Drummer Boy - Back Into Hell Ch. 06

Drummer Boy: Bat Out of Hell II: Back to Hell

Hi again, folks, Lady D here!

This section took a lot longer to finish than I expected. Like all the other parts, I wrote it over a year ago in February. When I got around to it this January, I didn't like it, so I threw it in the swamp, and rewrote it. That version sucked less, but it still sucked, so I threw it in the swamp too. The next version burned down, fell over and sank into the swamp all on its own, but the fourth version, that one stayed up. So I do hope you enjoy this significantly less swampy installment!

* * *

High above the surface of Tarterus, two nude women hovered. Although they both possessed wings, horns and tails, they couldn't have been more dissimilar.

The one with pale flesh was lithe and athletic, though not without an abundance of the feminine curves that left no doubt as to her sex. Her horns, uncurved, unridged, upward-thrusting spikes, were of the kind only depicted in murals, and had not been seen since the olden times. And her wings were unlike any seen before, breaking the light into scintillating colors where it passed through them.

Her companion, the one with skin of lustrous gold, could best be described as 'more'. She was a meatier woman all over, from her full lips and round belly to her thick, powerful thighs. This was most evident when it came to her stupendously large breasts. They projected proudly from her chest, defying the gravity of this world, and their vast, dusky bronze areolae seemed to gaze across the landscape along with the eyes of the women.

Until now, it had been merely another day for Jason in the Spine city of Sweet Reprisal. He had been going about his morning duties, bringing water to the residents on the upper balconies, when he felt the tingle in his horns: an electric resonance of excitement, spreading among his sisters. Looking up, he saw them, and was arrested by the sight of the strange visitors.

Rumors of the "Golden Avenger", the Winged wreaker of havoc, had certainly had reached his ears, but he had paid them little heed. The talk of warriors, he knew, tended to become more exaggerated the further they were from the front lines. And Sweet Reprisal, close as it was to the Brilliant Antipode, was so far removed from the battle front that Jason trusted almost nothing those returning warriors said.

Yet here, it seemed, was the rumor made real. The sight of this golden warrior, so much like the Bright Lady as to be blasphemous, inflamed his anger. The audacity of this pretender ... sacrilege!

But it was her pale companion that made Jason's stomach churn in disgust. Reminiscent as she was of both the Bright Lady and the loathsome humans... if the Golden Avenger was sacrilege, her companion was an obscenity against nature itself.

Yet, he found he could not look away. And though he could not see them, he could feel his horned sisters around him. They too stood stock still, staring upward as one, waiting for something to happen.

The pale grotesquerie spoke. "I have their minds," she said, in a quiet voice that nevertheless echoed throughout Sweet Reprisal.

Then she began to chant. Jason was no magister, but he recognized Arcanic speech when he heard it. The harsh music of that tongue reverberated in the air. While she chanted, black liquid fell from her lips. It dripped from her chin, oozing down to splash onto her breasts, her stomach, and her legs, before ultimately down to the sand below, where it formed sizzling craters of darkness, from which arose noisome clouds of vapor.

The uneasiness in Jason's stomach increased, and he felt himself suddenly, violently ill. He fell, retching, to his knees. The contents of his stomach emptied out of him, half-digested breakfast splattering onto the balcony floor, and pooling around his feet.

Fighting back the urge to vomit further, Jason looked down into the courtyard, and discovered most of his sisters in the same state. Only a rare few among the convulsing Spines stood their ground, shakily attempting to ready their weapons.

Then, panic. Deeply felt, and blindingly unreasonable. They shouldn't be here! Jason's mind cried out. This shouldn't be! I must get away!

Down below, his horned sisters began to run. Belongings discarded, duties forgotten, some still in the process of regurgitating, they scattered in all directions. They collided with each other, scampered back to their feet, and trampled those too slow to rise. Even the ones who hadn't succumbed to the nausea were not immune to this new chaos. Shouting, they swung their great clubs to keep the crushing mass at bay, or screaming, they fell beneath it.

Jason gripped the rail of the balcony, fighting the urge to jump down into the courtyard. He knew that death awaited him, if not from the fall, then from the writhing chaos below. But the urge to be with them was almost irresistible.

