Chapter 87: Penance For The Wicked

"Please… just let me go."

Davion Everett asked the man in front of him. The person before him was a tall and portly man. He had dirty old clothes that were stained by splotches of black. His messy beard shined with oil and sweat, and his eyes were black as night; not even the single orange light hanging from the cobweb-infested ceiling could shine life into his eyes. 

"Shut up." The man grunted and slammed his meat cleaver onto his old, dirty work table. A heavy object fell onto the ground with a wet splat. It was an arm. "I'll get to you soon."

Davion whimpered and looked away from the bloodied arm and tried to back away, only to stop—sharp burning pain shot up his cut-up and bruised wrists. The handcuffs dug deeper into his flesh as the chain between clattered and stayed strong from the hook that was bolted on the cold cement floor.

"Oh god… oh god… somebody, please help me." Davion whispered as he leaned down and closed his eyes tightly. It didn't stop the slow, almost rhythmic sounds of the meat cleaver being brought down repeatedly. 

Drip, drip, drip, drip.

Blood continued to fall onto the red cement floor from the work table. Staining the cement floor in crimson. At the room's far left were several crates and blue igloo coolers. Inside the crates were stripped down and messy piles of bone, while the coolers contained chopped-up meat and organs. To the far right of the basement was a wall lined with several different butchery tools. They were sharp and kept in excellent condition.

SPLAT

Against his better judgment, Davion looked up shakily and saw two blue eyes looking at him in frozen horror. Down on the ground was the head of his best friend, Wesley Russell. Davion looked away and emptied his stomach. 

"God dammit, boy! What did I tell you about throwing up? Now, I gotta clean that shit up!" The monster in human flesh roared and kicked him across the face. Davion's head snapped back, and he saw stars. "That'll teach you."

The man then walked back to his work table and threw his knife down, stabbing the sharp blade into the wooden surface. The butcher then walked around the table and up the stairs leading up to the house's main floor.

Spitting a large glob of saliva and blood, Davion shook his head, and the stars that filled his vision disappeared. How did things go so wrong? He and his friends were just supposed to have a fun weekend. Was that so wrong? To want to celebrate their college graduation at a airbnb at a log cabin out in the woods? No, they weren't wrong… it was that psychotic lunatic that was wrong.

"Henry, Lance, Kimberly, Wesley… I'm so sorry." Davion sobbed and closed his eyes. The remains of his friends lay littered around him. All chopped up and butchered like animals. "You didn't deserve this."

Heavy footsteps bellowed out from the floor above him. Old wooden boards creaked as the heavy man walked around and looked for whatever he was looking for. Whatever it was, Davion didn't care. He just wanted to go home.

CRACK

Head snapping up in surprise, Davion looked up at the dirty ceiling as loud slams and thuds echoed repeatedly. Suddenly, it all stopped, and a suffocating silence filled the room. Davion held his breath and looked around like a nervous mouse.

BAM

Wood and pipes exploded from the ceiling as two figures crashed down onto the bloodied work table. Dust and debris exploded, and Davion bowed to protect his face. Slowly, Davion looked up and saw something that gave him hope.

The portly butcher that killed and cut up his friend laid still as a giant burning hole emitted smoke from the burnt flesh. His body was covered in bruises and blood, and his mouth hung wide; all of his teeth were missing, and blood stained his lower jaw.

Slowly rising to his full height was a man dressed in an intricate black and white leather suit. A white belt wrapped around his waist, and blood stained his black gloves. A large, pointed white V was in the center of the man's chest, extending to wrap around his shoulders. Several white lines were spread out through his arms and legs. The man had a black hood over his head, casting a shadow over his face. But Davion could see a pair of golden red eyes glow within that darkness.

The man then raised his hand, and fire rose from the ground. The hot flames enveloped the body of his friend's killer and burnt him down to the bone; the fires were so intense that not even his ashes were left. When it was done and over, the fires dissipated, leaving a significant burn mark stretching over the ground.

The leather-bound man then turned to look at him, and Davion felt no fear. But salvation. The man with the glowing eyes darted around the room and frowned deeply. He walked over to the decapitated head of his friend and crouched over it. Slowly, he touched the head, and within seconds, it began to crumble into light and particles of gold. Davion could only watch silently as the man proceeded to do the same with the rest of his friend's remains.

When he was done, the man in white and black walked over to him and reached down at the chain that held him to the floor. With impossible ease, he snapped the chain. Freeing him. Davion looked at his free hands in amazement and turned to look at the man. He pulled his hood back, and loose brown hair fell freely. The man wasn't a man; he seemed to be around his age!

"I'm sorry." His brown-haired savor said somberly. "But your friends can rest in peace now. Their killer will burn for all of eternity. His penance will never end."

Davion nodded and began to cry. Powerful and violent sobs escaped him as he leaned forward and was caught by the brown-haired man. No… by the Angel of vengeance before him.

