Incubus/Succubus Vs. Ken Davison/Kyra Johnson

RP: Ordo Ab Chao
Part One - Succubus


The atom-in-ouroboros faded from view, replaced with the sight of an enormous building. Shaped like an atom, it loomed high above, reaching up to the heavens. It was lined with black windows, built of solid concrete. Built to last.

The Epicentre. A building that had seen so much of the history of the Institute - from its construction in the 1980s as a home for the yet-to-be-born Moonchild, to the headquarters of his faction during the war within the Institute in the closing years of the last decade, to its pivotal role in the Institute's seizure of power in Pierreia.

Now it was a repository, a black site even within Pierreia itself - a place for the storage of things, and people, too dangerous to see the light of day, yet too valuable to destroy.

Located in the north east of the country, the Epicentre stood in a small clearing surrounded by thick, impenetrable forests. It was still marked with bullet holes and scorch marks, the scars of its many battles over the years. Yet still it stood, imperturbable, unshakeable. Eternal.

The camera turned, taking in the colossal building silhouetted against the night sky, the trees reaching skywards like fingertips clawing down the heavens. Standing alone in the centre of the clearing was a single figure, clad in a black trenchcoat, hair of brightest white.

Succubus.

She tilted her head to one side with almost comic curiosity, before winking at the viewer. When she spoke, her voice was determined, confident.

"Good evening, one and all. And believe me, what an evening it is! We have so much to discuss."

The scene shifted away from Succubus, showing footage of Havoc 04. Outside the ring, bodies were flying, crashing into one another, into barricades, blood spilling, the crowd roaring for more. Arkhan and Jimmy Allen pounded one another without mercy, while in the ring, Incubus and Succubus brawled with Dorian and Zach. Fists flying, bodies toppling.

The video went into slow motion, as Su grabbed hold of Chloe. The Amoral Ambassador scooped the child into the air, sending her crashing skull first into the metal ring steps as the audience watched in horror. Chloe's juvenile body crashed limp to the floor as Jimmy Allen came rushing forward, desperate to check her welfare.

The video returned to full speed. In the ring, Incubus nailed Dorian with a spinebuster, followed in perfect time by a shooting star press from Succubus. A pin and a three count, and the bell rang, Incubus and Succubus jubilant and ecstatic.

The scene cut back to Succubus, staring into the camera with a satisfied smirk on her face.

"We won - in more ways than one. Poor Chloe," she added, wiping her eye in mock sorrow. "But if Dorian will insist on letting that howling little parasite meddle with things that do not concern her, well…"

Succubus shrugged.

"Pandaemonium now stand as number one contenders for the Carnage tag team championships. Currently these are in the possession of Axton Gunn and Jonathan Willis. To those men I would say only this: we are watching you. And when the time is right, we will come for you.

"You shall not know the day nor the hour, as they say. The serpent alone knows best when to strike, with venom that can kill before you even feel the bite.

She bowed her head a moment, as if in thought.

"For now, Pandaemonium have more immediate concerns. I speak of course of Ken Davison and Kyra Johnson.

"The would be golden couple of Carnage Wrestling, the lovers united by fate and violence, gropes and grapples. The age old love story.

"Yet that is all it is - a story and nothing more. Ken and Kyra stand united by nothing more than the accidents of circumstance and the vagaries of chance.

"We are bound by a greater purpose. Pandaemonium, Ouroboros, the Spirit Science Research Institute - we are bound by truth, liberty and blood.

"You are bonded by little more than human whims. Our goals are greater than you could ever imagine. But soon you shall see. They all shall see."

Succubus paused. The scene froze, flickering as if from some sort of glitch. Succubus disappeared from view, replaced with footage from Chaos 04. The interview with Ken Davison, only distorted, the audio rattling, the video fading in and out of colour.

"I-I-I-I-I did a lot of deplorable things. I'm not expecting yyyyyyou to fgive me for what I've done. I just ask that you give mmme a chance. That's allll I cn asssk."

As soon as the footage appeared it was gone.

