeing the creature burrowing back into the soot and slinking away. It must have made that scream upon finding itself inside the Hellguardian’s protective bubble.

Ely closed his eyes. ‘Heal!’ he thought. ‘Restore the lost parts of your body!’

The next thing he knew, Ely stood next to Razielphustar, paws in paws, looking into his eyes again. His body was intact, though his clothes still shredded. Ely stared with wide eyes and jaw agape at the pouting squirrel. His wolverine strength was incredible. But to effortlessly pull him free of that soot? That took supernatural strength.

Ely yelped as Razielphustar suddenly threw himself against and hugged him “I’m sorry Elysia! I should have paid more attention! I would never wish such an experience on you!”

Razielphustar stroked the back of Ely’s neck several times before releasing him and leading him by paw through the door.

—Scene 2—


The tiny cottage living room featured Victorian furniture: a couch, loveseat, chair, coffee table, lamp desk, and china cabinet. The upholstery sported flower patterns in neon pinks and purples and blues and yellows, just like the rug over the scuffed hardwood floor. It was hideous! Especially with the ever unlit woodstove in the corner that couldn’t possibly belong to such decor. The soot had gotten inside and coated everything. It hung in the air as a black haze. The wind howled outside.

Ely approached the china cabinet. It held no china, but religious decorations: Holy Bibles, from leather and iron bound with gold-leafed pages to the flimsiest paperbacks, every single one King James. Crucifixes of silver, wood, porcelain, and a wonder of other materials all showed the same human, blonde, blue-eyed, short-haired, and clean-shaven Jesus bleeding from all orifices. Brass chalices and porcelain angels with bleeding eyes took up the remaining space.

Deathly hacking and wheezing, and rattling steel, made Ely recoil and spin around with claws and teeth bared. He relaxed and stepped backward in pity and confusion at the sight before him. A duct-tape gray, leaf-nosed bat wheezed at Ely with lidded eyes. For a moment, Ely thought it was Bartleby, until he realized the bat was his own height. He then noticed the whitening muzzle and ears of middle-age, and the sagging face and deep eye-pockets of chronic sleep deprivation. The bat’s eyes were stained a dark yellow from irritation. He wore only a pair of frayed jeans and a green paisley bandana. But iron chains wrapped around him, massive chains, like those used to dock cargo ships. They all attached to a giant padlock on his chest. Smaller chains looped through the rings of the giant chains, dragging behind him in a pile.

“Marcus Fletch?” Ely asked.

The bat answered in a West Virginia accent, or at least what Ely thought was West Virginia. With how hoarse Marcus’s voice was, it was hard to tell. “Pretty sight, ain’t it, that cabinet?”

Marcus reached over Ely’s shoulder, behind the china cabinet, and pushed it over. The cabinet fell to the ground with crashes and crackles and snaps that made Ely wince. Marcus then doubled over into Ely’s arms in a fit of coughing, hacking, and wheezing, spitting up black bile onto Ely’s paws.

Marcus righted himself and swiped some of the bile off of Ely’s paws, then burst out laughing, only to double over hacking again, and spit up more bile.

Marcus calmed and righted himself again. “Fucking dust,” he whispered.

Ely motioned his head toward the fallen china cabinet. “Why did you knock it over?”

Marcus shrugged. “I know it’ll be all better once I fall asleep, but it still felt good.”

Marcus hobbled toward the couch, wincing and whimpering in pain as he dragged his chains. He fell on his back, lengthwise onto the couch, and let his head fall to the side. Ely followed his gaze to Razielphustar, Kaphirez and Bartleby standing next to the toppled cabinet. Razielphustar and Kaphirez looked impassive, but Bartley slowly shook his head, ears flat, eyes wide, and paws covering his snout.

“Hey Ugly!” Marcus grumbled at Kaphirez. “I thought it was just gonna be you, the kid, and the squirrel. What’s with the wolverine?”

Bartleby stepped forward, his ears snapping up, and his brow furrowing. He put his paws on his hips. “I brought him!”

“You’ve got two HellGuardians at your side, and I’m in this pathetic state, and you’re still scared of me?”

“No!” Bartleby shouted. “Elysia just has a kind of logic that you can’t compete with.”

Marcus burst into laughter again, and again began hacking and spitting up bile.

“What’s with the chains?” Bartleby asked.

Marcus shrugged. “Well, I never read A Christmas Carol. I only saw the movies, but that Dickens guy had to have seen the Fifth Level of Hell because he got it spot on with that Marley character.”

“But what are they?” Bartleby asked.

“You’re the one who read the book, not me!” Marcus answered. “You should know. Ah, what the fuck? Each link in this chain represents one abominable act I’ve committed in life. For each of these acts that I genuinely regret, its link will fall off. If the chain gets short enough, I graduate. Or at least that’s what Ugly over there tells me. Weird though. She lets you see the chains, but not the TVs.”
\t
“TVs?” Bartleby asked.

“Yeah, stacks of em,” Marcus wheezed. “They’d turn on at random and play all the times I beat you and the family, or badmouthed you all for no reason, or stole Janet’s money to buy a few Old Crows, or whatever the fuck other terrible thing I did. They play em on full blast. Usually they turn on when I’m sleeping. It might be tolerable if I wasn’t stuck in mom’s little shithole of a shack.”

“Are you going to tell who she was now?” Bartleby asked.

“No!” Marcus shouted. “But you got a look at that cabinet before I tossed it over, so I think you can guess. Ain’t that right Ugly?”

“Why do you call Kaphirez that?” Ely asked. “I find her very attractive.”

Marcus laughed again, and then hacked up more bile. “I take it you only ever saw the porn star. If you saw what’s underneath, if you saw the clown, you wouldn’t be asking that.”

“You misunderstand,” Kaphirez said. “There is no underneath. HellGuardians have multiple virtual self-images, all of them equally valid. The porn star is just as authentic as the clown, as you like to call them.”

