[the Mentalist, Big Bang fan-fic] Red Hair Black Heart - Prologue
Title: Red Hair, Black Heart
Author: Little Firestar (aka LizFromItaly on fanfiction.net)
Artist: aprilvolition
Link to art: http://aprilvolition.livejournal.com/104743.html
Word Count: +34.300 (plus author's note)
Rating: T (to be on the safe side)
Summary: The past: a man, trying to rebuild his life; two boys, with no love, born only to be exploited, and two teenagers, stars in their own way in the carnie. Today: a doctor of many things, trying to make up for his mistakes; the most notorious serial killer in California’s history; a young man, made cynical by life; a professional stuntman, no longer under the spotlights; a former psych, now a consultant for the CBI, looking for vengeance. Patrick Jane is about to discover the true evil behind Red John, and a world he never knew existed.
Disclaimer: sadly, neither The Mentalist nor Marvel's Characters belong to me, although I'm writing fanfics about the both of them from years.... what's mine it's the plot, though.
Notes: First of my two Mentalist Big Bang Fanfic; X-Over with the Marvel Universe, no knowledge needed.
Storie's un-beated, so, all misatkes are mine. Many thanks to aprilvolition for providing the amazing art and the last sentence of the summary.
Prologue
Somewhere in California, on one of Red John’s crime scene. Timeline Unknown.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Her name was Samantha Driscoll, now she is no more, she is a cold, dead body inside a black bag, hidden inside the morgue of her town. Looking at her home and at her body, it’s easy understanding how she died- murder - and it’s even easier understanding who did it, someone who, in the last decade or so, has gone with the name “Red John”. Nobody knows who this man could be, nobody got closer to have real info about his whereabouts, if not at the cost of their own lives. Or so it’s supposed to be, so it is believed. Because, someone, does - not that the uniformed cop put at the gates of the home of the now late Samantha Driscoll is aware of that.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">He doesn’t know; for him, Red John is as much of an enigma as he is for the rest of the Police Force of California. That’s why, when he sees a gentleman, probably in his fifties, approaching along with a younger man, of Asiatic origins, he stops them; he is mad, young Agent Carver, and annoyed and angry. Bad enough he has been left all alone watching an empty place, but to do so when said place is surrounded by noisy curious, perverts, journalist or whatever the two are, is even worse. He’d like to be everywhere but here, especially on the night of the big football finale, but here he is. And, at least, he’ll not be annoyed by stupid idiots.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You two, there’s a reason for the tape, so move and leave if you don’t want to spend the night somewhere fresher, I’m not gonna say it twice!”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">The gentleman, though, is deaf to the words; he smiles, nice, good, sweet, like an older man would do, not bothered, not even a little, by the harsh tone. He simply deepens his smile once they are eye in the eye, and waves his hand in front of the cop, murmuring words in a language the guard doesn’t understand, doesn’t know. He just knows that they feel like honey and a caress and his grandmother’s pie. They remember him of something old, something ancient, something lost, long gone and forgotten. A bit like the mysterious gentleman.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Carver simply shakes his head, looking around, unable to see something different from before, finding himself alone yet again. Nobody is there. Or so he thinks, because, right before his eyes, the gentleman is still there, smiling satisfied, but not evil, definitely not evil, gesturing to the Asiatic man and to someone hidden in the shadows to join him inside.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You can join us now, young Megan. He can’t see us, there’s nothing to fear for you.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">And, as her teacher told her to, young Megan follows the orders. She leaves the shadows she was hidden into, this strange creature. She is young, just a teenager, clad in denim jeans and a leather bright yellow motor jacket, long purple curls dancing in the breeze of the ocean. She walks carefully, scared of being spotted, but once in front of the guard, she stops, almost daring him to see her, looking into his eyes. And he sees everything, this Agent Carter, everything but them.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Doctor, you should have allowed me to do this. You said so yourself, you no longer possess the power you once had, and it’s critical that you keep your strength for the final battle. This man, he was just a mortal, I could easily did it on my own.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Yes. In fact, we just need a pouting child sending a police officer into a trip.” The Asiatic man doesn’t even turn to look at the girl, he keeps walking behind the so-called doctor, who’s grinning, smiling, barely resisting laughing - his friend, he isn’t being sarcastic. He is serious.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“How dare you, mortal! I order you to show the proper respect to the daughter of Oberon and Titania, lords of Avalon and faeries and all things magic!”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You are not Titania and Oberon’s daughter.” He just says, deadpan, calmly.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Yeah, well, but I’m still faery royalty!” She pauses, a finger under her chin, the girl lost in thought. She is almost positive she is, indeed, Avalon royalty. But her mother could have easily lied once again about her real heritage. That’s life for Megan- nothing is sure, never, ever.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Your father is a common human.” He deadpans, yet again, still as calm as before.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“My father is one of the most powerful psychs of the planet!” She replies, anger awaken yet again in her, even if she is not sure who she is supposed to be mad with: the man who’s making fun of her, or her mother, who lied to her own life? For all she knows, she may have just lied once again, and Jason Wynegarde - or whatever he got by at the time he met her mother - may really not be her real father. Just because she somehow shares a particular version of his gift with him and his other progeny, it doesn’t mean anything….
“mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Your father is, actually, a psychic and a felon, with world-domination tendencies”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">She just crosses her arms, pouting like he told her she is used to do, and walks behind him, walks behind the doctor. She knows she can’t answer in any way to his last statement, a complete truth, whenever she likes it or not (because if Wynegarde is really her father, he is, indeed, a felon with world-domination tendencies), but it doesn’t mean she is going to let it go completely, not because of the subject, but because of the one who brought this up. She doesn’t like him like he doesn’t like her- he doesn’t even like the doctor, and they know each other from a lifetime. The fact that he is right doesn’t mean she can’t say something about something else.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You know, I can’t even begin to understand why the doctor keeps you around. That’s not the way you are supposed to behave with him, or with me, for what it matters. You just always complains and complains, and never shout up. If you don’t like us, why bothering getting along?”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“As you just said so wisely, young Megan, it’s up to the doctor to decided whatever I’m still allowed in his presence or not, and not you. And the reason he keep me around, as I think he already mentioned more than once to you, it’s that I speak my mind. Doesn’t matter that he doesn’t listen to me, like when I told him not to take in an apprentice.” He smirks knowingly at the girl, sure that she’ll get the message, already foretasting her reaction. His hope is that one day she’ll get tired of this bantering and will come back from wherever she comes from, Avalon or no Avalon. Hopefully.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“I’m gonna tell the doctor that you showed disrespect to me once again! You are…awful!”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Now, now, children, why don’t you behave? At least out of respect for poor Miss Driscoll.” He keeps smiling, the man called, or at least known, only as “the Doctor”, and he keeps using that voice, soft, tender, like silk, like a caress, like the one of a wise and old man, an affectionate one. A bit like a grandfather with his grandchildren.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You may try to put an end to our quarrel, Doctor, but at the end of the day, you know I’m right. Like I was when I told you to not get involved in things you didn’t belong to. If you’d listened to me, you’d still be Sorcerer Supreme of this plane of existence, and we’d not have to be here right now to solve this problem.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Uhm, Doctor, are you finally going to let me in in that huge secret of yours? Because, I know the whole thing of power and responsibility and that with a great power comes a great responsibility and etc., etc., but, shouldn’t we, you know, deal with more…supernatural stuff? I know this guy is a monster and he is all evil all over, but, you are the one who’s always telling me that the world is full of dark forces, of things mortals can’t or don’t want to understand. Shouldn’t we take that weight upon our shoulders and go fighting the good fight against everything that’s dark and evil and magical all over?”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Who says it’s not exactly what you are doing right now, girly girl? The half mortal, half faery frowns, shuddering with fear, cold sweat on her whole body, looking around, searching for the voice, for the one who just spoke. And she is the only one- the two men remain impassible, the Doctor just lifts an eyebrow a bit quizzically, but he doesn’t care too much. There are other things he needs to take care of right now, and contemplating the bloody smiley is one of them. He just skims over the surface, still sticky.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">He cuts the rest of the world out. Everything, including the ball of fire suddenly appearing like from thin air- a view that makes the young girl scream, makes her run to hide behind her mentor, to the Asiatic man’s slight amusement - like from thin air appears what replaces the ball. A man, way younger than the Doctor, but older than Megan, not so old to be her father, though, jeans, leather jacket, a shirt left partly unbuttoned, enough to reveal the point of a tattoo on the smooth chest, shining red hair, brilliant like with the reflexes of fire itself.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">And a trident, golden, shiny, flaming, in his hand.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You see girly girl, Doc here feels slightly guilty, since he used to be Sorcerer Supreme and all that jazz. By the way, Doc, I like the new look just fine. Nice knowing I’m not the only one who put some sense into that head of his and donned the cape”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“I thought you knew, my young friend, than I’m no longer allowed to be near the Cape of levitation, now that I’m Sorcerer Supreme no more.” There’s a slight grin of his face, tainted by something else, though, something dark, but all traces of humor disappear from his face when he turns, and looks straight into the eyes of the younger man, who spots a strange look, one that’s of amusement, but like he knew a secret, like he knew something will turn the other man’s world upside down. “Daimon Hellstorm, my young friend, I assumed you didn’t like to waste your time with my kind. Would you mind explaining me why calling this sudden meeting?”