"Death," a voice said. Jason looked up. The golden one had spoken. Her wings beat more rapidly, and her thick mane of black hair whipped furiously around her head.

"Death," she said again, her voice breathy, as if she was tasting the word, and finding the flavor delicious.

"Death!" she said, and this time a glowing sword appeared in her hand. Its radiance was blinding, even for one such as he who had gazed into forbidden heart of the Brilliant Antipode.

Then the Golden Avenger descended upon them, preaching her gospel, a new revelation. Palladia would not save them. The time of The Three had ended. The Golden Avenger would liberate them, not with words, but with agony.

Light and darkness came for him, laughing rapaciously, rending his flesh, flaying his mind, and sucking the marrow from his soul.

* * *

Jason awoke to the sound of drums. Half-time on the bass and snares, syncopated fills peppered in every now and again, just to keep it interesting. Pretty soothing, actually.

Then all at once there came a great shout of many voices, followed by a warbly, buzzy sound from some instrument he couldn't define. It was incredibly loud, and at such a low frequency that he could feel the vibrations rumbling his lungs.

It startled him, so much that he fell right out of the suspenders. Fortunately, he only had a couple of feet to fall. He had been, he realized, hanging by his wrists. The jolt to his senses had made him jerk, freeing his wrists. He landed on the stone floor, knees-first.

"Jesus fuck sonofabitch-!" Jason shouted. He fell backward, clutching his smarting knees. This was a bad move, as he was only inches away from the wall to begin with, and he cracked the back of his head against the stone. Blinded by pain, everything else, including the music, kinda got drowned out for a few seconds.

Jason let himself slump against the wall, taking deep breaths to get his pain under control. Once he was able to think somewhat rationally again, he cautiously flexed his legs. Knees were still a little tender, but nothing seemed to be broken.

"Bright spot there," Jason muttered. "Not everything's bad."

Just then the bass dropped again, and sympathetic vibrations sent the iron links of the room's suspenders into a rattling cacophony.

"I take it back," Jason said aloud. "I hate this place. I hate it so much."

"There are few things as reliable," came Granny's voice, "as your compulsive complaining," pausing before adding, "Nor as irritating."

Jason looked up. For obvious reasons, he had missed seeing Granny before, but there she was. She was hanging naked from her own set of suspenders on the other side of the room. She was doing it in what he assumed was the correct way: upside-down with her ankles through the leather cuffs. Her wings were pulled flat against her back, and she had her arms crossed under her chin, to keep her enormous bosom from smothering her face. Her black hair cascaded down, almost touching the floor, the three violet streaks nearly perfectly aligned. She seemed entirely comfortable.

Despite that, her pure black eyes were open, and staring at Jason with the familiar look of disdain. "Some of us are attempting to rest," she said.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Jason said. "Izzums cranky? Well, too fucking bad! Come whine at me after you've been raped by some crazy broad, hung up like an old coat, jolted out of goddamn nightmares by homemade motherfucking dubstep, and your wake up call is a cracked skull! Bitch, I am not in the mood for your bullshit today!"

"Mm," Granny said. "Very well." She closed her eyes.

Jason stared at her. "What? Is that it?" he said. "Well, let me tell you I've had it with this place, okay? Everywhere I go I'm getting attacked, used as a goddamn fuck-toy, or mind-fucked so bad I can't even sleep. It's getting so that your condescension is the high point of my day, and that ain't right. So fuck the Wings, fuck your war and fuck Tarterus. I don't care what the Thing in the Way said, I'm done with this shit."

"Strong words," Granny said evenly, "considering you have no way of returning to Earth without my aid."

"Then you may as well kill me," Jason said. "I've seen what Pearl's up to. She's gone, Granny. A monster, just a soulless killing machine. Kristin too. We failed. And it's all because this world takes everything and twists it into something horrible. And I know if I stay here any longer it's gonna happen to me too. I don't know how it's gonna happen, but I don't wanna find out. So if you're not gonna take me home, then you'd better take me out, right now, or I'm liable to take you with me!" Jason paused, and put his head in his hands. "I don't think I can take any more."

"I understand," Granny said.

"Oh you do, do you?" Jason said. "Unbelievable! You haven't heard a word I've said, have you you heartless-" Then he looked up. "Wait...what?"

