FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

[b][u][center]The Mad Gods 1

A Dance with Death

For DuskCypher

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

“Are you telling me that you think that [i]this[/i] is a Temporal Colada?”

The shrunken head behind the bar said nothing. Not because it couldn’t, of course – they were so far removed from the Begotten reality that there were far different rules in this place – but because it knew who he was. The octopus man leaned down, his eyes flaring with the half-sober fury of someone that had been spending too much time at the office and had no patience for a vacation that wasn’t sufficient for him.

“This is nothing like a Temporal Colada. You can tell just from looking at it. It’s not about time, it’s about chaos.”

“Sir –”

“Ooooooh, don’t start ‘sir-ing’ me now. I’m not going to take this. Do you know who I am?”

“I –”

“Of course you do. There’s only one thing like me in all of existence.”

“I – sir, please –”

“You will replace this.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And you best make sure that the next drink I get is a proper Long Island Iced Pandemonium, and not some other drink that you’re trying to offload on me.”

Shoving the glass toward the skull, Cthulhu turned on his heels and stared back out at his slice of beach. There were others, of course; he was in a universe where the beach was unending, where the waves rolled in from the other end of this universe’s existence, where voodoo and technology and vacation-time all rolled into one and let everyone, even someone like him, put the office behind them and detox from their busy lives across existence.

And good fuck, did he need it.

He slumped back, a long Hawaiian shirt fluttering around him as he rubbed his forehead, his tentacles swaying and slithering against each other. The office had been hell for far too long – well, not hell, because hell had some vague things going for it – and he need to think of something, anything else besides the cases that had been thrown across his desk and –

Ping.

“Gah!”

Cthulhu threw his phone across the horizon, knowing that it would come back in a few minutes regardless of his best efforts. Even with Dusk’s work at destroying the various eldritch cults in the octopus’s name, time was a strange and twisted beast, and old messages still found their way through to his phone even though their source was long-since dead. He’d have to find a way to fix that, eventually.

The shrunken head nudged a new drink towards his elbow. He took it without a word, bringing it to his lips and sipping at it.

“Hmmph…guess you can make one of these things properly…”

It wasn’t much, but at least it was the right cocktail this time. Someone really should have a word with management. He was rather tempted to do just that, considering that he’d talked to her before and gotten what he wanted.

[i]Maybe later, when –[/i]

Bzz. Bzz.

His phone returned to his pocket, but this time, it was humming with a different sort of activity. He blinked as he pulled it free, flicking it open and –

“Elysium?”

Cthulhu only had a few things on his phone. Besides basic talk and text, he didn’t really need much else. Eldritch magic and his own power notwithstanding, there really wasn’t much use to a phone other than communication. But there was one app, one that was tied into the various broadcasts across existence, and that one had been programmed to nudge him anytime something interesting was happening in one of the other realms.

The fact that it was happening in Elysium, of all places, was reason enough to head back to his chair. He didn’t bother leaving a tip for the shrunken head, and the bartender didn’t complain. Likely enough it was just happy to see the back of him as he wandered off.

[i]Elysium…the land of sloth and sleep…[/i]

All the realms of Hell were different, but that one had never had anything interesting happen. Dreams were just that: dreams. They didn’t have anything more exciting than the waking world, not for long. The fact that anything was happening there that the broadcast spells would think to put out –

Well, he’d know soon enough. He sat down on his chair, kicked up his feet, and leaned back as the broadcast screen floated in front of him.

He’d just put one hand behind his head and started sipping his drink when –

“I summon thee, Brother Grimm.”

Cthulhu nearly had a spit-take at that voice and those words. Sitting up so fast that he almost threw himself out of the chair, he stared with mouth open behind his face tentacles as the image of Jehovah, Dusk Von Doom, and the Grim Reaper all materialized before him, standing out as the only solid things in the realm of dream. He shook his head in disbelief. Despite knowing that this confrontation was coming, he’d had no clue that it was going to arrive so soon.

