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Degrees of Separation by Josh Whitener The, five, men lined themselves with the accurate amount of points in the enclosed pentagram. They all began to chant softly as Tyrone entered the circle. Valentine seemed to have no sign of emotion on his face as he heard Tyrone’s last remarks. He seemed to show a sign of pity if anything. After all he was still a human being, and the thought of sending a person to their possible demise was utterly disgusting, but his allegiance was with something far more terrible and fearing. His right arm extended and he began to make a cut into his palm. The other men followed his actions shortly after and in a sort of sequence. John, on the other hand, showed no pity. He was angered. His arms struggled furiously with the restraints as he shouted at Valentine and the others. “You worthless cunts. Take me!” Valentine, without moving his head calmly replied. “You know the rules Constantine, wait your turn.” In all this, Lucas, kept to the door. He made some discrete movement in his coat. Staring, he eyed the goings on with his usual stoic expression. John continued to struggle with gasping grunts and desperate movements. With a jerk he managed to get one hand free and moved it to try the other freeing the other. A guard on the balcony emitted a loud “click” from his gun as he cocked it. Valentine, hearing it and immediately seeing Constantine, shouted furiously. “NO! We need him alive you idiot! Lucas!” He motioned to the man with the dagger still in his hand. They continued chanting, much more loudly now and the blood began to run in a controlled motion towards the center of the circle like a downstream current. Lucas was already on his way. He went for his gun and drew it. Rearing back quickly he stuck Constantine across the face with it, sending his head back with a spray of blood that slung from his mouth. He stood in front of John’s chair, blocking the others view. With a quick move he tore the tape that held Constantine’s immobile hand. John seemed oblivious to it as his head flung back and Lucas folded it back over loosely before moving away. With a quick glance to eye the guards he continued back to his stand at the door. They didn’t see a thing. The chanting continued loudly and a rumbling began to occur as if a small tremor was underneath Tyrone. It became louder and louder until the lights flickered on and off for a few seconds, and then everything fell silent. He almost choked as they began to chant, as the sudden realization that this was no joke began to hit him. The punk stood in the centre of the pentagram and rivulets of blood were slowly running towards his booted feet. He felt a sudden lurching sickness in the pit of his stomach as the chanting grew louder and the world began to spin around him into darkness. But John's shout brought him to reality. "Take me!" he had screamed and then Tyrone looked about wildly for the source of the click, seeing the guns pointed onto Constantine. He winced as Lucas struck John forcefully in the mouth, thinking that had to fucking hurt. Right now he was regretting ever seeing Valentine and musing on a thousand different torturous ways to kill the man slowly. His attention was torn back to the chanting circle as he felt the ground surge beneath him. "Wha' the fuck!?" Blood had pooled around him now and he began to scream like a baby. "No! Get me outta here... Please... NO!" Whatever was coming, it had knocked the fight and spirit out of Tyrone. The kid was petrified. His heartbeat felt like a mad drum beating away at his chest. His breaths would become increasingly louder and more concentrated. He could probably still make out John in the far corner, and the men around him as the lights flickered back on and small drops of water hit the damp stone beneath him with gentle beats. Then the realization kicked in. The men around Tyrone were focused on something else; a more movable object that their eyes traced over-like hungry animals. John was watching as well, though he was more interested in looking to get out of the restraints than anything. That’s when he noticed how at liberty he really was. Inside the circle just above Tyrone’s head would suddenly become a chilling scene. Just above the boys hand he could feel a tingle as several small insects scurried across the ground. It was then that Valentine spoke up. “We beseech thee, the Arbitrator of the damned. We wish to make a pact…” Behind Tyrone a voice like sizzling butter broke through the words of Donald Valentine. “Mortal coil in plan and foil, God-fearer. The Lord of Flies has no rulings with you.” If it could be called standing I’m sure he would be doing so. The demon rose over its scaled tail with a small slither towards the ends of the circle towards Constantine. It seemed to know exactly was it wanted, and oddly enough Tyrone wasn’t it. Whatever its intentions it certainly didn’t make them clear until the time was called. Its head was a twisted form on some kind of reptilian like creature, but the body held more of a bird-shaped but it was apparent it could have taken the form of a school girl and still have the same effect. It stood like some horrific mythological statue. The insects scurrying around its non existent lower body where feet might be placed. “We bring you the one who is wanted. To restore the order of what once was.” The demon stood at the center of the circle eyeing Constantine. His mouth circled into a smile and it sneered. John simply stared, waiting. “A prize so great and yet I cannot take.” Valentine looked back, surprised. “What?” “Our Lord does not wish