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wardenswateringhole · 7 days

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Shadowed Cross - Chapter 1

(This is an AU worked on by @peachypede and myself. Inspired by @bluebellowl's 50's AU.)

-Mild body horror

-Blood mention Cut for length. Enjoy.

Ilona’s legs pumped as hard as they could. The bike sped along the darkened road. All traffic had thankfully cleared out before the coming storm. The wind threatened to push Ilona backwards as it howled through the trees. She persevered, her cargo sitting in the basket in front of her reminding her why she was rushing the way she was.

It was supposed to be an easy dead drop. She’d find the package, secure it, and take it to it’s intended destination. Most likely another dead drop. It hadn’t panned out that way. A couple of old women just could not stop talking. Even after bidding each other good bye on four separate occasions, the conversation between them dragged on, leaving Ilona to wait even longer for them to clear out so she could search for the package. The sun’s rays had begun to reach for the horizon by the time the two ladies left and she was able to get on with her job. She had silently prayed for whoever Robert was and hoped that he didn’t mind the entire world knowing about the painful rash on his rear end.

Now here she was, rushing to beat the torrential downpour and lightning that threatened to rip the sky in twain. A small wooden box sat in the basket on her bike. Plain and unassuming with some winding carvings on the front. The clasp on the front was a weathered brass and fastened shut.

Despite her urgency, Ilona couldn’t help but let her mind wonder. Perhaps as a method of dealing with the circumstances being completely against her on this night. First the conversation with Everett, now this. What it worth it?

She peered down at the box. There was no way to tell what was inside. She hadn’t seen fit to ask what it was she transported on these dead drop jobs. They paid exceptionally well for what seemed like such simple tasks to her. Sure she had to sneak around a couple times to get the item in question. It never seemed overtly dangerous. Other than some overly tenacious guards at a warehouse or dogs in a junkyard.

Was it the cargo that was so valuable then? The box was so plain it was hard to believe anything of value was inside. Ilona’s gut twisted slightly at the thought of there possibly being drugs inside. Maybe Everett was right… Maybe it was time to stop this business…

A shadow darted across the road in front of her. Small and black. Ilona snapped back to her senses just in time to twist her handlebars and avoid running the creature over. It hissed and ran into the bushes as Ilona fell, tumbling across the pavement and eventually sliding to a stop. The box flew past her, leaving wooden shards in it’s wake. It eventually stopped some ten feet before in front of Ilona’s body.

Ilona slowly pulled herself up. She rubbed her face, checking for injuries. Thankfully nothing had happened to her head. Her arm however, had seen better days. A sharp pain coursed through her limb as she tried to move the arm. It moved at least, but tell tale wetness on her hand and the shredded bits of her sleeve spoke of what damage had been done.

Her attention snapped to the box in front of her. She managed to pull herself to her feet to retrieve it. Holding the object in her hurt arm, she pulled the bike upright and fidgeted with the light on the front.

“Dammit… Fuck… COME ON!”

The light flickered to life as if almost on command. She used the small bulb to examine the cargo. The box was tattered and splintered but still whole. The clasp on the front was broken, gone and lost to the darkness of the night and the storm.

With careful hands, Ilona opened the box to check the contents. A segmented jewel glimmered back at her in the focused light. It sat framed by snakes and demon’s wings cast in light colored metal. The jewel itself looked shattered but as if someone had tried to make it whole again with some metal filament. Ilona picked it up and turned it around in her hands. She breathed a sigh of relief as she didn’t find any damage to the item itself. It seemed like some gaudy piece of antique jewelry. Probably for some eccentric collector. At least it wasn’t drugs…

She noticed the blood on her hand. Her hand had sustained a nasty scrape on the pavement. She’d have to make sure to clean that well when she got home. Along with all the other bits of road rash. She wasn’t going to hear the end of it from Everett tomorrow.

A distant flash followed immediately by a crack of thunder caught her attention. She quickly put the jewel back in the box and reoriented her bike. It wasn’t a pleasant ride to the drop off point. But she was determined to make it.

Later

Large hands held the box firmly as their owner walked down the darkened hallway. Sporadic flashes of lightning lit the path before the man. Shadows clung to the opulent trappings. Paintings, bright and beautiful in the light hung with dreary shades. The pale marble of a few small sculptures seems to almost glow with the lightning, the mottled shadows from the rain molding the features to something stark and alarming.

His footsteps, steady and purposeful, were muted against the ornate rug that lined the hall. What little sound his large frame managed to make was drowned out by the rolling thunder and rain battering the windows. Fine black leather shoes stopped at a door. A hand, complimented by a shining gold watch, reached forth and turned the knob.

