Episode: 6.4

--- Caliban Black ---

He stepped out of the swirling shadows and onto a city rooftop, reading a book in one hand and twirling his cane in the other. The action meant to burn off some of the excess energy using his more ethereal powers always filled him with, an energy that always got his other-self moving. Something he didn’t need while reading his father’s research notes.

The same notes that saved him and his siblings from the hell Sanctuary and Asylum sought to damn them.

He glanced up from his father’s book as he reached the building’s edge, letting his eyes drift across the mass of people walking through the city square below, before stopping a nearby billboard screen, as the image of a woman in a black jacket and knee length shorts flashed on it.

“Tempest…” Her name came to his lips unbidden, though not entirely unwelcome.

He watched as the news billboard showed the object of his growing obsession giving some speech celebrating the defeat of his… predecessor, before smiling as the hero attempted to defend her partner as the press tried to belittle his… other adversary, something that was just… rude.

(Really some people have no sense of gratitude…)

Still Tempest’s kindness always warmed his heart, even when directed at a (traitorous bastard) like him.

His eyes drifted back to the saint who had stolen his heart along with the rest of the city. “The Beast, The Knight, and The Dealmaker… I wonder which of your friends you’ll save from the darkness that consumes them, my dear.”

He tapped his cane on the ground, causing a swarm of unnatural shadows to gather and pool together, leaving behind puddles of liquid darkness.

This was a trick his father was infamous for, and one that would bring back a number of memories for the denizens of Baskerville.

From each puddle a pale four fingered hand shot out, before desperately clinging to the ground with its claws. The hands pushed and pulled, slowly tugging their pale corpses through the dampened fabric of reality, until a pale naked figure with long black hair collapsed onto the ground, its entire body dripping liquid darkness.

He only needed four of the Creeps, enough to get people’s attention, but not so many Sanctuary would deal with it immediately. After all, with a hero as grand as Tempest in Baskerville, it was a good idea to remind people why they still needed Sanctuary every now and then.

If they did happen to show up, he’d make them pay for such… (negligence…)

(Now it won’t do to neglect my own duties…)

He inhaled rolling his neck, before exhaling as black Malice left his lips in a cloud full of sin and regrets.

From behind him, the Jawless he’d summoned had already begun to turn on him, ready to tear him to shreds, drown him in the abyss of darkness, and feed him to their dark god…

He stopped that nonsense with a snap of his fingers.

Shadows swirled around each Jawless, before solidifying into black collars, just waiting for the order to decapitate their victims.

Three years ago, he would’ve avoided using his collars, let alone employing Creeps.

(But a lot can happen in three years… you can lose a parent, have your heart torn out, be hunted just for existing… a number of fun things really…)

He turned back to the monsters under his forced employ, wondering if this was how the monsters who made him into what he was felt whenever they sent him out on a mission.

“I need chaos, mayhem, a message they won’t forget, a reminder of what lurks in the darkness they seek to ignore…” He was aware there was little point in talking to Creeps, they communicated through violence, hate, and fear, not words and passion.

He shook his head with a sigh.

(Maybe I’m just reminding myself of why I’m doing this, stalling before I have to take that final step, before I have to truly make myself her enemy…)

He shook his head, not wanting to consider that line of thought any further, before turning back to the Creeps who were watching him with a predatory stillness, just waiting for him to drop his guard long enough for them to attack him.

A flex of his Malice, tightened the collars around their throats, reminding them exactly why that was a poor idea.

From the shadows he sensed a presence, a monster more malicious than even the worst of the Creeps he’d ever managed to collar, a beast that would devour all in its path, even him if he crossed it.

“I’m not backing down, and I’ll do what I must.” He assured the entity, before feeling it fade once more into the shadows.

With a mental nudge the Creeps rushed past him ever eager to do their dark work.

As he watched the Jawless crash into the ground, letting loose the wicked wails and moans that preluded their attacks and sending the nearby crowds into a panic as the familiar monsters cut loose, he couldn’t help but let his eyes drift back to the woman who saved(/damned) him.

“You know, they say when a butterfly flaps her wings, she’ll cause a hurricane on the other side of the planet.” He knew she couldn’t hear him, but there was still something… invigorating about talking to her, even if she’d never know. “So, why don’t we see what kind of hurricane you’ve made my dear little butterfly.”