“Whatever, I just want to get down to brass tacks here,” Marcus said.

“And what’s that?” Bartleby asked.

Marcus reached a claw to his head and pulled off his Bandana. Ely narrowed his eyes slightly upon seeing the word FAILURE scrawled across Marcus’s forehead. “I want you to get rid of this!”

“Why should I?” Bartleby asked.

“I made it out of Complete Assholes didn’t I?” Marcus said. “I got to rip my own horns off from that. I got to see you. I think I deserve that one last privilege, given how they’re making me live and all. You’re the one who wrote this! You’re the only one who can erase it!”

“What you deserve comes from what you do, not from what is done to you,” Ely interrupted.

“Okay then, how about what they owe me? Is that better?” Marcus answered. Ely remained silent. “So, Bartleby, are you gonna wipe this off my head or not?”

Bartleby paused. “Maybe. Talk to Ely first. Then I’ll decide.”
\t
Bartleby stood aside as Ely approached Marcus. Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to be intimidated by you?”

“No,” Ely answered. “You’re just supposed to answer to me.”

“Then ask away! I hate wasting time.”

“Good, so do I,” Ely replied. “How did you graduate from Level Six?”

Marcus sighed and closed his eyes. “I apologized.”

Ely raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“What for?”

“I called Kaphirez a sideshow freak because of her pseudo-cock,” Marcus said.

Ely turned to Kaphirez with an eyebrow raised. Kaphirez smirked and nodded in response. Ely knew Spotted Hyena females had pseudo-penises, but Ring Tailed Lemurs? He did not expect that. Would it be different from a Hyena’s? It must be! Lemurs and Hyenas weren’t even in the same order. ‘No’, Ely thought. ‘Stop speculating. Ask her when you have the chance.’ He turned back to Marcus.

“But in her porn star body at least, I actually thought it was kind of hot, so I apologized.”

Ely crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “That’s all it took?”

“He was sincere when he apologized,” Kaphirez said.

“It makes sense,” Bartleby whispered. “He never apologized for anything as long as I’ve ever known him. I don’t think he’s ever been really sorry for anything actually, or at least since I was born.”

“There are generally two kinds of people sent to Complete Assholes,” Razielphustar interrupted. “People who think they’re better than everyone else, and people with no self-worth at all. The latter group finds it quite easy to graduate from Level Six, but tends to spend many centuries here. The former tends to do the opposite.”

“That’s my one comfort down here, knowing mom’ll spend thousands of years, at least, in Scum of the Earth!” Marcus said. “Don’t get me wrong though. Kaphirez still calls me a cold blooded bastard. And even though this place is heaven compared to below, I’d still jump into the Lake of Fire, blink out into nothing, no questions asked... that is, if they’d let me.”

“I suppose you won’t tell me about Evangeline,” Ely said. “So why do you think your son owes you the favor of erasing the word ‘failure’ from your face?”

Marcus hacked up more bile, covering Ely’s footpaws, to which he gave only a passing glance. “I lied. I don’t deserve it. And he doesn’t owe me shit. But I figured... what the fuck’s the point of morality when you can’t die? Huh? I bet you can’t beat me on that one.”

“No, I can’t,” Ely replied. “There is no point to morality when you can’t die. But this isn’t a question of morality; it’s a question of conscience.”

“Bullshit semantics!” Marcus growled.

“It’s not, actually,” Ely said. “Morals are manufactured by people, packaged by people, sold by people, and bought by people. But conscience is something you can find in nature. Consider nonevs. Meerkat leaders will rush into a burrow full of pups to weed out venomous snakes with no regard for their own lives. Separate two monkeys by a glass wall. Give one monkey a chest full of food, and the other the key to the chest. The monkey with the key pushes it through a hole in the glass, and the monkey with the chest then shares some of that food out of a sense of fairness, even though he could’ve gotten away with eating it all. Dolphins will—”

“Shut up!” Marcus shouted. “I get your point. But I’m still calling bullshit. They say you can’t even feel pain in the top two levels. So what’s the point of conscience if there’s no death or pain?”

Ely winced for a moment at Marcus’s claim. One could feel pain in the upper levels, if one wanted, or thought he needed to, or if the environment demanded it. Ely huffed and clenched his fists, trying to forget the claim. He had more important things to discuss with Marcus.

“What’s the point of existing if there’s no death or pain?” Ely asked

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to answer a question with a question?” Marcus growled.

“She taught me that it’s the best way to change people’s minds,” Ely replied.

“Well, you haven’t convinced me,” Marcus grumbled.

“Well, maybe if you stop interrupting.”

Marcus sighed and looked up at Ely's face. He nodded.

“People care for their lives because they know they'll end one day. That’s why they plan for their futures, educate themselves, exercise moderation when they must, so they can get the most out of what little time they have. But if your time is not limited, if your life never ends, then what’s the point of any of that?”

Marcus shrugged and rocked his head. “Beats me. Sounds like there isn’t a point.”

“Exactly!” Ely replied. “An existence without death or pain can only have one point: the pursuit of pleasure, hedonism. That’s the only possible reason anyone can have for an unlimited existence.”

“I fail to see what that has to do with me,” Marcus said.

“It has everything to do with you,” Ely replied. “People like you would try to coerce others, to take away their pleasure, their only reason for being, just to make themselves feel important.”

“Then can’t they just send me to some therapy support group?” Marcus asked.

“There’s no evidence to suggest talk therapy is more effective than tarot cards,” Ely said. “I know a rat who was sent to Jerks because he insulted other furs without realizing it. He was put in a room where three rabbits would constantly insult him. As much as it hurt him, it made him realize very quickly exactly how he would take away the pleasure of others. I suspect the same for you, and for all who need to learn such lessons. You have to experience the pain you caused others in order to truly understand it. And only after understanding it will you make any effort to change, to prevent yourself from taking away decent furs’ only reason for existing. Therapy would do nothing to that effect.”