The room within was just as dark as the hallway. A few moments and a desk lamp was clicked on. Golden light illuminated a desk covered in books of various sizes and titles while reaching weakly to the corners of the room. Shelves holding still more books peered from the shadows. The light was just bright enough to show off the embossed titles and ornate typing. Curious objects sat among the tomes. A decorated plate showing a battle from a long ago time. An animal skull of unknown origin. Trinkets tied with feathers and teeth, all dangling and rattling from their perches.

The man sighed as he held the box under the light of the desk lamp. It was damaged badly. The looping and winding carvings were scuffed and splintered. The edges frayed with bits of wood poking out precariously. The clasp that once held it closed was completely gone.

“This thing is in some state… What the hell happened?”

Papers and notepads that had sat on the desk were pushed aside to make room for the box. Though he was alone, a second voice was present. It sounded as if it had floated in from the ether. It sounded raspy, like blackened smoke.

“The pretty box isn’t important. What’s inside is still good, yeah?”

The man sat down in the padded chair and began to contemplate the parcel. The box was opened carefully with both hands. The hinges creaked loudly in protest, threatening to come undone in the man’s grasp. Inside, a brooch shined back at him. It was nestled carefully within the velvet interior. It looked tiny as he picked it up. Eyes the color of steel peered down at the purple jewel marbled with silver. His fingers ran delicately over the snakes and wings that framed it.

“It looks good. Not a scratch.”

“Great! Let’s get to it then! You know what to do?”

The man was already leaning down and searching through the drawers of the desk. After a few moments of rummaging, a small dagger was produced. It joined the box on the desk as the man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.

“Yeah, yeah… Still a bitch though. Why does it always have to be a blood bond? The last three artifacts were duds. I’m tired of slicing myself for this shit.”

The voice chuckled, a series crackling hisses.

“Ah, but I have a good feeling about this one, Joseph, Old boy. With this bit of sparkle, you’ll be nigh unstoppable. Now c’mon! Get on with the show!”

The dagger was retrieved with a sigh. With grit teeth, the blade was pressed into the man's thumb. Blood oozed forth around the metal. The dagger was discarded to the side and the bloody thumb was pressed firmly against the jewel. A thick red splotch was left behind as the man withdrew his hand.

Moments passed by in silence. The rain and the thunder little more than a far off distraction.

“Shit.”

The man grabbed the handkerchief and wrapped his thumb. The voice growled. “No! What the fuck!?”

“Another goddamn dud!… SHIT!”

A heavy foot stomped against the floor causing the desk to shake. The voice continued to protest.

“That can’t be right!”

“The hell you mean ‘that can’t be right’? You saw as well as I did that nothing fucking happened!” “BULLSHIT! Check the brooch!” “I did check the brooch!” “I can feel it! There’s no way in the nine rings that thing is fake! Check it again, dipshit!”

The man pulled a book closer to himself roughly and flipped to a page. It showed an illustration of the brooch, drawn in exquisite detail and additional notes scrawled to the side. The brooch was turned carefully in the light, each feature compared thoroughly with it’s written and drawn counterparts. The man’s eyes widened at the sight of a drop of blood dried onto the metal on the back of the brooch.

“It’s already bonded!?”

His fist wrapped around the brooch and tightened. His steel colored eyes began to melt into the color of red slag.

“Did they think I wouldn’t notice!? Do they really think they can get one over on me!? Nobody is going to have more power than me! I’m Joseph Cross Dammit! I run this city!”

His fist raised into the air then began to descend quickly toward the mahogany surface of the desk with the brooch still firmly in it’s grasp. The voice bellowed out.

“WAIT!”

The man’s fist stopped immediately at the sound of the voice’s protest. It hovered over the surface a mere fraction of an inch. The man’s face was drawn back in a snarl as he huffed through grit teeth.

“For fuck’s sake… WHAT NOW!?”

The voice lightened to almost a purr.

“Easy, Joseph. Think before you break. Yeah, you could smash that thing real good. That would take the power away from whoever is bonded to it, but it would also take the power away from you. Let’s just track down the asshole with a tracking spell and off’em. Reset the brooch’s magic and have a little fun at the same time.”

Joseph’s arm relaxed slowly. He nodded in agreement.

“Yeah… Yeah! That’s a much better idea.”

He stood and sorted through the papers that were pushed aside before. One with symbols and strange writing was grabbed. Joseph held the brooch in one hand and looked at the paper. Red smoke billowed from his mouth as he spoke in a tongue not of human origin. It floated to the brooch and swirled around it a moment before dissipating. The chanting stopped and the brooch was placed back onto the desk with the paper.