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“I may be slightly younger than you, Stephen, but I’m not stupid, whatever my ex wife states.” Hands in his pockets, trident gone, vanished in the same thin air his owner appeared from, “Daimon” drops the grin as soon as he approaches the smiley face printed in crimson blood on the wall, skimming over it from afar, rigid and tense, his eyes turning dark, almost black, a light smell of smoke filling the nostrils of the ones around him, rage, guilt and regret filling the atmosphere all around them. “As soon as I learnt of this, I knew what it was we are facing.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">The Doctor closes his eyes, breathing in, deeply, head low, eyes facing the pavement. He knows now, without any form of doubt. He has thought about it, looked at it from every possible angle, and now he is sure, now that even Hellstorm is confirming his suspicions. Because if there’s someone who knows what they are talking about, that’s Daimon Hellstorm. “He did it, Strange, Blackheart did it.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“He doesn’t walk the world of mortals with that name anymore, and even his proselytes know who he used to be in another life, Daimon. The one we called Blackheart is now…”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it, Doc, he likes to call himself Red John nowadays, to step out from his predecessor’s shadow, am I right?” he laughs, dark, sarcastic, with a subtle vein of evil, no regret, no fear in his voice. What he is telling it’s what he thinks. And he isn’t ashamed of it, he never is. “Face it, Doc, when I told you there was no way you could save that boy by simply taking him in and raising him as your own, you should have listened to me. I told you he had been too long with those psychos to still have a piece of soul left, he was into that too deep. I told you he no longer was Timothy Carter, they made sure to erase that part of him, and you decided to take away from him Blackheart as well. And now, he is fighting to take that back…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, suddenly serious. There’s an hint of something in his voice, and Stephen Strange has to admit it’s way too close to fear, and if Daimon Hellstorm is scared of this, of Blackheart… it means they are in troubles, and deep, because arrogant jackass that he is, Daimon Hellstorm never met fear before. “I gave a look at the records, and I’m sure that he made just few of the homicides attributed to him. The ones he did, though, they form an image, something I saw in the Vishanti Book a long time ago, back when I was just a student of the occult. He is recreating an alchemic symbol, the sigil of Ishbar, one used in another world and in another time to create the philosophical stone through the souls and blood of the inhabitants of the nation of Ishbar. It’s said that, after that, the power of the sigil was embodied with the dark energy the souls released in their agony, and whenever and wherever the symbol is drawn yet again through a blood sacrifice, those energies answer to the call, opening up a gate. It is said that when the next sigil will be completed, the gates of Hell will be opened, and the end of days will come. That’s what he is trying to do, Doc, he is trying to bring the end of days to get his daddy’s attention because he feels bloody neglected.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">They remain at each other’s side for a long while, engulfed in pure silence, not a breath disturbing them, not a sound, not even from the outside, and when the Doctor breaks the silence, he makes so with a thundering voice, low but yet strong, powerful, dominating, accusation clear in his tone, no trace of the good old man he seemed until few minutes before. “I wonder, Hellstorm, how you knew what you were supposed to look for. I wonder how you could possibly be aware of the events taking place here, and the reason I’m doing so, is that, from what I remember of our previous encounters, you never cared in such a deep way about humanity in general, considering my kind unworthy of your otherwise wasted time… you never bothered yourself with such problems before, why starting now?”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Bah, I know what angle you are trying to work, Doc, and I’m telling you, he didn’t contact me, haven’t heard of Timmy boy in years, actually. Blame this one on my sis. You know her, she has never been the smartest in the pack, always forgetting to turn on the brain first before acting. Anyway, few days ago, she came to me and spilled her gut about something one of her lover boys told her about while she has him at her mercy, and honestly, I highly doubt she actually knew what she was talking about. Or maybe she was. You knew dear old her, she has always been such a daddy’s little girl, fully committed to that kind of stuff. Definitely not dear old me…”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“So it wasn’t you. You sister told you what you were supposed to look for…”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Yep, as soon as dear old sis was gone, I started to connect the dots, and here it comes, right before my eyes, the sigil of Ishbar, prelude to hell on Earth if you do everything as you are supposed to do. And, unfortunately, he is doing everything as he is supposed to.