infinity-cantos

[infinity-cantos]

Entering the home, everything seemed normal- sparse even. Like Roth, she was behind the times, analog even. Yet, everything was spartan. A placeholder, of sorts.

This place was not a home. Guns doesn’t live here, she sleeps here. She waits for the next job here; she receives her calls here. Her home wasn't here, or anywhere. It was nowhere.

“C’mon, follow me.”

Heading over towards a wall, Guns pressed a secret switch. The wall opened up, revealing a gun room on the other side. Inside, wall to wall, were guns and more guns. All kinds of weapons, assault rifles, battle rifles, machine guns and heavy grenade launchers. RPGs and even a vintage WW2 flamethrower from The Pacific War.

“Make your pick, I recommend some of the gear from TMV industries. Quality work.”

@nebula-gaster / Continued from here (X)

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

“Roth HATED this film. He destroyed every copy he came across. It’s sooooo bad.”

[infinity-cantos]

David Cronenberg as Dr. Phillip K. Decker in Nightbreed (1990)

[infinity-cantos]

david cronenberg in nightbreed… oh my GOD?? 🥵

[infinity-cantos]

Now driving, they were cruising on the overpass leading out of Lust. The windshield wipers were going on max, fighting the downpour. Akimbo’s eyes stared ahead, pondering with dread.

This was the third time she was unsure about herself. Unsure about their mission, unsure about Roth. He was alive, they knew that much about his situation.

Yet, it was just everything surrounding this problem. Roth, Carcosa and The Yellow King. Was Roth facing all that for so many years?

Finally, they were back in Pride. Guns lived further out from Pentagram City, close to some large lake formed when Lucifer came down as lighting after The Fall. The lake was vast, dark and strangely peaceful.

Akimbo’s place was nice enough. It was two stories, painted white all around. There was a front porch, which had some chairs and a swing. There were trees, blood oaks, that dotted the property. Guns pulled up, unbuckling her seat belt.

“This is my place. I bought it after getting established down here.”

@nebula-gaster / Continued from here (X)

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

“Roth HATED this film. He destroyed every copy he came across. It’s sooooo bad.”

[infinity-cantos]

“Done and done. We just gotta swing by my-”

Guns answered, while something caught her eye by the window. She spun, turning around just to see nothing. She thought she saw something. She swore she saw something. A face- pale as porcelain. It dissolved like some waking dream. Suddenly, she felt uneasy.

Shaking the feeling, Praxix retrieved something. It was a folded piece of paper, with very important information.

“Keep this, it has info. Where to meet me and what route to take. Burn it, after you’re done. Or . . . I don’t know, eat it maybe.”

@nebula-gaster / Continued from here (X)

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

“Roth HATED this film. He destroyed every copy he came across. It’s sooooo bad.”

[infinity-cantos]

@nebula-gaster / Continued from here (X)

Guns turned, rubbing her eyes before answering.

“Way back, me and Roth saved him from gangsters from Greed. Y’know, drug money and debts. Sawing off kneecaps, that kind of problem shit.”

Guns then grinned, pointing towards the opposite wall. There, in a prominent space, was a poster for Sinful Seas. It was a swashbuckling porno production. Cheap sets, bad acting and plenty of awkward sex scenes. The review taglines read “Three Stars! They waterboarded me for my review” and “A insult to bad taste” and finally, “Fuck you I hate you. Please go away."

The pirate on the poster doing an adventure pose is . . . . Roth Kruger. Yes, that is DEFINITELY ROTH KRUGER. Sure, it doesn’t say his name anywhere, but that’s him in the blue with horn intact. He goes under the name of “DICK HAMMER”, a name so cheesy and stupid, only Roth could have conjured it. Then again, it was 1980 so maybe he was onto something. Guns even laughed at the poster, snickering.

“Roth HATED this film. He destroyed every copy he came across. It’s sooooo bad.”

[infinity-cantos]

The Incubus stayed silent as Buzz laid his hand on his shoulder. Fear in his eyes, his tail soon curled up defensively as he endured the scare session from Buzz. Nearby, Guns crossed her arms and walked around Praxix, she knew enough about him to make sure he helped them.

After all, he’s a friend. She will use her words first. Yet, that was not the only option on the table.

“I think my friend here is very sincere. Praxix  . . . if you owed me and Roth anything . . . it is this. Help us get to the human world and save Roth.”

The incubus looked at Guns, then Buzz, then he went to sit down. Obviously, he needed to process everything that was said. Roth escaping Hell and getting captured was most concerning.