Marcus paused and blinked at Ely. He looked down at the floor and narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. After a minute, he snarled, screamed, and then hacked more black bile onto Ely’s footpaws.

Razielphustar and Kaphirez stood side by side, arms crossed, grinning at Marcus. Bartleby, once again, had his ears flat, eyes wide, and paws covering his mouth. He parted his paws to speak.

“That’s incredible!” Bartleby shouted. “Dad’s speechless! He’s never been speechless! Not as long as I’ve ever known him. It’s amazing! It’s... it’s... it’s...”

“Shut up!” Marcus shouted before coughing. “I suppose you feel pretty fucking proud of yourself, eh wolverine?”

“No,” Ely said. “I don’t know what to feel.”

Marcus grumbled, and then turned to Bartleby. “I talked to your friend here. You think you can wipe this graffiti off my head now?”

“No!” Bartleby said. “But I’ll give you something even better.”

“What?” Marcus growled.

“If Kaphirez agrees to it, I’ll give you one day in the Naughty level,” Bartleby answered. “You won’t be let outside of Ely’s room, and Ely and Kaphirez’ll watch you the whole time. You do what they say. If you don’t, you’re day's cut short.”

“You trying to tease me?” Marcus asked. “You trying to give me a taste of paradise and then send me back just to make me hate this place even more?”

“Partly,” Bartleby answered. “But partly, it’s to give you something to look forward to. Hopefully, it’ll motivate you to improve. Kaphirez, is this acceptable?”

“Of course it is,” Kaphirez answered.

Kaphirez approached Marcus, who shook his head at her, and then gazed into her eyes with wide, terrified ones of his own. Kaphirez furrowed her brow at Marcus, trying to understand his fear. After some seconds, Marcus huffed, shrugged, and nodded. Ely squinted, noticing the odd exchange.

Kaphirez shook her arm and caught a massive iron skeleton key that flew from the sleeve of her overcoat. She turned it in the padlock on Marcus’s chest, and with painful clanging and rattling, the chains fell from his body onto the couch and floor. Marcus heaved for breath with the weight off his chest, and then rolled onto the floor in another coughing fit, hacking and spewing up more black bile than ever. After a time, he pushed himself up and staggered to stand, grabbing Ely by the shoulder.

“When your time is up, you’ll come back here, and the chains will go back on,” Kaphirez said.

Bartleby puffed out his chest and put his paws on his hips. “If you make it to Dickheads, I’ll give you a week. If you make it to Jerks, I’ll give you a month. If you ever make it to Naughty, which I doubt, then I’ll take that ‘failure’ sign off your head.”

Marcus laughed, and then coughed, and flipped Bartleby off. “Glad to know you still love your old man.”

Ely Grabbed Marcus’s claw and bent his middle finger backward. Marcus winced and fell to his knees, crying in pain. Ely let go and lifted Marcus to his footpaws by the shoulders. He looked aside and held out a paw. A mirror three by two meters appeared in front of Ely.

“Where’s that go?” Marcus asked.

“Somewhere in my room,” Ely answered. “But I don’t know where, since it reflects this room instead of its destination. CastleVania will decide where to take us.”

“CastleVania?” Marcus asked. “Like that Playstation game my other son was so obsessed with?”

Ely nodded and waved a paw at the mirror. “Shall we?”

Marcus waved his paws in Ely’s face, speaking with a sing-song voice, “Shall we?”

Ely walked through the mirror portal, rippling its surface like water. Kaphirez followed. Marcus hesitated, rubbing his claws together and biting his lower lip. Then he huffed, slumped his shoulders, and walked through. The mirror shattered, its pieces evaporating as they touched the floor.

“Now Bartleby, perhaps it’s time for you to return to your room,” Razielphustar said.

Bartleby looked up at the squirrel demon and smiled. He swiped a thumbclaw through the air, tearing a hole in space like tearing through paper. A small cave decorated with craftsman furniture, a wooly brown rug, and lit by a green torchier lamp, showed through the hole. Bartleby leaped up into Razielphustar’s arms, who cradled him.

“I’m still surprised by the amount of mercy you can muster under the toughest circumstances,” Razielphustar said.

“Can you cuddle with me and do... other stuff too?” Bartleby asked, adding a lewd tone at the end.

“Of course!” Razielphustar answered.

The squirrel demon nuzzled Bartleby’s nose with his own, and stepped through the portal.

—Scene 3—


“What is this place?” Marcus asked.

“I don’t know,” Ely answered. “I’ve never been here before.”

Marcus stood with a wing wrapped around Ely’s shoulder, still exhausted and barely able to stand despite being relieved of his chains.

The two of them stood at the foot of a staircase carved from the giant mouth of an upward sloping tunnel of a cavern hollowed from green, gray, and blue marble. Corinthian columns, polished flat floors, walls, stairs, arches, and windows were carved into the marble, equal in presence to the natural formations. Water seeped from cracks in the naturally formed walls, into steaming springs of crystal clear water that dotted the cavern. Cool air blew down from vents in the ceiling, mixing with the steam to blow warm, wet breezes at the furs. Glowing white moss covered the ceiling, illuminating the cavern. Ripples of light danced along the cavern walls from the springs. Despite the springs, the cavern smelled of only the cleanest stone.

Ely stood still, eyes wide and jaw agape at the sight. His hackles rose despite the heat and steam. It seemed, no matter how much of CastleVania he saw, it could still amaze Ely when it wanted to.

Marcus cared nothing for the sight, not that he couldn’t, but far more pressing matters urged him. Ely stared with a cocked head as Marcus unwrapped his wing from the Wolverine’s shoulder and hobbled toward the nearest spring hugging an S-shaped wall, about as deep as a cubbie pool. A waterfall from above fed its near end, while another waterfall at the end of the spring poured off a cliff.

