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Nine Nights Ago

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It is dark, as it always is, within the Dungeon. He's sat idle since his defeat of Cain on Madness. Just sitting here, staring at the dark nothingness that surrounds us. Within him, a simmering stew of anger... regret... resentment... It's too late to turn back now. I think that, deep down, very deep down perhaps, he wants someone to stop him. He wants someone more powerful to end him.

The trouble is, I don't think anyone has that power. Someday, someone may put him down for a three count. Someone may force him to submit to the pain of some agonizing hold. Someone may be able to outlast him within the squared circle. It's happened before, it'll surely happen again. If and when that day arises, I sincerely doubt it can stop him.

Why?

Because he always comes back. And when he does, he comes back even stronger and more powerful than ever before. He feeds and thrives off of every little thing that happens to him. Whether it is something good or otherwise.

It fuels him.

Over the course of his silence. Over the course of his two months of brooding within the darkness, he's claimed fourteen souls. Fifteen, if you count the UPS courier on Madness the night he claimed the Universal Championship for his own.

Fifteen times his dealt out his fury upon the weak and upon the innocent. Perhaps, upon the undeserving. However, tonight, something feels different. Something feels off. Something is going to change and I can not see what it is.

He's on the move. I follow him up the stairs and out the back of the Compound. A storm is brewing over the Atlantic. I can feel it in the wind and smell it in the air. Through the back yard of the Compound, hallowed ground – the Revolutionary War cemetery, and into the darkened woods. The two mile trek in the wilderness soon empties into a dark, empty street on the edge of Old Saybrook.

He doesn't wander aimlessly tonight. He seems to have an intended purpose and intended destination. Rather than his normal slow paced, methodical stalking and walking, he takes a much faster and more deliberate pace. So fast that I can no longer keep up with him. The guy is six foot eight, I'm a foot shorter. His strides are too long. Before too long, I lose him completely.

I try to find him by ducking into alley ways and backyards. I run quickly, through the yards and across the alleys yet I can not find him. I come to a stop in the middle of an intersection. Out of breath, my hands on my knees, I look around, unable to spot him anywhere in sight.

Behind me, I hear the screeching of tires. An automobile comes screaming toward me with one headlight shining bright. I dive out of its path and hit the pavement hard. As I land, I catch a glimpse of the driver.

Sebastian Duke.

Judging by the direction he's traveling, he is headed back to the Compound. Without a doubt, his next victim, or victims, or inside of that car.

I jump back to my feet and immediately feel some pain in my left knee. I must have smacked it off the pavement. Fighting through the pain I begin to limp back toward home. Soon, I've worked the pain out of my knee and start walking faster. The walk then becomes a full sprint.

Back into and through the woods. As I near the Compound, I hear screeching tires and a crash. I stop dead in my tracks and immediately head in the direction of Galileo Drive. Once I reach the road, I realize Sebastian has crashed the car into a light pole. I run towards the car and can see the interior light pop on and the drivers side door open. Seconds later, the car peels out and takes off.

Lying on the pavement is the King of Darkness. I reach him and stand over him. He lays flat on his back in the middle of the darkened back road. He stares up into the heavens. Past the feathered clouds on the moonlit night, just staring into the vastness of space.

Quite obviously, whoever was in that car fought back. Sebastian Duke slipped up. His potential victim got away. That my friends, is bad news.



JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “Come on. Lets get you back home.”



I reach my hand down in his direction. He stops staring into space for a second and looks at me. After a few moments, he grabs my arm. After helping him to his feet, we walk up Galileo Drive and complete the quarter mile journey back to the Compound.

Once inside the front double doors, he heads right back to the Dungeon. At this point, I've had enough of his shenanigans and decided to call it a night. For some unknown reason, I headed into the library. I'm surprised to find Asmodeus still awake and prowling around inside.



ASMODEUS, THE HIGH PRIEST: “What's happened?”



It's a question that's easy to answer, but no one I want to get into.”



ASMODEUS, THE HIGH PRIEST: “Jacob. Something is not right. What is it?”

JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “He failed.”

ASMODEUS, THE HIGH PRIEST: “To do what?”

JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “He got away from me. He stole a car with his next victim inside.”

ASMODEUS, THE HIGH PRIEST: “So?”

JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “They fought back.”



[i]He falls silent for a minute. With the aid of his cane, he ventures over to the window. He stares out into the darkness, then up into space. Like father, like son.



ASMODEUS, THE HIGH PRIEST: “Would they be able to identify him?”

JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “I don't know.”

ASMODEUS, THE HIGH PRIEST: “You'll have to see to it that they can not. Understood?”

JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “Father, I have no way of knowing who they are or where they live. Like I said, he got away from me.”



He slams his fists down on the large window sill in anger. Again, like father, like son.



ASMODEUS, THE HIGH PRIEST: “This is not up for debate, Jacob. You are to find them. You are to make sure that they can not talk. Do you understand?”

JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “I do.”

ASMODEUS, THE HIGH PRIEST: “Get some rest. There's nothing you can do tonight.”

JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “But, sir...”

ASMODEUS, THE HIGH PRIEST: “But nothing. At the crack of dawn I want you on the case. Get to them, before they get to the authorities.”

JACOB, THE MESSENGER: “Yes, sir.”



Sounds great in theory. Of course, what one wishes and what one receives are two entirely different things. Not even a half hour later, the SWAT division of the Connecticut State Police had the entire Compound surrounded with helicopters flying above.

They ordered the peaceful surrender of your King of Darkness, and shockingly, that's exactly what they got. Sebastian Duke rose from the Dungeon, and exited the front doors. The hideous mask of King George still on his face. As he stepped out from the security of the Compound, dozens of tiny little red infrared target beams lit up his chest. He stared down at them for a few seconds, then placed his hands upon his head and hit his knees. He was cuffed and read his rights and placed in the back of a police cruiser.



OFFICER: “You have the right to remain silent...”



Pretty good bet he'll make good use of that right.