Random Fiction 1 - Blue Inferno

When I opened my eyes at that exact cursed moment, I realized that I was in the deepest mess I could ever gotten myself into, and you better believe that trouble and I have been the best of pals since time began, whenever that was. The best of pals. We're so attached to each other in a sense that none of you could ever understand, but if you keep on reading, maybe I could help you figure it out although I can't guarantee that you'd understand everything.

Trouble and I. It hadn't been a week since I last broke someone's neck and crippled at least a dozen others just to survive. And now here I was, tied to a chair in a stuffy, dim room and starving. My throat was dry, my lips were chapped. I was extremely thirsty. My surrounding was so foreign and I was tired. Really tired.

My name is Classic Santorelli - that's what I'll be referring to myself from now on. My real name is really none of your business because you might even become the next target just because you have that particular knowledge. A target of what, really? Or who, exactly? I'll get to that eventually, and I can promise you a surprise like no other. So Classic it is, it should be enough for now, and I couldn't remember how I ended here.

The last thing I could recall was slamming a sword against someone's body and shattering every bone that made up his ribcage, a horrifying scream that would haunt you normal people's sleeps for years; and blood. Lots of blood. Enough to paint your nightmares in an agonizing red for a century. If you'd be lucky enough to live that long. Although I wouldn't say that it would be much of a luck being able to live a long life.

There wasn't a warning of a terrible shock that might rupture every bit of my paper thin remaining sanity to nothing before the door to the room was opened from the outside. A figure, a man to be exact, took slow but arrogant steps towards me.

There was a sudden change in the atmosphere. An inconceivably unpleasant shift of ambience. It was suddenly humid, my breaths became desperate and unsteady and I sensed insane malevolence in the air, clear as the page you're now reading. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest and believe me it is never a good sign to be able to listen to your own heart overworking. And it is also never a good sign if all the threatening features of your surrounding began to feel familiar. Like you had once went through the same fear; if that's what it was, and miraculously survived and managed to block the experience from flooding your head because it would drive you out of your mind. Because the fear was beyond anything you had ever felt. It was beyond anything anyone as sane as you or I had ever encountered. Now this fear, my friend - was something I know even better than I know the back of my own hand. Because it was almost as old as I am.

'Classic,' the man began. His voice had an inhuman, dangerously hypnotic quality to it. Like he could have told you to puncture your own wrist a dozen times with a pen to bleed yourself to death and you'd do it without hesitating. He sounded ancient. Familiarly ancient. And that sent my fear up to the very limit my mind could take. A hair's breadth higher then I'd be certifiable beyond cure.

He was standing in front of me, facing my pathetic self. There was a slight hint of amusement in his voice. He was, how should I say this, pleased, to see me like this. But somehow I got the feeling that whatever state I was in didn't really matter. He was more amused of the fact that I was there, where he could see me. But that couldn't be possible. Or could it?

I struggled to look up. To face him. This person I believed to been have wiped out of the face of the earth by my own hands a long time ago.

What I saw, or who - to be exact, almost made me jump out of my skin. But a part of me already expected the thunderbolt so my sanity was spared. Still, it was hard to believe. Yet, I showed no sign of surprise. My face remained tired, slightly expressionless.

'Ah, you disappointed me. Shouldn't this be a pleasant surprise for you?' He reached out and brushed my bang aside, and touched the side of my face. 'It has really been a while, hasn't it, Classic?'

My eyes met his, and I held his gaze for a while. They were blue. A strange blue that made them look like sapphires reflecting the wild fires of a volcano. You're right. There was a slight, curious red in them. The last time I saw them, they didn't have such feature, and I'd been staring into them for centuries. There used to be so much affection there, that could bring anyone, not matter how evil, to love him. I had loved him, once upon a time. Fiercely. But things happened; inevitable things, fate got out of hands, and I was forced to end his life for the good of the world. I murdered him. At least that's what I thought really happened.

Now we were looking at each other. If I'm a normal human being like you, I would have gone hysterical. But I've seen so much in my long life it's really hard to be surprised anymore. At anything. But I have to say that his standing here, talking to me, could have driven me insane had I not reminded myself of the many ways this rendezvous could be made possible.

'Let's get down to business,' he said with a cold smile, as he took another chair in the room and sat facing me. 'Explanation can come later,' he added. There was a brief silence, then a chuckle. I didn't say anything, and gave him a sneering stare. 'I'd like to make an offer. You'll join me and together we'll reduce the world's population by half. We'll eliminate those with fatal diseases and those who aren't interested in knowledge - of any kind, people who don't like to learn. Then we'll remove the power-hungry bastards with money and their supporters, leaving behind people who are of goodwill, intelligence and perfect health.' Silence. 'This could be a perfect world, Classic. And our people can fill the other half.' A smile.

He hadn't changed. Not even a bit. He was still the deranged mass-murderer I was made to kill. Now even more diabolical than before.

I couldn't find anything to say. His idea was beyond all evil I had ever came across - I mean, who could be so malignant to want to murder that many people and live? Half of the world's population? And here I thought I've seen and heard everything the world has to offer.

He waited with a smile. And when I said nothing in response, he laughed. 'Come on, seriously, even you have to agree that this is by far the best suggestion you've ever heard! For humanity! We could re-live the life we had before. Even better -

'What good can come out of murder, Mephistof?'

He was silenced at my mention of his name. But it wasn't long before he proceeded, 'Seven thousand years ago can repeat itself, Classic. You and me, we can make it happen.'

I looked him and wondered how much more damaged could he be inside, to be this evil. To desire something so much that it wasn't a big deal if he had to destroy half of the world for it.

'Take my offer and I'll let you live. I'll let you love me again, even more fiercely than you ever did. You know I can do that.'

I couldn't believe my ears. He even thought that highly of himself now.

'Say yes, Classic.'

Silence. Then I said them, the words that turned my already grotesque situation into something worst. 'Go to hell.'

At this he laughed derisively, as if I had said the most ridiculous thing ever. Well, maybe I had. Because he stopped laughing all of a sudden.

He stood from his chair and approached me. Gently, he lifted my chin so that I'd be staring right at him. 'Why Classic,' he started. In his voice was an eerily strange tone of playfulness that made me shiver. He leaned closer to whisper in my ear, something that then annihilated the faintest light of hope I had for the world. 'I'd just got back from there.'