Marcus wobbled and then fell over, face first, into the spring. Frantically, he raked his claws through his fur, brushing away as much soot from his body as possible. It blackened the water, which cleared again as the far waterfall pulled the sooty water away. When he could clean no more from his body, Marcus floated dead-fur style in the spring.

Ely approached Marcus and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up onto his knees. Marcus gagged and choked as black water seeped from the sides of his muzzle. He breathed in the water willingly! Why? Especially since he couldn’t will himself not to choke on it. Ely balled a fist and swung down over Marcus’s shoulder, striking him in the diaphragm. Marcus gushed blackened water into the spring. He then fell onto his back over its edge and dunked his head in again, breathing in another lungful. Again, Ely pulled Marcus up by the shoulders and pounded his gut with a balled fist to make him spew it back up. After so many times, Marcus spewed clear water from his lungs.

“That’s so much better!” Marcus sighed, his voice ever so slightly clearer and smoother.

Ely nodded, Marcus’s actions suddenly making sense.

Pawfalls made Ely tense and spin around with claws bared. He relaxed and breathed deep upon seeing only Kaphirez.

“Wherever your room took us, it’s for the sake of Marcus,” Kaphirez said. “Perhaps it’s the springs?”

“Springs are nice,” Marcus grumbled. “But what I could really use is a hard fucking drink!”

Kaphirez looked up into the architecture, blinked, and smirked. “Perhaps you can have just that. I believe this place is a liquor cellar.”

“Huh?” Ely and Marcus said at once.

Kaphirez walked further into the cavern, down a flight of stairs carved out of the cliff. Ely ran after her. Marcus struggled to push himself up to stand and ran after as well. His lungs cleaner, Marcus could exert himself more. But he still hobbled down the stairs, gripping the wall with his claws. Upon reaching the bottom, it became his turn to gasp and stare wide-eyed and jaw agape in amazement.

The three stood in a carved chamber with a natural dome almost the size of a football stadium. Columns and arches stood decoratively, separating the snakewood shelves all several stories high, all filled with wooden casks—millions of casks from the look of it! Around the perimeter, cubbyholes with shelves carved into the walls held stacks of bottles in every shape, size, and color. Kaphirez crossed her arms and approached a gold plaque on a small white marble monolith. She bent over and scanned it. She stood back up and turned around to speak.

“This network of caves spans almost five kilometers horizontally, and two vertically. Liquors from all over Hell are kept here. And the spring is fed from above while the rocks are heated from below, keeping the water pure. It says this whole cavern sits above Lava Shores.”

Lava Shores? Ely remembered Bartleby saying something about a place called Lava Shores during their dinner. One of the bat’s lovers was supposed to be a lifeguard there, but that was all he remembered. Another thought suddenly pushed that one out of his mind.

“Why would CastleVania make a liquor cellar?” Ely asked. “I always thought alcohol was disgusting. I mean, I am only thirteen.”

Kaphirez shrugged and looked back at the plaque. “Possibly for guests. Possibly because your room is a PseudoSoul, and won’t let anyone inside unless it wants to. It would be great security. And it certainly has the perfect climate for aging liquor. It says here that the cold above nearly freezes this place, while the heat bellow nearly boils it, on twenty-eight day cycles.” Kaphirez stood and looked around. "Seems we're between cycles right now."

The sound of glass breaking drew the attention of Ely and Kaphirez. Marcus leaned against a wall, holding what looked to be a wine bottle with a broken neck—bits of glass by his footpaws. Marcus upended the bottle and poured its contents into his gaping snout. Much of it fell from his lips onto the floor. After swallowing what he could, he lowered his head and poured the rest over his hair. He immediately grabbed another bottle and reared it back, but paused after a paw grabbed it. He turned to see Kaphirez glaring at him with a squint and smirk. With her other paw, she waved a finger in his face.

“If you just want to get drunk, Marcus, you could always drink my piss.”

Marcus gulped and flattened his ears. He let go of the bottle and lowered his head submissively. He twiddled his thumbclaws. Ely cocked his head and blinked in curiosity, noting that his son did the same thing when nervous.

“What happens when you drink her piss?” Ely asked.

Marcus turned away from Ely and shook his head. “Don’t ask.”

“He gets drunk!” Kaphirez said. “Drunk off of pure, one hundred percent, two hundred proof. I fill up his stomach until it’s damn near ready to burst, and then gag him with a Koosh ball so he can’t barf it up.” Kaphirez chuckled. “Then I do the same to his asshole until his entire colon is about to burst, and then I plug that with a Koosh ball!”

Marcus’s head was in his paw, shaking. Ely winced, wriggled his fingers, and stuck his tongue out.

“That seems rather harsh,” Ely said.

“Do you know a better way to encourage an alcoholic to practice moderation?” Kaphirez asked. “You said yourself that such firstpaw experience is the best way to learn said lessons.

Ely frowned and narrowed his eyes. He did say that.

Kaphirez looked at the bottle. “Did you even read this label?”

“Why should I?” Marcus asked.

“Zelampago whiskey,” Kaphirez said. “One hudred percent single malt Otto Filé corn. Caraway smoked. Aged forty-eight years in Baltic porter seasoned lesser bloodband oak casks. Matured eight years in Koshu seasoned Mizunara oak casks.”

“I’ve never heard of lesser bloodband oak,” Ely said.

“It’s named for the alternating ring colors, white and crimson,” Kaphirez replied. “It’s been extinct on Earth for a few million years. Too bad, too, because nothing’s better for aging liquors.”

Ely squinted and cocked his head in the other direction. “Why age or make liquors at all? Can’t you just create them?”

