A Wizard's Succession 9

Chapter 9: The Rude Awakening

Marco was drifting in his mind, his ears shutting off any sounds from the outside. But, deep in his mind, he was screaming for his nightmare to end, his answer finally known. Abbadon, meanwhile, was getting impatient. Aldrin was being fucked up his ass and his cock sucked for a good, long time, and yet, he wasn’t relinquishing his power of distortion. Suddenly, a preppy-looking teenage girl appeared from his side. She can pass off as Abbadon’s daughter, but looks can be deceiving, after all.

‘So, how is your Key, Abbadon?’ the girl asked, her hand slinking over the demon’s firm bicep. He was surprised to see her. She has the hazel eyes of a typical “good-girl”, straight back-length auburn hair, and has the sweetness and innocence of a teenager.

‘Lady Lilith!’ he surmised, bowing low, ‘how did you escape from your confines of Death?’

The girl giggled impishly, ‘Oh, a desperate young Magus tried to gain the Key for himself. But of course, he was oblivious to the cost of breaking the seal …’

Abbadon’s impatience subsided when Lilith changed the topic. ‘Where is Pestilence now?’

He was dead silent. He didn’t know that Marco is the Key of Pestilence, the power dreaded by demons and angels because of its unpredictable power. Death holds no meaning on both entities, for they have already witnessed its capabilities, guardian after guardian. But to suffer from a power that isn’t witnessed ages after, now that’s a different tale.

'What about it, milady?' Abbadon shot back, his voice rising slightly high, 'Pestilence is none of my concern. I have been freed from his shackles, and this man my dogs devour is he.'

He was very confident of his answer. Lilith just yawned a preppy girl's yawn and complained, 'When will this man relinquish the Key?'

'In due time, my mistress …'

ll of a sudden, Lilith's hazel eyes turned white, and gazed long and hard at Aldrin. The poor man was moaning and groaning in pain and ecstasy. To Abbadon's shock, Lilith simply said, 'It's not him.'

He swallowed hard. He detected something cold in her voice, which meant a bad thing. He got himself under her skin. Lilith shook her head in dismay and mumbled, 'Though demons are good liars, I can tell who are the Keys. And you just got yourself in deep trouble …'

'Milady ...?'

And she turned her gaze to him, which rattled his soul. 'And you got the NERVE to disrespect me ...'

Meanwhile, Marco was drifting somewhere, where he saw countless other Magi wandering about. Some wore clothes, while others are just like him. Naked. While he drifted further, he saw a beefy man lying down. 'Sir, are you alright?' he asked.

As he neared, he saw that the man was bigger than him. They both had powerful arms, barrel chests and powerful legs. But this man has a thick pelt of black hair all over his body. Hair adorns his chest, midsection, arms, hands, thighs, and legs. Even the back of his hands, fingers and toes, and the top of his feet have a few patches of hair. As Marco delved into the man's anatomy, he noticed that the man has a thick scar running along his neck, and a deep gash along his crotch just below his navel. His face is something that is memorable, even at a first glance. His pale complexion reminds Marco of the Spanish mestizos. The man had a thin smile on his face as he dozed off, his firm belly rising and falling as he snoozed.

Marco nudged him and, once again, talked to the sleeping man. 'Hey. Are you alright?'

'Let him sleep,' someone said.

Marco turned to meet the speaker, and they met eye to eye. The guy has features far from the sleeping man, with a thin, yet well-built, body, intelligent, gazing eyes of deep sapphire, sallow complexion, smooth skin, and almost messy mousy brown hair. His face reminded Marco about Geoff, being a guy of good looks. He cleared his throat and said, 'I'm sorry. But your guy is sleeping. I just want to ask where are we.'

'We are in Limbo.'

'Limbo? As in the place where dreams are as complex as reality, just like in Inception?'

'Not just dreams. Dreams are actually pieces of reality warped by time and by your mind. And Limbo is the place veiled by man's poor perception,' the sallow guy replied, 'This place is restricted only to us Magi.'

'Huh?'

The man was taken aback. 'What do you mean by that?'

'Look, I'm sorry. But, all those things you've said doesn't ring a bell to me. Me? A magus? That's a load of bull, if you ask me.'

'Then, why are you here?'

'I'm about to ask the same thing! God! Am I dead already?! Just tell me! That way, I may finally rest in peace!'

The man's patience was running thin, sure enough. But he kept his cool. 'Have you experienced anything … unusual?'

That question made some sense to Marco. 'Y-eah, I guess …'

'Then, you are a magus – a human with traits far beyond the others. The people you see here are just like you or I. We have gifts.'

