Richard, cont.

This, in the greater scheme of my story, was a flashback that occurs when the question of Richard's past shows up, when I wrote it. I think it still will be, when I finish the whole thing. It gives a fair impression of why Richard is the pessimistic burn-out he is. And as a warning, it's not exactly cheerful. Read on...

Conciousness was something Richard wasn't particularly worried about. While unconcious, he didnt have to deal with the overwhelming pulses of pain coursing through every point of his body, for instance. Or the horrible surroundings he expected to wake up to. Of course, being unconcious made Richard unaware of this thought process entirely, but long ago his body had developed a sense of self which wasn't really too keen on seeing it's home harmed or burned or subject to many other mortal inflictions. And so, when Richard eventually came to, he screamed because every bone in his body felt like it was broken, and his eyes registered only darkness. Eventually he stopped screaming, and took up whimpering instead. When that finally subsided, he sat in silence. Although there was still sobbing audible, and he was fairly certain it wasn't him. He bit his lip in contemplation, and the imp of the perverse won out.
"H.. hello?" He cautioned. The sobbing turned into sniffling, and then quiet. "Are you going tear my body apart and use it in unspeakable rituals of the lower planes?"
More silence. "Well, im glad that's sorted out at least." He snorted, and let his eyes scan his surroundings, finding they had adjusted slightly, and felt his way around the room. Four sides, that was a small releif. He'd woken up in triangle rooms, rooms without walls, and on one occasion he'd been feeling his way along a wall and his hand felt something that was curiously shaped like his other hand... he'd just stopped moving after that. Looking, too, because seeing yourself without a mirror is only a good idea on paper. Aside from that, and the thick sheet of black metal that was burning hot to the touch that he assumed served as a door, he was alone in the room. "Felsteel..." he mumbled, sucking his slightly singed fingers. He slumped back against the wall, and closed his eyes, and began to count what few facts he knew. One, a rather familiar unfriendly voice, attached to a fist, had hit him. Hard. Two, he'd been -very- conveniently called to the building. Three, Susan's strange behavior before she- shit, bad idea. But it was too late, and once the small metaphorical train of memory has been switched on, it likes to pass each landmark on the track before shutting off. And there was the small minature tour director calling the passenger's attention out the windows, to push the metaphor... because he recalled the day vividly. If you'll look out to your left you'll see a shattered past...

It was snowing, and Richard had the window open. A fine layer of white flakes was gently settling on the floor. He shifted the papers around on the desk ackwardly. He'd never been comfortable with office buildings, the old office back in Philedelphia suited him much better... he'd heard that the Canadian branch's business was booming, and that it was the place to be for those heading up. When he got the letter that he was to be transferred, there were equal portions of jealous glances, and well wishes. He gently sipped at his scotch and thanked all the well-wishers at his farewell party. Many people working here were heading up anyways, he thought with a scowl, and quickly flipped his thrilled-yet-modest smile as Rhonda from revenue told him with a fake laugh how she'd enjoy not having to deal with his late damage reports. She wasn't joking Richard knew. They were glad to be rid of him. So much for company ethics. If it wasn't for Susan, he'd have cracked up here in this frozen city. God, he loved her. And how she put up with his rediculous-cum-almost-unrealistic profession, he'd never know. He thought of her brown waves of hair dropping in ringlets over hazel eyes, and looked at the clock. God he wanted to see her right now.

With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the papers on the desk, and one in particular caught his eye. It was the one regarding the "Special" training that all the Field Agents were going to be receiving soon. Every time he glanced at the memo, he could feel the hair on his back rise. He needed to get out of here, outside, doing what he actually knew... it may not be safe, but Richard simply wasn't planned to handle broken copier line-ups and office drama. He narrowly avoided being struck by a stapler when young Debbie found out Chris was cheating with the temp receptionist yesterday. He let his gaze slide toward the window, and watched the snow slowly twirl and dance its death-dance towards the streets below. God it never stops snowing here, He thought, with yet another vacant glance out over the twilight-lit woolen city, and turned back to his papers.

