Dorian Hawkhurst vs. Succubus vs. The Avenger

The atom-in-ouroboros glowed brightly, outlined in blood red against the darkness, pulsing like a heartbeat, almost alive. Slowly it faded from view.

The room was large, dark, unsteadily lit by a flickering blue fluorescent light. The walls were lined with medical equipment - scalpels, forceps, syringes, bone saws, interspersed with diagrams taken from textbooks ancient and modern. The walls were splattered with blood, sometimes just a few drops, sometimes stains the size of dinner plates.

In the centre of the room stood a structure, a raised pool surrounded by a patch of soil and sand, set at waist height. Insects - crickets and grasshoppers - moved around the solid land, digging up grubs, occasionally making their way towards the water to drink.

Next to the structure stood Succubus. Hair dyed red and eyes coloured to match, her face cast in and out of shadow by the flickering light. When she spoke, it was with the confidence and contempt of an aristocrat.

"Welcome, once more, to Pierreia" said Succubus with a satisfied smirk.

"Please allow me to welcome you to the Asclepeion. A centre of medical expertise, this site provides treatment for the citizens of Pierreia and for Amoralists from all over the world. Located in the south-west of the City of Dis, capital of Pierreia, it is run by the Friends of Paracelsus, the medical organisation established by the Spirit Science Research Institute over forty years ago.

"As well as providing world class healthcare, the Asclepion is at the forefront of medical research and experimentation. We bring together experts from around the world in fields ranging from genetic engineering to human and animal experimentation, specialists in ancient medicine from classical Egypt to the depths of the Andes. We gather the best in medical expertise both ancient and modern, and free them to carry out their research without the petty constraints of the Moral world - ethics boards, policies, treaties and laws.

“The minutae of lesser beings. Ours is a higher purpose; who are mere governmental bureaucrats and well-meaning busybodies to stand in the way of progress?”

The camera panned away from Succubus, focusing on the pool, on the groups of crickets mingling together at the water’s shore. As the camera drew closer, the water seemed filled with something - eggs, worms, barely visible to the naked eye.

“This water is filled with parasites of the order spinochordodes tellini. It is unique in the animal kingdom. The adult plants its eggs in the water; the water is then consumed by the cricket, and the egg with it. The egg hatches within the cricket and feeds off it, feasting on the cricket’s proteins and manipulating its biology to its own ends. Host and parasite living together in perfect harmony - perfect for the parasite at least.

“But then comes the day - that fateful day - when the parasite has reached maturity. It can no longer maintain itself inside the body of the cricket. The time has come for the adult parasite to reveal itself to the world, to flee the cricket, return to the water and live its life.”


The camera zoomed in on one particular cricket, standing aside from the rest of its group. The cricket walked unsteadily for a moment, before freezing, standing stock still. The cricket turned towards the water and started to move towards it, slow at first, growing quicker with every step. The cricket charged forward to the edge of the water and hurled itself in, its tiny, stick-like body sinking into the water.

“Day by day, the parasite manipulates the cricket, flooding it with chemicals to rewrite its brain. Then when the time is right, the red button is pressed. The cricket must find water, even at the expense of its own life.”

The cricket writhed around in the water a few moments. At first, it seemed to be struggling to escape, the desperate throes of a dying creature. Slowly, a small black tip started to protrude from the cricket’s chest, poking out into the water. The tip began to twist from left to right, breaking open the cricket’s body, allowing more of its own to escape. Slowly, bit by bit, the parasite wriggled free, finally twisting its way out into the open. Behind it, the corpse of the cricket lay motionless, fragments of its body floating lazily in the water.

“The parasite is small, seemingly harmless - the cricket itself is unaware of its existence until it is too late. Yet, acting unknown, the parasite has controlled the cricket day after day until the time was right for it to strike - to use up the cricket’s life force then lead it to destroy itself.

"Its mechanism is currently a mystery. Hence our research - to use such majestic talents for our own ends. The perfect weapon. Rather than kill one’s enemies, one can simply leave them to kill themselves. All the more satisfying.

“As above, so below. What you see writ small in the parasite is writ large in the snake of the atom-in-ouroboros, in the very DNA of the Spirit Science Research Institute. Our enemies believe they can resist us - resist the power of Spirit Science and Amorality, and the Institute which represents them. Yet in truth, they have already consumed a little of our presence, a parasite devouring them from within. And when the time calls for it….”

The camera zoomed in on the cricket one last time, its body lying in the water. Slowly, the camera faded out from the cricket, Succubus coming back into view. She was staring into the water with rapt attention, her cheeks flushed, biting her lip in evident satisfaction. As she turned to the camera she seemed almost giddy with excitement.

“Our enemies are many - the truth always faces hostility. Which brings us to a special message for the people of Carnage. For Dorian Hawkhurst and for the Avenger.

“Your options are three. Accept the truths of the Institute. Flee. Or be destroyed. Choose wisely."

Succubus paused, staring into the camera with a considered look of contempt, bordering on hatred.