“Fine. Besides, I think accordions are the worst fucking thing humanity has ever invented.”

Grabbing some bourbon, he drinks directly from the bottle. His mind was racing with ideas.

“I can get you passage. That being said, this won’t be fucking easy. Or cheap.”

School again? Why are you here? Why now? Everything from memory is here. The posters, the desks and books.

There’s someone at the front, he’s facing Buzz. He wears tattered robes, dressed like some impoverished Franciscan. Removing the hood, he reveals himself. He’s old, very old, yet very wise behind the eyes. There’s power, deep sadness, in his tired blue eyes.

Yet, his presence inspires calm. This dream was no nightmare. Approaching, he bows his head.

“You are Buzz. Born Alexander, died Alexander and born again as Buzz.”

The Old Man says, his eyes fixated on Buzz.  He places his hands inside his robe’s sleeves.

“I bring news of your friend. He is in danger.”

School. Why was Buzz in school? This sucked, he graduated already. Why should he have to go back? Maybe he could protest by burning the building down.

Buzz soon came to the realization that he must be dreaming. Aware of this, he attempted not to think any intense thoughts, for fear of disrupting the dream and waking up. Lucid dreaming was rare and difficult to master; he didn't want to fuck this up. This was proving difficult with the weird monk suddenly in front of him.

He didn't know why, but he felt calm. Memories of another strange being in his dreams came to mind, one who inspired fear; this was not that creature. It knew his name, yet he was not in danger. Buzz listened to the old man as his wings fluttered behind him.

"My friend... Roth? He's in danger? Of course he is, he's Roth. Where is he?"

[infinity-cantos]

“WHAT!”

Praxix screamed out as he stood there bewildered and confused. Just then, a black uniformed cop came walking down the streets across the road. Whistling a tune, the cop waved at  Praxix, seemingly oblivious to Guns and Buzz.

Panicked, Praxix reaches out and grabs both Guns and Buzz. He cannot risk anyone overhearing this conversation. Such talk means prison. Such talk means death.

And there’s are worse things than death.

Now inside, Praxix locks the door with several locks. Turning around, his panic leaves, replaced with annoyance and frustration.

“YOU wanna go where? YOU wanna do W H A T?”

Guns sigh clearly exasperated already with the incubus. She reiterates again.

“You heard him. We want to go topside. You have the means to get us there and back.”

Praxix couldn’t believe what she was saying and walked away. Guns follow after, as the incubus complains and rants. The inside of his brownstone was very, very nice. It was furnished with elegant taste. On the wall, were posters for porno movies, some of which starred Praxix.

In the living room, Praxix started making himself a very strong drink. He’s laughing now, trying his best to wrap his mind around what Buzz and Guns told him.

“Look, look look look. You know what they would do to you? What they would do to me? I’m already in enough danger with my . . . side gig and all.”

School again? Why are you here? Why now? Everything from memory is here. The posters, the desks and books.

There’s someone at the front, he’s facing Buzz. He wears tattered robes, dressed like some impoverished Franciscan. Removing the hood, he reveals himself. He’s old, very old, yet very wise behind the eyes. There’s power, deep sadness, in his tired blue eyes.

Yet, his presence inspires calm. This dream was no nightmare. Approaching, he bows his head.

“You are Buzz. Born Alexander, died Alexander and born again as Buzz.”

The Old Man says, his eyes fixated on Buzz.  He places his hands inside his robe’s sleeves.

“I bring news of your friend. He is in danger.”

School. Why was Buzz in school? This sucked, he graduated already. Why should he have to go back? Maybe he could protest by burning the building down.

Buzz soon came to the realization that he must be dreaming. Aware of this, he attempted not to think any intense thoughts, for fear of disrupting the dream and waking up. Lucid dreaming was rare and difficult to master; he didn't want to fuck this up. This was proving difficult with the weird monk suddenly in front of him.

He didn't know why, but he felt calm. Memories of another strange being in his dreams came to mind, one who inspired fear; this was not that creature. It knew his name, yet he was not in danger. Buzz listened to the old man as his wings fluttered behind him.

"My friend... Roth? He's in danger? Of course he is, he's Roth. Where is he?"

[infinity-cantos]

Out the door, Guns ran over towards her parked sports car. Hoping in, she started the mean machine and revved up.  Donning her sunglasses, she wasted no time for Buzz to buckle up before she roars out from the driveway. Like a maniac, she speeds down the road and joins the traffic. Weaving in and out, crossing town in record time.

