Book II: Prologue

Book II: Prologue

A tide of darkness has arisen since the arrival into the world of a dangerous sentient weapon known as the Laughing Axe. Cities have burned and a nation has vanished into chaos, all for the cruel amusement of a madman.

Nowhere is safe.

Rumors of the axe's existence have spread into the multiverse and attracted the attention of a disgraced Dark Lord who thirsts for vengeance against his usurpers.

If he can retrieve this weapon and bend it to his will, the future of all free beings promises to be one beneath the heel of absolute tyranny!

But the Laughing Axe must never be underestimated...

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Dude, why do you take this shit so seriously? Anthony asked me. A frown creased his forehead beneath his hairnet as he gave me a look of exasperation.

I wasnt sure I liked being referred to as Dude by a balding fast-food worker in his early forties. Was that ageist of me or classist? Was it both? I hoped it was both. That seemed efficient.

I dont, I replied with obvious insincerity. Im just, yknow, dude, sharing an opinion. Im feeling my truth. Thats what the kids say, right? Feeling the truth? Im down with the vernacular of the youth.

I am in fact, not down with the vernacular of the youth. I was cleverly obfuscating the facts with a technique Ive honed over the years called: lying. I love to lie. When you did it right, lying can be better than sex. In fact, lying about having sex could occasionally be better than having sex itself, unless you were having sex with a liar.

Liars always told you how great you were in bed.

Okay, youre living your truth, said Anthony, But what does that have to do with who was the best character in the Lord of the Rings?Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

Because you said it was Gollum!

Honestly, Gollum? That nasty, gimped out analogy for heroin addiction? What kind of moron believed he was the best? Id always hated that little bastard! If evil were a start-up looking to make a profit for its investors, Gollum was the asshole assistant with access to the passwords. The one caught embezzling funds to pay for his coke and hooker blackout weekends. There were always pricks like him in every major organization.

The first act of any truly pragmatic Dark Lord, was to weed them out.

Listen, I said. There were two things about Gollums personality that made him almost tolerable. He was a cannibal, and he was comfortable showing some skin. Very forward thinking, very progressive. He didnt let other peoples comfort or innate right to exist cramp his style. I respect that.

He was funny too! Holly chimed in.

Yeah, okay, he was occasionally hilarious. Honestly, I could see myself getting baked with him one night, just so I could hear his unique spin on U.S. politics.

Why politics?

Because, beneath all the crazy, I suspect Gollum had some strong libertarian values. My preciousss, we thinks regulations that stifle the free market should be strangled like filthy, squealing orcses, Gollum!Gollum!

Dude"

It was a joke, ant!"

"Anthony," he corrected me, as though it even mattered.

"I wasn't shortening your name," I informed him. "Continuing on, when viewed objectively, Gollum was a pitiful freak. It was obvious who the best character was. Well, to anyone with a brain, that is.

Ohhh, is that right? Anthony asked. He looked a little put out by my words.

Oh, dear, I think Ive offended Anthony. Not that such a feat was particularly noteworthy; the man had a large ego for some reason, but at his core, he was a sensitive, lost little soul fit for unsure of himself and thus a suitable target for mockery and abuse.

He deserved it.

In a way, Anthony was like a layered piece of candy, as well as a man who clearly ate way too much candy. He was forty-two, and the shift supervisor of the restaurant we were in. Hed earned his rank through attrition; everyone above him had quit, or been fired, or wounded in armed robberies. He was the last man standing, and that made him the boss.

It was a shame, though. Some men cant easily bear the weight of authority. Anthony wasnt content with merely being in charge. He also wanted to be friends with his employees. He wanted to be the cool, charismatic, slightly cynical older guy who sat backwards on a chair and dispensed clever quips and great advice. It was the saddest thing Id ever seen.

The name of this place, by the way, was Burger Trough.

Yes, it really was called Burger Trough. It was part of a local chain of restaurants destined never to go national; its creator was a failing entrepreneur whod long ago given into despair and decided to take the concept of fast food to its logical conclusion:

The Abyss.

Burger Troughs mascot was a deformed cartoon man with the face of an undercooked hamburger, who dribbled ketchup, mustard, and... meat fluids, whenever he spoke. His name was Platey, and children were terrified of him. They didnt offer kids meals by the way; they offered items and such, the items being plastic wax figures based on the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch, the demented Dutch fantasist known for his deranged paintings of Hell. Collect them all!

Want some quick nightmare fuel? Go to Boschs Wikipedia article and look at his profile picture. What did you think? Wow, right? Howd you like to be the back-alley prostitute getting bricked on the chin with that face staring down on you?

Pathfinder, and yes, they fucking are! Anyway, Im just saying, I understand exactly what Ron was going through. You want the best and the brightest to serve you, but you cant get someone too intelligent, or theyll try to overthrow you, so you have to work twice as hard to compensate for everyone else being an idiot. Plus, all the paranoia and the fair-weather friends.