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Uhm, but he has made mistakes. He has gotten to enjoy so much his power over the living ones that he has to kill. He no longer is killing merely for the purpose of ending the rituals… his victims count is so high, never as high as Ishbar itself, but high nevertheless, too high for the ritual only. Killing is something that fills his existence, he keeps doing it even if he shouldn’t, even if it isn’t necessary for his purpose. But he still goes on, and it means that he’ll soon make a mistake. For all we know, he could already have made one. Maybe there’s no reason to get worried about him, maybe we’ll not even have to get involved at all…”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Hellstorm grins, keep grinning, dark and evil and scary. Megan, as much as reluctant she is in doing so, can’t help but hiding at Wong’s back, shivers running through her whole being, body and soul, as she keeps looking from the corner of her eyes at the man, a man who looks a lot like one of the creatures he just described, a child of Hell himself, beautiful but evil and lethal.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Oh, I’ll not count on it. many of the murders attributed to Red John were made by mere acolytes, proselytes, while others were meant to distract both the police and us. This face? Just to mess with the police’s heads, and because he didn’t want for us to connect this new Red John persona to Blackheart and Timothy Carter. Let’s face it, if one of his guys hadn’t spilled everything to sis while going at it, we would still be in the woods.” He clenches his fits, eyes closed, his voice a low hiss, spectral, feral and scary. But suddenly serious, and… scared. And sad, all together. “He is Blackheart, Stephen, he is the son of the devil. He can’t be killed nor imprisoned by men. We have to get involved, like it or not. It’s our responsibility. We made a mistake years ago, and now we have to face the consequences, and pay the price.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“I agree with you, but be assured that I still don’t regret my choices. I’d do the same, all over again, because, unlikely you, I treasure any human life, and son of devil or not, he was just a human kid back then, and if there’s someone who should have showed some empathy for that poor innocent soul, that’s you.” Stephen pauses, turning to face Hellstorm, decision in his voice, but sadness as well. The mistake was his. And all the death Blackheart brought into the world is his fault as well, another reason many others were worthier than him to hold the title of Sorcerer Supreme. “But I have to reluctantly agree with you. We have to get involved, if we don’t want this dimension to cease to exist under the devil’s onslaught. Do I reckon you have a plan, my old friend?”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“I may or may not have a couple of people involved in the investigation, working angles from the inside of this unit having the case. You listen to me, there’s always some good in having a wolf between the sheep, posing as one of their own.” The grin, appeared suddenly, as suddenly vanishes, and the young man turns back to be serious, a weird contrast between his unorthodox style and his seriousness, that makes him look like a way older man. “We need people from the inside to catch him before he could bring Hell on earth, Doc, and we have to save as many humans as we can. I know what you think of me, but I’m no longer the same man I used to be. I learned to treasure human life after I lost Patsy because of my own doing, and I’ll not allow anyone else to go get lost like she did. Especially because of a mistake I did when I was younger and more naïve. We both were.” He turns, his back to Stephen and the bloody wall, hands casually in his pockets yet again. “Besides, I’m definitely not in the mood for another meeting with the Devil…”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">He leaves then, slowly walking away, back into the warm Californian night, letting them on their own, to decide if it could really be that wise, getting involved in a fight between light and darkness, if taking action right now of it is already too late and there’s only damage control let to do.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">He stops and stares once outside, taking a big breath as the magnificent view of the sky, slightly illuminated by a silver full moon, amazes him as nothing ever did before, with the exclusion of the first time he lied eyes on Patsy, and, with total nonchalance, he steals a cigarette from the guard, young Agent Carver, still like in trance.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You know, sometimes I wonder if those Jane and Frey were aware that what they were saying was true, that Timmy boy was just a poor, rejected and unloved soul… what do you say? No? Yep, I do too. I mean, the woman said the guy could love, but if the only things the devil loves are sin and himself, the same goes for his children, and, modesty apart, I’m quite the expert in this field.” He laughs, almost demonically, Carvel still in trance, and throws the cigarette on the soil, turning it off with a foot.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">As he walks away, the breeze lifts in the air his now fully unbuttoned shirt, revealing on the skin behind the fabric a sign, a mark, something that could be either a scar or a tattoo.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">It may not be clear what it is exactly, but it’s clear what it represents: a pentacle, one of the most powerful signs of magic and paranormal forces working beyond normal human comprehension.