“This is perfect…”

He grinned as he watched the gobsmacked expression on Jehovah’s face, knowing that the tiger would have been caught completely off-guard by this particular gambit that they’d worked out. He’d made his suggestions very clear to Dusk all that time ago, well before the cat had started looking around for a way to get around that upstart’s power, and it seemed that the black cat had taken his advice to heart.

He didn’t care, of course. He’d never cared particularly about Dusk or his troubles, but the fact that he had been able to organize a case against Jehovah and stick it to his dead daughter’s ex had been enough for him at the time. There’d always been the hope that it would go further, that Dusk would find a way to make Jehovah regret everything that the stripey feline had ever done, but –

“Mmmm, what’s got your attention, my complaining friend?”

“Be quiet,” Cthulhu muttered.

“Funny. That’s what I’m usually telling my guests that start bothering my employees. But that wouldn’t be you, would it?”

“I said, quiet!” Cthulhu muttered, whipping his head around. “…Please.”

There were few people that he would ever append a ‘please’ to his requests for, but the black-furred cougar standing just behind his beach chair was one of them. She was thick and luscious, her curves barely contained within a dress that would have been in-fashion during the old French times before the revolution. Richly appointed, a deep neckline, and yet, adjusted here and there to allow for a heat that never touched France except at the height of summer.

Baroness Samedi put her hand on her hip, cocking her head to the side as she looked down at him.

“Oh, darling, you better have something good going on to start telling me to be quiet. You got something on that screen of yours?”

“Pull up a chair and find out.”

“Mmm, and willing to share? Generous of you, hon.”

She did as he suggested, though, taking a seat in a longer, more cushioned bit of furniture that hadn’t been there before. The ocean breeze blew over them as they both looked at the screen once more.

There was a host that was muttering something in the background, but Cthulhu had already tuned him out, paying more attention to the show going on in Elysium. His lips were pulled so far back in a grin that it actually hurt, but the pain was secondary to the satisfaction as he waited for what he knew would happen.

“Who is that?” Baroness Samedi asked.

“Dusk Von Doom. Client of mine.”

“Now where do I know that face from…”

“Might be one of yours. He’s got some black magic experience to him, but please. Quiet. This is going to be the show of the century.”

Whatever the cougar was going to say after that was drowned out as the beach went silent. It was like someone had just sucked the sound right out of the air, and Cthulhu glanced out of the corners of his eyes to see other vacationers watching the same thing as him. For that matter, he imagined that all the powers that ranged through different universes around the Begotten were watching this. Never before had Elysium held such attention as this, and for good reason.

The Scythe of Death had just been revealed.

“Where the hell did he get –”

He held a finger over her lips, touching them without having to look. This was not to be interrupted.

[i]I have never seen him this afraid…[/i]

Of course, there were going to be caveats. To destroy something as powerful as an archangel was nearly impossible, but the Scythe could have done it. To destroy someone like Jehovah…

Well, he doubted that even Dusk and the Reaper would have the strength to do that, but the fear writ large on Jehovah’s face told him that even the tiger wasn’t entirely sure about his chances. He would run, soon enough, but first –

Yes. More posturing.

Cthulhu would have giggled if he was alone. As it was, he barely managed to hold it back as the two felines pushed their heavenly relative further and further toward the edge of the boundary of Elysium. He held his breath, watching as the tiger kept trying to protest, eventually reaching out to mute the host so he could hear what they were saying.

Such defiance hadn’t been thrown in the tiger’s teeth since well before the days of the Republic and the Grim Reaper’s reign. He couldn’t even imagine the shock and consternation going through Jehovah’s mind at the insubordination of the mortal and formerly mortal berating him for all that he had done.

“Go on…go on…do it,” Cthulhu whispered.

“Mmmph?”

“Almost done…you can talk in a second…come on…”

They were right at the border. Dusk and the Reaper stood side by side, the latter five foot, the former six. One was silver, the other black. They were so different, and yet, right there, they were two sides of the same coin.