'But, I am not! You're talking way too much fantasy here!'

But the man pressed further, 'But, only a few were blessed with powers worthy of guardianship. These chosen ones eventually become The Horsemen.'

'Powers?! Apocalypse?!' Marco fumed, 'You know what?! You're just babbling because you can't accept the fact that we died!'

'The Horsemen can access the Burning Hells, which many Magi have attempted to do so. But, demons sought them for their gifts, which gives them an edge against the Hosts Above,' the persistent man continued, hoping to open Marco's clouding judgment, 'I just realized it a few moments ago. And I hope you do the same, Pestilence.'

'WHAT?!?'

'You are Pestilence, the Guardian of Sorrow. I just saw your mark. It's pretty evident, you know,' the guy mused, 'Lucky for you, the demons don't know it yet.'

'How can you be sure?' Marco challenged.

'Just look around you,' the man said, smiling, 'and you will see …'

As Marco looked around, he can practically see the hospital where he is in. And he can clearly see them, except with the teenage girl Abbadon was crouching for in fear. And, weirdest of them all, was that he can hear them.

'Abbadon, Abbadon … you better mind your tongue, lest you want to be stripped off of your inheritance on the Day …' the girl mused darkly. Abbadon trembled in fear, and bowed ever so low. 'I-I'm sorry … Forgive m-me, your Eminence …'

'Glad we straighten that out. Now go find Pestilence ...'

But, something else bugged Marco. So he once again faced the guy and asked, 'What do you mean about the mark you said?'

The guy sighed. 'Look at your thigh.'

Marco reluctantly looked at the tattoo on his left thigh. 'What about it?'

'Don't you think that THAT tattoo you had right now just sprang out of nowhere?'

As Marco pondered about the man's words, he added, 'You better see it for yourself, then …,' and gestured Marco to look behind his back.

Marco did looked behind his back, and was surprised to see a door. He knew it was real, yet he knew it isn't. He looked hard on its engraving. It was a scene from Edgar Allan Poe's “The Masque of the Red Death”, with the people within the still diorama depicting the purest agony of the plague. He went to the sides to check its dimensions. As he went to the side, he was shocked to know that the door has no thickness, like a sheet of paper standing on its edge. From its rear, the scene was perfectly mirrored but has no doorknob. Knowing that the man may have said a nugget of truth about this, Marco breathed in hard, and entered.

The door rippled with vast torrents of energy, energy so strong it crackled in Marco's ears loudly. He can feel them connect to him, and he expected to be jolted by the torrents of electricity around him. But, the energies felt warm, and it surged to him like a gentle vibration, which made him tingle. As he made his way further, he can see memories.

HIS memories.

Him and Sylvia eating out in a public food stall in Baguio.

Sylvia laughing.

Her winning some smile.

She meant everything to him.

He can practically picture her in 500 different moments of themselves.

But, one particular memory was clouded in black smoke, with a slight hint of sandy texture. As he neared, he heard his voice screaming in ecstasy. And in pain.

This is no ordinary place, he surmised. Indeed, inside his very own memory, he was in front of his nightmare. A nightmare that won't leave him be. He dreaded the smoking nightmare in front of him, for he can hear himself saying, “Geoff! P-please! S-stop it! Stop … stroking!!”

He backed away from the nightmare, when one strand of the smoke ensnared his right hand.

'Agh! What the?!'

He struggled with all his might, but his actions proved futile. One by one, more of the black smoke wrapped themselves onto Marco. Like a bound prisoner dragged into doom, he struggled in panic, but the bonds proved to be stronger. Alas, he was dragged to his past.

***

It was four in the afternoon when Geoff collected an ample amount of semen from Marco, but he was so absorbed in his revenge that he thought it might be good a second time around. Marco begged the same pleas, but all he could do was choke on his words and writhe in futility.

'You know, sir Marco, I could let you go,' the boy mused, his hand flying along the man's shaft, teasing him just behind the head. Marco was beyond hoping upon hearing it. Does he really mean it?

Marco screamed that he would do anything, just to be free.

'Really?' Geoff cooed.

Marco nodded in desperation. “YES!! PLEASE!! I WILL DO ANYTHING!! ANYTHING!!”

'Then cum one more time,' he teased, his voice taking a darker turn.

Just as Marco would protest, a honk was heard from outside. 'Papa! We're home!' Troy, his middle child shouted. 'But, where's papa?' asked Wayne, his eldest.

'Maybe he's asleep!' answered Troy.