"So sad." This time Succubus' tone was filled with genuine sorrow. "Ken - please understand. The things you believe to be your greatest failings are in fact your greatest strengths. Your so-called sinsxare your life's triumphs. If you have cause for apology, it is not for your supposed misdeeds; rather, it is for your misguided 'repentance.'

"Perhaps one day you will fulfil your full potential. The Institute will be here, should you come to your senses. Until then…"

Succubus blew a kiss to the camera.

"Goodbye for now."



Succubus stopped a moment to gather her thoughts before striding across the clearing, making her way towards the Epicentre. She pressed her thumb against a scanner into the wall and it opened up, sliding apart for a brief moment before closing again.

As she entered the main lobby of the building, Succubus was as ever astounded by its sheer scale. A statue of the Moonchild, twelve feet tall and cast in darkest granite, towered over the room. It was stained crimson from the weekly animal sacrifices carried out in his honour, beseeching the spirit world for his safe return from captivity at the hands of the enemies of the Institute. At its feet lay the corpses of eagles, monkeys, calves and lion cubs.

To either side, staircases led up to the archives and library, home to some of the most valuable objects of the Institute - writings in the Founder's own hand, details of the Institute's activities in Pierreia, collections of ancient manuscripts and occult relics plundered from around the world. Below the building lay floor after floor of prison cells, built to house those captives the Institute deemed too high priority to mix with other prisoners, yet unsuitable for termination for whatever reason.

Cassandra stood at the base of the statue, her head bowed, speaking quietly - ancient mantras and incantations, words of ritual power. Succubus stood silent a moment.

Suddenly, Cassandra snapped her head up, her eyes still fixed on the statue.

"Succubus," said Cassandra, still not turning. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," replied Succubus. She glanced up at the statue. "Has there been any -"

"No," cut in Cassandra. "We remain in a stalemate as ever. Our enemies hold the Moonchild; or perhaps it is he who holds them. For now we just speak of other things. Emily."

Succubus nodded. "Shall we?"

Cassandra made her way across the lobby, pressing her hand against the wall. It opened up to reveal a lift. The pair entered and Cassandra pressed a button marked with an Enochian sigil, sealing the lift behind them and sending them to the bowels of the building.

They exited the lift and made their way down a series of seemingly endless corridors. The corridors were cold, clinical, brightly lit from above with fluorescent tubes. Finally they reached their destination, a cell whose door was simply marked "EMILY". Cassandra pressed a thumb scanner and the door opened with a soft click.

Emily was seated in the corner of the cell, facing away from the door. The cell was clean, plain white, containing only a bed, a bookcase of Institute materials, and a monitor displaying the atom-in-ouroboros. As Cassandra and Succubus entered, Emily clearly tensed up, yet did not move or react.

"On your feet," Cassandra snarled. Emily did not react, staying seated and motionless.

"STAND!" This time Cassandra's voice came as a bellow, reverberating around the room. Emily flinched, her whole body shaking, yet she remained seated.

Cassandra nodded at Succubus, who strode across the cell, grabbing Emily by the shoulders and pulling her to her feet. Emily finally raised her head, face to face with Succubus.

Emily's eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks stained with tears. Every fibre of her being screamed exhaustion, her skin drawn tight with hunger, lips gnawed and bleeding. It was the face of trauma, the soul of one who has been forced beyond endurance yet somehow survived.

Succubus felt a wave of revulsion pass through her, contempt at the specimen before her. She slapped Emily roughly across the face, her pale cheeks suddenly turning a bright pink, groaning softly.

"You will stand when you are told to stand!" barked Succubus. Emily raised her head and moved her mouth wordlessly, whispering something unintelligible.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Enough of the pleasantries. We have a job to do.

"Because this is your lucky day, Emily. I know how much you've been missing that dear old brother of yours, after his failed rescue attempt got you transferred here in the first place. So we've organised a little video chat for you."

Cassandra placed a sheet of paper in front of Emily.

"Here's the rules. You will only read sentences from this approved list. Any deviation will be met with extreme force. We know where your parents live, and your partner. Do not challenge us. Do not test the rules. Understood?"

