The November wind slices through my threadbare jacket like it's made of tissue paper as I trudge across UMass Boston's campus. My eyelids feel like they're being propped open with toothpicks after pulling my third all-nighter this week.
"I'm so exhausted, dude," Jake mumbles beside , his backpack hanging off one shoulder like it's too heavy for his body to support fully.
"Sa," I grunt, kicking an empty energy drink can soone left on the sidewalk. "Life fucking sucks right now."
We shuffle past the science building, our breaths creating little ghost clouds that vanish almost instantly. Jake shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. "You know what's ssed up? When I was a kid, I wanted to be a teacher. Had it all planned out. Now I just feel like I'd never make enough to survive."
I nod, feeling that familiar weight settle in my chest. "I get that. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a fireman. Save people, be a hero, you know?" I step over a particularly icy patch of sidewalk. "Now it just feels like the world is always on the verge of ending."
I sigh, the sound disappearing into the crisp air as we approach the economics building, another day of pretending to care about supply and demand when all I really want is to collapse face-first into my bed.
Jake sighs as we reach the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the light to change. "It's just hard, you know? Everyone told us being business majors was the smart choice, but so days..."
"Yeah," I say, watching a flock of pigeons scatter as soone approaches them with a bagel. "I get it. I can't help feeling like I'm becoming the bad guy in soone else's story. Corporate drone number five-hundred-and-whatever."
The light changes, and we start across the street, our shoes crunching on the thin layer of salt scattered over the asphalt.
"I guess," Jake shrugs, his breath clouding in front of him. "But what choice do we have? The system's rigged no matter what."
I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulder, feeling the weight of textbooks and a future I never really wanted. "I know, but those Fidelity internships everyone's fighting over? The ones we got. It really makes feel like a Villian…"
The world explodes into noise and pain.
I don't even see the bus. One mont I'm walking and talking, the next I'm airborne, my body twisting at angles it was never ant to. There's a sickening crunch that I realize with detached horror is coming from . Jake's scream sounds distant, underwater.
Ti slows to a crawl. The sky cartwheels overhead.
Then nothing.
Absolute nothing.
*****
My eyes snap open with a violent gasp. Air floods my lungs like I'm breathing for the first ti.
"Wha..?" I choke out, disoriented and confused. The weight on my chest isn't taphorical, it's literal. A woman is straddling , her filthy hands pawing at my clothes. My vision adjusts to the dim light, and I nearly scream.
Her face is a nightmare collage, missing teeth, skin mottled with dirt and what might be open sores, hair matted into clumps that hang around her face like dead vegetation. The stench hits next, a toxic cocktail of body odor, alcohol, and sothing far worse.
"I'm alive," I whisper in shock, mories of the bus impact flashing through my mind. How am I not dead? Where's Jake? Where am I?
A grimy palm slams over my mouth, fingers digging into my cheeks.
"Shut the fuck up," she growls, her voice like gravel being crushed. "I'm trying to fuck you, boy."
Her other hand yanks at my jeans, surprisingly strong fingers working at my belt buckle. Panic explodes through . I thrash beneath her, trying to throw her off, but she's impossibly heavy, like she's made of concrete instead of flesh.
I bite at her palm, kick my legs, but she doesn't budge. What the hell? She looks like she weighs ninety pounds soaking wet, but it's like trying to move a car off my chest.
"Stop squirming," she hisses, leaning closer. Her breath makes my eyes water. "Pretty boy like you should be grateful."
My heart hamrs against my ribs. This can't be happening. I got hit by a bus. I should be dead or in a hospital, not being assaulted in what looks like... I glance around wildly... an alley? Garbage bags and cardboard boxes surround us, the brick walls on either side creating a narrow channel that dead-ends behind her.
I manage to wrench my face away from her hand. "Help!" I scream, voice cracking. "Sobody help !"
The crack of the gunshot is deafening in the narrow alley. One second the holess woman is on top of , and the next her head jerks violently to the side. Sothing warm and wet sprays across my face. Her body goes instantly limp, collapsing onto like a puppet with cut strings, her dead weight suddenly much heavier than when she was alive.
I can't breathe. Can't think. My hands scramble against the pavent, pushing desperately at her corpse. Her blood is seeping through my clothes, hot and sticky against my skin. I finally manage to shimmy out from under her, my back scraping against the rough concrete as I crab-walk away, leaving her face-down in the filth of the alley.
"Justice is served," a woman's voice announces, the words ringing with a disturbing satisfaction.
I look up, heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. Standing at the mouth of the alley is the most terrifying and elegant woman I've ever seen.
