And by "this thang" I mean the story I'm writing as Kamin/Czernobog's Secret Santa present, which I totally haven't been hacking at for months already before the draft.
And believe me, "hack" is the right word.
And apologies to Kamin/Czernobog because "ADVENT REY" isn't actually the name of the story; the real name is too long to fit into the subject field.
And finally without further ado:
(Rey Quirino Versus the Dark Heart of the Philippines)
or
PINOYMAGEDDON???
Written by Invictus, Approved by Shroom
A Comix! Tale
Cebu Island, The Philippines
It was an evil day.
Yes, it was an evil day, Darkness mused. His human form was astride five hundred pounds of shaking, roaring Stygian nightmarepower, tearing through the meagre roads of this country with pathetic ease. His target was out there, a guttural pulse upon his demonic senses like a tantalizingly loud, yet frustratingly grainy, heartbeat.
A product of these lands, he reflected amidst the noise and the backward stares of the occasional mud-splattered pedestrian. Hot and filthy and without grace or sophistication. Fully deserving of the fate he was about the inflict upon them. At least, they shall have the privilege of bearing witness to his final ascension.
To his sides rode his two compatriots. They were simple men with direct names, suitable enough for the work he had for them. Sweating and complaining as humans did in their mortal squalor, not comprehending the high honour he had placed upon them.
Not like Darkness. His human form knew neither heat nor discomfort, and he hurtled towards his own fate with perfect certainty of its reward.
"What's the hurry, boss-person?" Chaos shouted over the headset, vaguely aware of the sensitivities one must respect of employers who are also shadowy optiono-sexual demon-things.
The metahuman mercenary heard the answering hiss as though it was from a cobra beside his own ear.
"I mean, these are great motorcycles. Very dope. Very dark. Which is making a real comeback these days. Dark, I mean. Not dope." He shot the other escorting rider a nervous glance. "Right, brodysseus?"
"My friend is right, you know." The metahuman mercenary known as Edge said conversationally. "Heroin is only popular with old white exec-" he stopped, twitched, then sat a bit straighter. "I mean yes, grimdark is pretty in this year and PMC Monthly says so. Um."
There was no response from their mutual employer for a short moment, but eventually Darkness' voice crept, like gently bubbling lava, over the coms. "I am glad you find the transportation I provide adequate. They were torn from the bone-bosoms of squamous behemoths that have never seen sunlight, hammered into shape by the tormented shades of sword-smiths whose creations in life have slain no less than a hundred men. Their wickedness – and I do mean both in the literal and colloquial sense – are beyond your puny mortal imaginings, mortal."
Chaos wriggled uncomfortably in the seat of his baroque ride. "That explains the...leather."
"It is not leather."
Further revelations on Stygian craftsmanship were averted as Darkness drove a man with three cages of chickens lashed to his bicycle off the road with the usual pathetic ease, and his two companions had to dodge the flurry of squawking white bodies.
"But," Darkness said, "I do feel that your concerns lay elsewhere. And it would be amiss of me as heir apparent of this benighted planet not to tend to the concerns of my frailer conspirators. Yes." Chaos saw him glance back, dark hair tossing behind his unhelmeted head, and swore to himself that he saw one of his eyes flash in a self-congratulatory way. My plans I will share with you! How thankful you must be.
The upside to working for someone who you don't think should need your help at all, Chaos thought, is that you're not expected to do much. The downside, of course, is you're not really needed.
They had been given barely a brief on their mission and a huge advance right at the bar. They had flown overnight to the Philippines where three of the blackest, nastiest bikes he had ever seen had rolled out of a shipping container, waiting for them. It was easy to remember why they had thought the job would be worth it.
But as they tore across the sodden country, scattering natives and derailing traffic in glorious triple formation, it gradually occurred to Chaos that his brimstone-belching ride, the masterpiece of macho with more aggressive curves than a waterslide and more self-adjusting protrusions than a clown car, might not be the best choice for going down the roads of a country which did not technically seem to have roads. Sure, the suspension was holding up wonderfully, probably lubricated with grease squeezed from baby penguins or whatever, but the fancy ground sensors couldn't account for the mud, the onboard map couldn't tell the SatNav where it was, and all the hell-ectronics seemed to be on the fritz anyway in the choking moisture.