In good time, they reached the ring checkpoint and arrived on Lust. The glow of neon illuminated the perfumed night. They arrived at Praxix’s place. It was very nice, a brownstone of ashen brick. Roses decorated the staircase leading up to the ornate black door.

Hoping out, Guns ascended the stairs and rang the doorbell. Impatient, she rang it several times again. Then, she started pounding her fist against the door.

“C’mon Praxix! I know you’re home you fuck!”

Soon, someone could be heard from beyond the door. Closer and closer, eventually the door opens and Praxix stands there. The Incubus had all the hallmarks, good looks and well-dressed. His coal black hair was combed back and his eyes spoke of addiction. Despite being a walking collection of bad habits, he always dressed his best and put on a good show.  He seemed annoyed, but that look soon melted upon seeing Guns.

“G.A.! It’s good to see you! C’mon bring it here!”

Embracing her, he soon turned his attention to Buzz.

“Who’s this guy?”

School again? Why are you here? Why now? Everything from memory is here. The posters, the desks and books.

There’s someone at the front, he’s facing Buzz. He wears tattered robes, dressed like some impoverished Franciscan. Removing the hood, he reveals himself. He’s old, very old, yet very wise behind the eyes. There’s power, deep sadness, in his tired blue eyes.

Yet, his presence inspires calm. This dream was no nightmare. Approaching, he bows his head.

“You are Buzz. Born Alexander, died Alexander and born again as Buzz.”

The Old Man says, his eyes fixated on Buzz.  He places his hands inside his robe’s sleeves.

“I bring news of your friend. He is in danger.”

School. Why was Buzz in school? This sucked, he graduated already. Why should he have to go back? Maybe he could protest by burning the building down.

Buzz soon came to the realization that he must be dreaming. Aware of this, he attempted not to think any intense thoughts, for fear of disrupting the dream and waking up. Lucid dreaming was rare and difficult to master; he didn't want to fuck this up. This was proving difficult with the weird monk suddenly in front of him.

He didn't know why, but he felt calm. Memories of another strange being in his dreams came to mind, one who inspired fear; this was not that creature. It knew his name, yet he was not in danger. Buzz listened to the old man as his wings fluttered behind him.

"My friend... Roth? He's in danger? Of course he is, he's Roth. Where is he?"

[infinity-cantos]

Peace does not come easily to Guns. Yet, Buzz’s words struck true and genuine. It helped more that she trusted Buzz, more she could trust herself.

Lips curling into a smile, Guns soon answered Buzz’s question. Reaching into her jacket, she retrieved her red leather wallet and opened it. She retrieved a very, very special card. It was a “hallway pass”, signed by the Marquis Kimaris, the 66th demon of The Ars Goetia. The patron-demon of High Incident Solutions, the premier mercenary outfit within Hell.

Membership means free travel across the rings for their unique work.

“We’ll take my car. We’re burning daylight.”

School again? Why are you here? Why now? Everything from memory is here. The posters, the desks and books.

There’s someone at the front, he’s facing Buzz. He wears tattered robes, dressed like some impoverished Franciscan. Removing the hood, he reveals himself. He’s old, very old, yet very wise behind the eyes. There’s power, deep sadness, in his tired blue eyes.

Yet, his presence inspires calm. This dream was no nightmare. Approaching, he bows his head.

“You are Buzz. Born Alexander, died Alexander and born again as Buzz.”

The Old Man says, his eyes fixated on Buzz.  He places his hands inside his robe’s sleeves.

“I bring news of your friend. He is in danger.”

School. Why was Buzz in school? This sucked, he graduated already. Why should he have to go back? Maybe he could protest by burning the building down.

Buzz soon came to the realization that he must be dreaming. Aware of this, he attempted not to think any intense thoughts, for fear of disrupting the dream and waking up. Lucid dreaming was rare and difficult to master; he didn't want to fuck this up. This was proving difficult with the weird monk suddenly in front of him.

He didn't know why, but he felt calm. Memories of another strange being in his dreams came to mind, one who inspired fear; this was not that creature. It knew his name, yet he was not in danger. Buzz listened to the old man as his wings fluttered behind him.

"My friend... Roth? He's in danger? Of course he is, he's Roth. Where is he?"

[infinity-cantos]

“Hey, what you need I have.”

Guns finished her coffee, tasting the bitter cold brew. She sighed, thinking about logistics, planning and the execution of their rescue plans. She needed to know everything about Hoffman. Security will be high, lots of soldiers and lots of cameras. Too many chances to screw up and end up dead. Or worse.