"I said, 'I understand'," Granny said. "I, too, am beginning to question whether this world is worthy of our efforts to save it."

There was a tone in Granny's voice that Jason hadn't heard before. She sounded despondent, tired, almost defeated. Totally threw him for a loop.

"Well... okay," Jason said cautiously. "I mean, I'm glad we're on the same page, I guess. Wait, no I'm not. I'm just a dumb human who likes bitching about everything, and you're a Grand-fucking-Wing Mother who knows all kindsa shit. What's got you so shook?"

"I doubt you would understand," Granny said.

"Try me," Jason said. "And could you get down offa there? Talking to you upside-down is weirding me out."

Granny obliged by simply pointing her toes. Her feet slid smoothly out of the leather cuffs, and she started to fall straight down, head-first.

But not for long. She tucked herself into a ball, and executed a precise mid-air roll. Halfway through, with her back now to Jason, Granny straightened her body, simultaneously extending her legs and spreading her wings wide to catch the air. She dropped gently down for the last foot or so, and when her feet were again touching stone she folded her wings behind her.

She turned around to face Jason, giving her head a toss in a seemingly off-hand way, and when her hair came to rest, it was perfectly in place, with even her violet streaks aligned just right.

Jason was sure it wasn't her intention, but this casual display reminded him that Granny was like, gorgeous hot. The tensions of the past couple of days had sort of made him forget that she had a face and a body that, under normal circumstances, would have had him begging for a slice of that cake. Her massive breasts, though always a big plus in Jason's book, were only one part of the whole seductive package. The crimson skin and bat wings didn't detract from that in the slightest, and her imperious hard-to-get manner just made her all the hotter.

"Now is not the time, human," Granny said, picking up on his thoughts. "We are being serious now."

"I hate mind readers," Jason said. "So what's going on?"

"Come with me," Granny said, and walked to the window.

"Uh, let me cover up first," Jason said.

Jason found his discarded leather skirt and slipped into it before joining Granny at the window. They gazed outside. The sky was the same paradoxical redderblue color, but now there was an additional sheen to it. A glint that his demon-enhanced senses somehow perceived as "morning".

"Look around," Granny said. "Tell me what you see, what you hear?"

"Well, I sure as hell hear that," Jason said, pointing to what he now saw was the source of the music. The musicians stood in circles down below, most of them beating on what appeared to be gigantic kettle drums. Nearby, other Wings played melody, blowing into, swear to god, vuvuzelas. As he watched, the vuvuzela players paused just long enough to shout out their nonsense lyrics, and then launched right back into tooting on their pipes.

"I never thought I'd say this," Jason said, "but can't we at least get some Ed Sheeran up in here?"

"Keep looking," Granny said. Jason rolled his eyes and did so.

The drummers occupied one of a series of large, well-tended courtyards that surrounded Pinnacle's Peak like an apron. Further out, the apron was encircled by a stone wall that must have been twenty feet tall. The courtyards themselves were divided only by low stone ridges. They were more like ground markers than actual barriers to entry, but for people who could fly, what's the point of walls?

Other courtyards had other things going on. Most of them, he noticed, seemed to be gardens, as evidenced by the regular rows of magenta stalks poking from the burnt umber earth. A few appeared to be actual parks, with trees and little brooks. Although, since this was Tarterus, even the trees were weird: tall, pale and skinny, with big palm-sized leaves the color of mahogany.

Elsewhere, he saw courtyards that were occupied by groups of Wings engaged in various activities. Instantly recognizable were the ones that looked like classes. One that caught his eye had an adult leading a group of teenage Wings in a spear training exercise. Hovering only a few feet from the ground, they threw spears at each other, while simultaneously dodging and catching other spears being thrown at them by their classmates. It was almost hypnotic, like watching a team of jugglers go through their paces.

As he watched, one of them misjudged, and took a spear right in the forehead. She fell to the ground, and Jason was horrified, thinking that she'd been skewered through her brain. But then she got back up, shook it off, and was right back in the mix. That was when Jason realized that these were only blunt practice spears, with one end painted white to indicate the head.