“I got a trail. Let’s go say hello.”

A dark swirling portal appeared behind Joseph as he retrieved his hat from the coat rack. He adjusted his tie and stepped through. The portal disappeared as if made of mist.

Joseph found himself bumping his knee into a shoddy card table. It clattered and squeaked lightly against tile flooring. Glowing red eyes scanned his surroundings. It was a small pillbox of an apartment. He assumed he stood in what was supposed to be the kitchen, though it was all just one room. The card table he bumped into had an opened first aid kit on it. It’s contents were strewn about. A tiny fridge sat against a wall with various magnets and a calendar marked up with various colors of ink. A picture of three people smiling hung from a magnet in the shape of a smiley face.

Joseph stepped carefully toward a window. He could see what looked like a fold out bed. A shirt was hung up on the door handle of a closet. It was torn with dark stains. A flash of lightning revealed a figure curled up in the bed. Even in the dark, Joseph could see ribbons of dark energy wafting from them.

He leaned down and examined the figure closer. It was a girl, clad only in a thin baby doll night gown. Her pale skin was barely hidden by a raggedy blanket that she had most likely shrugged off in her sleep. A pitiful whimper left her as Joseph's hand touched her shoulder lightly. Poorly tied bandages and badly placed gauze covered her arm and hand. The voice whispered harshly at Joseph.

“What’s the hold up!?”

Joseph gently ran a finger over forehead, brushing the hair from her face.

“I can’t kill this one.” “What!? Why the hell not!?”

“She’s one of our best delivery drivers.”

SO!? You have other delivery drivers!” “Not like her! She’s the one that takes the hard to sell deliveries. The ones no one else will take. Besides, what kind of boss kills one of their best employees!? It wouldn’t be fair…”

Another whimper escaped the girl. Her body shivered as the wisps became thicker.

“Fine, but you better do something quick! This girl is about to go through a very rough transition and it’s not going to be quiet! The whole town is going to hear this broad’s screams in a few minutes!”

Joseph looked around for a few moments. There wasn’t much he could do. The blanket was wrapped around the girl as he scooped her up and carried her back through the portal.

It was not a good night.

Joseph had barely gotten Ilona settled onto a guest room bed before it all started. Skin previously cold to the touch now burned fiercely. Joseph did what he could but he knew there was no making it easier. All he could offer was kind words and a cool towel on her forehead as she screamed.

Screams of pain, or terror, of something he could not identify altogether as her mouth bubbled with blood and teeth that had fallen out. Teeth fitting for a wild animal quickly grew in their place. Her eyes had blackened and garbled shrieks of blindness and confusion accompanied them. Her nightgown did little to hide the undulating of her flesh as muscles rearranged themselves. The squelch and cracking of bones breaking and reforming could just barely be heard over her suffering. Black fur pushed it’s way out her skin. Two horns did the same on the top of her head, covered in ripped skin and viscera. The skin around her fingers and feet darkened and the appendages warped into different much larger shapes. Claws sprouted from the tips of her new fingers and toes.

Through it all, she begged. Her sightless eyes stared at Joseph as she begged him for comfort, for death, for it to all end. He held her hand and cooed to her.

“You’re doing great… It’ll be over soon…”

He wasn’t sure if his words had actually reached her. Eventually her screaming began to quiet and her body went limp. Her eyes drifted closed as exhaustion finally claimed her. Joseph placed a blanket over her. She looked so peaceful as he ran his hand over the fur on her cheek.

“In the morning… You’ll be mine.”

#wardenwrites #Shadowed Cross AU #Joseph Cross #Brawlhalla #Oc Ilona

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wardenswateringhole · 3 months

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The Day the Cross Fell

(A little writing exercise in writing for a new character. @bluebellowl has caused my mind to be consumed by Joseph Cross and I hate them for it. (/pos))

Mentions of war and death

Mentions of demons

Mentions of blood and violence

Content below the cut. Enjoy.

The coin gleamed in the palm of the soldier’s hand. Grey eyes traced the contours of the demon’s head on it’s surface. It was sunny out. A pleasant day. As pleasant as it could be in the trenches anyway. They were still in the dirt. They were still far from home. They were still at war.

The trinket had been found completely by accident. A desperate dive away from an incoming grenade had the soldier landing right beside it. The threat was dealt with swiftly by his squad mates. While they cleared the area, he remained down, trying in vain to calm the thumping in his chest. He was not there by choice. The government forced him to this far away land of Italy. The soldier took no solace in the possibility that his forefathers had come from this place. He hadn’t. He held no attachment to the land at all.

