Do you hear it?

Demos pressed his ear against one of the room’s four concrete walls. A small ceiling light dangled overhead. The room was silent as Demos cupped his hands around his ear.

I hear it...it’s coming for us, Blue Tango.

Demos grew quiet once more. His eyes were twisting and turning inside their sockets, caught in frantic motion. Demos slowly brought his hands down to his waist as he turned away from the wall. Demos sat in the empty concrete room, wearing a tattered brown jumpsuit. His beard was neatly trimmed and his scars from Snow Job appeared to be healing, for the most part.

The flickering flames of hell nip at our feet, waiting for one of us to slip. The hellfire is drawn to heroes like us. The vices of modern life taunt heroes like us every day. I know you know they do, Blue Tango. You see what I see. The false faces of the pariahs, the temptresses, the deceivers…..the shadows on the walls….

Demos looked around the room, his gaze drifting slowly from wall to wall. A genuine look of fear flashes across the man's face.

Waiting for one of us to slip.

We can’t slip, Tango. We. Can’t.

If we slip, we will tumble. If we tumble, we will slowly cascade into the pits of hell. Men like you and I don’t do well in hell, Tango. Every demon we’ve put there wants vengeance.

Can’t you feel it, Tango?

Demos held his hands out in front of chest, inspecting them for a few moments before turning back to the camera.

The flames of hell are biting our skin. Can’t you feel the heat beneath your feet? If we are not careful, our souls will be singed….

Demos looked to the right, drifting off in contemplation. His head bobbed back and forth slowly as Demos stared into the distance. His breathing began to get shallower and shallower as a few beads of sweat rolled down his face.

GLLLYRRRRHHH


The muscles inside of Demos' throat began to tug and pull on themselves as the man was overtaken by a nasty dry heave. His busted up nose crinkled as his mouth widened.

GLLLYRRRRHHH


Demos puts a hand over his mouth and breathes in deeply. He closes his eyes, removing his hand from his palm after a few moments of quiet meditation.

I can smell the flames tugging at your cape. The smoke is nauseating. Oh no….no….NO! TANGO, NO!

Demos reached out as if he was trying to grab something. It’s no use. Demos falls forward onto his forearm. A look of shock and horror tears into his face. His eyes glaze over.

You’re going to slip…..

I saw it.

You SLIPPED! You can’t go on. You can’t keep on this path. The chinks in your armor are peaking through. The shallowness of your fortitude will drag you into the depths of darkness. The horrors you have yet to bear will swallow you and spit you out as a broken man trapped inside a hollow corpse.

Charlie pushed himself into a sitting position. He shook his head precisely three times before rising to his feet. He looked over at the wall nearest him, cocking his head as if inspecting the shadows dancing underneath the dangling light. In a few seconds he turned to face the camera.

Hang up the cape. Leave the mask in the closet. Let it collect dust like your resume. The time of heroes is at hand. The time for make believe has long since passed. Evil creatures lurk in our midst. The Left Hand….The Brotherhood…..take it from me, Tango...they don’t play nice. They’ll rip you apart. They’ll tear you limb from limb. Don’t make us watch that scene, Tango. Keep your boots up on the coffee table and your backside on your sofa. You’ve earned your retirement. You’ve paid your dues, fought the villains that you could. Don’t come back now.

You can’t hack it in this god forsaken place. Men like you aren’t supposed to be here. They’re not supposed to see the things I have to see. They’re not supposed to do the things I will have to do. To fight the monsters without falling before them….or worse, becoming one….

What will go first, Tango? Your body or your morals? Will you be put up in the hospital or the asylum? Will the crushing blows from steel chairs and powerbombs break your back, or will the deceit and treachery that run amok in these halls break your soul? I saw it, Tango…..you SLIPPED!

I told you not to….I reached out for you…..but still you slipped into the pits of hell….

I can’t help but feel responsible. Why…...why else would God shine his light on me in this way? Why would he show me your fate? You need a guardian. A warden. A protector. A firm yet caring hand to guide you off this path.

I thought you could do it. I thought you had the chops. I thought you were a mighty fine warrior of the human race. A man like Jim. But no! You and him aren’t cut from the same cloth. You couldn’t even eat from the same cereal bowl! His spoon will prove to be Thor’s hammer in your civilian hands.

Demos took a few quick paces towards the camera. As he neared the lens the audience view swung out to the side and we see Demos approaching a steel door. He places his left hand on the door before turning back to the camera. He sighed softly, the sorrow showing in his drooping eyes.

I'm sorry that it has to be this way, Tango. I know that you have a heart of gold...but your body and your soul are pure pyrite.


Demos pushed the door open. The scene faded to black as he stepped out of the room.