Armageddon Approaches Silently like the Darkness that Spreads at Night

Her throbbing pain diminished thanks to her regeneration, Persia inspected the dead archnazub for any abnormalities. The demon's wings, resembling those of a bat, were webbed and made of stretched skin that started from its forearms. Its sinuous, prehensile tail essentially doubled the length of its body. These features, however, were present in all archnazubs, judging from the demonic bestiary back at the Vatican, as well as her extensive experience clashing against the infernal fiends. That begged the question; why were the demons fighting amongst themselves?

"I'd say this was a good day's work," Peter said, after reaching her.

"And yet, we are no closer to finding that Tsuchigumo." She frowned, shaking her head with frustration. "Give me a status report."

"One broken arm. The rest are knicks and knacks." He watched as she doused the demon in holy water. "Any idea why they are in conflict with each other?"

"No. But I think we've misunderstood demons all along." She stepped back as blood-red flames erupted from the holy water's contact with the demon's corpse. "All this time, we've thought of demons as a unified force of evil, hellbent on eliminating mortals. Now, I'm not so sure."

"Grand Master, I implore you not to voice those words. If the eternal master or your knights learn of your—"

"Think, Peter. The eternal master has left us to our devices. Therefore, consider the facts laid before us." All around them, the knights inspected each spawn corpse, putting rounds in the heads just to make sure no spawn played dead. She stepped closer to Peter. "Therkoth, the Pitblaze, mentioned a name years ago. Do you remember?"

"Aye, Belial, Lord of…"

"Ira. Lord of Ira. Latin for wrath, one of the seven deadly sins. At the time, I thought nothing of it. But now, it makes sense. If Belial is the ruler of a faction in hell, it is possible that the Tsuchigumo we are after is allied with another faction, hence the conflict."

"Then its reason for coming to Hermosville—"

"Might be to eliminate Belial's influence in the city with the spawn army it amassed. The question remains as to what precisely they are fighting for, but my intuition says they are seeking that mysterious individual who employed portals, which the demons used as anchors to facilitate their own passage."

"The mortal, Jalen."

"No." She shook her head. "He isn't the one. The Eye of Arixxer already scanned him. He is indeed superhuman, but there were no traces of infernal energy in him."

"The person the demons are after might not be a demon."

She nodded. "True. However, I was not finished. Although the Eye of Arixxer detected no traces of infernal energy in him, it did identify faint amounts of an unknown energy. I believe he played a role, the extent of which remains unknown to us. I intend to uncover his involvement after we have eliminated the Tsuchigumo and every other demon hiding in this city."

"That would be a tall task, from what I see. This Tsuchigumo is unlike anything we've ever faced."

They then fell silent, watching the knights drag the spawn corpses into large piles and spray them with holy water. The spawn human physiology meant their remains would not burn up in reaction to the holy water. However, that was hardly the point. The holy water cleansed the infernal energies clinging to the corpses. And nothing was stopping them from starting a fire through conventional means.

❊ ❊ ❊

As nightfall came, an army of law enforcement sectioned off the entire block. The reasons the officers were tasked were known to only a few, like Mason, who stared at the bonfire of burning corpses beside the destroyed building of Sterling Food Corporation. Police officers, mostly local, stood guard on the outer perimeters while the Knights of Arixxer and HAVEN's Special Paramilitary Division (SPD) agents patrolled the premises.

Cold cigarette in his mouth, Mason watched the wild flames consume a truth that could never see the light of day.

Persia assumed her spot beside him. "Again, I advise you to evacuate the entire city. This is now a battleground. You just don't see it yet."

Mason's eyes remained locked on the golden flames, her words fleeting.

How do I spin this? he thought.

"Liam Mason." She sent a frosty gust of wind up his spine. "Are you listening? Remove the civilians from the city, lest they become involuntary meat shields in a demonic war."

"Oh, my ears are wide open and fully functioning," Mason said. "It just ain't making a lick of sense out of your words. Evacuate over five million people? Do you have any idea what kind of chaos that would unleash?"

"Chaos is preferable to a massacre. Have you forgotten what happened six years ago so soon? It would also make our job infinitely easier. Can you imagine the sheer mass of spawn that would descend on this city should the Tsuchigumo continue on its current trajectory?"

"Of course, I haven't forgotten shit." Mason shook his head. "But what you suggest is pure ridiculousness from a logistical standpoint. We don't have the fucking resources for a mass evacuation. Where would we put them all? How would we feed and shelter them? The economy would take a catastrophic hit. Businesses would shut down, supply chains would be disrupted, and the financial fallout would ripple across the country. We haven't even reached the crux of the issue. How many people would willingly give up their livelihoods here and become refugees elsewhere? My guess is we'll be moving single percentages of the population if Howard gave the order."

"At least, let the people make that choice themselves."

"No. No need to breed chaos and apathy while losing any semblance of control we have on the populace. If you kill the Tsuchigumo, all ought to be well. We'd have staved off a disastrous situation and the people'd be none the wiser, happy, and dumb. Just the way things ought to be."

