Dillinger sat in the middle of his late grandfather's former study. Files, journals and various documents, were strewn about on the floor. Every piece of paper that seemed important or worth reading had been gone over, multiple times and still, he was clueless. There wasn't a damn thing that answered his questions or even pointed him in the right direction as to where he should look. He would go as far as studying the random books his grandfather kept and still, nothing. Not one shred of evidence contrary to the fact that he wasted a shit load of time and wasn't even a smidgen closer to finding out the truth. With a defeated sigh, Dillinger flopped back onto the floor. He was exhausted and all he successfully managed to do was make a mess and discover that it took less than a half a second to heal a paper cut. Which he would have had millions of, if not for his quick healing. Raising his hand in the air, he focused on his index finger and attempted to ignite a flame. The blaze that had overtaken his hand, went out by the time he reached the study and after he got there, he threw himself into searching for answers but now that he knew all that had been in vain, his mind began to wander. Could he call upon the fire anytime he wanted, or was the ability only a one time thing? Anger seemed to help invoke it but getting mad wasn't really an easy task for him. That's when he had the brilliant idea to try and use pain as a trigger. Pulling a butterfly knife from his pocket, he swung it open and stabbed it straight into his thigh. Eyes wide in agony, he looked to his index finger once more and... success! With a triumphant grin, Dillinger retrieved a cigarette and used the small flame; burning at the tip of his index finger, to light it. This was so fucking cool. Dillinger thought to himself as he yanked the blade from his leg.

However, when Dillinger removed the knife, his blood began to flow and spill onto the floor. Despite healing in a matter of minutes, there was still a pretty decent sized pool of blood that accumulated. That blood then trickled into a crack on the floor. This was no ordinary split in the surface though. No, that fracture in the floor seemed to have been placed there on purpose because when Dillinger's blood ran into it, it immediately flowed in the direction of a specific marking that was carved into the wall. When his blood made its way over to the pattern, it filled into the design and seemed to activate some sort of mechanism. As a strange metallic, clicking noise could be heard emanating from within the floor. After several seconds of that, a whole section of the floor dropped down a tad and then shifted to the side, revealing a set of stairs. Stairs that appeared to go on forever and lead down into... who knows where. Dillinger hopped to his feet and walked over to the stairs, hunching over a bit, he tried to see where they went, to no avail. The stairs went down pretty far and eventually they were consumed by darkness. Still, a secret passageway did just open up in the floor and it was triggered by Dillinger's blood, so of course he had to go down there. Without a second thought edgewise, Dillinger descended the stairs.

By this point, the small flame that encompassed the tip of his index finger had fizzled out, so he used his cell phone's flashlight to light the way. Traversing the stairs quickly, he took note that the temperature seemed to be rising, the further he traveled. The air also started to become heavier and hard to breathe as sweat started to form on Dillinger's brow. Taking a few deep breaths, Dillinger surged down the last remaining steps and paused at the bottom. Panning the walls with the flashlight, he looked for switches and searched the ceiling for pull cords, heaving a hefty sigh of frustration when he failed to see either. However, that's when torches instantly lit. Their radiance revealing a corridor that appeared to have been there for centuries. Constructed of stone and mortar, the hallway went on for a decently long stretch before coming to a pair of doors that looked to be made of solid, black marble. Dillinger pressed on and walked forward. His eyes darting along the walls, he noticed there were strange symbols etched into them and felt like he was on his way to some kind of crypt or an ancient tomb. It was really freaky, yet something pulled him closer. Something from behind the doors, called to him and he was compelled to keep moving.

When he reached the doors, he noticed there weren't any doorknobs. Just a carved out indentation of a hand print. Instinctively, Dillinger placed his hand within the imprint and was swiftly stabbed. A small spike, shot out of the center of the hand shaped depression and plunged directly into his palm. Dillinger recoiled his hand as a deep, rumbling noise permeated the air and the doors, slowly opened. Shaking the entire hall, they caused dust and small particles of rock to crumble from the ceiling as they grumbled open. Dillinger shielded his eyes with his hand, until the doors came to a complete stop and then he progressed onward. Through the impressive, solid marble doorway and into a room that appeared to be a giant area of worship.

There were tables strewn with candles, incense, totems and small, handmade idols, crafted from various sources of material, they varied in their likeness, yet were clearly designed after one image. Dillinger left them alone and instead, focused on the rest of the room. Two immense scones sat against the farthest wall, illuminating the room with their tremendous flames. While the other three walls, were adorned with ornate tapestries and paintings of the most detailed design. All of them depicting a fearsome looking bald man and his very large blade, in different positions or stances but always doing the same thing. Cutting down or slaying, people or animals with his sword. Looking around at all this, Dillinger strode into the middle of the room and noticed that he was now standing over a giant, iron grate, that sat atop an equally big hole. Emitting from within the pit, came the stench of death, he knew it well and was taken aback by its sudden presence. Which caused him to veer away and bump into one of the random tables in the process. From there, a candle wobbled and fell into what appeared to be a pile of ash, instantly setting it ablaze and when Dillinger turned around to see what he knocked over, it was nothing but smoke, that he wound up accidentally inhaling. Coughing, he stumbled and dropped to his knees. Whatever that shit was that he breathed in, it invaded his body like poison and the effects only got worse as time progressed. His lungs were on fire and the burning sensation seemed to spread, until he felt like his entire body was an inferno. Only to look down and see, that's because he was coated in flames. His mouth dropped open and he began to scream but that's when the agony ceased and in its place, there existed a deep feeling of incredible enlightenment. Images filled his skull to the brink as a flood of information overloaded his brain. Everything that ever was or ever will be, ambushed his mind and he imbibed it all. Absorbing knowledge like a sponge soaks up water, his questions were answered and he understood the truth. He knew who he was and what he was meant to be.