“As for disguises, we gotta hit Lust. There’s an incubus, named Praxix, he’ll set us up with disguises and transportation. He’s a smuggler, running human goods down to Hell.”

Leaving the kitchen, she returns after grabbing her jacket and gun. Holstering her piece, she puts on her jacket and grabs her hat. Guns looked tired, very tired. The eyes conveyed that much.

“Praxix owes me. In fact, he owes Roth. He’s a perverted bastard but he’s honorable.”

School again? Why are you here? Why now? Everything from memory is here. The posters, the desks and books.

There’s someone at the front, he’s facing Buzz. He wears tattered robes, dressed like some impoverished Franciscan. Removing the hood, he reveals himself. He’s old, very old, yet very wise behind the eyes. There’s power, deep sadness, in his tired blue eyes.

Yet, his presence inspires calm. This dream was no nightmare. Approaching, he bows his head.

“You are Buzz. Born Alexander, died Alexander and born again as Buzz.”

The Old Man says, his eyes fixated on Buzz.  He places his hands inside his robe’s sleeves.

“I bring news of your friend. He is in danger.”

School. Why was Buzz in school? This sucked, he graduated already. Why should he have to go back? Maybe he could protest by burning the building down.

Buzz soon came to the realization that he must be dreaming. Aware of this, he attempted not to think any intense thoughts, for fear of disrupting the dream and waking up. Lucid dreaming was rare and difficult to master; he didn't want to fuck this up. This was proving difficult with the weird monk suddenly in front of him.

He didn't know why, but he felt calm. Memories of another strange being in his dreams came to mind, one who inspired fear; this was not that creature. It knew his name, yet he was not in danger. Buzz listened to the old man as his wings fluttered behind him.

"My friend... Roth? He's in danger? Of course he is, he's Roth. Where is he?"

[infinity-cantos]

The more she listened the more she questioned. Why would anyone, let alone some dream entity, help them out without wanting something in return. She didn’t like this . . . but it was their best bet to rescuing Roth. It sounded too good to be true until Buzz mentioned Hoffman.

It struck her like a diamond bullet. She remembered that place from way back. She remembered the bombers, big engine craft for doomsday. She remembered her dad taking her out there when they went on hunting trips.  

For right now, she decided against telling Buzz. She needed to keep that tidbit close to her heart. Close to secrets.

About DHORKs, she’s heard about from the gossip among Hellborn. Just men and women in black with badges and guns. They were more than that, but nothing else.

The Ladder . . . she’s never heard of them. That concerns her.

“Alright! We have a location, and we have a target. We need guns, gear and disguises. I have the first two things, but we needed disguises. That and we need a favor to get topside. Thankfully, I know just the guy.”

School again? Why are you here? Why now? Everything from memory is here. The posters, the desks and books.

There’s someone at the front, he’s facing Buzz. He wears tattered robes, dressed like some impoverished Franciscan. Removing the hood, he reveals himself. He’s old, very old, yet very wise behind the eyes. There’s power, deep sadness, in his tired blue eyes.

Yet, his presence inspires calm. This dream was no nightmare. Approaching, he bows his head.

“You are Buzz. Born Alexander, died Alexander and born again as Buzz.”

The Old Man says, his eyes fixated on Buzz.  He places his hands inside his robe’s sleeves.

“I bring news of your friend. He is in danger.”

School. Why was Buzz in school? This sucked, he graduated already. Why should he have to go back? Maybe he could protest by burning the building down.

Buzz soon came to the realization that he must be dreaming. Aware of this, he attempted not to think any intense thoughts, for fear of disrupting the dream and waking up. Lucid dreaming was rare and difficult to master; he didn't want to fuck this up. This was proving difficult with the weird monk suddenly in front of him.

He didn't know why, but he felt calm. Memories of another strange being in his dreams came to mind, one who inspired fear; this was not that creature. It knew his name, yet he was not in danger. Buzz listened to the old man as his wings fluttered behind him.

"My friend... Roth? He's in danger? Of course he is, he's Roth. Where is he?"

[infinity-cantos]

The door swings open and Guns stands there glaring. Sure, the news excited her even though she had many, many questions. Yet, she was never herself when lacking sleep and peace of mind. The look of annoyance bleeds away, as Guns speaks.

“C’mon, get inside. I don’t want anyone hearing you blurt everything out.”

 Soon, she got Buzz inside and closed the door. Locking the door, she returned to the kitchen.