“First, Dorian Hawkhurst. Aligned with the so-called Forsaken, the band of would-be heroes and fools who would seek to challenge the Institute. He and his little daughter Chloe.

"You have crossed paths with the Institute in years gone by - you and Zach, and Amelia or whatever spirit is possessing that vessel these days. You sought to obstruct our plans then. Yet events took over, sweeping us all away like sea craft in a tsunami.

"We have unfinished business, Dorian. You and the Institute, and that howling little brat you call an offspring.

"How do you think she'll feel, little Chloe, knowing her beloved father had the chance for success beyond his wildest dreams - the chance for fame, fortune, even political power at the hands of the Institute? How will she feel knowing you turned that down, chose to fight against the very people who could fulfil her every desire?

"Will she ever forgive you?

"Will you ever forgive yourself?

"We can offer you the world, Dorian. We can offer you the life little Chloe never had. No more living paycheque to paycheque, no more fearing the landlord, no more wondering where the next meal is coming from.

"We can even offer you help for your addictions. Every year the Spirit Science Purification System treats hundreds of thousands of addicts, bringing them back from the brink of self destruction, not only as they were but better. Stronger. Healthier."

The camera zoomed in on a syringe mounted on the wall; it was smashed, the words "NO MORE" scrawled on the wall behind. Succubus stared deeply into the camera.

"Think, Dorian. All this is at your fingertips, for you and for your beloved daughter too. All you have to do is...join us."

Succubus allowed herself a momentary smile before continuing.

“And then there is the one who calls himself the Avenger. Another fool with delusions of grandeur, convinced he is a force for justice in an unjust world, a fighter for freedom against evildoers.

"Travelling from one plane of existence to the next, aligning with his allies in pursuit of some illusory greater good. Heroic and frivolous and ever so earnest, ever so eager to do what's right, whatever the cost."

She rolled her eyes.

"Every so-called hero is just a sadist in disguise, a vigilante who tries to justify their actions through some elaborate moral code.

"A pity. His drive, his potential, his skill...he could do so much more, yet squanders it on petty acts of altruism and kindness. Such a waste.

"Tell me, Avenger. What do you truly desire? Freed from moral concerns, from restraint, from conscience. If your power was allowed to run free - tell me, what would you do?

"We can free you. Free you to be who you truly are. Your power is not merely a gift. It is a tool, a hammer with which to shape your world."

Succubus smiled into the camera, blew a sarcastic kiss.

“Go now, and do what you will.”



Succubus and Cassandra walked through the corridors of the Asclepeion. Staff passed them by left and right, their heads bowed, a few daring to glance upwards as they made their way past rows of beds and sealed doors marked with the skull-and-crossbones, the radiation symbol, or any of a variety of occult glyphs.

Finally, they reached a sealed door, marked simply Ward 42. Cassandra pressed her thumb against a scanner to its side and the door opened automatically, swinging forward with a quiet creak. Cassandra and Succubus entered.

The ward was spacious, twelve beds laid out with ample space between. The air was thick with the smell of intoxicants - opium, hashish, concoctions of rare herbs from South America. Television screens were mounted above each bed. Some of the beds were empty; others were filled with patients - most of them sleeping.

In one bed, at the far end of the ward, sat Incubus. A doctor was by his side, removing a set of bandages from his wrist, the two of them clearly in deep conversation.

“....so that’s the twins. What about the third sibling?” asked Incubus.

“She doesn’t know yet,” said the doctor. “But we think she remembers. Starting to remember at least. For now we’re just keeping tabs on her.”

“Understood. Keep me informed. We may be able to use this. Have you told the lifegivers?”

“Of course.”

“And?”

“And what?” The doctor shrugged. “Just another day at the office.”

“Indeed.” Incubus nodded. He turned, glancing at Cassandra and Succubus. “Greetings. I trust you are well?”

Succubus smirked. “Doing better than you, it seems.”

Succubus went to punch Incubus playfully on his injured wrist. Before she could make contact, Incubus snapped his hand up, grabbing her by the arm and holding her steady, smirking at her in return.

“Nice try,” said Incubus.

Succubus glanced at the doctor with an expression of confusion.

“A new technique,” said the doctor. “Taken from the Egyptian magico-medical papyri, augmented with modern drugs. A broken wrist that would normally take weeks to heal can now be healed in a week or so. Soon, we hope it may be a matter of days or even hours.

“The research, of course, requires test subjects.” The doctor glanced at Cassandra. “If you would be so kind -”

Cassandra nodded. “A raid is planned for later today. Believe me, you will have all the test subjects you need.”

The doctor smiled, filled in some paperwork then took his leave. Incubus swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretched out his arm, rotated his wrist several times. It cracked, like the sound of cracking knuckles. Succubus glanced at him with curiosity.

“How does it feel?”


Incubus pulled his healed arm back, making a fist. He swung it at the wall behind him, stopping at the last moment, feeling the strength, the adrenaline. He smiled.

“It feels wonderful,” said Incubus.