She's like sothing out of a nightmare fashion show. The pristine white of her coat-dress is blinding in the dim alley, its razor-sharp edges catching what little light filters down between the buildings. Each step she takes reveals a tactical black bodysuit beneath the dramatic front slit. The contrast between the ghostly white and tactical black makes her look like so kind of avenging angel of death.
A wide-brimd hat shadows most of her face, but I can make out the gleaming contours of what looks like a skull mask underneath. In her hand, a pistol still trails a wisp of smoke.
She laughs, the sound musical and horrifying at the sa ti. I slowly push myself to my feet, my legs shaking so badly I have to lean against the wall for support.
"What the hell is happening?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.
She tilts her head, the movent oddly bird-like. "I just saved you," she says, her voice smooth as velvet and just as suffocating. "You're welco."
I can't tear my eyes away from the dead woman on the ground, her blood forming a dark pool that's spreading toward my sneakers. "Who… who are you?"
Instead of answering, she closes the distance between us with fluid strides. I back up trying to find a way out, but i end up pressed against the brick wall, nowhere to go. She reaches out with her free hand, and I flinch, but her touch is surprisingly gentle as she traces her gloved fingers along my jawline, down my neck.
"The na is Scourge," she says, her voice dropping to sothing intimate and dangerous. Her fingers press against my pulse. "My, your heart is racing."
"What the fuck?" I blurt out, terror and confusion making dizzy. This can't be happening. First the bus, then the holess woman, now this… Am I dead? Is this hell?
Her skull mask gleams in the dim light as she suddenly presses the gun barrel under my chin, forcing my head up at an uncomfortable angle. My mind screams danger but my body freezes like prey.
"I think," she purrs, the words sliding out like silk over broken glass, "I want a taste of what that holess woman seed so desperate for."
"What?" I stamr, my voice breaking embarrassingly high. The cold tal digs into the soft flesh under my jaw.
Scourge leans in closer, her perfu a disorienting mix of expensive notes and sothing tallic. "Don't you owe ?" She laughs, the sound echoing off the alley walls. "I just saved your life. Shouldn't you show a little... gratitude?"
The gun pushes deeper, and sothing in snaps. I run.
I duck and twist, shoving past her with strength born of pure terror. My sneakers slip slightly in the blood, but I recover and sprint behind her, expecting a bullet in my back any second.
"I like this better, kid!" she calls after , her voice electric with excitent. "Chasing is half the fun, but now I’m going to kill you!"
My lungs burn as I bolt from the alley, panic shorting out my rational thought. Left? Right? I veer right into another narrow passage between buildings, my heart hamring so loud I swear it's echoing off the walls. There, a tal door with a sliver of light showing through, propped open by what looks like a brick.
I slam through it without hesitation, nearly falling as do.
Bright lights blind montarily. White walls. High ceilings. As my vision adjusts, I see abstract sculptures, minimalist paintings, and a small group of well-dressed people turning to stare at with expressions ranging from startled to disgusted.
A museum. I've crashed into so kind of art museum.
"Sir, you can't co in through the ergency exit," a security guard says, already moving toward with a hand raised.
"She's trying to kill ," I gasp out, backing away from the door. "There's a woman with a gun…"
The door swings open behind .
"There you are," Scourge's velvet voice sings out as she steps into the museum.
I don't even think, I just drop to the floor as her arm extends. The gunshot cracks through the air like thunder. Plaster dust rains down from where the bullet hits the wall, inches from where my head was a second ago.
Chaos erupts. People scream, dropping wine glasses and exhibition pamphlets. The security guard reaches for her radio, but another shot sends her diving behind a modernist sculpture.
"Stop running, pretty boy!" Scourge calls out, her musical laughter following as I scramble to my feet and sprint deeper into the museum.
I weave through the panicking crowd, knocking over a rope barrier in my desperation. Another bullet whizzes past my ear so close I feel the air displacent, like death's whisper against my skin.
"Sorry! Sorry!" I gasp as I shove past a woman.
I spot a darkened doorway and lunge toward it, my lungs burning. Crashing through heavy black curtains, I stumble into what feels like another world entirely.
The gallery I've entered is massive and dimly lit, with ceiling-high murals and glass cases casting eerie shadows. A placard near the entrance reads ‘Demons of the Underworld: A Historical Retrospective; in elegant, blood-red lettering.
But it's what dominates the center of the room that stops cold, a towering obsidian statue of a male figure. Lord Lileth, according to the small information plate at its base. Massive bat-like wings spread behind a form of perfect, terrifying masculinity, muscles rendered in gleaming black stone. The erald eyes, actual gemstones, seem to track as I stare up at its imposing height.
"Where the fuck am I?" I whisper, montarily forgetting the psychopath with a gun chasing .