“How the fuck do you even know where Roth is? Is it Rome? That asshole had such a fetish for Italian culture. He’s not even fucking Italian. Not even half. I should have never married his cowardly ass. Fuck him.”

By the way she speaks and carries herself, something was wrong. She dared not mention her dream to Buzz. Pride and stubbornness sealed the truth. Buried it.

 “You want coffee? I’ve made plenty. It’s good shit too . . . none of that insta piss Vox loves soooo much.”

School again? Why are you here? Why now? Everything from memory is here. The posters, the desks and books.

There’s someone at the front, he’s facing Buzz. He wears tattered robes, dressed like some impoverished Franciscan. Removing the hood, he reveals himself. He’s old, very old, yet very wise behind the eyes. There’s power, deep sadness, in his tired blue eyes.

Yet, his presence inspires calm. This dream was no nightmare. Approaching, he bows his head.

“You are Buzz. Born Alexander, died Alexander and born again as Buzz.”

The Old Man says, his eyes fixated on Buzz.  He places his hands inside his robe’s sleeves.

“I bring news of your friend. He is in danger.”

School. Why was Buzz in school? This sucked, he graduated already. Why should he have to go back? Maybe he could protest by burning the building down.

Buzz soon came to the realization that he must be dreaming. Aware of this, he attempted not to think any intense thoughts, for fear of disrupting the dream and waking up. Lucid dreaming was rare and difficult to master; he didn't want to fuck this up. This was proving difficult with the weird monk suddenly in front of him.

He didn't know why, but he felt calm. Memories of another strange being in his dreams came to mind, one who inspired fear; this was not that creature. It knew his name, yet he was not in danger. Buzz listened to the old man as his wings fluttered behind him.

"My friend... Roth? He's in danger? Of course he is, he's Roth. Where is he?"

[infinity-cantos]

Eyes tired, Guns stared into nothing as her coffee grows cold.

Still, she was thinking about the dream. She knew Buzz had a dream, a very bad dream. She couldn’t help but feel vulnerable, scared because of what she saw and what happened. It wore her father’s face, spoke with his voice right down to calling her “Rose”.

There was the promise, the threat of never escaping him. Desperate for courage, she lied to herself. It was just a bad dream. A bad dream summoned by stress and anger. Remorse, even.

All these years, she still hasn’t gotten over her father dying. She witnessed it, watched it happen right before her eyes. He died so she could escape. Yet, somehow, she believed she caused his demise.

With that, she believed he would be ashamed of her. After all, he wanted her to live. Not like this and not down here.

Getting up, she poured out her coffee and started making another batch. It was then she heard someone outside.

School again? Why are you here? Why now? Everything from memory is here. The posters, the desks and books.

There’s someone at the front, he’s facing Buzz. He wears tattered robes, dressed like some impoverished Franciscan. Removing the hood, he reveals himself. He’s old, very old, yet very wise behind the eyes. There’s power, deep sadness, in his tired blue eyes.

Yet, his presence inspires calm. This dream was no nightmare. Approaching, he bows his head.

“You are Buzz. Born Alexander, died Alexander and born again as Buzz.”

The Old Man says, his eyes fixated on Buzz.  He places his hands inside his robe’s sleeves.

“I bring news of your friend. He is in danger.”

School. Why was Buzz in school? This sucked, he graduated already. Why should he have to go back? Maybe he could protest by burning the building down.

Buzz soon came to the realization that he must be dreaming. Aware of this, he attempted not to think any intense thoughts, for fear of disrupting the dream and waking up. Lucid dreaming was rare and difficult to master; he didn't want to fuck this up. This was proving difficult with the weird monk suddenly in front of him.

He didn't know why, but he felt calm. Memories of another strange being in his dreams came to mind, one who inspired fear; this was not that creature. It knew his name, yet he was not in danger. Buzz listened to the old man as his wings fluttered behind him.

"My friend... Roth? He's in danger? Of course he is, he's Roth. Where is he?"

[infinity-cantos]

[infinity-cantos]

Tall Grass Dark - Guns Akimbo

She was dreaming.

Guns looked up through the truck window, watching the sunrays pour through the passing oak trees. It was summer.

She looked around. She was small, she was Rose Foster again. She hasn’t been Rose Foster in years, decades, ever since she was shot in the back. The bullet that carried her away to damnation. To being reborn as Guns Akimbo.

