Who: Damien and his third ghost When: Evening of the 19th Where: His car What: Another family visitation Rating: PG-13 Status: Complete
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Damien was leaving work, driving on the road. He was not really sure of where he was going to. He could be going home. Or to a club. Or the Lux. He could even go to the park. But he was just staring at the road, not looking at anything in particular. As if he was in a trance, yet also aware of everything. In truth, he was thinking of the other spirits. First it was his annoying batty aunt, then his possible future son.. that particular one had been disturbing even for him. So many questions and not enough answers. He wasn't planning on going to a club now. What if a ghost showed up then? He'd look crazy. He had already mindwiped the incident of his office from everyone who'd been watching in the security room a night before. Couldn't very well have his own people, his followers, doubting him at a time like this. Or any time, really.
It was about an hour or so of driving. As he continued, he had the faintest sense that he wasn't alone. Like he could almost see someone out of the corner of his eye, sitting in the passenger seat beside him. He knew it was empty. Logic told him that it was. Especially since he was the only one who got in after he started it. But if he looked.. and saw them? It would be fine as long as he didn't turn his head. He just had to keep looking at the road. But the more time that passed from now, he kept wanting to look. It was driving him nuts, resisting the urge. He finally could not take any more. He finally turned to see, after stopping at a light. And he was not alone! There was an older man sitting there. Late forties, early fifties.. somewhere around there. He was in a business suit, with a light brown overcoat. He had glasses on. And.. there were a series of unusual daggers sticking out of his torso. They were normal looking save for one detail: the hilt of each had a crucified figure of Christ on it. It was no doubt in his mind who this man was. "Dad??!"
The man stared hard at him. "I am not your father, you unholy spawn of Hell. Your father is Satan, the one who was once named Lucifer, destined to burn for all eternity. As you should burn. The fires of damnation will consume your black soul. Lawless one, son of desolation, offspring of Apollyon, though shalt be judged. And you will burn." He paused. "Green."
Damien wanted to roll his eyes. He knew what he was. He didn't really need anyone preaching to him what he already knew, what he had known for years as fact. "Fine.. Richard, then. Or do you prefer.. Mr. Thorn? And what does green have to do with-"
"Green," Richard said, pointing, "the light! You can go." He saw Damien nod in affirmation, though there was a honking behind him. That car immediately got a crack in the windshield for some reason. Once they moved again, the man continued. "Richard will do. I should have seen it before. I just didn't listen. Joan Hart tried to tell me. That reporter.."
"As I recall," Damien said in retort, "you never liked them. You didn't do interviews of any kind. Even before your brother died in that church. So it was your own damn fault! If you had listened, if you did interviews or had an open mind, maybe you'd have lived longer. Well.. for a while. But that's funny too, you know. You were in control of the company, CEO, President.. and you didn't do any interviews? You kind of shortchanged yourself in business that way. Who was this Joan.. I may have read of her."
Richard was glaring daggers. Almost as deadly as the ones sticking out of his chest. "Don't talk about my brother, you unholy shit. Joan... was a friend of Dr. Warren, another man who died for you. He told me too. And I didn't listen until after.. Mark.." There was a flicker of emotion on his face. He saw that Damien seemed lost for a moment as well. "She wore red, raving about you."
"I remember," Damien said. "She came to my football practice. I didn't even know her. So how did I kill her, hmm? Did I chase her down the road in my football gear? Peck out her eyes with my own hands? I wasn't a crow, last time I checked. Or raven, or whatever that bird was." There was a pause. "You aren't the only one who misses him. I think of him every day." And that was true. Before he was pulled here nearly a couple years ago, Mark was just a fleeting thought. But here.. with all the things that happened, with humanity closer.. he did think of him often.
Richard had an idea what he meant. "At least he's away from you. In a place where you can't hurt him. With God. God, who will strike you DOWN.." He stopped, sighing. "You killed me.. as you did my brother. will rejoice when you fall. You can bet I will!" He pulled a dagger from himself. "Turn into that lot. Go to the far end."
"I didn't.. I never wanted to hurt him. Just.. overreacted. I didn't even know what was happening. It just.. took over. I don't believe you, you actually say I killed you. I was there. Ann killed you. Not me. Then I killed her. So.. in a way.. I was avenging your death. Why would I do anything you say? For all I care, you can just go f-" He paused, breath hitching as he felt something cold by his neck. The prick of a point. It didn't feel wholly like a knife.. but it was a hint of something. He quickly turned in. Drove to the far end where the lights were dim.
"Recline your seat. All the way down." Richard was not happy. "You bastard. You took everything from me. Everything. My second wife Ann.. she was yours too. My son, Mark. My partner and VP, Bill Atherton.. once he was gone, your Paul could step in to replace him. And then I died. With no one left, you inherited it all."
Damien fumbled with it a bit, then found the button. As the seat went back, he explained, or tried to, "Another mistake, Dick. Remember that lake? When Bill fell under the ice? I was trying to save him. Paul was the one who held me back. It was him." He laughed. "Of course I inherited it. And you won't admit it, I know, but.. I've done, and am still doing, more with it than you ever hoped to. Bill was weak. Always getting in Paul's face about ethics and red tape.. but Paul was right. The company's future is in famine.. or, more precise, ending it. Yet you people quibbled and moaned about price, about ethics and rules. The only way to save, feed, and prolong life is by doing what is necessary."