The sound of the curtains being ripped aside behind shatters my montary trance. Scourge glides into the demon room like death itself, her movents fluid and predatory. The dim lighting catches on her skull mask, making the eye sockets look bottomless.
"Found you," she purrs, ejecting her pistol's magazine with practiced ease. Her fingers dance as she reloads, fresh bullets sliding into place with tallic clicks that echo through the exhibition space.
"Ohhh," she coos, her voice dripping with sick excitent as she surveys our surroundings. "This is perfect. All these demons watching..." She gestures with her gun toward the grotesque displays. "Why don't you surrender now? We could have so much fun in the demonic room."
My back presses against the cold base of the obsidian statue as I try to catch my breath. "You're completely fucking insane," I gasp out, chest heaving. "Who the hell even are you?"
Her laugh tinkles like broken glass. "I told you, pretty boy. I'm Scourge. Your savior. Your nightmare." She slides the magazine ho with a decisive click and aims directly at my chest. "Your end."
Pure instinct takes over again. I launch myself sideways just as the gun fires, the bullet chipping stone where I'd been standing. My legs are jelly but sohow still working as I sprint deeper into the exhibition, dodging between display cases of ancient-looking artifacts.
I'm so focused on escape that I don't see the mannequin until I crash right into it. We go down in a tangle of limbs. Sothing clatters across the floor, a necklace that had been displayed around its neck. A circle of gleaming black horns, each curved like tiny scythes.
"Shit, shit, shit," I mutter, scrambling to get back up. My hand slaps down on the cold marble floor, right on top of the scattered necklace.
And just like that, everything stops.
The sound of Scourge's approaching footsteps cuts off mid-click. The alarm that had been blaring throughout the museum falls silent. Even the dust particles I'd disturbed in my fall hang suspended in the air, glittering in the exhibition spotlights like tiny frozen stars.
I try to move, to lift my hand off the necklace, but nothing happens. My muscles won't respond. I'm locked in place, kneeling awkwardly beside the fallen mannequin, one hand splayed over the horned necklace. I can still breathe, still blink, still think, even move my head a little bit, but that's it. Everything else is paralyzed.
A cold shock races up my arm from where my palm touches the necklace. The frozen air around seems to vibrate, then crack like thin ice. The obsidian statue behind , the one I'd been admiring monts ago, suddenly pulses with an unnatural light.
The stone... it's lting. No, transforming. Obsidian turns to flesh before my eyes as the statue of Lord Lileth liquefies and reforms.
I'm still frozen in place, unable to move anything but my eyes as I watch in horror as the statue becos sothing else entirely. Sothing alive.
The creature that forms above is breathtaking in the most terrifying way possible. A tall, sharply built demon-lord towers over my kneeling form, his presence filling the exhibition hall like a physical weight. His face is angular and chiseled, marked by thin, glowing cracks that pulse with hellfire beneath his ashen skin. Long jet-black hair flows around him like living smoke, moving even though there's no breeze.
But it's his eyes that paralyze more than whatever magic has trapped, predatory green irises with serpent-like slits that seem to pierce right through , sizing up like prey. When he smiles, elongated canines gleam in the dim light, looking more suited for tearing flesh than re intimidation.
His body is encased in what I first mistake for armor, until I realize with nauseating clarity that it's alive, organic plates of bone and sinew form around his torso and limbs, spiked pauldrons rising from his shoulders, ridged gauntlets encasing his forearms. The chest piece pulses faintly with the sa demonic energy that flickers beneath his skin, as though it grew there rather than being forged.
Two massive bat-like wings unfurl behind him, webbed and veined like sheets of molten obsidian catching the light. Dark mist coils around his feet, making the floor itself seem to recoil from his presence.
The demon tilts his head, studying with those burning green eyes.
"This is rather curious," he says, his voice like velvet dragged across broken glass.
My paralysis suddenly breaks, and I collapse backward, scrambling away until my back hits another display case.
"What the fuck is going on?" I gasp, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched with terror.
The demon looks down at , cocking his head like a predator examining an unfamiliar creature.
"How should I know what's happening?" he says with a casual shrug that sends ripples through his wing mbranes. "One mont I was in hell and the next, you've summoned here." He gestures around at the frozen museum exhibit with a clawed hand.
My mouth falls open. "You're... you're an actual demon?" The words tumble out before I can stop them. Part of is still hoping this is all so bizarre hallucination brought on by head trauma from the bus accident.
"Indeed." He gives an elegant bow that sohow makes the movent look both mocking and sincere. "The na is Lileth." He straightens, adjusting what appears to be bone-like cufflinks. "And you are?"
"Shane," I manage to croak out. "Shane Steele."
"Charming," Lileth drawls, looking thoroughly unimpressed. His eyes dart to the frozen figure of Scourge, suspended mid-stride with her gun aid. "You appear to be in quite the predicant, Shane Steele."