Another courtyard contained a slightly older group of students and teachers, seemingly just standing at attention. Then a flock of Wings swooped in from outside the wall. When they did, the group in the courtyard lifted into the air, formed themselves into a somewhat more wobbly flock. They whooshed past the incoming Wings, who replaced them on the ground. The leader of this flock then began to lecture the group, who stood and listened attentively.

"So what's the big deal?" Jason said. "Looks pretty chill to me. Hell, toss in some stoners playing hackysack and it could almost be a college quad."

"Their lives are so simple here," Granny said. "They go about their activities, their training, their learning, their amusements."

"So what's the problem?" Jason said. "This is the dream, right? Or are you just jealous?"

"Hardly," Granny said, sniffing the air haughtily. "I pity them. They are soft. There is no intensity to spur them to excellence. It is hardly a wonder that they were so disadvantaged during yesterday's assault."

"That was a fluke, though," Jason said. "You said it yourself. There was like ... a deal with the Spines, or something."

"Nevertheless, there is no excuse for their lack of vigilance," Granny said.

"Okay, fine," Jason said, "but you already knew what it was gonna be like here, so that can't be it. So what's really eating you?"

Granny sighed. "I have not been to the podal cities in some time," Granny said, "and I admit that I am unaccustomed to city life."

"This," Jason said, sweeping his hand toward the courtyards, "is what passes for 'city life'?"

Granny ignored him. "Here, resources are not so dear," she said, "and the absence of open conflict allows our kind to pursue other interests significant to our culture."

"You mean like that homebrew EDM bullshit you got going on?" Jason said.

"Mock not the music of my people!" Granny protested haughtily, before catching herself. "My people..." she said, trailing off. "I wonder, Jason. Are these truly my people?"

"What do you mean?" Jason said. "They sure look like your people to me."

"Yet they are quite different," Granny said. "Their motivations, their drives and their appetites ... they are so far removed from mine own as to as to be unrecognizable. Despite being of the same tribe... I find it difficult to reconcile."

"So that's it?" Jason said. "A little culture shock's gotcha down?"

"More than 'a little'," Granny said. "Things that I have long considered to be unshakable tenets of our faith seem to be mere suggestions amongst these softer sisters."

"Like what?" Jason said. "Do they pray in the wrong direction? Eat shellfish? I know it ain't some 'thou shalt not kill' thing, cause, boy howdy has Elvis left the building on that one."

"Please do not make light," Granny said, then she sighed again. "Last eve, I participated in our celebratory rituals," she said. "Racing, spear fighting, wrestling. I'm sure you can imagine."

"Oh, can I ever," Jason said, picturing hordes of sweaty, busty women, twisting and straining their bodies against each other. "But I'm gonna save that for later. In private."

"Cretin," Granny said. "While I had expected spirited competition, and the heated emotions that comes along with it, I had not anticipated the advances."

"Advances...?" Jason said. "Granny, did someone hit on you?"

"Nay!" Granny said. "Even the most seasoned warrior of Pinnacle's Peak could not hope to land a blow upon-!"

"I MEAN," Jason said, cutting her off, "Did one of your 'softer sisters' offer to take you on a nice, bouncy ride to Sexytown."

Granny frowned. "Such idioms strain the limits of your newly-acquired language," she said. "But, aye. Several, in fact."

"Wow, really!?" Jason said.

Granny glared at him.

"I didn't mean it like that," Jason said quickly. "I guess it does kinda make sense, though. They're living their humdrum kinda lives. Then, fresh from the front lines, here comes this rough stranger who swoops in and saves the day."

"Indeed," Granny said. "Gratitude alone motivated some. Others were emboldened by camaraderie, awe, or simply alcohol."

"Plus, you're super bangable," Jason said. Granny opened her mouth to protest, but Jason held up a hand. "Don't even try and deny it," he said. "You know it, I know it, and every drunk hottie down there knew it too."

"I am unused to being pursued in such a manner," Granny said. "One sister, fit, young and beautiful, was so brazen that I was forced to strike her." She frowned again. "It did not have the intended effect. I rather think it only encouraged her further. As such, I spent the rest of the festivities avoiding her."

Jason shook his head. "Damn, Granny," he said "I've seen you fly headfirst into some hardcore danger without blinking, but a chick with a crush, that turns you into a big fraidy cat?"