She knew the man who was behind the wheel. That was her dad. She remembered him, she could never forget. That infectious, jovial smile he always had on. Those blue eyes that saw too much pain and yet chose to see good. Good in everything and everyone.

“Daddy where are we going?”

She asked innocently, as her father spoke. He never looked at her, he just stared ahead.

“Oh, to see your friends  sweet pea. They’re waiting.”

The truck stops and Guns grew a bit older. She was about fourteen, around the time her father died. That memory was burned in her mind like napalm. He was shot down by the cops and the “bad man”. She remembered him. Black sunglasses, fine hair and the walk of extranatural purpose.  He was the bad man that took her father away.

“Dad.”

Guns asked as she grabbed hold of her father’s hand. They were walking now, walking through the prairie grass and mesquite trees.

“I dunno if  . . . if you would like what I became.”

“Hush now, no time for that. You grew up . . . everyone does.”

Guns looked away, unsure of herself. She knew her father would not approve of what she had become. Deep down, she knew she became mean. Merciless, cruel and vicious to the bone. She earned damnation and the bullet was her one-way ticket.

“Why did you have to die?”

She was older now, just around the age she died. Her clothes were changing, now she wore something to her current style. Still, she held onto her father’s hand as they walked into the tall grass. The sun was retreating further and further behind the horizon. It was getting dark.

“Oh, I’m not dead . . . I’m with him now. I’m safe in the court of the dragon. One with the yellow sign."

Those words struck something fearful inside Guns. She found those words to be dark, inhuman and not of her father’s warmth. This thing was not her father. She lets go, already realizing just how dark everything is.

“No no no no no.”

She murmured tearfully, as she backed away. The moonlight casts silver light down on her father. She could see his smile, that fake and horrible grin.

“Why Rose, you’re friends are here.”

The being produced a flashlight and showed her. In the torch’s light, Guns saw and screamed as hard as she could. It was Roth and Buzz, dead and decaying in the heat. Their withered husks were crawling with ants. Fire ants that poured out from their empty sockets and poured out from their gapping maws.

Guns started running, running as fast as she could. She was scared, panicking blindly as she ran. Her father chased after her, screaming.

“YOU CANNT RUN FROM HIM, DARLING! HE’S GONNA CATCH YOU! HE’S GONNA KEEP YOU! IN CARCOSA!”

She ran and ran, tripping as she did. Looking up, she sees her father was gaining on her. She kept running, until out from the trees he showed up.

She could see his tattered robes and that mask. He stretched out his arms to hug her.

Just then, Guns woke up screaming.

Taking reality in, she calms down. She cried, crying hard and long.

She thought about calling Buzz, but she doesn’t want to.

[infinity-cantos]

Akimbo’s rage simmered just enough for her to think about it. Yes, they could bribe an Incubus, or Succubus, but that might be more trouble than not. Besides, she knew someone they could trust. A mutual friend, introduced by Roth.

“Look, I know a guy. He’s a writer for those shitty teledramas. He can get us topside. We also need disguises.”

Guns was tired, too tired to think about it anymore. She looked around the room, her eyes drowning in ponderance.

Still, there was the pain of knowing Roth was gone. That he had escaped and barely told her. Then . . ..

Oh My God, he tried telling her. That day he came by . . . he wanted to. She couldn’t talk about it. Not right now, not with Buzz.

“We’ll meet tomorrow. Right now, I gotta make some phone calls.”

She glanced back at the strange theatre poster on the wall. The one about The Yellow King’s play. For a moment, she though the figure in yellow was blinking at her. It was enough to spook Guns, considering what this room held.

“ . . . I don’t like being in here.”

There came a furious knocking at the door. Someone was out there. Whoever it was, they were bickering with each other.

Again, they kept knocking against the door. A voice can be heard.

“Roth? Roth are you in there? We’re worried sick, open the door man.”

As Buzz startled awake, a headache almost immediately started forming in his head. The hornet prayed it was just a hangover from how he celebrated the new year last night and not another withdrawal migraine or worse.

Someone was at the door for Roth? Slowly, Buzz reconnected his memories from the previous day to now... Roth was working on new year's, which was why Buzz decided to drink everything in his fridge. Looking around, Buzz saw only three empty bottles; he must've passed out early. Well, he was on a roll so far, may as well let the guest in.

"Hey, Roth's not here, it's just his friend, Buzz." The hornet called out as he approached the door. "He said he had to work, so I dunno, maybe he's in another ring." His head throbbed painfully, and he winced before opening the door. It did not occur to him to put on shorts before greeting the guest. "Who're you?"