Emily nodded, her head moving slowly as if even that small task required Herculean effort.

Cassandra removed a small tablet from her pocket and fiddled with it a moment. The atom-in-ouroboros on the monitor disappeared, replaced with a blank screen, an eight spoked wheel rotating in its centre.

Suddenly the screen was filled with two faces. Eris - resident hacker at the Academy and thorn in the Institute's side for over a decade. And a young man in his early 20s, his eyes filled with concern.

As the call connected, the young man's eyes went wide. "EMILY!" he yelled.

Cassandra prodded Emily in the side, pointing to the first line on the paper. Emily raised her head to look at the monitor. As she did, light entered her eyes for the first time, her expression showing hints of emotion.

Emily cleared her throat to speak. When she did, it was a small, hoarse croak, distant, disconnected.

"Hello brother. David."

David leaned in close on the screen. "Emily! How are you? How are they treating -"

"The people of the Spirit Science Research Institute have been generous hosts, welcoming me to stay with them in their home country. They knew I had been exposed to lies about the Institute and only wanted to open my eyes" said Emily, her voice a dull monotone.

On-screen, the brother glanced at Eris in uncertainty. Eris shrugged, motioned for him to keep going.

"Are you healthy? When will -"

"The Spirit Science Research Institute have taken excellent care of my health through their experts at the Friends of Paracelsus. Established in the 1970s, the Friends of Paracelsus provides world class healthcare to the people of Pierreia and Amoralists around the world, as well as being on the front lines of disaster relief. Whenever the world is consumed with sickness and tragedy, the Friends of Paracelsus are close at hand."

David looked away from the camera a moment, his eyes filled with tears.

"When will you be released?" David asked.

"Why would I ever want to leave?" said Emily robotically. "The people of the Institute have opened my eyes to the truth. Join us."

As Emily spoke, her fingernails dug deep into her palms, drawing blood, her body tensing up. Her eyes were suddenly wide, defiant.

"Emily -" her brother began to say.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE! GET ME OUT OF HERE! GET ME -"

Emily's screams were cut off as Cassandra reached into her pocket, withdrawing a syringe and plunging it into her neck. Emily's body immediately sagged and she fell into Cassandra's arms. The Amoral Prophetess lowered her to the floor, then glanced back up at the monitor.

"How…unwise," said Cassandra with a hint of sadness. "She will survive, of course - only a mild sedative. Yet it seems that this family reunion may have to be cut short."

Eris leaned forward to the monitor, preparing to click it off.

"STOP!" yelled Cassandra, with a tone so determined and dominating that even on screen, Eris and David jumped. "We had a deal. Conversation for information, quid pro quo. We have upheld our side of the bargain. Will you uphold yours? Or is it time to see how little Emily fares in the Colosseum?"

Eris paused. "We don't -"

"You must have something or you would not have consented to this call. The past weeks have seen a rise in terrorist attacks within our great nation of Pierreia, attacks targeting not only the good men and women of the Institute, but also that ragtag bunch of Wolfie Smith wannabes known as the Children - your allies in your pathetic quest to resist the rise of the Institute.

"So speak."

"So far we have no evidence," said Eris. "What we have is a curiously shaped hole where the evidence should be."

Succubus glanced at Cassandra, who glanced back and shrugged. "Continue."

The screen was suddenly illuminated, showing a series of graphs, charts, spreadsheets, data scrolling past too quick to read.

"We set a neural network to scour the internet looking for any and all activity relating to Pierreia - business transactions, political statements, legal proceedings, social media. But we kept finding the trail would go cold.

"A company agreed to purchase exported lithium mined from the mountains of Pierreia. Small scale as yet, experimental. Yet their records show monthly transactions of over £500,000 going into the company's accounts from an anonymous source - and being transferred out again without explanation.

"We've found hundreds of social media accounts springing into life, existing for a few days with the same stock posts, then vanishing. All posting on Pierreia, all taking the same position. 'Neither Amorality nor Academy, Zeboim Shall Rise.'

"There's more, but it's all conjectural. Trying to piece the picture together from its absence is nigh on impossible. We -"

"You know who is responsible," cut in Succubus, a certain edge to her tone. Cassandra glanced at her in agreement.