Kaphirez replaced the bottle in the cubbyhole. She turned to Ely with her paws on her hips. “You can, yes. But you’ll always get exactly what you imagine. If you do it the earthly way, you can get something new and unexpected. That and, let’s face it, it’s hard to remember exactly what your favorite liquor tastes like. Most people get it wrong.”

“Except me,” Marcus grumbled. “I’m not allowed to get it wrong.”

“Do you mean you can’t create alcohol?” Ely asked.

“I can’t create anything!” Marcus answered.

Ely looked back and forth between the cowering Marcus and the cubbyhole stuffed full of this supposedly magnificent whiskey. Marcus couldn’t create alcohol, and the only way he could have any was in indescribable agony. Ely nodded and smiled as he had an idea. Perhaps he could learn about Evangeline Fletch after all. Ely approached Kaphirez and held up a paw.

“Don’t interfere,” Ely said.

Kaphirez shrugged and raised her brow, and then stepped aside. Ely reached into the cubbyhole, pausing to notice a vent carved in the rock of its arch blowing ice cold air onto the bottles. The perfect environment for aging liquors. Presumably, such vents treated all bottles. Only the casks alternated between freezing and scalding.

Ely grabbed two bottles of the supposedly magnificent whisky. He turned and held the bottles toward Marcus. Marcus looked back and forth between them and Ely.

“The fuck is this?” Marcus asked.

“This is for you,” Ely answered. “For you to do anything you want with, under the condition that you tell me about your mother.”

Marcus snarled and growled. He bared his claws and wrinkled the skin on his neck and face, spitting through his teeth. Then he stopped, lowered his head, let out a single great sob, and pffted with his lips. Marcus fell back onto his ass and chuckled. He reached out a claw and wriggles its fingers at the bottles. “Give me the bottles,” he grumbled.

One bottle filled Marcus’s claw. “One now, the other after you’ve spilled everything.”

Marcus sighed and broke the neck off the bottle on the floor. He didn’t feel more than tipsy, having not swallowed much of the last bottle. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He swilled a mouthful, not caring that he nicked his lip with the edge of the glass.

“I’ve got a condition of my own,” Marcus said. He shook his head and took another swill. “Don't ever tell Bartleby any of this. If he ever learns who his other grandmother was, it’ll be from me.”

Ely nodded.

“I guess you already know she’s a religious freak,” Marcus said. “But you still don’t know shit. I had two brothers and two sisters! We all had to sleep in tents outside ‘cause the house was so fucking small. Evangeline told us all she had five kids ‘cause she was building ‘god’s army’. She taught us Latin and Hebrew. Populus reputo suus 'ita stupenda scire trium linguarum. Any rayty bkk avt hqlvn.”

“What was that?” Ely asked.

“Latin and Hebrew,” Marcus answered. “I said people think it’s so cool to speak three languages. But it only ever humiliated me. She made us memorize the whole fucking Bible in all three languages! We had to recite whole chapters in all three every night, and she’d smack us in the face with a yardstick when we made a mistake. You’re still planning on giving me that second bottle, right?”

Ely nodded.

Marcus took a third swill, nicking the other side of his lip. “Good, because I’ve already said way the fuck more than I ever wanted to. But if it means getting more hooch then... she made us drink the ashes of Bibles mixed with holy water she stole from the Catholic joint down the street, even though she said the Pope was Satan’s bastard butt baby. When we really pissed her off, she made us gargle ammonia. Or sometimes she’d just beat our bare asses with a Bible until it ripped to pieces, and then went on crazy-bitch rants because we ‘destroyed’ it, even though it was in her claws, and even though she burned bibles every night for dessert. And I don’t care what you give me; I’m not telling you the shit she said to us. Anywho, I guess we got a bit too rebellious, because one day she came home with a gun and told us all to tie ourselves up. She went on about how we were all gonna kill ourselves and go to hell for committing suicide. She said we’d be doing ‘God’s work’ ‘cause we’d spend our eternity ‘in battle against the forces of darkness’.”

“You didn’t believe they’d actually kill themselves, did you?” Ely asked.

Marcus laughed and took another swill. “Oh, I believed it! The way she had us brainwashed? I knew they’d do it. And they were proud to damn themselves to hell just so they could pick fights with devils. One by one, they all blew their own brains out. And then she handed the gun to me, and I chickened out.”

“You killed her instead?” Ely asked.

Marcus nodded, and then laughed again, shaking his head. He swilled half the remaining whiskey and poured the rest over his head and chest. He then let the bottle roll from his claw until it touched Ely’s footpaw.

“By the way,” Marcus slurred. “I never asked you where they all went.”

“Level four, dickheads, the prison level,” Kaphirez answered. “And only because they died before they could do any serious harm to others. They’ll probably stay there for ages.”

“And all the better for it,” Marcus mumbled. “So I spilled. Now gimme the other bottle.”

Ely handed Marcus the second bottle. Marcus reared it back.

“I suggest you save it until you can drink your whiskey without bathing in it,” Ely said.

“Good idea,” Marcus mumbled, and set the bottle down.

Ely cocked his head and blinked at the used bottle. In curiosity, he picked it up and poured the last splash onto his paw. It had the color and texture of chili oil, but smelled, aside from whiskey, like a world of dark fruits, spice, caramel, wood, smoke, and rye bread. He licked it off his paw, enjoying the similar flavor and the creamy texture that coated his tongue and teeth with a buttery feeling. Then the taste of alcohol suddenly came through, and Ely winced and shook his head, snorting exhales.

Marcus laughed again. “There's one thing cubs are always good for!”

“You gave your sons alcohol?” Ely asked.

“And daughter,” Marcus answered. “I wasn’t a bad thing, or at least not compared to others. I knew they’d never have more than a taste. It’s just... those faces were too damn hilarious.”