Constantine’s soul. Nor is it his to claim on this day. Your deal is nullified.” “But the balance must be restored…living souls cannot allow access to the world.” “Fool. The spirits will be contained…the Tribunal has maintained a slight order that allows us to feed again. The souls of the damned have not the chance to overthrow hell more than they do to stand a chance in the world of the living.” John’s voice broke through the conversation. “Guess they left that one out of the memo, eh? You summoned a judge of the underworld, Valentine. They feed on the souls. Luckily just the kind of thing is needed to send a message to the others in Hell.” He gave a small fake smile to the demon. “Didn’t actually think he’d allow that to happen.” “Much has changed since you thwarted our Lord, mage. Unfortunately for him he’s been too preoccupied to care about you, but that doesn’t mean a message cannot be sent.” The demon slithered to its side, eyeing Tyrone now quickly, perhaps unexpected. Its jaws reared back and smiled at Constantine and for a moment John thought to jump out and cross the barrier, but his self control caught a hold of him. For now he simply watched carefully. The demon hissed at the boy, insects calling from his mouth at any chance of escape. Its tongue rolled over its mouth and liked the blood from the ground it a disgusting display. “We have no interest any longer in your deals, human.” It spoke to Valentine. “But the offering is most appreciated.” The demon kept a hungry stare as the boy spoke. He found it delectably brave, but he could smell the fear over his and it was more appetizing than the body itself. “This one smells. If I weren’t so full on the souls of your illegitimate children I’d massacre all of you greed mongers.” The demon emitted a horrible stench from his breath in a snarl that seemed to whisper into a laugh as he began to walk away from Tyrone and John’s direction. There was a small moment that passed before the tremor kicked in again and the demon huddled into a small ball, wrapping its tale around its torso. Valentine began shouted loudly as the demon prepared to dematerialized out of the physical plane, along with his plans, but in a matter of moments its was already gone, having grown bored of such a state. After a few seconds one of the men tried to enter into the circle to once again capture Tyrone, but found himself unable to. Valentine stopped and eye Markingson, the other associate with a calm stare. There was still something inside the summoning sigil. The room became chilling to almost be unbearable. The breaths of all five men, as well as Tyrone would be visible as they breathed in and out. All of there curious eyes scanned the circle from top to bottom before they realize what was happening, but John had planned for this since he knew what the their plan really was. Snapping the tape he lunged from the chair, giving a violent push to Lucas in front of him who sprawled to the floor with gun in hand. John was already moving to the next man before he had the chance to turn around. With a tug he manages to shove him behind him long enough to slam his hand to the circle. Johns blood was still a little dried but it was well enough for the trick. At first hand John’s attempt to smack the ground was confusing, but Valentine knew well enough what Constantine did. There was a shout to the guard and they readied their rifles on John only. John looked from his knees and sighed, eyeing the guards. “Go ahead ya fucks. Make a mess of it too.” A glaring sign of frustration showed before as he stared. For a moment the guards didn’t fire, and to everyone else it looked like a stall but as the right sided guard began to breathe something very odd was occurring. In seconds they both started to convulse, and foam dripped from their mouths like rapid dogs. Their bodies shook and suddenly there was a high pitched scream that seemed to sound from everywhere. Two spirits flung from the bodies of the guards and sent them to a heap on the floor of the gated balcony. Valentine watches this in disbelief and panic as he saw the spirits dive like bombs towards the others. He’d opened the seal – how? The gateway in turn was now unlocked and angry spirits were being released inside the room. Several other screams deafened the room and Valentine already saw Markinson beginning to convulse with a maddening scream of his own. He went for Lucas’s gun instantly, and John didn’t realize it until he himself was jumping for it. The cold air chilled his skin and he looked around to see what all the fuss was as Valentine pointed and stared. "You owe me big time, Mister Valentine," the punk swaggered. "Bait don't come cheap, mate." He stepped to the edge of the summoning circle about the same time as John's hand smacked over the edge. Tyrone figured the safest place to be was in that circle, and squatted down on the rocky floor watching and egging the demons on with as much enthusiasm as an Arsenal supporter. Things froze for a split second as the two made way for Lucas’s seemingly unconscious body. There was a small movement from Lucas as he looked up to see the men. John was the closest but instead of giving the gun to him his hand reared back and tossed it in front of him as hard as he could. The shrieks were rising as more spirits began to flood the room, and the air became thinner and colder. The gun slide over the slippery rock easily and stopped just shortly to Tyrone. Lucas gave a small, wicked smirk as he looked to John then to Tyrone. John caught it in a small glance and frowned in confusion. Something was very wrong in terms of who he was dealing with. |