"So far this is just theory," continued Eris. "Risk of false positives, correlation is not causation, all that malarky. But the most common factors in all this: foreign funded propaganda and conspiracy backed by the ultra wealthy, leaving only a black hole to show they were ever there. All seeming to lead back to one source.

"The Order of Plutus."

Cassandra looked up at Eris in confused contempt. "The best of the Order of Plutus joined the Institute years ago. All that's left is a handful of wealthy old men playing dress up and drinking themselves to death. They're basically just the bastard offspring of the Bullingdon Club and the Freemasons. Who gives a shit?"

Eris rolled their eyes. "All I can tell you is what we found. For all the most suspicious activity around Pierreia - anonymous business deals, propaganda, subtle political maneuvetings - the only common denominator was the Order. Not directly - shell companies within shell companies, little paragraphs added to bills going through Congresses and Parliament, odd little digs in the right paper by the right journalists. They're careful to cover their tracks."

Cassandra nodded thoughtfully. "Good work, Eris." She smirked. "This is a jolly nice adventure, us being able to work together like this. Perhaps -"

"Go fuck yourself you hideous fucking tyrant," snapped Eris, their voice dripping with venom. "I am not helping you. And believe me if the pieces of shit responsible for these bombings were to take you out, not a single soul would shed a tear.

"I am acting to protect Emily. And the Children."

"And yet, you are helping us nonetheless," said Cassandra with a smile. "I will leave it to you to settle that with your conscience. I find such things rather unnecessary.

"We will be in touch. You take care now."

Cassandra bowed her head, as the screen faded to black, Eris being replaced once more with the atom-in-ouroboros.

Cassandra stated at the blank screen a moment in quiet contemplation. When the silence broke, it was by Succubus.

"They could be lying. Sending us on a wild goose chase, going after the Order of Plutus while terrorists roam free around the country."

"Of course," agreed Cassandra. "Yet this information may prove useful. I will set OSA's hacker department to verify these claims. In the meantime we have work to do. Bloodmoon. The ceremony."

"Already?" asked Succubus. In the underground caverns of the Epicentre, time lost all meaning.

Cassandra nodded. "Indeed. Raziel's spirit awaits. And I think -" she added, glancing down at the unconscious Emily "- we have just the candidate."
Part Two - Incubus



Incubus sat alone in his chamber, buried deep within the Tower. The enormous building in the north west of the City of Dis was home to Bloodmoon, the division of the Spirit Science Research Institute dedicated to study of the occult arts.

To one side lay a stack of documents, detailing the organisation's latest endeavours. The attempts to reclaim the Institute's lost test subject, the third of the triplets. The sacred stones, reputed to grant access to some higher plane. The Coins of Judas, the Yorkshire Trinitite. All cast aside for now.

In his mind's eye, he saw the atom-in-ouroboros glowing against the darkness, calling to him, whispering a thousand untold secrets in a thousand long dead tongues. The serpent seemed to writhe against the gloom, eager, summoning him forward.

In his hands, Incubus held a crystal chalice filled with a mysterious liquid. The contents seemed to change colour as the light hit it, here red, there green, oranges and purples sparkling against the glass. The liquid was a cocktail of psychoactive and entheogenic plants and chemicals from around the world, mushrooms, flowers, tree barks and animal venoms distilled into their component parts and combined to create the ultimate elixir.

Kykeon. Beverage of the gods.

Incubus drank deeply, draining the chalice. He inhaled deeply as he put it to one side, breathing out with a measured exhalation. He felt his throat burn, as if he had consumed fire, burning through body and soul with reckless abandon.

Faces passed before his eyes, old names, memories tinged with hatred. Elijah, Omega, the people of the Academy - those who had deceived him with lies about the Institute then abandoned him to the Institute's wrath.

The Children. The underground resistance movement within Pierreia. Moral busybodies and terrorists all, enemies of society to be disposed of without mercy.