And Dusk held the Scythe that had Jehovah terrified.

“…get the [i]Hell[/i] out of my house.”

The Dual Spartan-Kick from the cats that knocked the tiger through the hole between worlds was enough to get people on their feet across the beach. Most of them wouldn’t even know Dusk Von Doom, but everyone knew Jehovah, and everyone hated the feline’s guts. It didn’t matter how much that particular god had done to them or theirs; he had been lording his success of a major realm over all of them for millennia, and seeing someone take him down a peg was worth a cheer.

For that matter, Cthulhu only realized he was cheering and laughing when Baroness Samedi chuckled under her breath. He stopped in his tracks, clearing his throat and sitting down once more.

“Clearly, you enjoyed that,” she said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Popcorn?”

He blinked as the cougar offered him a bucket of the stuff, already buttered and salted. Despite knowing that there would be no answer as to where she’d gotten it, he almost asked.

Instead, he took the bucket from her, giving her a little room to lean closer as the broadcast slowed. He knew what it meant; the channel was considering whether to stay on Elysium or go to one of the other, more exciting realms. It was almost sure to do so; the return of the Reaper was big news, but there was almost nothing that could happen in the realm of the sleeping dead. He’d be trapped there, unless something big happened.

“This kitten is certainly something,” Baroness Samedi said. “Hon, did you know about him for long?”

“That’s Dusk Von Doom. I handled his case with Jehovah not long ago.”

“[i]That[/i] is Von Doom?”

“You know the name?” Cthulhu asked.

“Everyone knows the name, heh. He’s been on the lips of every entity in and out of my little beach. I can’t remember the last time that a mortal stirred up so much drama all on his own…”

“Hardly on his own.”

“Perhaps…”

At another time, the odd reminiscing quality in the Baroness’s voice would have held his attention. She sounded less saucy and more melancholy, something that he’d never heard from her before. He hadn’t even thought that she was capable of such emotions, considering the sheer flamboyance and flair for the ‘dramatique’ that she carried herself with.

But that was for another time…because Dusk dropped the Scythe.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Hush,” Baroness Samedi whispered.

“But –”

“Let the show play out.”

“But he just –”

“Hon, I said it gently. Now I’m saying it harshly. Shut. The fuck. Up.”

He blinked. That, too, wasn’t what he expected; she was flirty, outrageous, but never quite so direct as that. Something was going on. Something about this show had captivated the Goddess of Voodoo in a way that he had never seen before. He turned to stare at her for a moment, but all the curvaceous cougar did was point back at the screen.

[i]I’m going to be looking into this…something’s going on that I missed…[/i]

But for now, the show has to go on.

As he turned to look at the screen once more, other gods and deities and creatures vacationing in the beach-realm were pulling up chairs. Some of them gathered further down the beach at other screens, while others pulled up near to him. Cthulhu barely paid them any mind; the main show was about to begin.

As the shimmering Scythe fell, the Brother Grimm seized it. The silver cat turned skeletal, somehow looking stronger and more menacing than he had with his flesh and muscle. His coat turned from something plain to the color of despair, somehow managing to evoke it even for the eldritch lawyer. He could only imagine how Dusk felt in the realm of the dream, but…

As the camera panned to Dusk’s face, he couldn’t see a hint of the fear that any other mortal would have felt. There was only a glittering sense of confidence there, something that shouldn’t have existed in the face of death itself.

[i]What is going on? What did you plan?[/i]

His legal mind was already running through all the contracts and legal tracts that he was aware of. His office had reams upon reams of the different agreements made throughout history. There had to be something –

But no. He couldn’t just call home. He had to see this play out in real time. The Reaper turned to Dusk, spinning the Scythe between his fingers. The Brother Grimm met Dusk’s eyes, looking up at him –

“I suppose you think that I should be grateful,” the Grim Reaper said, chuckling to himself. “And I suppose I am. To an extent.”