Author: Little Firestar (aka LizFromItaly on fanfiction.net)
Artist: aprilvolition
Link to art: http://aprilvolition.livejournal.com/104743.html
Word Count: +34.300 (plus author's note)
Rating: T (to be on the safe side)
Summary: The past: a man, trying to rebuild his life; two boys, with no love, born only to be exploited, and two teenagers, stars in their own way in the carnie. Today: a doctor of many things, trying to make up for his mistakes; the most notorious serial killer in California’s history; a young man, made cynical by life; a professional stuntman, no longer under the spotlights; a former psych, now a consultant for the CBI, looking for vengeance. Patrick Jane is about to discover the true evil behind Red John, and a world he never knew existed.
Disclaimer: sadly, neither The Mentalist nor Marvel's Characters belong to me, although I'm writing fanfics about the both of them from years.... what's mine it's the plot, though.
Notes: First of my two Mentalist Big Bang Fanfic; X-Over with the Marvel Universe, no knowledge needed.
Storie's un-beated, so, all misatkes are mine. Many thanks to aprilvolition for providing the amazing art and the last sentence of the summary.
Prologue
Somewhere in California, on one of Red John’s crime scene. Timeline Unknown.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Her name was Samantha Driscoll, now she is no more, she is a cold, dead body inside a black bag, hidden inside the morgue of her town. Looking at her home and at her body, it’s easy understanding how she died- murder - and it’s even easier understanding who did it, someone who, in the last decade or so, has gone with the name “Red John”. Nobody knows who this man could be, nobody got closer to have real info about his whereabouts, if not at the cost of their own lives. Or so it’s supposed to be, so it is believed. Because, someone, does - not that the uniformed cop put at the gates of the home of the now late Samantha Driscoll is aware of that.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">He doesn’t know; for him, Red John is as much of an enigma as he is for the rest of the Police Force of California. That’s why, when he sees a gentleman, probably in his fifties, approaching along with a younger man, of Asiatic origins, he stops them; he is mad, young Agent Carver, and annoyed and angry. Bad enough he has been left all alone watching an empty place, but to do so when said place is surrounded by noisy curious, perverts, journalist or whatever the two are, is even worse. He’d like to be everywhere but here, especially on the night of the big football finale, but here he is. And, at least, he’ll not be annoyed by stupid idiots.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You two, there’s a reason for the tape, so move and leave if you don’t want to spend the night somewhere fresher, I’m not gonna say it twice!”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">The gentleman, though, is deaf to the words; he smiles, nice, good, sweet, like an older man would do, not bothered, not even a little, by the harsh tone. He simply deepens his smile once they are eye in the eye, and waves his hand in front of the cop, murmuring words in a language the guard doesn’t understand, doesn’t know. He just knows that they feel like honey and a caress and his grandmother’s pie. They remember him of something old, something ancient, something lost, long gone and forgotten. A bit like the mysterious gentleman.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Carver simply shakes his head, looking around, unable to see something different from before, finding himself alone yet again. Nobody is there. Or so he thinks, because, right before his eyes, the gentleman is still there, smiling satisfied, but not evil, definitely not evil, gesturing to the Asiatic man and to someone hidden in the shadows to join him inside.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You can join us now, young Megan. He can’t see us, there’s nothing to fear for you.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">And, as her teacher told her to, young Megan follows the orders. She leaves the shadows she was hidden into, this strange creature. She is young, just a teenager, clad in denim jeans and a leather bright yellow motor jacket, long purple curls dancing in the breeze of the ocean. She walks carefully, scared of being spotted, but once in front of the guard, she stops, almost daring him to see her, looking into his eyes. And he sees everything, this Agent Carter, everything but them.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Doctor, you should have allowed me to do this. You said so yourself, you no longer possess the power you once had, and it’s critical that you keep your strength for the final battle. This man, he was just a mortal, I could easily did it on my own.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Yes. In fact, we just need a pouting child sending a police officer into a trip.” The Asiatic man doesn’t even turn to look at the girl, he keeps walking behind the so-called doctor, who’s grinning, smiling, barely resisting laughing - his friend, he isn’t being sarcastic. He is serious.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“How dare you, mortal! I order you to show the proper respect to the daughter of Oberon and Titania, lords of Avalon and faeries and all things magic!”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You are not Titania and Oberon’s daughter.” He just says, deadpan, calmly.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Yeah, well, but I’m still faery royalty!” She pauses, a finger under her chin, the girl lost in thought. She is almost positive she is, indeed, Avalon royalty. But her mother could have easily lied once again about her real heritage. That’s life for Megan- nothing is sure, never, ever.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Your father is a common human.” He deadpans, yet again, still as calm as before.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“My father is one of the most powerful psychs of the planet!” She replies, anger awaken yet again in her, even if she is not sure who she is supposed to be mad with: the man who’s making fun of her, or her mother, who lied to her own life? For all she knows, she may have just lied once again, and Jason Wynegarde - or whatever he got by at the time he met her mother - may really not be her real father. Just because she somehow shares a particular version of his gift with him and his other progeny, it doesn’t mean anything….
“mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Your father is, actually, a psychic and a felon, with world-domination tendencies”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">She just crosses her arms, pouting like he told her she is used to do, and walks behind him, walks behind the doctor. She knows she can’t answer in any way to his last statement, a complete truth, whenever she likes it or not (because if Wynegarde is really her father, he is, indeed, a felon with world-domination tendencies), but it doesn’t mean she is going to let it go completely, not because of the subject, but because of the one who brought this up. She doesn’t like him like he doesn’t like her- he doesn’t even like the doctor, and they know each other from a lifetime. The fact that he is right doesn’t mean she can’t say something about something else.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You know, I can’t even begin to understand why the doctor keeps you around. That’s not the way you are supposed to behave with him, or with me, for what it matters. You just always complains and complains, and never shout up. If you don’t like us, why bothering getting along?”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“As you just said so wisely, young Megan, it’s up to the doctor to decided whatever I’m still allowed in his presence or not, and not you. And the reason he keep me around, as I think he already mentioned more than once to you, it’s that I speak my mind. Doesn’t matter that he doesn’t listen to me, like when I told him not to take in an apprentice.” He smirks knowingly at the girl, sure that she’ll get the message, already foretasting her reaction. His hope is that one day she’ll get tired of this bantering and will come back from wherever she comes from, Avalon or no Avalon. Hopefully.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“I’m gonna tell the doctor that you showed disrespect to me once again! You are…awful!”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Now, now, children, why don’t you behave? At least out of respect for poor Miss Driscoll.” He keeps smiling, the man called, or at least known, only as “the Doctor”, and he keeps using that voice, soft, tender, like silk, like a caress, like the one of a wise and old man, an affectionate one. A bit like a grandfather with his grandchildren.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You may try to put an end to our quarrel, Doctor, but at the end of the day, you know I’m right. Like I was when I told you to not get involved in things you didn’t belong to. If you’d listened to me, you’d still be Sorcerer Supreme of this plane of existence, and we’d not have to be here right now to solve this problem.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Uhm, Doctor, are you finally going to let me in in that huge secret of yours? Because, I know the whole thing of power and responsibility and that with a great power comes a great responsibility and etc., etc., but, shouldn’t we, you know, deal with more…supernatural stuff? I know this guy is a monster and he is all evil all over, but, you are the one who’s always telling me that the world is full of dark forces, of things mortals can’t or don’t want to understand. Shouldn’t we take that weight upon our shoulders and go fighting the good fight against everything that’s dark and evil and magical all over?”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Who says it’s not exactly what you are doing right now, girly girl? The half mortal, half faery frowns, shuddering with fear, cold sweat on her whole body, looking around, searching for the voice, for the one who just spoke. And she is the only one- the two men remain impassible, the Doctor just lifts an eyebrow a bit quizzically, but he doesn’t care too much. There are other things he needs to take care of right now, and contemplating the bloody smiley is one of them. He just skims over the surface, still sticky.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">He cuts the rest of the world out. Everything, including the ball of fire suddenly appearing like from thin air- a view that makes the young girl scream, makes her run to hide behind her mentor, to the Asiatic man’s slight amusement - like from thin air appears what replaces the ball. A man, way younger than the Doctor, but older than Megan, not so old to be her father, though, jeans, leather jacket, a shirt left partly unbuttoned, enough to reveal the point of a tattoo on the smooth chest, shining red hair, brilliant like with the reflexes of fire itself.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">And a trident, golden, shiny, flaming, in his hand.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You see girly girl, Doc here feels slightly guilty, since he used to be Sorcerer Supreme and all that jazz. By the way, Doc, I like the new look just fine. Nice knowing I’m not the only one who put some sense into that head of his and donned the cape”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“I thought you knew, my young friend, than I’m no longer allowed to be near the Cape of levitation, now that I’m Sorcerer Supreme no more.” There’s a slight grin of his face, tainted by something else, though, something dark, but all traces of humor disappear from his face when he turns, and looks straight into the eyes of the younger man, who spots a strange look, one that’s of amusement, but like he knew a secret, like he knew something will turn the other man’s world upside down. “Daimon Hellstorm, my young friend, I assumed you didn’t like to waste your time with my kind. Would you mind explaining me why calling this sudden meeting?”