Outsiders Pt. 02

"Repent for your sins and ask for God's forgiveness," he said to her. Raven shook her head no and cried hysterically.

Ben stepped closer. The time for him to intervene was running out. He ran through his options in a heartbeat. Despite witnessing these men commit a brutal act of murder, he wasn't going to use lethal force against them. It was against his upbringing and he didn't know enough about the situation to feel justified in hurting them, or ending their lives. Simon might have had it coming to him.

Making Raven invisible would probably not save her. The men were all around her and they'd reach out to find her by touch, seize her and kill her, without much difficulty. He decided to teleport her away from them. He needed her to want to come with him for the spell to work. He didn't know if he could risk just telling her to accept her teleportation. He would probably need to dominate her, just like he had done with Krista last night. He prepared to cast the Dominate Person spell when the third man lifted his bat. Seeing that there was no more time, Ben shoved the man with all his might.

The man cried out in surprise and toppled over, knocking Simon's body out of its chair. The two of them went sprawling on the floor. The remaining men drew their firearms with lightning speed and scanned the air around Ben for any sign of an intruder. Ben winced. He had hoped their reaction would be a bit less focused. Now that guns were drawn, his chances of getting Raven out alive dropped dramatically.

As if on cue, the second man pointed his gun at Raven's head and said, "Let's just shoot her and be done with it!" He spoke with an Irish brogue.

"No, you fool," shouted the Italian man. "We can't risk any bullet fragments in her remains! She must look like she had been killed by the blast!" They both looked down at their guns and quickly holstered them. The Italian grabbed a lamp and the Irishman picked up a chair. Ben noticed the USB device with the contents of his computer fell out of Simon's pocket. He crouched down and picked it up, quickly tucking it into a pocket so it would vanish under his invisibility spell.

Raven finally realized that they were going to kill her no matter what she did so she screamed on the floor and started shrieking for help. The third man got up and started swinging his bat wildly through the air, hoping to make contact with whatever had shoved him. "What was it, Piotr," asked the Italian. "What hit you?"

"I don't know," said Piotr, his accent east European. "It was something big and strong."

"Stay close to the witch," shouted the Italian. All three of them were waving their blunt implements around, weaving a net around Raven.

"What is it, witch," asked the Irishman. "Familiar? Spirit? Demon servant? Tell us!" Ben grinned at the descriptors they were using for him. "Whoever you are, whatever you are, show yourself so that the faithful might judge you in your final moments!"

"That's so not going to happen," Ben thought to himself. He didn't feel like there was time for him to silently dominate Raven. He was going to have to risk her rejecting the teleportation. He crawled along the back of the couch, under the swinging radii of the three men, until he came to within an arm's length of Raven. He prepped to draw the spell of Greater Teleport out of himself. He was out of seventh level slots, so he had to use a higher level one. He availed himself of his Silent Spell feat and drew the spell out without making a sound. It would take six seconds for the spell to come out of him.

Those seconds seemed to last a lifetime as Raven was pulled up by her hair into a kneeling position. "It is time for you to die, sinner," snarled the Irishman. His brogue made him almost impossible to understand with the music blaring. He gave Raven's head another shove and then let go of it. "Pray! Pray for the salvation of your soul, you heretic whore!"

"Turn off the music," shouted Piotr. The Irishman let go of Raven's hair and smacked his hand against the stereo, silencing it. Piotr grabbed Raven's hair and held his bat in one hand. "Show yourself, or your witch gets it!" Raven tried to cry out for help, but Piotr put the end of his bat to her throat. It was sticky with Simon's blood and it made her voice die in her throat. She settled for silently pleading at him with her lidless eyes. She was panting like an overheating dog. Piotr let go of her hair and stood poised to strike. The Italian and Irishman still waved their pieces of furniture around to strike at invisible assailants.

Tense seconds passed as Ben silently drew out the spell of Greater Teleport. It came to life and he seized Raven's hand by the wrist. The girl flinched, but her reaction was unnoticed by the men that were scanning the rest of the room for any sign or sound of him. "Come with me if you want to live," Ben said and released the spell.