“You should be more than that.”

“Oh, I was going to be freed eventually. All you did was hurry it along.”

“Free from the seal, not from the tiger; I freed you from him, specifically.”

“Heh…perhaps, perhaps not. But you also gave me this.”

The Scythe spun again, a shimmering motion that seemed to cut and slice through things that were and were not, and the broadcast flickered as reality itself seemed to be shivering at the power of the silver, skeletal cat.

“And this…is all I need.”

“You have other things you want,” Dusk said. “Other things that you had in the past.”

“My Bishops…yes.”

There was the faintest hint of regret on the face of the silver cat, but it wasn’t the same regret that a mortal might have had. No, no, Cthulhu knew what that meant for a mortal, but this was something different. If there was any close equivalent that someone might understand, it was a loss of a possession, a treasured thing that one had enjoyed time and time again.

And it wasn’t a series of churchmen, not like the modern Bishops might have been. The great powers of the old world had been hedonistic, particularly Death, and had kept their underlings well-tranced, well-broken to use as they saw fit. He still remembered the old process; he still had the paperwork of how it was supposed to go, and what they would become at the end of the training.

[i]Might be worth a re-read, those,[/i] he thought as the silver cat circled around Dusk. [i]They were rather kinky at the time…[/i]

“Do you think that gratitude will save you?” Death asked as he continued to pace around Dusk.

“I think that it means that you owe me a little something. After all, even if you’re right and all I did was speed things up, that’s something.”

“Then perhaps I will spare you…if you become my Bishop.”

The greater powers around Cthulhu gasped. The soft crunch-crunch of popcorn got louder as they fed on their snacks as much as they fed on the drama of the whole thing happening before their eyes.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Baroness Samedi’s face firm up. Her lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed. She whispered something, something that made very little sense to him.

[i]Don’t you dare…[/i]

She was invested. In what, he didn’t know, but Dusk clearly meant more to her than she was implying. A little bit more for him to look into, he supposed, more for him to puzzle out later when the whole show –

“You want me to be your underling,” Dusk said.

“Everyone is under Death,” the Reaper said, shrugging. “I’m offering you the chance to live forever under me.”

“Immortality is overrated at the cost of perpetual service.”

“I’m giving you a chance to avoid dying, mortal. You should be grateful that you’ve gained my interest.”

“Hmmm, I don’t think I should feel grateful. If anything, I think you should be offering me much, much more.”

“You’re remarkably arrogant for someone facing Death now that he’s gotten his weapon back.”

“Heh…do you really think I’d be that stupid?”

[i]…Oh, clever boy…[/i]

The Scythe disappeared as soon as Dusk made mention of it, and the silvery rat returned, replacing the skeletal figure that had been standing there just a moment before. Death stared at his empty hand, and Cthulhu couldn’t decide whether to sputter with relieved laughter or just sag back in his chair at the show before him.

“This is Elysium,” Dusk said. “And in Elysium, we’re all a dream. I can manifest anything I like.”

“…You realize that you have now taunted Death himself.”

“I think that you don’t realize the stakes that you’re offering. Nor do you understand who [i]you[/i] are facing.”

It was a showdown of proportions that none of the gods present had seen in thousands of years. The only thing that came close was the one time that Lucifer had tried to rise from the depths of Hell to save his lover all those years ago, and that had merely been between a former archangel and a current one. They had been powerful, yes, and they had clashed with power and strength that few had ever seen, but this?

This was something that would go down in history. A mortal powerful enough to be offered the throne of the Second Satan, and the Grim Reaper himself, both of them locked in Elysium where the dream was all that mattered.

But still…one could die in a dream. Cthulhu was on the edge of his seat as the Brother Grimm rolled up his sleeves, shaking his head.

“A pity that cats don’t actually have nine lives,” he said. “Because it would be far more interesting to break you down and put you through nine lives of suffering for this arrogance before me.”