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“I may be slightly younger than you, Stephen, but I’m not stupid, whatever my ex wife states.” Hands in his pockets, trident gone, vanished in the same thin air his owner appeared from, “Daimon” drops the grin as soon as he approaches the smiley face printed in crimson blood on the wall, skimming over it from afar, rigid and tense, his eyes turning dark, almost black, a light smell of smoke filling the nostrils of the ones around him, rage, guilt and regret filling the atmosphere all around them. “As soon as I learnt of this, I knew what it was we are facing.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">The Doctor closes his eyes, breathing in, deeply, head low, eyes facing the pavement. He knows now, without any form of doubt. He has thought about it, looked at it from every possible angle, and now he is sure, now that even Hellstorm is confirming his suspicions. Because if there’s someone who knows what they are talking about, that’s Daimon Hellstorm. “He did it, Strange, Blackheart did it.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“He doesn’t walk the world of mortals with that name anymore, and even his proselytes know who he used to be in another life, Daimon. The one we called Blackheart is now…”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it, Doc, he likes to call himself Red John nowadays, to step out from his predecessor’s shadow, am I right?” he laughs, dark, sarcastic, with a subtle vein of evil, no regret, no fear in his voice. What he is telling it’s what he thinks. And he isn’t ashamed of it, he never is. “Face it, Doc, when I told you there was no way you could save that boy by simply taking him in and raising him as your own, you should have listened to me. I told you he had been too long with those psychos to still have a piece of soul left, he was into that too deep. I told you he no longer was Timothy Carter, they made sure to erase that part of him, and you decided to take away from him Blackheart as well. And now, he is fighting to take that back…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, suddenly serious. There’s an hint of something in his voice, and Stephen Strange has to admit it’s way too close to fear, and if Daimon Hellstorm is scared of this, of Blackheart… it means they are in troubles, and deep, because arrogant jackass that he is, Daimon Hellstorm never met fear before. “I gave a look at the records, and I’m sure that he made just few of the homicides attributed to him. The ones he did, though, they form an image, something I saw in the Vishanti Book a long time ago, back when I was just a student of the occult. He is recreating an alchemic symbol, the sigil of Ishbar, one used in another world and in another time to create the philosophical stone through the souls and blood of the inhabitants of the nation of Ishbar. It’s said that, after that, the power of the sigil was embodied with the dark energy the souls released in their agony, and whenever and wherever the symbol is drawn yet again through a blood sacrifice, those energies answer to the call, opening up a gate. It is said that when the next sigil will be completed, the gates of Hell will be opened, and the end of days will come. That’s what he is trying to do, Doc, he is trying to bring the end of days to get his daddy’s attention because he feels bloody neglected.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">They remain at each other’s side for a long while, engulfed in pure silence, not a breath disturbing them, not a sound, not even from the outside, and when the Doctor breaks the silence, he makes so with a thundering voice, low but yet strong, powerful, dominating, accusation clear in his tone, no trace of the good old man he seemed until few minutes before. “I wonder, Hellstorm, how you knew what you were supposed to look for. I wonder how you could possibly be aware of the events taking place here, and the reason I’m doing so, is that, from what I remember of our previous encounters, you never cared in such a deep way about humanity in general, considering my kind unworthy of your otherwise wasted time… you never bothered yourself with such problems before, why starting now?”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Bah, I know what angle you are trying to work, Doc, and I’m telling you, he didn’t contact me, haven’t heard of Timmy boy in years, actually. Blame this one on my sis. You know her, she has never been the smartest in the pack, always forgetting to turn on the brain first before acting. Anyway, few days ago, she came to me and spilled her gut about something one of her lover boys told her about while she has him at her mercy, and honestly, I highly doubt she actually knew what she was talking about. Or maybe she was. You knew dear old her, she has always been such a daddy’s little girl, fully committed to that kind of stuff. Definitely not dear old me…”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“So it wasn’t you. You sister told you what you were supposed to look for…”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Yep, as soon as dear old sis was gone, I started to connect the dots, and here it comes, right before my eyes, the sigil of Ishbar, prelude to hell on Earth if you do everything as you are supposed to do. And, unfortunately, he is doing everything as he is supposed to.