The Forsaken. A plaue afflicting Carnage wrestling, a virus against which the entire company must be inoculated. Those who resist must be disposed of. Zach, Dorian, Jimmy and the rest, foes of Amorality, enemies of freedom.

The faces swirled in the darkness, fading in and out of focus, swirling against a haze of stars. They shifted once more, a pair of visages staring out of the gloom, hyperreal, almost painful to behold.

Ken Davison. Kyra Johnson.

Their images glared out at him, somehow urgent, pressing. Each surrounded by a faint, coloured halo, illuminating them against the dark.

The two interspersed, yet not intermingled; shared, but not united. The sign of love, yet not devotion, adoration but not commitment.

And above all, weakness. The need to be desired. More; the need to be adored. To be forgiven.

Weakness.

Incubus watched as their faces disappeared, replaced with twin crucifixes. Ken Davison was nailed to one, Kyra Johnson to the other. The two screamed wordlessly against the vacuum of space as fire consumed them, weeping ever so bitterly.

Incubus opened his eyes. He was still in the chamber, dimly lit with candles set at the four cardinal directions, interspersed with censers casting plumes of incense into the air. The walls were decorated with occult murals depicting all manner of obscene acts, sex and violence and ritual power combined as one.

As Incubus watched, the plumes of smoke seemed to take on a life of their own, sparkling like stars flowing ever skyward. He threw his head back and looked to the ceiling, watching in detached wonder as the ceiling expanded far, far away, miles out into the distance.

Incubus smiled and pulled himself upright. It felt like every fibre of his being, every molecule, every atom was suddenly alive, in tune with the rhythms of the universe itself. Each object in the room - the chalice, the dagger, the wand, the disc - was lit with an unworldly aura, surrounded as if with a halo.

Incubus stretched out his arms, bringing his legs together to form a cross. With his right hand he traced a pattern across his body, reciting as he went.

"Ateh." The forehead.

"Malkuth." The genitals.

"Ve Geburah." The left shoulder.

"Ve Gedulah." The right shoulder.

"Le Olahm." The heart.

"Amen." Arms outstretched once more.

As he recited the words, Incubus felt his mind expand, saw a cross of light illuminate his body from within. Every level of reality was revealed, every life and every death, every love and loss and triumph and grief. The trauma of existence, as felt by the universe itself.

The pain. The violence. The cosmic devastation and meaningless horror. Incubus felt all this, drank it in like fine wine. He felt giddy.

Incubus turned, making his way from the chambers out into the Hall of Moloch. The hall was lit with flaming torches. To the left and the right stood the Chosen, lining the walls, clad in robes of charcoal grey. At the far end of the room stood the altar. Behind it stood Cassandra, flanked by Su and Succubus to one side, Arkhan and James Gelli to the other.

Strapped to the altar was a young woman Incubus recognised as Emily, draped in a black robe fringed in crimson. As Incubus took in the chamber, he beheld the auras of all those within. The auras of the Chosen, and those behind the altar, were erratic, fading from black to white to red, blue and purple. The sign of a true Amoralist, tied to no feeling, no conscience or principle.

That of Emily was purest gold. Something Incubus had never seen. No living person, no matter how innocent, could be so utterly pure, emitting a radiance of pure incorruptible light. As Incubus approached Emily, he smelled violets, the perfume of the saints.

He felt himself become aroused. So much the better. Almost poetic.

Incubus approached the altar and bowed his head to Cassandra. He reached beneath the altar and withdrew a dagger. He held it high as he began to recite once more.

"PATER ET MATER,' called Incubus.

"UNUS DEUS ARARITA," responded the Chosen.

"MATER ET FILIUS."

"UNUS DEUS ARARITA."

"FILIUS ET FILIA."

"UNUS DEUS ARARITA."

"FILIA ET PATER."

"UNUS DEUS ARARITA."

"ARARITA ARARITA ARARITA," they said as one.

Words of power, shades of meaning. A light breeze blew through the chamber, the torches flickering in its wake.

The Chosen discarded their robes, revealing themselves to be nude. Some carried knives, others instruments of pleasure and pain, penetration and desecration. The twelve Chosen bore sigils carved into their foreheads and right hands, marks in Enochian, the language of angels.