“Try it.”

“Heh, I don’t have to try. Even without my Scythe, I’m more than strong enough to handle you.”

The broadcast bounced. The channels shifted, the view on the screen shifting from Elysium to Pride, to Wrath. They flickered through the channels of Hell –

Bounce.

Bounce.

Bounce.

Three times, the broadcast tried to settle on Elysium again. Every time that it was knocked loose, the gathered crowd of gods and more screamed at the screen, telling it to go back, demanding that they get their show. Cthulhu was one of them, even though at the back of his mind he knew that this was not intentional. This was the result of that much power being flung about all at once, shattering the normal bounds of the realm and making it impossible to focus for long.

It was only a few seconds, but it felt far longer before the broadcast was able to focus on the land of the hell-dream once more. Great rents and tears marked the lands, and Dusk was between several cuts, barely avoiding being cut down by Death’s cutting gestures. Even without the Scythe, the Brother Grimm had the cutting power to rend mortals to their bones.

And yet, Dusk was still standing.

Bets were being placed between the gods, some sure that Dusk would stay standing, most sure that the Brother Grimm would cut this arrogant mortal down. Currencies of all sorts were traded between them, laid in pots as the fight went on.

The only two that didn’t bet were him and Baroness Samedi. They just watched, staring as Dusk conjured black barriers to deflect the worst of the cutting blows and dodged those that were too strong to block. The cats flickered about, moving in dream, killing time and distance so quickly that there seemed to be dozens of felines all fighting each other at the same time. It was madness.

But despite all of Dusk’s efforts, he kept falling back. He wasn’t able to throw one blow against Death. He didn’t even seem to try; all he did was keep dodging, blocking, and avoiding things where he could, until –

Slice.

Then Death was there, and Dusk was on his knees. The fight shifted, going between their minds, and Cthulhu shook his head…then paused.

“…Oh, you son of a bitch…”

He wished that he’d been quick enough to put money down, but it was too late now. Instead, he crossed his arms as he watched the final part of the fight play out, watching as Death’s hand clenched tighter and tighter around Dusk’s head, squeezing until something popped. Dusk seemed to fall…

And then disappeared.

The black cat reappeared a few seconds later, rolling his head from one side to the other, popping his neck as he flicked his long coat out. Oh, he had scars through his fur, but they were healing, as were the ‘wounds’ on his head. His clothes, too, regenerated, leaving him shirtless but with his long coat, black jeans, and boots. He smirked, and he said what Cthulhu had already figured out.

“What command has Death over something already dead?”

“That…is the best damn loophole I’ve ever seen played,” Cthulhu muttered as the crowd erupted in shocked screams.

#

The Reaper could not believe what he was hearing. Already dead? There was nothing that could still walk the earth, or hell, that he could not kill. The land of the dead, as mortals conceived of it, were only there as the next stage of life, where the living were summoned at the last microsecond of their lives to become something different, something better, something to continue being used.

Heaven, Hell, any of the afterlives where mortals believed they went after they died, they were merely the next stage of life, not something for their souls to visit. Even someone that had gone to Hell should have been killable, as every demon knew.

And yet, Dusk was not.

He was already dead.

Brother Grimm looked at his hands, saw the blood on them, but now, he could see through it. It was an illusion, one more conjuration of the land of dream, one more bitter thing of Elysium to throw him off.

Before he could say a word, another illusion was ripped away, and he felt a new pressure around his neck. He reached up, slowly, touching the little leather band that had been wrapped around him without his notice. A single claw traced it, following it all the way around his neck until he had no doubt at all what it was.

It was a collar.

“You…you…”

“I am not an idiot,” Dusk said, shaking his head. “I knew that you would try and kill me, or at the very least, try and turn me into a slave.”

“And so you try and make me yours, instead?”

“I’d say that I was quite a bit more successful than you were. After all, you actually wear mine.”