'Then don't shout!'

'You're the one shouting!'

'Ugh … you know what? Fine. Scream with all your might,' Wayne said, 'Better yet, why don't you go to papa's room and scream in his ears? I'm pretty sure he'll love it.'

Just as Wayne had guessed, Troy was so gullible, he followed his words.

'What the-?!' Geoff asked in surprise. He was about to untie Marco when Troy opened the door, saw his father naked, the bedroom, his father's weakened state, and locked eyes with Geoff, a total stranger in their home. And in just that, Troy screamed in panic.

It all happened so quickly. Geoff bounded onto Troy and wrapped his hands on the child's neck, Wayne running towards the room, and Troy choking. As Wayne saw the horror of his little brother, he was screaming in anger and fear. He punched Geoff with all his might, but a third grader is no match for a senior high school student. As Troy's eyes began to roll and his struggling began to change into weak spasmic movements, Marco snapped.

He first felt tears streaming from his eyes. Then his vision dimmed. As he glared at Geoff, he felt his bonds melting, which they did literally. Geoff let go of little Troy's neck, with the little tyke wheezing, gasping for air. Geoff felt fear.

A different kind of fear.

A fear that can only be felt in such rare circumstances, that it sends a message so clear, one will start fleeting, yet frozen on the spot.

He feared for his life.

As Geoff stared in horror, he saw a completely different Marco.

A terrifying version of Marco.

He stood on the bed , and he was crying blood, with his eyes set to black. There wasn't a speck of white in it, like an empty pool of darkness of the deepest void. As Geoff stared into it, he felt despair, like hope was snuffed out of his life. Marco ripped the tape off of his face, and he roared.

'YOU WILL NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE ALIVE!!'

His voiced was demonic, rattling even Wayne. As he stepped down, everything around him began to change. Wood began to creak and crackle in sheer brittleness. Iron objects began to melt, and Wayne was screaming for help. But Marco paid him no mind. He was hell-bent on killing Geoff, who nearly killed his son. Marco gripped Geoff's neck hard.

'P-papa!!' Wayne screamed, his eyes fading, 's-stop …'

Blood began to seep from Geoff's eyes, his nose, ears, and mouth. They seeped forth until Geoff's body turned into a lifeless corpse. With the last spasmic effort from the teenage boy, Marco let go. As his vision cleared, he turned his gaze towards his kids. He fell to his knees.

And screamed at the top of his lungs.

'NOOOOO!! WAYNE!! TROY!!'

He cuddled Troy's cold body, his face bearing the same semblance as Geoff. He didn't know what happened, nor what to do. He gently wiped the blood off of Troy's lips when his sorrowful gaze fell onto Wayne.

He pulled Wayne close to his body, hugged both of his kids, and screamed in grief. He ignored his neighbors' anxious remarks outside, because he didn't care. How could he explain this to the cops?

And Den, his youngest, who was still in nursery school, how would he tell him that his older brothers died? As the neighbors began to talk among themselves, they heard yet another scream from Marco.

He didn't notice that the LPG tank began to melt. The electric wires within the walls began to haywire, and as the PVC wore off, sparks flew away. The gas seeped forth from the tank, with Sylvia's death candle atop the living room divider catching it, setting the house ablaze. Marco inevitably had to leave his kids to burn, his heart deep in despair. He hadn't given his two kids a proper farewell, and that broke his heart. But he has to live.

He has to live for Den.

His only family.

***

'I'm sorry,' Marco heaved as tears flowed from his eyes upon revisiting his nightmare. He watched how he bumped his head on a falling chunk of cement, the firemen arriving, and then he blacked out.

He now knew how he got his post-traumatic amnesia.

As he went back to Limbo, the sallow man said, 'You have to leave. Now.'

'W-what? Why?'

'If you don't, then they will succeed getting the man's power, and possibly his life.'

'B-b-but I'm confused! What am I supposed to do?!'

'That depends on you. You see, I have lived for thousands of years here on Earth, searching for the Keys. And now, I have seen two out of four. But, from where we, Hiro and I, are, we are very far apart. Only Limbo connects us for now. As much as I want to help you, the metaphysical aspect of my Magick's are severely limited here,' the man explained. And then, the sleeping man, Hiro, shifted from his slumber.

'I'm afraid you have to go,' the man expressed.

'Yeah, I guess …' Marco sighed, then breathed in deeply, 'I just hope we meet again.'

'And we will.'

As Marco began to fade away from Limbo, he said, 'By the way, I'm Marco.'

He didn't get to hear the man's name – Dan.