Richard grimaced, hearing all that. He felt on some level that his 'son' was correct. And that fact shook him. The fact that even mentally, agreeing with the antichrist on anything at all.. something was wrong here. He saw that the seat was fully reclined. He pulled the other daggers from him, holding them tight. Taking one, he held it just near his neck. "Always so good with words. Aren't you.."
"Maybe," Damien said with a smirk, though it faltered as he felt coldness of metal. This can't be real. Had to be imagining it. He suddenly yelled, "I know what you felt!" Sensing the hesitation, he added, "Losing him. Your son. I saw what might definitely happen to mine, if I ever have one. I felt that love, only to have it taken away. I'm just like you."
"You.." RIchard did hesitate. "I could kill you right now. It would be God's will. You should die for all you've done. For.. my brother. How dare you take him.."
Damien replied, nearly anxious, "I didn't kill him!! For the last time.. I didn't do it! HE was the one holding me on an altar. Holding the blades over me. I was helpless. Your brother.. would be a child murderer. I was six! He was stronger. What the Hell could I do to stop that? It was the police! They shot him. They fired on him.. to stop him from committing a murder. Not me. Cops. Authority figures, law enforcement. Agents of good. THEY killed him."
Richard huffed, his hand shaking. That was yet another thing that made sense. The report did say that it was police that did it, not the boy. And he again was uncomfortable at seeing Damien as.. at least half right, if at all. "Stop. Shut your mouth.. you, you don't know. You're just.."
"You think it's easy to be me, do what I do?" Damien snorted. "I'd like to see you for one day in my shoes. See how long you stay sane.. a man like you. Knowing that your path is already laid out, written for you 2000 years before. You're so naive, Richard. Did any of you ever stop to think, hey, why not talk with him first'? No?" He scoffed. "Of course not. You grab those knives, you tell everybody you know, and thus endanger them. Claiming it is God's Will. Fools! You cannot know his will any more than my followers know the will of Lucifer. But they don't have to. They know MY will. It's usually enough. But I know this isn't God's will since GOD was the one who claims I still have a future according to that book of yours. So really, you're all going against His will. You, you.. old goat.. you just take the daggers and go right for my heart, all ready to kill. Wasn't that against one of the Commandments? And look at you now, ready to kill again." He laughed, though it came out hoarse. "Now who's the evil one? Who's the monster? Who has.. murder.. on his mind?"
The man was stopping for a moment. He touched his fingers to his shirt. The younger one felt something, yet.. it was not fully solid. He was also very angry. Much more than before. Those words, they cut. Had anyone really try to talk to him? To understand? At least converse about it. No.. they really didn't. And it also made sense that killing him was the first response, and technically, the Beast was destined to do more later. He frantically shook his head then. "No! You are attempting to confuse me! More lies, deceit. You have to die. Now, how.. let's see.. sign of the cross.." He held it above the chest.
Damien felt a sense of panic then. He didn't know if this was his end. But no.. wait, he was a client of the law firm, an ally of the Senior Partners. And his father was the Devil! Sure, he wouldn't allow this. The devil, demons, dark forces.. they always intervened before. But then Marion's words came back to him. You mess up, it don't matter.. he will just have another one like you. "No lies. I swear, it's not a lie! None of it. You know I'm right. You can't handle it, knowing that. Just like some people I know in this city, they know I was right about everything I said about a couple of them, and those guys can't handle that either. Even after I was offered this city and declined. After I warned others several times about other threats. You can't.. this isn't right.."
"You're.. you.." Richard's fist shook, tightening around a handle. "No! Enough of this. You took my company from me. You took it.."
Damien gasped, saying back, "Not it was given to me! Big difference. But if that's.. if this is your reason.. fine. Greed. This means greed is your motive. And we both know that is a sin. Which means even if you do this out of revenge, out of greed.. your heart is not pure. And your soul will not be.. His. It'll be mine. You kill me with that in you, and you'll join me in Hell. Can't wait til my dad gets his claws on to you. We both know he was never very forgiving to those who plotted against me before. You won't go back to the plane you left. No.. it will be Hell, the next place, after you do this."
His foster father, the spirit, was breathing heavy, alcohol on his breath. It was mostly brandy. He was frustrated as yet once more, the antichrist's words struck him in such a way. This was the one who he had taken in.. and everyone paid for it. Whether or not Damien did everything directly, most of which he had not. "You.. you have to die. For all of it.."
"I shall pray for you, then," Damien said, his eyes darting to look for escape. "I should pray that your God will forgive you.. for murder. For interfering with ancient, holy prophesy. For killing so that you feel better about your failures." A pause. "Please, don't do it! I'm begging. I never have..."
"Too late," the man said with a grunt. "You're wrong. No one will love you. If they do, they die like all of us did. You will burn." He raised the knife. And..
"No, wait! Yes, they did love me, he did, I-" He screamed loudly then, covering his eyes. He felt something hard. And cold. Sharp. As he opened his eyes, he saw.... he saw.. nothing. Just himself and empty space. And his own heavy breathing, mixed with sweat. Not to mention the scent of brandy. He sat up and looked at his seat. There was a dent in it, but no hole. No blood. He still felt the coldness, the brief violence. His heart was beating rapidly, his ears hearing only the thumps.
He was still huffing and heaving, holding himself. As he raised the seat, he pushed his door open and stepped outside. "Need.. air.." He walked from his car and then back. And then away again. Seemed almost like pacing. He had to do something about this. But there was nothing to do. LIke many others, it looked like all he could do was take it.