Darkness pulled to a stop on a promontory that offered a reasonable view of the still-distant Cebu City, and Chaos and Edge obligingly pulled in alongside him.
"Hell." Chaos tried to shake off the mud splattered over his designer tracksuit while vainly combing out the insects caught in his spiked hair. "No disrespect meant, boss-person, but this isn't bike country."
"It could be worse." Edge murmured, glancing disdainfully at the sweat stains on his suit. "A typhoon passed through this region the day before we arrived."
"Nice one, brophocles." You could at least rely on Edge to do all sorts of unnecessary research for each job, though.
"The sooner you two cease your pathetic pratter, the sooner you shall find purpose in my final ascension!" Darkness thundered. He seemed to have grown a foot taller after he got off his bike, what could only be muscles rippling visibly and unnaturally under his leather overcoat like hungry pythons.
"Oh. Yeah, we're listening."
"I ventured out ere the crack of dawn and scattered the bones of orphans." Darkness hissed. "The patterns in which they fell were pleasing to me."
And the rest of us just try to find breakfast, Chaos thought.
"...for they have revealed to me untold truths." Darkness continued sibilantly. "Truths which would scour the eyes of your kind, mortal. But truths which I alone can read."
Chaos waited. To his flank, Edge lit an absinthe cigarette. They could wait his rants out. They still had no idea what they were getting into.
"...By the casting of bones I temporarily defy the laws of this wretched world, and by my departure I re-center myself to recognize my own desires. This land is my promised land. It is the one I must ride and harrow. You, Chaos, have asked a very good question about the mode of our transportation, regardless of whether you intended to or not. It is a necessary part of what you mortals would call a ritual. A ritual! Such a paltry name for the dark patterns of truth humans cannot embrace with their reason..."
Discreetly, Chaos rang Edge with his headset. "Psst. Hey, brossarian? What're we gonna have for lunch?" Edge stayed silent however, and Chaos guessed he must have zonked out again. Mighty smart of him.
"...And suffering is essential. Yes! This land wallows in iniquity and injustice. Crude by my standards, of course, but it does have a burning stigmata. A locus, yes. I feel it. It thrums with familiar contempt as it aligns with my devil-nature. Simply by stepping upon this land, I have set the inevitable into motion. However, I-we must locate this locus. It is necessary for my final ascension, yes!" Darkness stopped talking with visible effort. "And you two shall be suitably rewarded in the aftermath, of course."
"That sounds...dope." Chaos said professionally. "I'm still not clear on what you hired us for, though."
Darkness sneered. "While I go forth to seek out the locus – it being visible only to my superior mystic senses – I will need you to destroy a man." He caught Chaos' confused expression. "In the purely physical sense."
"Ah, you want us to kill a guy! We're pretty good at that, killing people. Core competency and all that. Right, brosiris?"
Eyes still glazed, Edge muttered some general acknowledgement.
Darkness continued heedlessly, "He is also part of the pattern. The living obstacle, the designated sacrifice. The blood and bone of this stinking land scream his name. We must find him, and stymie him first. Nothing shall stand between my reunion!"
"We kind of need that name here." Chaos offered. "Can't go around killing people without knowing their names, y'dig?"
"Fortunately for you, I cannot gainsay your quaint human taboos regarding bloodshed." Darkness tossed a wad of newspaper at Chaos.
He uncrumpled it and saw the grinning face in the picture, the biggest thing on the front page by far. "Oh boy."
Cebu City
Rey Quirino was stuffing himself with his fourth Inquisitiorized Bacon Brimstone Burger (Judged Guilty...of Deliciousness!TM) at his third VaticanBurger branch of the day when the aide came up to him.
"Rey?" The aide, whose name was Kristian or something, interjected the munching, crunching, spittle-bound display with unmanly timorousness. "Someone wants to see you."
Rey's jaws chomped on the floury burger and its Made with Real Lechón!TM innards one last time, causing a shard of what might be fried pork skin to careen off the aide's eyebrow. "Well, tell him to join the crowd."
And a mighty large crowd it was too, piled on top of the pew-shaped chairs and the faux-communion tables, pushing and shoving over the authentic knot-tiled floors and stealing glimpses from outside the plastic stained-glass windows. Rey Quirino was conducting his publicity blitz tour across the city's new VaticanBurger branches, and the city had turned out to follow him. Truanting schoolchildren and housewives alike gazed in awe at his superhuman appetite, his virility, as he went about snarfing down every item in the menu. The ones he liked, he asked for seconds. Or fourths, in this case.