"Can you help ?" The desperation in my voice is humiliating, but I'm way past caring about dignity. "I got hit by a bus, woke up being assaulted by a holess woman, and now there's so psycho in a skull mask trying to kill !"
Lileth examines his talons with casual disinterest. "Can I? Yes." His eyes flick back to mine, glowing brighter. "Will I? That's an entirely different question."
"For the love of God, why the fuck is this happening!" I shout, my voice echoing in the frozen space.
The demon's expression shifts, sothing like curiosity replacing his boredom. He looks around at the museum exhibits, the frozen Scourge, then back to , still pathetically sprawled on the floor.
"Hmm," he hums, the sound vibrating through the air like a bass note. "You know what? You do seem a bit sad don’t you." His lips curl into a smile that reveals more of those dangerous teeth. "I suppose I could help you. It's been ages since I've had any real entertainnt."
"What?" I blink up at him, not daring to believe it could be this easy.
Instead of answering, Lileth reaches down and presses one clawed finger to the center of my forehead. The contact burns like dry ice, painfully cold yet sohow scorching at the sa ti.
A bolt of energy surges through , starting at that single point of contact and exploding outward like lightning through my veins. My skin ignites with an eerie blue-green glow that intensifies until I'm practically a human lightbulb. The sensation is like being plugged into an electrical socket while simultaneously being dunked in ice water, painful, exhilarating, and utterly terrifying.
"What the fuck are you doing to ?" I try to scream, but my voice cos out distorted, like I'm speaking into a fan.
My muscles spasm and twist as sothing foreign and powerful flows through them. Every cell in my body feels like it's being rewritten, reprogramd. I can actually feel my bones shifting a little beneath my skin.
"Relax," Lileth purrs, his voice suddenly inside my head as much as outside it. "I'm turning you into a new type of incubus I've been working on. A little pet project of mine."
"A WHAT?" I manage to gasp through the pain.
Then everything stops.
The burning sensation vanishes. The blue-green glow fades. Lileth is gone. Simply gone, as if he'd never been there at all. I'm back on the floor where I was a minute ago, sprawled awkwardly beside the fallen mannequin. The obsidian statue stands tall and unbroken behind , its erald eyes lifeless once more.
Ti lurches back into motion like a car with bad brakes. The museum alarm resus its wailing. Dust motes continue their lazy dance through the air. And Scourge, she's moving again, stalking toward with that gun pointed directly at my chest.
"No more places to run," she coos, her voice carrying over the alarm. "Such a sha. You were fun while it lasted."
I push myself to my feet, feeling... different. There's a strange heat pulsing through my veins, an awareness of my body I've never experienced before. Every sensation is heightened, the fabric of my shirt under my jacket against my skin feels like a caress, the air in my lungs tastes sweeter, and Scourge...
As I stare at her, sothing stirs inside alongside the anxiety. A new power, coiled and waiting. I don't understand what's happening, but my body seems to know exactly what to do.
Without conscious thought, I visualize myself behind her. There's a sudden rush of displaced air, a blur of motion that isn't quite movent, and then…
I'm standing directly behind Scourge, the transition so abrupt it leaves dizzy. My knees nearly buckle as exhaustion crashes through like a tidal wave. Whatever I just did, it drained like I just went on a short run.
Scourge whirls around, her skull mask inches from my face. "What the…"
The rest of her sentence dies as sothing white and sticky shoots through the air, wrapping around her arm and yanking the weapon away with a sharp tug.
"Huh?" Scourge snarls, but before she can finish, more webbing flies across the room, encasing her torso, then her legs, until she's cocooned like a fly in a spider's trap.
I stumble backward, watching in disbelief as a figure drops gracefully from the ceiling. The sleek red and blue costu hugs every curve, the iconic spider emblem stretching across her chest. Her mask's white eyes narrow as she lands in a perfect crouch beside the now-struggling Scourge.
"You know, for soone who calls herself 'Scourge,' your aim is terrible," the newcor quips, tilting her head. "Maybe try 'Slightly Inconvenient Rash' instead? More accurate."
My jaw drops. "Spider-Man is here?" I blurt out, my brain struggling to process this new developnt.
The costud hero turns to , placing a hand on her hip. "Spider-Woman, actually. The hyphen and gender are both important, thanks."
Scourge thrashes against her webby prison, her skull mask sohow conveying fury despite being expressionless. "Release , you arachnid freak!"
"Hmm, let think about that," Spider-Woman taps a finger against her masked chin. "Nope! I think the police would prefer you gift-wrapped." She shoots another strand of webbing that seals Scourge's mask to the rest of her cocoon, muffling her curses.
A/N
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