That was the night Gaven Clark, a man who had killed ten other people in cold blood and mutilated their bodies, was killed and doomed to suffer for eternity.

•••

"Fucking pain in my ass."

Brody Hendrix cursed as he looked down at the still body of a young teenage boy. He was dressed in a loose shirt and blue shorts, and a new pair of Nike shoes sat unmoving on his feet. 

The boy's body lay twisted, and a sharp bone stuck out of his neck as it lay twisted. Their eyes were vacant, and his mouth was left open in a silent scream. Warm blood slowly leaked from the open neck wound and stained the black pavement below.

"Just what I needed too." Brody said and looked around the dark and lonely road. The only light illuminating the road beamed from his dented and bloody Prius. "Fuck it." 

Brody shrugged and picked the body of the kid he ran over by the armpits and dragged him off the road and into the ditch off the road. With a strong throw, he saw the still wake body roll down to the bottom and plop down with a sickening crunch as his neck bent the other way. 

"There. Damn, kid, running late at night. You did this to yourself." Brody said as he dusted his hands and walked back into his car.

Slowly, he drove off toward his home. The grizzly scene left behind him without a care in the world, and all the while, he sang along to the newest pop song on his radio.

"Why'd you come? You knew you should have stayed ~ I tried to warn you just to stay away

And now they're outside, ready to bust~ It looks like you might be one of us~."

•••

"I am so ready for a beer!" 

Brody moaned and looked over at his phone to check the GPS. He still had another thirty miles to go until he reached his house. While he drove, he occasionally swerved but quickly righted himself with a chuckle. 

A low, rumbling noise echoed from behind him as he was about to play the next song on his playlist. With an arched eyebrow, Brody looked at his left side mirror and saw someone driving a motorcycle far behind him. 

"Hold on a minute… are those wheels on fire?" Brody asked as the bike's wheels glowed orange in the darkness of night. The motorcycle's engine was becoming louder; its roar could now be heard as if it was right behind him. "Holy shit!"

The car jerked, flew up into the air, and spun around multiple times. Brody reached up and tried to steady himself, but the car's momentum pushed his body in all directions. Closing his eyes, Brody braced himself.

CRASH

Brody's neck snapped to the side as his car made impact with the black asphalt and rolled violently back and forth. Brody screamed as his body was punished repeatedly by the impacts; the flying glass cut up skin and flesh, and pieces of dash flew right at him. After what felt like an eternity to Brody, it all came to a stop.

"Ah… my neck…" Brody moaned in pain as he hung upside down. Looking to his left, he saw a pair of moving legs walk in his direction. A motorcycle with flaming wheels was parked a few feet behind him. "H-Help."

Stopping a foot away from the edge of his car, Brody felt hope rise within him. He would survive this. A thunderclap echoed throughout the area, and Brody watched with amazement as half of his ruined Prius fell to the side with a crack. Along the cut-off edges of the vehicle's steel materials were orange tints of light and heat. Brody watched as a flaming chain slithered away and recoiled around the now clear body of the legs he saw walking over to him.

"Help me." Brody whispered; he couldn't feel the contents of his stomach wanting to fall down his throat. He could taste bile and blood. "Please."

"Like you helped that boy you ran over?" The man in the black and white suit said as he looked down at him with oddly colored eyes. "Is that what you want?"

Brody's eyes widened, and the desire to hurl grew tenfold. The hooded man then bent down and grabbed his neck. With a powerful pull that tore his seat belt, the man's left arm lifted Brody high into the air. No longer were the man's eyes gold but a sinister red.

"I can offer you no help… only penance."

Brody Hendrix screamed.

•••

"Four days and four nights."

The expansive, gorgeous hills of the Palouse seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. Luscious rolling green hills waved repeatedly, almost as if the ocean stood frozen on land. Shining white stars littered the black sky, and the full moonlight bathed the hills below with an ethereal glow.

Harvey sat on one of the hills and calmly looked out at the sight. Behind him stood his parked Kawasaki motorcycle; a black and red back was on the seat. 

"I've punished over three hundred souls, and it feels like I only made a dent." Harvey said and frowned. "I wonder if I'll ever be able to rid the world of evil?"

'An impossible task.' Zarathos said. 'Evil will always be around.'

Harvey nodded and closed his eyes. A soft breeze kissed his face, and he basked in its touch. After a few more minutes of enjoying the peace around him, Harvey stood up and looked towards the south. A feeling of anger swelled inside him slightly.

Throwing his backpack on, Harvey hopped on his motorcycle, and the engine jumped to life. Before he drove off, he took one final look at the rolling hills and sighed. There was more work to be done.

With a loud throttle, Harvey quickly shot forward at incredible speeds and reached the main road. Once the wheels of his bike met asphalt, they ignited on fire, and he shit forward like a bullet. Flesh and skin burned to ash as the Ghost Rider headed to his next destination.