Discarded wrappers and leftover sauces (He that dippeth my Secret Recipe Ketchup shall receiveth a Taste Explosion!TM) grew on his table like a rubbish dump in cheery colours, wettened and baptised with spilled CommuSoda. Some of the onlookers found themselves staring at it longingly, for reasons they couldn't quite understand.
"Uh sir, I think he means he wants to talk to you." Kristian (probably) said. "He seems like a pretty important person."
Rey was in the indelicate process of masticating a mouthful of fries; with one grease-smeared hand he waved Luiz over. "Do I have an appointment right now?"
Luiz sidestepped the spray of chewed potato discreetly. Rey reminded himself to get him next time.
"No, Rey."
"I didn't think so!" Rey spun on Kristian, whose eyebrow had started to bleed. "Now, you...you just don't know how things are done in this great country. Luiz knows, which is why I remember his name. You don't, which is why I...don't! If whoever he is wants to talk to me, he can make an appointment first. Tell mister whoever he is that no one can take away the constitutional right of the Hero of the Phillipines to eat whenever he likes, wherever he likes! Though, of course," He added, remembering what costed him his last bout of lucrative, lucrative sponsorship, "VaticanBurger is the choice for me!" Since one greasy fist was free, he pumped it into the air and the crowd in the restaurant roared in acknowledgement.
"He's a Senator, Rey." Kristian rallied.
"So what?" Rey finished a Double Congregation-sized CommuSoda in seconds, sucking it up so fiercely that the liter cup imploded. "There's twenty four of them but there's only one of me. Whose time is more important, eh? Eh? Hey, get me some curly fries!" He shouted at the fawning staff at the counter. "Don't think I've tried those yet!"
Unfriendly mutters were starting in the crowd behind his back at this point, but Kristian stood his ground, bleeding stoically from the eyebrow. "He also said it was a matter of national security."
Rey paused. Okay, this could be important.
He remembered the last time the national government had requested, nay, begged for his aid for a matter of national security. The tiff with the Nipponese nutter, that was one. The one with the steroidified super-pigs, too. The Army couldn't do anything about those, could they? Rey's hand shot into his bulging pockets, where he had stuffed all the little toys that came with the Kidz Kommunion Meals. He was not a man for toys, but he made an exception for toys that so faithfully captured his past exploits.
He brought out a tiny rubber pig, one of a set of five, and looked at it. The crowd bobbed, heads drawing closer.
He squeezed it between two fingers. From its oversized nose it emitted a squeak.
The crowd cheered on general principle.
Rey grinned his immaculately whitened grin, which various sauces and bits of gristle failed to tarnish. "Perhaps I do have some time to hear about this grave emergency, after all." He patted his stomach theatrically. "Good people of Cebu City, I must ask you to give us some privacy!"
"Autographs will be half an hour later!" Luiz shouted thoughtfully as the good people of Cebu City heaved and shoved themselves out of the VaticanBurger branch with only minimal injuries by Cebuano standards, which meant everybody could still walk afterwards. With somewhat more shoving, a distant press of men was approaching the store. Rey watched Luiz (in a completely heterosexual, professionally appreciative way, of course) practically skip back beside him to hand him a pile of napkins saved from his gastronomical depredations just as he was looking for something to wipe his hands with. He also turned a brief glare at Kristian that, if Rey had heat vision like some of those fancy foreign superheroes, would have reduced him to floating ash where he stood.
Still, Rey was smiling when his visitor arrived, his trademark cap set at a rakish angle (a last-minute adjustment that left ketchup fingerprints on the brim) and his advertisement-laden, mercifully more stainproof costume puffed up by the chest underneath it. He eyed the supposed Senator, a well-preserved man with a commando moustache in the middle of an entourage of mil-types who didn't seem if they were particularly pleased to meet the great Hero of the Philippines. Screw'em, He has bigger fish to fry.
"Rey, this is Senator Honasan." The aide whose name was probably Kristian said encouragingly.