"And if I fail?" Her cold gaze fell on him. "You will regret this decision. Mark my words."

Then Persia was off toward her vehicle, where a few knights waited.

"For all our sakes, I hope you succeed," Mason muttered, finally lighting up his cigarette. "Or we'll be up to our eyeballs in shit with sore assholes as Armageddon looms on the horizon."

❊ ❊ ❊

In the cafeteria of River Bend Middle School, August sat alone at a table, as was customary for her time spent at school. She paid it no mind, chowing on the bland porridge to quell her grumbling tummy.

"Can I join you?"

She turned to discern the source of the voice, uttering a combination of words usually never directed at her. It turned out to be Emily, the girl Betty bullied in the restroom that fateful day.

"S-sure," she stammered.

Emily, with a bright smile matching her blonde bangs, scooted a chair closer to her and sat down. Then the girl placed a pink lunch box with floral patterns on the table. The heavenly aromas wafting from the lunch box as Emily opened it drew August in. She recognized the smoky scent of pork, but the yellow-colored rice looked unfamiliar.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Oh, it's fried rice," Emily replied, "garnished with peppers, carrots, and peas. You wanna try?"

"Nope." She shook her hands with gusto and turned back to her disgusting porridge. However, her eyes contradicted her words, staring longingly at the beautiful rice.

Emily poured her pork chops from another bowl into the rice, and with that bowl now empty, she portioned half the rice into it and pushed it toward August. 

She pushed the bowl back. "No need. I have my lunch. Besides, what will you eat if you give me half?"

Emily pushed it back as well. "It's okay. I don't even eat that much, anyway. Consider it as my gratitude for your help that day."

"Well, when you put it like that…" She took a mouthful of the rice. Immediately, a dopamine rush hit her as the unfamiliar, spicy, rich taste of the rice melted into her very being.

Wow! Where have you been all my life?

She took another bite and another and another.

Goodbye Pork chops. Fried rice, come to Mama, she thought. Or better yet, I could have both at the same time.

Her mind now exploded with possibilities; fried rice with barbecue, fried rice with sushi, fried rice with ice cream. Ugh, maybe not the last one.

All the while, she eyed the pork chops on Emily's plate. So Emily gave her some with a bright smile on the girl's face. She almost cried with joy, yearning to embrace the girl. Screw that. She pulled Emily into a tight hug.

Emily, in turn, hugged her back, while giggling. "There, there. I had the same reaction when I first tasted the fried rice. It's heavenly."

"Who made it? It's so amazing!"

"My mom's new boyfriend. He's Indian. When he moved in with us, he started cooking his delicacies for us. I've loved his cooking ever since."

She fell silent at the mention of the girl's family which seemed to mirror her own on the surface at least. Only Emily burst with palpable joy when discussing her family. August droned out her words, reminded of what would happen after school. It had been a week since she last saw her mother after that heated argument. Her initial plan was to stay with her father for the foreseeable future. But her mother had other ideas, threatening to take her father to court for his violation of the custody agreement. Her father hadn't budged, stating that if August wanted to stay, she could stay, and he would deal with the legal fallout. It was August who elected to go back to her mother's so that her decisions wouldn't harm his chances during the imminent custody battle.

Emily noticed her depressed mood. "You know, you could come over to my place after school. Midterms are next week and I need a study partner."

"I'll think about it," she said, forcing a smile.

The bell rang, signaling the end of their lunch break.

They exchanged phone numbers after Emily repacked her lunch box.

"Think about it," Emily said, getting up. "We have plenty more fried rice where that came from. Catch you later, August."

After school, she rushed home, ignoring Emily's text message that asked her about her decision. On the bus home, her mind was in turmoil. She chastised herself for chickening out. For years, she had complained about people not understanding her and now one person was willing to spend time with her, and she had run away. Maybe it was the other way around, and she had a hard time assimilating with people.

During the final leg of her commute, her mother's house in sight, Harry Tophat's words from that day in the cafeteria, after he had reminded her of his request to look for human friends, rang over and over in her head. Sooner than you'd know, the right opportunity might arise. She stopped at the front door of her mother's house, the desire to turn around and head over to Emily's place burning true in her mind.

Tom's voice from within the house snatched her out of her thoughts and plumped her right back into reality. After a deep breath, she opened the door and plunged into the childhood house she had stopped addressing as her home. As usual, thick plumes of cigarette smoke slammed into her like a strong wind, her eyes watering. As usual, Tom sat in his favorite chair, beer in hand and a lit cigarette in the other, paying apt attention to the television, only this time he watched the news and loudly commented on the reporter's words. As usual, her eyes traveled down to take in the layer of filth surrounding her mother's boyfriend.

Since he paid her no mind, she elected to head to her room as quickly as possible. And, as usual, Tom had other ideas.

"Your meds are in the kitchen," he said, with a loud tone to counteract the television's volume level. "Don't make me remind you what you ought to do."