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Uhm, but he has made mistakes. He has gotten to enjoy so much his power over the living ones that he has to kill. He no longer is killing merely for the purpose of ending the rituals… his victims count is so high, never as high as Ishbar itself, but high nevertheless, too high for the ritual only. Killing is something that fills his existence, he keeps doing it even if he shouldn’t, even if it isn’t necessary for his purpose. But he still goes on, and it means that he’ll soon make a mistake. For all we know, he could already have made one. Maybe there’s no reason to get worried about him, maybe we’ll not even have to get involved at all…”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Hellstorm grins, keep grinning, dark and evil and scary. Megan, as much as reluctant she is in doing so, can’t help but hiding at Wong’s back, shivers running through her whole being, body and soul, as she keeps looking from the corner of her eyes at the man, a man who looks a lot like one of the creatures he just described, a child of Hell himself, beautiful but evil and lethal.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“Oh, I’ll not count on it. many of the murders attributed to Red John were made by mere acolytes, proselytes, while others were meant to distract both the police and us. This face? Just to mess with the police’s heads, and because he didn’t want for us to connect this new Red John persona to Blackheart and Timothy Carter. Let’s face it, if one of his guys hadn’t spilled everything to sis while going at it, we would still be in the woods.” He clenches his fits, eyes closed, his voice a low hiss, spectral, feral and scary. But suddenly serious, and… scared. And sad, all together. “He is Blackheart, Stephen, he is the son of the devil. He can’t be killed nor imprisoned by men. We have to get involved, like it or not. It’s our responsibility. We made a mistake years ago, and now we have to face the consequences, and pay the price.”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“I agree with you, but be assured that I still don’t regret my choices. I’d do the same, all over again, because, unlikely you, I treasure any human life, and son of devil or not, he was just a human kid back then, and if there’s someone who should have showed some empathy for that poor innocent soul, that’s you.” Stephen pauses, turning to face Hellstorm, decision in his voice, but sadness as well. The mistake was his. And all the death Blackheart brought into the world is his fault as well, another reason many others were worthier than him to hold the title of Sorcerer Supreme. “But I have to reluctantly agree with you. We have to get involved, if we don’t want this dimension to cease to exist under the devil’s onslaught. Do I reckon you have a plan, my old friend?”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“I may or may not have a couple of people involved in the investigation, working angles from the inside of this unit having the case. You listen to me, there’s always some good in having a wolf between the sheep, posing as one of their own.” The grin, appeared suddenly, as suddenly vanishes, and the young man turns back to be serious, a weird contrast between his unorthodox style and his seriousness, that makes him look like a way older man. “We need people from the inside to catch him before he could bring Hell on earth, Doc, and we have to save as many humans as we can. I know what you think of me, but I’m no longer the same man I used to be. I learned to treasure human life after I lost Patsy because of my own doing, and I’ll not allow anyone else to go get lost like she did. Especially because of a mistake I did when I was younger and more naïve. We both were.” He turns, his back to Stephen and the bloody wall, hands casually in his pockets yet again. “Besides, I’m definitely not in the mood for another meeting with the Devil…”
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">He leaves then, slowly walking away, back into the warm Californian night, letting them on their own, to decide if it could really be that wise, getting involved in a fight between light and darkness, if taking action right now of it is already too late and there’s only damage control let to do.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">He stops and stares once outside, taking a big breath as the magnificent view of the sky, slightly illuminated by a silver full moon, amazes him as nothing ever did before, with the exclusion of the first time he lied eyes on Patsy, and, with total nonchalance, he steals a cigarette from the guard, young Agent Carver, still like in trance.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">“You know, sometimes I wonder if those Jane and Frey were aware that what they were saying was true, that Timmy boy was just a poor, rejected and unloved soul… what do you say? No? Yep, I do too. I mean, the woman said the guy could love, but if the only things the devil loves are sin and himself, the same goes for his children, and, modesty apart, I’m quite the expert in this field.” He laughs, almost demonically, Carvel still in trance, and throws the cigarette on the soil, turning it off with a foot.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">As he walks away, the breeze lifts in the air his now fully unbuttoned shirt, revealing on the skin behind the fabric a sign, a mark, something that could be either a scar or a tattoo.
mso-ansi-language:EN-US">It may not be clear what it is exactly, but it’s clear what it represents: a pentacle, one of the most powerful signs of magic and paranormal forces working beyond normal human comprehension.