Rey's face took on an expression of solemn and polite confusion. Luiz bent down and started whispering urgently into Rey's ear. After ten seconds or so, Rey stood up and extended his hand with great gregariousness. "Gringo old friend! What can I do for you?"
Gregorio "Gringo" Honasan, who had never met Rey before, took his hand gravely and succeeded in not wincing visibly when it crushed his own. "I am glad to see you, Rey. I have come to ask you for a favor."
Rey regarded Honasan's lack of wincing with mild disappointment and gradually fading interest in what he has to say. "There is nothing I will not do for this nation and its president." He said, emphasizing the word president. "I heard that it was some sort of national emergency..."
"By our estimation, it is. Though," Honasan went on briskly, "I am not here in an official capacity. It is not a threat that the curr..."
"Hold on a minute now." Rey's tone was decidedly sharper. "Then where's this national emergency coming from? Is it a coup? 'Cause Rey Quirino doesn't do coups."
The Senator looked briefly pained. "Nothing of that sort, Mr. Quirino. Our concerns are somewhat more important that the...current political order."
"Gringo, Gringo. You are losing me." Rey humored. Clearly, it couldn't be that important enough for him to listen to some old-school ex-mil Senator rant at him. "Who are you talking about anyway? You talk like you're part of some big shadowy conspiracy thing."
"Former president Fidel Ramos is rather reclusive these days." Honasan smiled humorlessly.
Rey guffawed. "Ramos? That old codger's still alive?" Then Luiz was bending down with his whispering again, and Rey's expression turned solemn. "Ahem. I mean, I am sorry to hear about his current condition and I wish him an eventual recovery."
"I'm sure he will appreciate your words, but his condition is...his own. He however asks for your help in something that goes far beyond his own health."
"Yeah, sure, anything for the old man." Rey blustered.
For the first time Rey saw the Senator look urgent. "Have you encountered three men on bikes recently? Black bikes?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"Mr. Quirino has been travelling across the islands in his VaticanBurger promotion tour." Luiz interjected. "Nothing of that sort has happened."
"That's right. Luiz would have noticed if any weirdos in bikes had been following me, eh, Luiz?" Rey jabbed his assistant with an elbow. Luiz beamed through the pain.
"Actually..." The aide whose name he was forgetting began, but Rey deliberately ignored him.
"I see." Honasan said suddenly. "Perhaps I came to warn you too early." He waved a quick hand over the scene of gastronomic desolation. "To be honest, I didn't think you would appreciate it, but the ex-president insisted, and his insights can be a bit urgent at times."
"What?" Rey blurted. "That's it? You interrupted Rey Quirino's epic burger tour just to ask about a couple of stalkers who are probably just my security detail? Not that I worry about these things, of course, when I have Luiz to do the worrying. Eh Luiz?" He elbowed Luiz again, who did seem to have an expression of genuine worry under his strained smile.
"Perhaps I did." Honasan was conciliatory. "It would be better for you and the country if I did. But I don't like to think that I came in vain, Mr. Quirino. When your enemy comes – and it will – fight it. Fight it with everything you have. You will understand its nature when it comes for you."
He regarded Rey who stood, open-mouthed. "I see you still have some space to fill with fast food. I don't think I'll take up any more of your valuable time. Good day." The Senator turned, his retinue closed around him and he was gone.
"Well, that was deeply pointless wasn't it, Rey." Luiz's syrupy pep was at odds with his glare at the backs of the departing men. Rubbing his ribs, he was surprised by the unexpected lack of reply. "Rey?"
He saw a rare expression on Rey Quirino's face, which was thoughtfulness.
"Rey! You don't seriously think some ex-mil wankers or whatever are after you, do you? I mean okay, I don't remember hiring bikers to tail the Pajero but it's been a busy few days, right? It's a big contract and you're going to get a lot of publicity out of it and what do you need to worry about anyway? If you're really worried we'll be flying off Cebu tomorrow and..."
"Luiz." Rey said.
Luiz gulped.
"You know Luiz, that Senator guy got one thing right. Where can I get a bunch of ex-mil wankers in black to walk around me like that? It does look pretty badass. Except replace the black with matching outfits! Colored like mine! That'd be even better!"
"I...will ask around. There's been lots of counter-coups lately which means lots of ex-mil wankers looking for work, right? Ahaha."
To be continued...