Ely furrowed his brow and looked aside. He pursed his lips and shook his head. His own father gave him alcohol just to laugh at the faces he’d make. But beyond that and the occasional too-busy-to-speed-time, lost temper and yelling and swearing, which he usually apologized for, and the very occasional slap, which he always apologized profusely for, Lucius hadn’t been indecent to Ely. Lucius was far from the perfect father. But he tried to be a good father, and was never an outright cruel father. Lucius and Brandi Rosenberg. Mom and dad. They were far from perfect, especially with Ely’s strange behavior. But they were never willfully cruel or neglectful. That was enough for Ely to have loved them. So why did it take Bartleby and Marcus rambling about their own parents to make him think of his for the first time since his death? Was it because he still had no heart? Ely brought two fingers to his neck and felt for his absent pulse. No need to reprimand himself this time. The answer stood right behind him.

“Kaphirez?” Ely asked. “Is it because I don’t have my second heart that I don’t miss my parents?”

“It is,” Kaphirez answered.

Ely lowered his paw and looked down.

“I wouldn’t miss mom even if I did have a new heart,” Marcus grumbled. “In fact, I think that’d just make me laugh at her even more.”

Ely folded his arms and turned toward Marcus. “Malignant narcissism.”

“The fuck?” Marcus asked.

“Evangeline Fletch,” Ely answered. “What you described is a typical, albeit extreme, case of malignant narcissism.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, your mother had the emotional well being of a toddler,” Ely answered. “She knew factually that other furs had their own opinions, but she couldn’t come to terms with it. So she tried to destroy everyone else’s opinions. Ironically, she had to disguise her own opinions as someone else's, or else she might have to answer for them. That’s why she clung to the bible. Even though she made up her own form of Christianity, in her deluded world, she could still say she was just a follower.”

“Yeah... that’s pretty much her,” Marcus mumbled. “Just make sure Bartleby doesn’t know.”

“Not until you tell him yourself,” Ely replied. “That was the contract.” He looked around and raised his brow. “I don’t think there’s much else here in the cellar for you Marcus. Perhaps CastleVania should take us somewhere else.”

Marcus nodded and tried to push himself up. He wobbled as he stood, and stumbled forward into Ely, grabbing his shoulders again to help himself stand. His head rocked in circles from alcohol. Ely wrapped a paw around Marcus’s shoulder to help him keep his footing. He extended his other paw and another square mirror formed. Marcus squinted and sneered at the mirror, reflecting the cellar.

“Another mystery portal?” Marcus asked.

“It seemed to give you what you wanted last time.”

Ely walked through the mirror portal, almost dragging the hobbling Marcus with him. Kaphirez huffed, crossed her arms, and followed. The mirror shattered. Its pieces evaporated as they touched the floor.

—Scene 4—


Marcus jumped and hiccupped as he heard the sound of glass shattering behind him. He turned his head to see the pieces of the mirror portal falling to the floor and evaporating. He growled and turned his head back.

“I’ll never get used to that,” Marcus mumbled.

“You’ve only ever seen it twice,” Ely said. “Don’t say things that are so irrational.”

“And don’t you treat me like such a putz!” Marcus growled.\t

Marcus swiped a claw across Ely’s face, slashing a fair wound across his cheek with a thumbclaw. Ely recoiled and held a paw to the cut, even though it didn’t hurt. For a time, the two stared each other down, motionless. Ely dropped his paw from the wound. He cocked his head and blinked at Marcus.

“Just because you beat me doesn’t mean you get to be cocky motherfucker at me.”

In a blur of motion, Ely lunged at Marcus and grabbed him by the throat in both paws. Marcus dug his thumbclaws into Ely’s fleshy pawpads, drawing blood, which Ely ignored. Ely lifted Marcus into the air by his neck, making the Bat choke, wheeze, spit, and flail his legs about.

“Don’t think you can bully a wolverine, Marcus,” Ely snarled. “Even as a cub, I’m way stronger than you could ever hope to be.”

Ely threw Marcus through the air, surprised that the bat landed on soft black and red checkerboard blankets. This was his bedroom! Ely looked around. He saw the columns of black opal and the black granite and snakewood walls. He saw the red with gold swirl rugs atop the color mosaic quartz floors. He saw the Craftsman/Victorian furnishings and bramble-shaped giant wrought-iron chandeliers. And he saw his giant bed, the blankets of which Marcus struggled against, tying himself up even more until he grew tired and simply tore through them with his claws. Ely snorted to suppress a laugh at seeing Marcus sit up, still clutching his whiskey bottle.

“Oh, yeah!” Marcus shouted. “Laugh it up, asswad! Lift me up by the throat and toss me like a fucking ragdoll so you can tell me how strong you are, just like that fucking mountain lion who shived me in the back after I stopped being so damn entertaining!”

Ely wiped his cheek, and then rubbed his paws together, healing his wounds. “I don’t want you to entertain me Marcus, just respect me.”

Marcus laughed and fell over onto the bed. “Respect you... after what you just said to me?”

“Whatever I say, I have no desire to enslave you, unlike the mountain lion you mentioned,” Ely replied. “Also unlike him, I only want to understand you.”

Marcus sighed and relaxed, letting the bottle of whiskey fall from his paws. “There’s not much to understand, cubb'o. Where the fuck am I anyway?”

“My bedroom,” Ely answered.

Marcus sighed again and rolled around, wrapping himself in the torn checkerboard blankets. He gasped and looked over the side of the bed as his bottle of whiskey rolled off, but sighed and relaxed as he saw it thud safely against a rug. He looked up to see a silver serving cart with a massive domed platter.

“Where did that come from?” Marcus asked.

“I didn’t create it,” Ely answered. “It must be from CastleVania, to you.”