“No cat willingly wears a collar.”

“Well, at least yours will warn me when you come.”

The black cat’s smirk was completely intolerable, but even as infuriated as he was, Death remained a cat, and all cats remembered the pleasure of mischief. He could respect Dusk’s results, even if he hated the other feline’s methods.

“If you think that this is going to bind me forever…you’re wrong. Death comes for everything, even magic.”

“I know. But for now…you’re not going to do anything to stop me.”

“…No. I can’t.”

Death shook his head. Even now, he was adjusting his list. Jehovah still topped it, his ultimate target and the one that would bring him the most satisfaction to end, but now? Now, this little kitten would be on it, too, slightly below, and only slightly. To be sealed away and forced to listen to a liar for all of his days had been torture enough. To wear a collar, even a loosened one, for someone else was barely better.

He would make Dusk pay. It was only a matter of time until he found a way free.

#

Baroness Samedi stepped away from the screen as the fight between Dusk and Death finally wound down. As the other gods cheered and clapped each other on the back and claimed their bets, she had other things on her mind, and she needed a moment of silence to consider what she’d just seen.

[i]He looks so much like him…[/i]

It wasn’t the black fur. It wasn’t the arrogance. It was something in the eyes, something that had been burned into them long ago, and something that she’d thought she’d never see again.

And now she had.

And now she had to do something about it.

Baroness Samedi walked back to the bar, looking down at the shrunken head. It glanced back with what passed for eyes, and she nodded at it.

“You’re in charge until I get back.”

“Mistress?”

“You heard me.”

“But…but…”

She reached out and picked the shrunken head off the bar. Ripping a strip off the bottom of her dress, the cougar improvised a small sling and hung the head from it. She pricked her thumb and rubbed the blood in a couple of symbols across the macabre orb’s forehead, and its eyes glimmered with a new power.

“Anyone gives you problems, hon, you give ‘em a few right back.”

“You got it!”

Turning away, she glanced back at the screen and Cthulhu. She’d been a bit careless, she supposed; Cthulhu would have picked it up, if nobody else. He was a lawyer; they were good at picking up on subtleties and details. He wouldn’t know what connected her and Dusk, but he’d know that she had [i]a[/i] connection, and that was bad enough.

She’d just have to make sure that it was dealt with before he had a chance to start questioning it properly.

Looking over the crowd at the screen, she watched Dusk delve deeper into the sleeper-realm of Hell. He would find so much more than Sloth demons there, and she knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle it without help.

“Well, looks like I’ve got a trip to make,” she muttered, mentally rolling up her sleeves and turning away from the beach. “Been a long time since I paid a visit down south. Wonder if they remember me…”

She walked along the side, humming a few old songs as she remembered the old words. There were roads aplenty for those that knew them, and there were never enough eyes to watch all the paths between realms. As the Goddess of Voodoo, she knew more than most – though not all, she wasn’t arrogant enough to claim that – and she was fairly sure that she could find a way down there without someone stopping her.

Not Jehovah, for sure; he would be stomping and pissing about and making a nuisance of himself in Heaven, and that would keep the angels from tracking her. And Hell would be busy enough with its new ruler and all the pomp and circumstance that Pride would demand of its new underlings.

But Elysium itself…

Baroness Samedi shook her head. She would be able to handle that. Dusk would be their main focus. As long as they didn’t see her coming – and she was sure now that they would not – they would not be able to stop her.

As she reached the peak of one of her songs, she changed the words, speaking in a language that was long dead to the world of the Begotten. It was heard by things that still existed, still wove a life between the worlds and universes, and existence split to form a road off the beach.

[i]I’m coming…I’m coming…[/i]

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: A little show takes place on a broadcast from Elysium, and Cthulhu and another, new figure enjoy the show.

Tags: No Sex, Fighting, Lore, Gods, Demons, Apocalypse, Hell, Other Universes, Baroness Samedi, Cat, Cthulhu,