With a gasp, Dillinger felt his body sizzle out as he fell completely down to the floor. His mind momentarily fried, he was completely drained. Whatever that was, it took almost everything out of him. Leaving him an utter mess, laying there as he struggled to find breath. This was too much. Then, without warning, he felt his body lift from the floor. Pulled into a standing position, he was yanked around to face, the man from all the pictures. The living form of those idols. His father. The blood god. Ozarath. Dillinger didn't know what to say, his brain was still in a jumble from the huge upload of information he received. However, in a matter of seconds, that would hold little significance, for a mighty sword would be thrust, directly into his stomach. Wielded by Ozarath, the lord of destruction caught Dillinger by the shoulder as he fell forward, choking on his own blood by this point. A stern look of anger, accenting his face, the bringer of chaos would then lean in close and whisper with great sincerity.

"That's for receiving pleasure from my wife."

With that, Ozarath twisted the blade and then quickly ripped it out, freeing a waterfall of blood that gushed forth as he stepped back, allowing Dillinger to drop to the floor. Choking, Dillinger attempted to rise, only to flop back down. Blood pooling around his body at an alarming rate, he rolled onto his back and gazed up at the one who did this, while Ozarath looked down upon his son with a smile.

"It's nice to finally meet you... son."

In that instant, Dillinger was dead. The light faded from his eyes and soon, the entire room would succumb to darkness.

---

In a simultaneous eternity and instant, Dillinger dwelled within the dark. Swallowed whole by oblivion, he drifted along an infinite black sea and gazed into an abyss of nothingness. Time stood still and reality was nothing more than a dream, that might've never happened. He was lost in the void and tranquilly trapped in the haze of the overwhelming, numb of the nil. Death became him and he became death, they were one and it was bliss. Yet as quickly as that occurred, it ended and he was overcome by a brilliant flash of light. A glow that turned into an inferno, it burned through him and surrounded him at the same time. Enraptured by the incandescence, it devoured him whole and then faded away. Fazing into colors and shapes, Dillinger blinked and then squinted his eyes.

He was awake.

Dillinger was alive.

And in bed.

Was it all a dream? Rising slowly, the memory of everything remained intact, he knew what he experienced was real and that he in fact, cheated death. It was all so overwhelming but was nothing in comparison of knowing, everything you once believed, was a lie. An entire life, lived and experienced thus far, a sham. With a bitter laugh, Dillinger got out of bed and walked over to the full length mirror on the wall. He looked the same, yet he felt completely different. While also feeling absolutely the same. It was confusing but in some warped logic, made perfect sense. He was a killer, yet he wasn't simply a mortal man who enjoyed a good murder, he was an interdimensional demi-god. The son of the blood god, Ozarath. Did that mean he committed the act for some other twisted reason, beyond the thrill? Was the lust for blood his birthright?

"The truth looks good on you."

Dillinger spun to the source of the voice and beheld Queen Valeska, laying in his bed. Wrapped in a sheet, it was clear that's all she was in.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting comfortable, care to join me."

"No."

"No?"

"I was murdered by my father for that little moment we shared together. I'd rather not experience a repeat of that. I mean, if he gutted me when I was ignorant to you being his bride, he'll more than likely do something way worse, now that I'm fully aware of your status. I think I can live without that happening."

"Oh, you're no fun."

"And you're a crazy, whore."

Valeska released a long, laugh as she tilted her head back and kicked her legs in the air.

"That's it, talk dirty to me, baby."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Or maybe everything. I'm not sure which. I only know I enjoyed the first taste and I want more."

"Yeah well... you're bat shit, insane if you think I'll go along with that plan."

"I'm the lord of insanity, sweetheart. Being mad comes with the territory."

"Lovely."

"I know, it's divine being me. However, being inside me... well, that's definitely a close second."

"You don't give up, do you?"

"Why would I ever do a thing like that?"

"I don't know. Cause maybe you'd get the hint and realize that nothing is going to happen between us. Ever again. You're not worth risking my father's wrath."

"Oh... you won't incur his wrath. He only knows what I tell him and I promise, this time my lips will be sealed."

"Get out."

"Wow. You really are... no fun. No fun at all. You know, I had you pegged differently. I assumed you'd be a lot more entertaining when you discovered the truth. Such a disappointment."

"GET! THE FUCK! OUT!"

Dillinger's voice came out in a thunderous roar, so loud the entire room... the whole house, seemed to tremble. To this, Valeska beamed with happiness as she stated in a bubbly voice.

"You'll submit to my will eventually... all beings do."

Waving, she promptly vanished as Dillinger gave a growl in anger. With flames circumscribing his form, Dillinger shot a fireball at his bed and the entire thing exploded into an immediate blaze. He should have done that sooner.