He appeared on the floor of his den with a shocked Raven kneeling in front of him. Now that his desperate rescue plan worked, he was almost giddy with relief. He got up, dusted off his clothes and dropped his invisibility. He could see Raven take in her surroundings and his face and realize where she was and who saved her. She then surprised him by leaping up into his arms and mashing her tits into his chest as she embraced him with a strength he hadn't suspected her capable of.

"Thank you," she babbled over and over again. He felt awkward and put his arms around her out of reflex. He winced as he felt Simon's blood on her throat get smeared across his cheek.

Ben felt Krista hear the noise and walk over to the den to investigate. When she entered the room, he felt a myriad of emotions flash over in her at the sight of him and Raven hugging. He felt her feel hurt and betrayed. He felt her jealousy and insecurity, her fear of losing him and her desire to join in and have a three way relationship with the two of them. He felt the huge, overwhelming envy the mere sight of Raven's beauty inspired in her. All those emotions were warring inside of her heart at the sight of him in another woman's arms. He looked at Krista in shock and surprise. Her face betrayed only the tiniest hints of the intense emotions he had felt inside of her.

Ben couldn't make sense of it. The woman that had tried to rob him blind while he slept as a thank you for saving her from a gang rape and execution, now felt like he was inflicting profound hurt upon her by merely hugging back a hysterical, young woman whose life he had just saved. He realized he was going to have to order Krista to start telling him the truth. As Raven sobbed hysterically in his arms and her tears mixed with Simon's blood on his cheek, he decided to postpone any heavy duty revelations for tomorrow. Much like Raven, he was still under the ill effects of witnessing a baseball bat execution. He needed some time to cool down and gather his thoughts.

He sent Krista the order to help him calm Raven down. He felt her resist the order, but succumb to it in the end. She approached them and began to softly coo at the blonde. When she started to gently caress her back and whisper in her ear, Ben started getting a boner. He couldn't help himself. The tenderness Krista was exhibiting towards Raven was the spark and the soft press of Raven's big breasts against his chest was the fuel. It was simply too novel an experience for him to ignore. He needed to end the tight hug as quickly as possible. The last thing Raven needed, in her state of mind, was for him to start dry humping her.

"It's alright," he said to Raven. "You're safe now. Let's wash the blood off our faces!" Raven let go of him and nodded, still sobbing. He sent Krista the order to help Raven wash the blood off her throat and face. The girls left him and went to the bathroom. He went to the kitchen to splash cold water in his face, both to wash off the blood and to gather his wits to himself. He suspected that he was in for a long night.

Across town, the three men got in their car and drove off. Simon and Raven's house blew up behind them, scattering debris for almost fifty yards in all directions and scaring all the residents of the once quiet, suburban neighborhood.

The emergency services responded quickly and professionally. The fire was extinguished and all burning debris was found and stopped from causing any secondary fires. Arson investigators examined the remains of the house as soon as the firefighters gave them the all clear. Police kept the area cordoned off and the fire department's paramedic teams were on hand to provide medical assistance to anyone that might require it. The only people to complain about difficulty breathing were some teenaged girls that used it as a pretext to flirt with the strapping firefighters.

News crews descended on the location to report on the disruption to the town's daily routine. Their interest in the blast was peaked when the information was leaked that the police canvassed the neighborhood looking for the resident of the house whose car was parked in front of the house, but whose body hadn't been recovered. The police were also looking for an ugly woman that hadn't been seen for days before the event and a gorgeous blonde that was reported to be hanging around with the man lately, instead of her. Insinuation-laden reports were aired and the gossip mill of the neighborhood ran rampant.

Locals gathered round in real life or online, depending on age group, and traded wild theories on what was going on in the house before it blew. Drugs was the most commonly mentioned word. The owner of the place came by to see what happened and was accosted by everyone that recognized him. They accused him of letting the wrong crowd in, prompting his quick departure. The blast was on everyone's lips and minds, turning their drab Wednesday evening into an exciting adventure until darkness fell and the crowds slowly dissipated to go home and get ready to return to their daily grind.