His eyes were drawn to the strange circular shape in the mud. The barest hint of metal coming through. A shaking hand pried it out of the dried earth and rubbed it. For a moment, his mind was distracted from the near-death experience he had just had. It contemplated the new item of interest. A curious thing. It could make for a nice trinket to take back home. If he made it back home that is…

The voice of the sergeant called him back to reality. The item was tucked into a pocket as he pulled himself up on his feet and trudged on after the squad. Past the shallow crater where the grenade had landed and past the bodies of the people who had thrown it.

A bit of water from his canteen was enough to wash away the grime and reveal the silvery surface of the coin. The silhouette of a demon’s head sat in the center on both sides. It was beautifully carved and ornate. The craftsmanship did not even seem like a level capable of a human. He thought of how much of a fortune it would fetch back home. He could live comfortably. Not in a shabby run down apartment with roaches as roommates. Perhaps a lovely mansion would suit him. One with beautiful hard wood floors and plush rugs. Mahogany furniture and a wine cellar. Fantasies of relaxing with a glass of brandy in a high back chair in front of a gently crackling fire filled his mind. That would suit him just fine.

His squad mates made due with getting comfortable in the brush. The soldier propped himself up against a moss covered tree. It was not the most comfortable of sleeping spots, but the reverie of a better life was enough to help him rest.

His dreams were far from sweet. The sounds of gunfire and bomb explosions shook the world. Shadows darted around him, silhouetted against the blood red sky. A river of blood flowed around him and the corpses of his squad mates floated past. He was alone against the enemy. He shook in terror, as his gun gave a disheartening click when the trigger was pulled. Sweat poured down his face as he watched the shadowy figures prepare to lunge at him. His eyes squeezed shut, preparing for the killing blow.

Silence.

The soldier opened his eyes slowly. There was just darkness around him. No shadows, no sky, no carnage. Just him, the silence…

… And a smiling demon.

The soldier thought it strange that he felt no need to flee. Like the grinning figure in front of him was not a threat. It spoke to him. Voice smooth and rich. It spoke of the future and it’s many possibilities. “The future is much like a coin…” the demon said. “You can flip heads and live like a king. Anything you could ever want would be at your finger tips…”

The coin appeared before the soldier and flipped in the air. It fell to the ground with the demon carving faced up. The soldier saw what he had fantasized about. The beautiful mansion. Only this time it had more. Nice clothing. Henchman to carry out his demands. A city completely under his control.

“...Or you can flip tails, and die like a dog…”

The coin flipped again. It landed with the visage of a grinning skull facing up. The trappings of luxury disappeared and the soldier found himself lying in a coffin. The lid slammed shut before he could even think to leave. He banged his fist against the wood and screamed desperately for release. The faint sound of dirt hitting the lid could be heard.

His throat burned and ached from screaming as the demon appeared before him once more. It held the coin up in front of him.

“But I can rig the game.” He rotated the coin to show that it no longer sported the skull on the reverse side but another demon head like before.

“Stick with me and I’ll make sure you’ll never come up tails. All life’s tribulations will feel trivial with the power I can grant you…” The demon wrapped a long fingered hand around the coin and extended the other toward the soldier. “Not until your last fight will I ask for payment. The price is a mystery however.”

The soldier eyed the demon’s hand. It sat spread out in invitation for a handshake. “But that’s a small matter in the face of your current situation, isn't it?” The demon’s grin widened to an almost sickening degree. “Do we have a deal?”

Every fiber of the man’s being knew it was a bad idea. He knew demons were never trustworthy. Scammers, all of them. But the alternative was far worse in his mind at that moment. Dying in the dirt and left to rot in a far away land.

He hadn’t even noticed his hand had taken the demon's as he had been contemplating his options. The Demon cackled wildly, and red flames rushed up the soldier's arms. A rush of heat and energy jolted through his body. It felt as if his skin was being melted from his body. The demon disappeared in a flash of light. His voice vibrated in the soldier's head.

“This might be the best deal you ever made…”

The memory of that dream lingered for the next few days. Confrontations with the enemy suddenly became fewer. Bodies of enemy forces were seen later, already dead and mutilated. They reckoned another squad had come through, but radio contact said otherwise. They quickly made their way to a rendezvous point with another company lest whatever had gotten the enemy would get them.

The soldier sat staring at the coin. It’s surface glittered in the sun. He could almost swear the demon had winked at him.

“PRIVATE CROSS!! FRONT AND CENTER!!”

Cross’s head jolted upright at the mention of his name. He tucked the coin away and ran to respond to the shouting of the squad leader. Perhaps that dream wasn’t just a dream after all. Perhaps…

Dreams really do come true.

#wardenwrites #Joseph Cross #Brawlhalla

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