Season 1 - Blogisode 21 (Repeat)

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE



“You’re trying to tell me that Dave is just like you?”

“No, not exactly, the one you know as Dave, whom I know better as Moloch, is not more than an avatar for something much greater.”

The three men, two men and Constantine, sit circled on the floor of their dank cell as Constantine tells the tale behind our story and gives life to the reason behind the mystery of Baphomet’s Requiem.

“For sake of speak I will refer to the beast as Dave hence forth but you need to understand that he is much more than a man. The creature host to that body is a harbinger of death sent here more than a millennia ago to prepare this planet for what is to come.”


In a room with glass walls, curved to a dome, on the other side of the facility Dave prepares his moon child for the final act of his magnificent play.

Shane kneels before the altar of Baal, the stature towers over her. In its lap the young Persia lies unconscious, stripped of her garment.

Dave’s voice cuts the ear like broken glass on a chalkboard as he recites the ancient script, put to memory before time began.


“You see this species of man, this earth you inhabit, is nothing like what you perceive it as. You live in a world of magic and possibility that until now has been ripped from your sight by creatures like Dave, creatures like me. We discovered this broken fragment of what is considered to be our reality thousands of years past, quite by accident to be honest.”


The moon child rises from her place on the floor, her body glows bright with a hot white light that throbs, expanding with each breath.
Swirls of darkness, like smoke with intention, spin and dance about Dave’s frame churning in a thick orgy of lethal desperation.

“We sent Dave, and many more of his kind to this place ages past in order to safe guard the secrets of this world, to keep safe the power it is host to. You see this existence, what you understand to be reality is more rightly equated to a dream, a dream being dreamt by a very powerful deity, and all that is inside of it contains the same power as the deity having it.”

“I really don’t have a fucking clue what you’re trying to tell us.”

“You are a dream Christian. You, your life, this entire world and all the stars in this galaxy, every thought, every sight, every feeling that is in this place is a byproduct of imagination; an imagination that by some event has spilled out into what we know to be the true reality and is now wreaking havoc with the fabric that holds our world, our universe, together.”


Shane’s body rises from the floor. The light encapsulates her rushing around her like a whirlpool of energy and heat. Dave’s chant becomes inaudible beneath the hum and buzz of Shane’s electric dance.

Persia’s body rises from the Baal’s lap, limp and lifeless.


“This reality and everything in it is a mistake. A mistake that until now we have been managing and working towards a solution for and now this Dave runs risk of tearing apart everything we have done bringing ruin to both of our worlds.”

“You’re telling me that I, and this guy, and all of this, everything I know is some kind of mistake made by God and that you guys are here to fix it by killing us all?”

“No not exactly, yes in a sense but no not to kill you. You’re life isn’t real Christian, none of this is real. Who or what you are, what all of this is meant to be is something very different than what it has become. You are so much more than all of this. Equate your life to the dreams of a God asleep so long he has forgotten how to wake. We have simply come to wake you up.”

“By destroying the planet and everything in it?”


The blackness moves about Dave creeping from his body like tentacles toward where Persia now rests suspended above the statue. His energy mixes and blends with the white light revolving about Shane’s body penetrating her, mixing itself with her essence.


“So all of this, the famine, the wars, that Mayan bullshit everything, you and your people planned all of that to get rid of us?”

“To prepare this place so that we might assimilate it back to whence it belongs, to save it from itself, to save you from yourselves; if this line is allowed to expand much further in its present course everything that exists on both sides of the preverbal fence runs risk of being destroyed.”


Shane screams head thrown back as Dave’s dark essence blends with hers creating something all together new. He holds her like a marionette suspended to his will, pushes her forward to the body of the young Persia.


“I don’t buy a fucking word of this shit. I don’t trust him and I don’t believe this we’re here to kill you for your own good shit for a second.” Christian steps up from his place on the floor and paces to the sealed entrance. “You said we could kill him if I thought he was lying. Well I’ve heard about enough.”




Shane hovers over the girl, her white tainted with Dave’s black she raises her arms clasp firm around a blade manifest of pure energy protruding from her hands.
BANG

A shotgun blast rings out tearing through Shane’s chest. Blood splatters the statue as her body flails limp to the floor, chest hollow.

“Which one of you fucking Muppets wants to tell me where my boy Christian’s at?” Kite and Christina stand at the entrance to the glass domed cathedral, weapons ready.

The dark essence vanishes from Dave’s being and Persia’s body falls back into the arms of the beast Baal. He spins on spot to where Kite stands, eyes filled with inhuman rage.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Kite lets loose a hail of gunfire slicing through the beasts that now seem to pour out at them from every direction.

Dave makes quick for the exit.

Christina fights her way through the sea of reptilian beasts to where Persia rests at the feet of the false idol. “I’m taking her with us!”

“We need to move!” Kite slams fist and blade into all things mobile as the creatures rush him from all angles.

He darts across to Christina heaving the unconscious Persia over his shoulder.

“Now.”

Christina produces two homemade Molotov cocktails from her backpack lighting them both and sending them to the floor with a rush of flame pushing the beasts back in their assault.




An alarm sounds off through the complex filling the small cell with a deafening siren.

“Something’s wrong.”

“No shit.”

Christian puts an ear to the door. The others rise to their feet in haste.
The sound of a turning key sends him back from the entrance to a fight stance, ready.

The door swings open. “No fucking way.”

“What’s up buddy? I knew if we opened enough of these we’d find you behind one of them.”

Kite stands in the doorway, Persia propped up in his arms half conscious.

“Persia!” James runs to his wife seizing her with both arms as he guides her naked body to the floor wrapped in his.

“Persia oh my God, baby… oh my God.” Words find trouble behind the tears that now flow free down his cheek choking his speech.

“James?” Her voice weak, eyes force open enough to see the man she had thought dead cradling her in his arms. “Is that you?”

“We need to move.”

Christian helps James bring Persia to her feet.

“Give me your robe.” James turns to Constantine. He complies and removes the garment draping it over the woman.

Kite’s eyes go wide at the sight of their new companion. “Jesus fuck Christian you’ve been keeping strange company.”

“We need to leave now.”

“Too late.” Christina motions to the end of the hall. To their front stands Dave, Chomps at his side, an army of demons behind him.