He hopped off the bed and grabbed his boots from under them. As he did up the laces, he glanced at Cassandra in curiosity. “A raid?”

Cassandra nodded. “The coordinates we obtained from Levi Cagotes. Turned out they weren’t coordinates; they were access codes to one of the systems used by the group known as the Children. From that we were able to identify the culprits of the terrorist attack on the Great Square - and a host more besides. The first raid begins today. It will not be the last.”

Incubus smiled. Boots on, he stood tall, and the three of them made their way out of the Asclepion.

As they left, Cassandra glanced at Succubus. “You will be with Carnage Wrestling this week, yes? Taking on the imbecile who calls himself an Avenger, and Dorian Hawkhurst.”

Succubus nodded. “The fool of the Forsaken, and the would-be superhero. Two for the price of one - a pair of self-appointed guardians of justice, heroes of the people who barely care they exist."

Cassandra laughed. “Tell me. Does Hawkhurst still carry that little….creature around with him?”

“The child? Of course. Just as much the spoilt brat as ever. Follows his every step, can’t get enough of the worthless deadbeat. Dad is drunk on alcohol; kid is drunk on dad.”

“Do tell them I said hello. It’s always nice to hear from old friends.” Cassandra smiled.

The trio exited the Asclepion, stepping out into the blinding sunlight. A limousine was waiting by the footpath, a white-clad Penitent sitting behind the wheel. Incubus, Succubus and Cassandra entered the vehicle and it set off. A monitor set in the side of the limousine lit up, showing video footage and photos in quick succession.

“First, Simeon. Brother of Levi - Levi gave up his own flesh and blood,” Cassandra said with clear satisfaction. “18 years old. Where Levi went into the digital arts, Simeon went into the military. Fought against the Institute during the seizure of power in 2018, switched sides when it was clear which way things were going. Served the armies of Pierreia admirably ever since. Seems like, once we took his brother, he switched sides again and sided with the Children. We’re currently carrying out a military investigation to see if he spread his poison to his colleagues.

“And then there's Deborah. She was imprisoned earlier this year for workless parasitism. Was selected for the Dead Man’s Dance, and won her freedom. Her records - phone calls, talking to herself at home - show that she felt a sort of survivor’s guilt. Joined the Children just a few weeks ago, then carried out the attack.

“Guilt is a hell of a motivator. Or so I’m told.”

“How did they evade detection for so long?” asked Succubus.

Cassandra shrugged. “Still under investigation. The capture of Levi was believed to have neutralised their digital abilities. Clearly they have other experts, within or without Pierreia. The Chaote - an ally of the Children - has skills in the field. Perhaps they, or one of their allies, may be responsible. They will be found and neutralised in due course.”

The limousine drew to a stop, allowing the trio to exit. They were on a street in the industrial zone of the city. Aside from them, the street was deserted. They stood for a moment in silence, Cassandra’s eyes focused intently.

“Where are -” asked Succubus. Before she could finish the question, there was a sudden sound of crashing wood, and coloured smoke started to blow out from a side street. Cassandra, Incubus and Succubus marched forward, turning into the street just in time to see a squad of Guardsmen - twelve in total, heavily armoured, armed with tasers, batons and pistols - forcing their way into a building, an old store house long since left empty. Behind them came four Watchmen, the secretive undercover police and intelligence agents who kept tabs on everything that went on in the City of Dis.

The trio entered after them, Cassandra greeting the chief Watchman with a simple nod. Inside, everything was chaos, thick purple smoke filling the air, bodies flying - residents trying to flee the scene, Guardsmen lashing out with their batons, Watchmen forcing their way through the throng identifying targets for arrest. The walls were covered with anti-Institute graffiti, images of the atom-in-ouroboros with a line struck through it, portraits of the Founder, Prophetess and Mooonchild with their faces disfigured.

In one corner, a man in his 20s was desperately trying to smash a laptop computer and tablet. Incubus strode over to him confidently, drew back his newly-healed arm and struck him with a vicious blow to the back of the head. The young man crumbled to the floor and Incubus grabbed the computers, handing them to a passing Watchman before returning to Cassandra and Succubus. Cassandra was speaking into her watch, making her way through the building. Succubus followed by her side, beating back those who stood in their way.

They turned a corner and reached a set of stairs. A commotion was coming from above, shouting and screaming, the sound of bone and baton hitting flesh, a man and a woman yelling out futile protests of innocence. The trio rushed up the stairs, with Cassandra arriving first.

A man and a woman were laid on the floor, arms cuffed behind their backs. Above them stood five Guardsmen and two Watchmen, looking down on their work with evident satisfaction. The woman was crying, trying to kick out at her captors until one of the Guardsmen struck her in the back of the legs with his baton. The man was yelling out profanities, blood trickling from his nose, shoulder wrenched back at a painful angle.

Cassandra looked down at the two of them, her expression triumphant. She glanced at Incubus and Succubus to share in the moment, then spoke a single word.

“Gotcha.”[/i]