Shortly after midnight, a silent bolt of lightning landed in the center of the crater where the house once stood. It struck the dirt under the house, in the place where the bomb had ripped up the floor and foundations. Some fine, loose dirt wafted up in the air to form a small dust cloud and the ground under it started to shift like something was burrowing underneath it.

A long, strange worm poked out of the dirt and stood up nearly vertically. Another poked out next to it and began to wrap itself around the first, like ivy on a house. More strange worms quickly followed and wrapped themselves over and around the ones that came before them. The mass of stringy flesh began to grow upwards and another mass grew right next to it. The two pillars of writhing flesh connected after reaching three feet in height and they kept on growing as more and more worm-like creatures writhed out of the ground beneath the mass and slithered up to join it.

Some of the worm-like creatures would turn to bone and others would bite into them to attach themselves permanently and act as muscles. More worms would flatten themselves over the whole mass and slowly turn into a flesh-colored ooze that solidified into skin. Soon, the mass of flesh began to take a humanoid shape, complete with ribcage, pelvis and skull. Yet more worms nestled themselves inside the cavities left behind by their predecessors and took on the shape and function of internal organs.

The mass of worm flesh became a facsimile of human flesh. It writhed and, as if an invisible master sculptor's hand had been shaping it, the form began to take the likeness of Simon, the late dweller of the place of its creation. Smaller worms became cartilage that shaped the face of the new body. Millions of even smaller worms attached themselves to the top of the head and desiccated to become hair. The surface of the figure lightened in color until it achieved the exact same shade of pasty skin that Simon had.

The Outsider came to life in this realm. It was housed in the remains of its people's late servant in this realm. It opened its eyes and looked up. The clear, night sky was mostly a reflection of terrestrial lights, showing few stars, but it knew it was on an alien world. Back home, the night sky was dominated by the orange and blue globe of the gas giant its world orbited.

"There he is," a voice heatedly whispered, bringing The Outsider's attention to its surroundings. "He's alive again!" The late Simon's memories and mental pathways The Outsider possessed instantly processed the vibrations of air into information it could use. It briefly counted the nine Earth languages that it was now familiar with.

It looked up at the humans that were approaching him. It took it a short while to make out the details of the three shapes in the darkness. They were the three men that had killed the human whose shape it was wearing. The memories of the form it was wearing told it that their hands contained projectile weapons called guns. They approached it from one side. It realized they were coming to kill it and that thought pushed it into action. It had been sent into this realm without its power and the flesh it was wearing was as vulnerable as that of regular humans.

The humans pulled out rosaries from under their shirts and kissed them, invoking their deity to smite the abomination before them. "I don't know how you saved yourself, sorcerer," said the one that had smashed its host's skull with a bat, "but no one can escape the righteous judgment of the faithful. The Order of the Hammer never fails in its mission. Your remains shall be purified with fire and interred in hallowed ground so that your soul may burn in hell for all eternity. This is your last chance to renounce Satan and repent your sins."

The three men raised their guns and it extended some of its tentacles from underneath its skin. They wrapped themselves around the men's wrists and turned their hands towards each other. The startled men struggled to loosen their hands and their fingers accidentally squeezed the triggers. The three men fell down, severely wounded by each other's guns. The Outsider took their guns out of their nerveless hands to examine them.

The Outsider regarded the weapons in its grasp with a cold, methodic eye. It recognized that they were made of metal alloys and powered by chemical propellants that explosively converted from solids to gasses, expelling the slugs out of the barrels. It was fairly advanced technology and seeing it surprised The Outsider. It searched its host form's memories for any more surprises.

It was shocked to learn that earthlings had advanced so far, technologically, in the past few millennia. Automatic firearms, jet planes, nuclear technology, spaceflight, surveillance cameras, computers, internet, smartphones... It learned of these things from its host form's memories and it had not expected to encounter them here. When its people had last touched the realm of Earth, the indigent sentients were using spears and arrows as weapons. Hieroglyphs had been the latest fad.