Marcus struggled with the blankets again, grunting and groaning. With both arms free, Marcus managed to unwrap himself and reach out to grab the cart and pull it toward the bed. Sitting cross-legged on it, he threw the dome to the floor. His eyes widened and the full length of his tongue hung out upon seeing what was beneath.

“Ribs!” Marcus squeaked.

Five whole racks of spare-ribs, smoked to a red and black crust, sat on a bed of romaine lettuce in the center of the platter. In front, behind, and on either side sat silver serving boats filled with: red beans and rice in a hot red sauce; flaky layered biscuits so tall they couldn’t stand upright with a silver saucer of whipped butter and a silver creamer full of honey beside them; fire grilled corn on the cob slathered with butter, pepper, lime juice, and cilantro; whole okra fried with a crust as thick and ripples as the crusts of the best fried chicken; whipped potatoes mottled with parsley and swirled with dark roasted garlic; and small shell macaroni and cheese made with Cheddar aged so long and fine it took the texture of softened butter, and mixed with bacon bits and minced, sautéed red chilies.

Marcus inhaled the steam billowing from the dishes. He dripped saliva from his tongue and fangs onto the platter and dishes. He wriggled his claws over them, trying to decide what to eat first, until his eyes settled on a pewter and black ceramic stein carved into a panorama of castle walls and towers, and a full moon in the sky. He opened the stein and heaved to lift the two liter vessel in both paws. Marcus gulped as much as he could before setting the stein down. He gasped for breath and licked the foam from his snout.

“Ice cold pilsner,” Marcus whispered.

Ely approached Marcus with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. He crossed his arms as his shoulders had tensed slightly. Marcus leaned on both arms against the serving cart, his face buried in them. Marcus was Sobbing? His whole body shook. Such behavior, from someone as appalling as this bat, confounded Ely. Why? Ely had to understand. It would eventually traumatize him if he could not.

“Why are you acting like this?” Ely asked.

“I forgot what beer taste like,” Marcus whimpered.

Marcus struggled to push himself up to sit. Still weeping, his claws still shaking, he tore off a spare rib and bit into it, slathering it with drool. He dropped his head, sobbing again, as he chewed.

“I couldn’t even remember what food taste like,” He sobbed.

Ely’s hackles raised at this display of vulnerability from a creature he knew thus far only as a savage. He shook his head slowly. “Are you... enjoying something simple? Like food?”

“Your goddamn fucking right I’m enjoying something simple!” Marcus screamed, spitting out chewed rib.

Marcus slowly stopped sobbing and heaved for breath. His claws steadied, and he stopped drooling and wiped his muzzle with his wrist. Noticing a rose folded napkin beside the platter, he grabbed it and shook it open. Marcus half-folded the napkin and tied it around his head as a makeshift bandana, covering up the word FAILURE once again. He then dug into the feast set before him, chewing, clawing, slurping, snapping, gulping. He chugged from the stein each time he got food stuck.

Ely paid no attention to Marcus’s manners, but to the napkin tied round his head. A realization then struck Ely. As Marcus ate, Ely talked, pausing several minutes between each statement to compose the next. Marcus began to sob again as he listened.

“I understand now, why Bartleby titled you a failure. ...He could just as easily have written monster on your forehead, but he didn’t. ...He knew you weren’t a monster, not like your mother. And I think, even though he never knew her, he knew somehow that what you became wasn’t entirely your fault. ...You are capable of compassion, and humility. But you’re so afraid of being that you’ve tried as hard as you could to destroy these things within yourself, and that makes you a failure. ...It makes you a failure because your mother won. She beat you. ...Even though you killed her, and even though you had all those years afterward to fight those memories, she still controls you. ...You failed Marcus. You failed to truly defeat her. ...But you’re not a monster. You’re just a weakling, that's all. ...You have my pity.”

By the time Ely finished, Marcus’s face was half buried in mashed potato. He had Ely’s pity; and a pitiful sight he was. He bawled into mashed potatoes, blowing snot into them and sending them flying through the air. He squeezed his eyes shut so tight they hurt. He clutched the bars of the serving cart with shivering claws. Marcus accidentally pushed the cart forward and fell off the bed onto the floor. He curled his knees into his chest and wrapped his wings around himself, sobbing into them.

Ely knelt down and gathered the ball of Marcus in his arms. Ely lifted the bat and rolled him back onto the bed where he splayed out. Ely sat on the bed next to Marcus, lifted him by a shoulder, and pulled the bat against his own. Ely wrapped an arm around Marcus’s shoulder, which immediately calmed him. Marcus’s head fell against Ely’s shoulder. Why did Ely do that? Certainly, this bat didn’t deserve any affection, nor was he owed any. It was the pity. Marcus seemed to him like a wounded baby bird squeaking for help that it knows won’t come. Disgusted as he was with Marcus, Ely, in life, and apparently in death as well, could never turn away from such a sorry sight.

After a time, Marcus quit crying and slowly breathed deep.

“Now you know why I didn’t want to talk about her,” Marcus mumbled.

Ely looked away, trying to find a response to that statement, but none came to mind. Thankfully, a tiny wooden chest on the second rack of the serving cart distracted him. Ely took the box in one paw and flipped its top open with a thumb. He held it to Marcus.

“I think CastleVania just served up dessert,” Ely said.

Marcus’s eyes went wide again, and he licked a string of drool from the side of his muzzle. He reached into the red velvet lined box and pulled out a cigar, a gold zippo, and a gold-colored guillotine cutter. The cigar had an inky black wrapper so oily it almost dripped. It was a gran toro, almost comically large. Marcus had to lick the drool from his muzzle several more times as he ran the cigar across his fluttering leaf nose.

Marcus dropped the zippo and cut the cap off the cutter before tossing it behind him. Ely grabbed the zippo and lit the cigar as Marcus put it in his mouth. Marcus shuddered as he puffed, and sighed as he blew out the smoke

“I forgot what that was like too,” Marcus whispered. “And tomorrow, it’ll all be gone.”