"Behold!" called Incubus. "On this day, in this place, I call to you, spirits of air! Of disease and pestilence, of plague and decay!

"On this day, in this place, I call to you, spirits of earth! Of death and burial, of eruption, earthquake and disaster!

"On this day, in this place, I call to you, spirits of fire! Of consuming flame that purges the earth, leaving naught but ashes and ruin!

"On this day, in this place, I call to you, spirits of water! The gushing torrent that washes away all morality, justice and law!

"Spirits, spirits, spirits all, we welcome you!"

The Chosen erupted into a chorus, a roar of joy and hatred, revulsion and ecstacy. They began to chant in unison, reciting in Greek, Latin, Sanskrit, Babylonian, a thousand thousand languages merging into one as they spoke in tongues.

Their voices fell to a gutteral growl, howling in an unholy racket. Cassandra, Su, Arkhan, Succubus and James Gelli stood, awaiting the ceremony. Cassandra's eyes widened in anticipation.

Incubus held the dagger high, his voice reaching a crescendo. Before him was the altar, Emily strapped upon it, barely awake.

"Raziel, Master of Secrets! Raziel, the Lord of Mystery! Raziel, revealer of secret wisdom and forbidden knowledge - we beseech you!

"Come forth from your hidden realm, the realm of the spirit, the realm of untold desolation! The realm of the sacred stones, of the untold wonders! Come forth, we pray to you!

"Come take this empty vessel! Make this worthless human your own!"

Incubus pulled the robe from Emily's prone body, stripping her bare. He took the dagger and pressed it against her midriff, a tiny pinprick of blood being shed. Moving slowly, deliberately, he cut open her skin, carving the atom-in-ouroboros into Emily's flesh. Never too deep, never too slight; just enough. Just perfect.

Emily began to stir, moaning softly as the cuts began to bleed. Around her, the Chosen reached fever pitch, abusing themselves and one another in an orgy of self mutilation and self abuse. Their chants became overwhelming, the noise reaching a deafening crescendo. Sex and violence, rage and lust all moving in chaos and flux.

"RAZIEL! LORD OF DECEPTION, COMMANDER OF KNOWLEDGE FORBIDDEN AND PROFANE! WE CALL UPON YOUR WISFOM AND KNOWLEDGE, YOUR GLORY SBD YOUR POWER!

"INTO THIS REALM WE SUMMON YOU; INTO THIS FORM WE CONSTRAIN YOU; TO THIS VESSEL WE BIND YOU!

"IN THE NAME OF ALL CREATION, WE SUMMON YOU: RAZIEL!"

Incubus' call reached a deafening volume. The chamber was plunged into darkness, the flaming torches suddenly extinguished at once. The eyes of Incubus glowed an incandescent white, blinding, unbearable to look at. On the altar, Emily began to writhe, her body moving as if beyond control, given over to unnatural urges

Her back arched, her fists clenched. Emily let out a low moan as the ritual consumed her, her whole body surrendering, helpless to its call. The blood dripped from the sigil carved into her stomach, staining the altar.

Incubus took the dagger and cut into his wrist, the blood trickling down his arm. As if in a trance, he lowered his wrist to Emily's open mouth, letting his blood flow drop by drop over her tongue, down into her throat.

Suddenly, Emily let out a deafening scream, the sound making the walls shake. Her eyes turned a bright crimson as her body squirmed on the altar, torn between fear and desire, lust and fury and spiritual eruption.

Slowly, gradually, Emily's body grew still, resting on the altar, utterly rigid. Her eyes stayed wide open.

Incubus gazed at her. Her aura, once purest gold, was now intense, blinding, unreadable. He cupped her head in his.

"Tell me," said Incubus. Do you know who we are?"

Emily nodded.

"You know what we want? You know we can offer you the earth, if you can offer the same?"

Emily nodded again.

"Speak!" Said Incubus.

"My name is Raziel". The voice was Emily's, yet distorted, echoing with a strangely metallic clang. "And believe me. You have so, so much more to learn."

And Raziel laughed.