As it completed its search of its late host's memories, it realized it didn't stand a chance of accomplishing its mission here on Earth. It didn't have any of its innate power or access to its people's technology. The only thing it had to help it on its way were the memories of its host form and those were telling it of a million and one way to fail in its mission and be captured by humans for vivisection and study. It could not have that.

Failing in its mission and dying ignominiously on this watery globe was one thing. Failing in its mission in such a way that brought the existence of its species to the attention of the humans was something completely different and utterly unacceptable. It would much rather die and be forgotten by all than risk giving humans a chance to fight back against its people. Keeping its true nature and purpose a secret was priority number one for it.

Reluctantly, The Outsider started to fuse the memories of its late host with its own. It was an irreversible process that also fused their personalities together, but it had no choice. It needed to ensure it stayed under the humans' radar, as their saying went, during its mission.

Sean O'Bannon finally managed to draw a deep breath into his lungs. He knew he was abut to die. Even if the witch didn't finish him off right away, the burning pain in his chest and the freezing cold creeping up his limbs were indications enough of the seriousness of his wound. He didn't fear death. The rewards for his faithful service were waiting for him in Heaven. What he did fear was letting his brethren down.

He lifted his head and looked at his fallen comrades. Piotr was lying completely still and Gianni was shaking on the ground and softly keening in agony. Sean looked beyond his feet and beheld the sight of their murderer. Simon's naked body sported six tentacles, a pair extended from his hips and belly and one sticking out of each forearm.

Sean's eyes went wide. He had served in the Order for years, removing the blight of many a witch from this earth, but he had never before seen anything like this. Simon was their most fearsome foe to date. His head dropped back down on the ground as the effort of keeping it raised made his pain grow worse. Though he didn't fear dying, he did regret doing it so soon. He wanted to serve the Church for as long as he was able. His faith lent him new resolve. Despite being mortally wounded, his oath to the Church wasn't over. He was still in service. If there was still something he could do before he drew his dying breath, then he had to do it. He glanced around to locate his gun.

Simon had taken their guns away, even though they were lying wounded. He guessed that meant that he wasn't impervious to bullets. Sean regretted not shooting the bastard on sight, but The Order commanded them to engage all the heretics at close range and offer them one last chance to repent and accept the mercy of the Lord. He realized that he needed to warn the rest of their order. They needed to know that engaging this heretic at close range was suicide. They needed to know about the tentacles. They needed to know he was beyond redemption.

Sean winced as drawing each breath started to hurt more and more. He forced himself to think rationally. He knew, from their preparations to first strike at the heretic, that the average response time for the police in this neighborhood was nine minutes. If he could engage Simon for that long, the cops might come along and shoot him dead, fulfilling their assignment. The thought of seeing him dead before he died himself made Sean swell with renewed purpose.

"Which demon did you sell your soul to," he said, his teeth gritted by the pain in his chest. If an elephant had stepped on him, he imagined it would hurt less. The witch stood still and gave no indication of having heard him. He just kept staring off into the distance.

As The Outsider finished fusing its memories with that of its host form, it accepted the fact that it was now a he and started to think of himself as Simon. In order to make himself seamlessly blend in with other humans, he adopted all of the late Simon's mannerisms as his own and made a conscious choice to act exactly as Simon would.

Simon took stock of his situation. He was standing naked in the ruins of a blown up house and holding aloft three guns with tentacles that sprouted fom his body. His top priority was to be stealthy and beneath notice. His current situation was anything but. He set the guns down behind himself and retracted his tentacles. He grinned and let out a self-satisfied snort. Armed with actual, first hand knowledge of all the powers The Outsiders had poured towards Earth millennia ago, he felt like a god amongst insects.

"How did you defeat death," Sean said, forcing himself to speak with an RP accent to make sure this witch understood him. His own accent was too much for some Americans. It apparently worked as Simon locked eyes with him.