What does any of this have to do with Sauron?

Aren't you paying attention? Ron was stuck in a cycle of failure! Every success he ever enjoyed was stolen from him, and every defeat gradually ripped bits and pieces away from him, until the only thing he had left was the one thing he couldnt afford to lose.

The ring.

The ring! He started out powerful and beautiful, and then inch, by inch, hes made into a wretched, ugly shell of a miserable thing that just wants to blight the world out of sheer hatred. Hes a warning to anyone whod dare follow his path! The Japanese call it: karoshi. Death by overwork.

You make it sound like he should have unionized.

Wouldnt have helped. He was doomed. The poor bastard shouldnt have forged a ring. Anyone can pick up and wear a ring. You take it off one time to wipe your ass in the bathroom then forget you left it on the sink? Boom! Someone finds it by the faucet and usurps you. Just like that youre done."

what if you just didnt take it off?

Then microscopic bits of shit will incrementally build up beneath the ring, even if youre a vigorous hand washer, and eventually youll give yourself a MRSA infection and die.

Okay, I am officially lost

Just take off your ring before you use a toilet, Anthony! Do I really need to say this to a fast-food worker?

Anthony was quiet for several long moments. Then, he said, You, uh, put a lot of thought into this, huh?

Not really. Good sanitary habits dont require a big brain.

You know, I dont know why I put up with you, buddy. Why dont you

Anthony, go sit in your office and stare blankly at the wall until its time to go home, I commanded him. Get me a refill before you go, though. And an Apple pie. I want an apple pie! Im not paying for it, by the way.

Not a problem, Ive got you covered, he said, his eyes blank, his tone dazed but friendly.

Dont care, off you go, I said, shooing him away.

Did you know vampires were a symbol of sexual panic in Victorian England? Holy asked, while leaning ont the counter.

I had grown bored with the conversation, but I liked Holly, so I placed into her mind the idea that I was listening to her, and that we were engaged in a fun discussion about which Dracula was sexier: Bela Lugosi or Christopher Lee. While she babbled away happily with a phantom image, I took a seat in a nearby booth, and stared at the city through the windows of the restaurant.

The hex Id placed on the building did its job nicely, driving away any potential customers, and leaving me in peace. It was selfish of me to demand this place serve me exclusively, but selfishness was my most glaring flaw, and therefore it was no flaw at all. Im a king and kings always get what they wanted. That was natural law in effect.

It was good to serve no master.

Well, except Catastrophia, that was. But only up to a point. She might be my goddess, but that meant fuck all when you were an evil overlord. I had plans. Her continued silence during my banishment spoke volumes about how useful she really was. Luckily, I had no issues with being self-reliant.

Look upon me, my fellow humans. Its me, normal ol Danny Marsh. Humble consumer of burgers and such. Im not worth a second glance, am I? Im just another average, ordinary background character. I probably dont carry enough in my wallet to be worth mugging.

Jeez, what a dork!

Look upon me, lowly humans. Its me, Luminous, the Scarlet Hand. The Six hundred and sixty-fifth Lord of the Night Lands, and the only human to ever claim the title.

Im less famous for enjoying burgers, than I am for having people who displease me set on fire. Whatever, flame grilled is flame grilled.

Right now, I was down on my luck. It was fine, though. Such things happen to everyone. What mattered most was that I was planning my comeback. In my Blackened Tower, on my blackened throne, there sat a usurper surrounded by a court of traitors who let me deliver them victory after victory, only to throw me away like a plastic ring into a sea turtle preserve.

Honestly, good for them. Coups are hard to pull off, and theyd clearly put a lot of work into it. There was no need for me to come roaring back for vengeance, just yet. Being back on Earth, living the life of an everyday commoner with godlike magical power and the wrathful soul of a tyrant, this was good for me. I was getting to know myself, once more.

Honestly, I didnt even mind not having to make decisions all day, every day. It was nice to sleep in whenever I felt like it. I was enjoying my time away. When I was ready, Id return.

And when I did, I would rain dark fire upon the heads of my betrayers. Id rend them into exquisitely portioned, still-living columns of ever-burning, ever writhing flesh. Id enslave their precious loved ones and have them rake the earth with their maggot infested hands; hands that would squirt out stinking pus-blighted fluid in putrid streams of green and red, every time their swollen digits so much as twitched.

This would continue, until maddened by pain and desperate for relief, they gnawed off their own fingers.

And on their final day of judgement, as they clawed at the hem of my robes, and begged deliriously for either my forgiveness or their deaths, Ill kneel beside their broken forms, stroke their blistered, infected flesh, and gently whisper:

Nope.

That was going to be a beautiful day.

But first, I needed to find that fucking axe.