Seth's Journal #69

I’m getting antsy. That’s not good. My crazy starts acting up when I get antsy. I feel it sitting in the back of my throat, a tightness in my chest. A pressure inside that demands action, preferably of the destructive kind. I need to do something without foresight, without thought of consequences. When I get this way, it’s best if I just do something stupid in a proactive way, in a controlled environment. If not, I’m going to get stupid when it counts, and that may just cost me everything.

I walk downstairs through the empty house and lament, again, my sudden disappearance of comrades. They were pretty good about helping me get into something chaotic, and just as good as helping me get out of it. I’m on my own in a minefield of a city, with a powerful need for craziness.

I hesitate when I pull out of the garage, not sure which way to go. I sigh, realize it doesn’t matter, and turn left. The left-hand path will lead me astray, and that’s where I’m headed.

I hit the club. It’s a good place to start, or at least get loosened up. I get some Ketamine and find a cute girl to share with. I get her free drinks, and the bartender fulfills his contractual obligation to speak to me in front of ladies as if I am a god. We step into my private room, really a closet off the downstairs bar with a couch in it. She seems grateful for the opportunity to suck my dick. It amazes and disgusts me how easily manipulated people are. I get her another drink afterwards and move on. I won’t find what I’m looking for here. Plus it’s a bad idea to shit in your nest.

I get on my bike, on my way to being a danger to myself. That’s a start. Idling, I cast a protection spell on myself to take the brunt of anything that may happen for a while. I tear off into traffic, causing bedlam. It’s not enough.

I drive to Sin. The first floor is Gluttony, and I start pouring alcohol into myself. I grab a handful of cheesecake, stuff some into my mouth, then wipe the rest off on a passing servant. She takes it meekly. Wise decision on her part.

I walk the spiral staircase that circles the club downward to Lust. I’m still spent from earlier, but I can still have fun. I disrobe quickly in the foyer and walk into the wide, open view. Powerful incense mostly covers the smell of dozens of sweaty bodies pouring over each other. I wind my way through the maze of beds, almost all of them full, towards the bondage corner. More than a few hands reach out to beckon me to join, but I’m completely uninterested. For now.

I see people manacled to the wall, being flogged, caned, and teased. I scan the masochists to see who is wearing a ball-gag. Finding one, I cast a quick spell to enrage her sadist. His blood boils, and his flogging becomes cruel and brutal, and she can’t say her safe-word. I cast the spell on the other sadists, bringing their punishment to a fever pitch, pushing their partners past their limits. Masochists sicken me. There is too much pain in this world to go seeking it out. They deserve a real measure of pain, one that they have no say in. I walk to the foyer and redress. The smell of blood urges me onward. It’s time to visit Wrath.

I continue down the staircase. I hear the roaring of the crowd, a call for violence that resonates with the screaming inside of me. I pass the casino Greed, the level above Wrath. They surround the railing, watching the floor below and betting on the fights.

The smell of sweat and tang of fear greet me at Wrath. The crush of bodies trying to get close to the combatants calms me for some reason. I register myself for a fight and tell the oily-looking fuck behind the barred window to give me something magical because I won’t pull my punches. He looks me over, obviously put off by my slender frame. Idiot.

I wait my turn. I couldn’t care less about the other fights. I let my mind be overtaken by the din, find my center, knowing that soon I will break something. I almost don’t hear my name called.

I step into the circle painted on the floor. The crowd has gotten quieter, unimpressed. I slide my leather coat off and limber my shoulders. Black leather vest, pants, and boots, pale skin, tattoos… They’re obviously thinking I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into, poor little fashion victim. Fuck ‘em.

A heavily-cybered Ogre steps in. He’d have been big and scary without his cyberarms and, judging by the model, the blades hidden within. He plays to the crowd and they cheer for him by name. I blink and shift my gaze to the Astral realm. He isn’t magical. He must have pissed someone off. I smile, my red eyes hopefully conveying masked fear that I don’t feel. I get into what looks like an amateur’s fighting stance. I’ll throw a little misdirection so I can savor the moment when his confidence turns to fear. It won’t be long.

I silently begin to pray. My inner turmoil begins to coalesce. I become a weapon of hate and death. I’m going to have to stop back at Lust before I leave…

Somewhere beyond the crowd, a koto player begins to strike the chords that will accompany the battle. It’s on.

The big bastard starts running. I swipe a clawed hand through the air and his eyes explode. His hands instinctively go to his face and I sprint forward. He stops, his legs widespread. As I pounce between them I send out a supernaturally powerful kick, breaking his tibia and fibula. He drops to a knee as I roll into a standing position. I walk the edge of the crowd, staring at the crippled Ogre, a razor smile across my lips. I walk softly, quietly. I pull a dime out of my pocket and throw it at him. The moment it leaves my fingers, I’m running again.

The dime hits him in the chest and his head turns as I’d hoped. I put one foot on his outstretched, injured leg and jump. All my momentum transfers to my knee, then to his jaw. I hear bone snap. As my leap takes me over his body, his hands close around my ankle. I knew it was a risky move. C’est la vie.

He allows my jump to take me to the limits of his reach before he swings me at the ground. The guy’s over twice my size, so he makes it seem effortless. My head crashes onto the floor, my teeth breaking the skin of my lips. I taste my blood and smile. My eyes turn black. He drags me across the floor in an arc and lets me go. As I slide across the ring, he unsheathes the blades in his mechanical arms. Too little, too late. I take my ritual dagger out of its thigh holster. It is tiny by comparison. It doesn’t matter. Nothing will save him.

I drink in the moment of impending victory, the savage lust of murder. I am his pain. I am his fear. I am his end.

I begin running at him, screaming. He turns to the sound of my voice and prepares for my assault. I fling my dagger into his left shoulder and duck to his right. He responds to an attacker that isn’t there. I come from behind, on the opposite side. I jump up and put him in a sleeper hold, wrapping my legs around his waist. My arms are almost too short to fit around his massive neck, but my strength is greater. Black, crackling mist begins to rise from me as unholy energy flows through my muscles. I put my face close to his so I can experience his death more intimately. My ear pressed against the side of his head, I can hear his jaw move as he gawps for breath. He flails, bouncing his swords off of the ethereal shield around me. He grows weak from lack of oxygen and slowly kneels.

I shush him to sleep.

I pull my dagger out of him and stand. I pick up my coat and ignore the crowd as I wander out, feeling refreshed and calm for the first time in weeks. I walk up the stairs, feeling a slight discomfort as I pass Greed. Someone in there has more than a passing interest in me. I shrug it off and continue onward. Back to Lust. I make my rounds after casting a spell to protect me from diseases- one of the side perks of being a Devout. It’s a blur of flesh and sensation, and provides the release I need. Time to relax further down the spiral. I head to Sloth.