“You’ll still have your whiskey,” Ely said. “I suggest you savor it next time, so you can remember what that tastes like as well.”

“I never really liked booze,” Marcus whispered. “It was just brain-killer to me.”

“Why did you hesitate to accept your son's offer?” Ely asked.

“I already said why,” Marcus mumbled. He took another drag of his cigar. “I didn’t want to leave if it just meant going back to the torture. That would make it even worse. Then I thought, fuck it. I just wanted it to end, even if was just for a day. I forgot what a bed feels like there too. I even forgot sex feels like.”

“Perhaps I can fix that,” Ely said.

“What?!” Marcus shouted, and shoved himself away from Ely. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“Bartleby told me you were homophobic,” Ely said. “But I can’t imagine a reason you should be, besides religion. But think of this. Your mother is exactly the type of fur God approves of. How close do you think she came to actually getting into Heaven?”

“You’re right,” Marcus said. “Let this be a great big fuck you to the both of them.”

Ely fell backward and rolled over. He crawled toward the head of his bed and grabbed a pillow. He wriggled his legs forward until they rested beneath him, and he stuck his ass into the air. As he felt claws pull down his tattered pants, Ely wondered why he did this. He knew he’d give in to sex with another male—and not just a cuntboy—eventually. But why Marcus? And why did he not even think about offering his asshole to this failure of a father until after he already had? Once again, it was pity. Ely couldn’t bring himself to turn away from such a sorry sight as this. But one question still bothered him. Why was it so easy to convince Marcus, a supposed homophobe, to sodomize him?

“And fuck you too, Mr. Mountain Lion!” Marcus growled. “And all you little greasy green imps to boot! Who’s the bitch now, motherfuckers?”

Who was the bitch? So that was the reason. Ely relaxed and let his eyes close. He felt a probe prying open his ring, and a slick venous cock filled his anus. Of all cocks in the world of furs, it was those of bats, oddly enough, that most resembled those of the old humans. Marcus dug a claw into Ely’s hip as he thrust in and out. The cock was cold at first, but quickly warmed. It became pleasant as it rolled over Ely’s prostate, causing a sharp pressure linked to a pleasure in his groin.

It was less than a minute, however, before Ely felt warm liquid seeping deep into his rectum, to be pulled back by Marcus’s glans. Marcus cried out and thrust harder and faster as he kept pumping cum into Ely’s ass. Ely began counting seconds: five, ten, twenty, for twenty three seconds Marcus squirted into Ely before his cock settled down.

Marcus’s cock then yanked out of Ely’s ass with a pop, and the bat flopped onto his side next to Ely, asleep before he hit the bed, cigar still in his mouth with a lengthy ash at that point. Ely pulled his pants up, sat down, and cocked his head and blinked at Marcus. Ely took the cigar from Marcus's lips, brought it to his own, and deeply inhaled. He winced, coughed, and wheezed. It was like swallowing wet ash! It reminded him of the soot from level-5. How could anyone enjoy this? Ely licked the air.

A svelt black paw took the cigar from Ely's hand, between its middle and ring fingers. It brought the cigar to the face of a ring tailed lemur with goat horns and leathery wings, in black lace lingerie and a black leather trench coat. She took a drag of the cigar, blew most of the smoke out of her mouth, and the last tiny bit out of her nose.

“Kaphirez?” Ely said. “I didn't even know you were here.”

“I stood in the shadows the whole time,” Kaphirez replied, taking another puff. “Bartleby said all I had to do was watch him, after all. By the way, you're not supposed to inhale, just pull the smoke it onto your tongue and taste it. Also, don’t judge Marcus's performance too harshly, considering how sleep deprived he was.”

“So what now?” Ely asked.

She looked at Marcus. “I can see the image of his chain, even though he left it physically back in Assholes. The biggest link in that chain was letting his mother control him. She still does, but at least now he sincerely regrets it. That link is now gone. It will still take a decade at least to rid himself of enough to graduate, but he took the very first step toward that goal thanks to you. It seemed the Giving Force really knew what it was doing, intertwining all of us.”

Ely leaned over the bed at the bottle Marcus dropped. “What about the bottle?”

Kaphirez looked down at it as well. “That could also be a good thing. His cravings for it will be unbearable, but he won’t be able to touch it, knowing that that one bottle is all he gets in all his time in Level Five. It will be torture the likes of which you can scarcely imagine. But in the end, it may also help him overcome his alcoholism quicker.”

Ely leaned back and fell onto his bed. Marcus snored to one side of him. Soon, the bedding shuffled to his other side, and leather-draped arms wrapped around his chest. Kaphirez stared into his eyes from above.

“He got his rocks off, but not you,” Kaphires said. “Personally, I don’t think that’s fair.”

“Whatever you wish,” Ely said, shrugging.

Kaphirez smiled. “Thank you.”

Ely heard claws unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. A paw pulled his gray, ovoid, slightly flared cock from his underwear. A searing hot tongue wrapped around it four times over, and fangs rubbed either side of it. The burning, unlike in Level Five, only added to the pleasure. Ely heard the sizzle, and smelled it, as Kaphirez burned off the skin of his cock to directly suck the muscles and vessels beneath. His cock felt so raw, but so good. Ely sighed as pleasure built up around the base and tip off his shaft. The pleasures oozed toward each other as Kaphirez slurped and smacked her muzzle over Ely’s cock. Ely could not count the seconds of his orgasm, for he was already asleep by the time he cummed, longer than ever before, in the HellGuardian’s mouth.", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Elysia and Sipha, Part 4", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/png", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "3", "name": "Violence", "description": "Mild violence", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" }, { "content_tag_id": "5", "name": "Strong Violence", "description": "Strong violence, blood, serious injury or death", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "3", "views": "385" }