The next few weeks went by uneventfully. Richard's suporvisor seemed rather intent on burying him in paperwork, and almost suddenly enough to give him a heart palpitation, a man in a starch-white suit burst in through his door. In one of his hands were a clipboard, and the other a Sword that could not of conceivably been used in one hand, yet the man didn't drag it at all.
"Harper, Richard. Training begins, please follow me." His voice sounded almost like harp strings, and Richard had a vague idea of who he was following right away. He stopped a few other offices, following the same non-descript instructions. A older african-american man, easily in his late 40's, came out of the first room, and the young Debbie from the incident a few weeks ago, and last and also least, a young dampish fellow, wearing a pair of glasses almost as wide as his head and a most comically of all, a set of rosary beads and almost ten different crosses of various materials around his neck. Richard had long ago cast off the thought that the more you had the better.

His hand slowly reached towards his own chest where the golden cross, the one Susan had given him on the night of their wedding, after they had both flopped on the matress, hot and exhausted, and he had run his big almost paw-like hands over her small, frail, beautiful body, and he almost melted when she whispered into his ear about how much she loved him, and slipped the cross around his neck.

"You'll never have to separate my love, and-" Susan knew of his grudging employment issues. "-obligation to... the upstairs." She then giggled and bit his ear, and he rolled back on top her in the mess of sheets and the night faded away between them.
"Richard!" The man in the suit said loudly, coughing and adjusting his tie.
"Sorry, late night last night." He mumbled, looking around, and almost cried out in surprise. The room he and the three other trainees had entered during his spaced reverie went on endlessly as far as the eye could see, in the same fashion as a normal office... post-modern black and wood finish, thick carpeted floor... save for the point where the floor met the ceiling on three out of four sides... the other, was occupied by a long glass picture window, which gave a vertigo-inducing view of Winnipeg, and like the room, extended both left and right endlessly. The man in white coughed again, and cleared his throat, obviously hoping to regain the attention of his charges.
"This-" he began, "is a test. To show three things." He held up his hand, in which was a small, translucent glass ball. "Faith." He held the ball out towards Richard and the others. "This, is what it looks like. Scoff if you wish, but it is a precious thing, and -ever- so to us. This, is your first test. We require yours." He started pacing back and forth in front of them. "The second test, is that of balance. A man of untainted purity is of no hope, in this profession. He could smite, he could vanquish, but he could never understand, or think." The black fellow hadn't flinched, Debbie looked slightly irritated, and the small man Richard decided to dub "Toad" was practically sweating bullets. "The last-" he began again, just when Richard was sure they were being given a moment to ask questions, "-is sacrifice."
Richard felt his blood run cold, yet he was unsure why, although his third sight rarely gave him a false hunch... The man then snapped his fingers, and his three companions into the room vanished. "I have been instructed, Mr. Harper, to take your through the third test, first." He smiled... but in a sad way, Richard thought.

"Listen pal, I dont know what's goin on, but I--" He stopped. He would recognize his wife's favourite perfume from miles away, and currently, it was coming from right behind him. He spun. And then spun again, with almost hellish speed, reaching for the man in white's collar. "What the fuck is going on here? What've done with Susan?!" He knew how steriotypically Heroic that sounded, but he wasn't inclinded to care at this moment. His hands, however, passed through the now spectral and translucent man.

"Richard, I explained. This, is a test." Richard's wife, was floating in the air, with white bands of light shackling her ankles, wrists, and most alarmingly, mouth. She didnt appear to be breathing.
"I dont care, im going to rip your gospel-spewing voicebox out through your throat unless you GET SUSAN OUT OF THIS!" He shouted, his eyes burning like coals. The man just continued his sad smile, and then faded away totally. Richard swore, and turned and ran towards Susan, only a thought stopped him. A test of sacrifice. He turned around again, only to see something standing in place of the white man. It wasn't a nice something. It had horns, and claws, and wreathed in fire. In one hand, it carried a the biggest spear Richard had ever seen, which appeared to be made of shifting molten metal and ash. And it was chasing people- Just then the monster.. no, the Demon, grabbed a man attempting to flee and did something to him normally reserved for origami paper. Alright, chasing and -killing- people. The street was filled with screams-- Am I in a street? Things seemed to go in slow motion for Richard after that... He saw his wife hanging from a window sill 5 stories up... saw the Demon throw a car that crushed a poor woman further down the street... A test of Sacrifice... Richard grabbed the cross off his neck, and began screaming in latin, facing down the Demon as it slowly stalked down the street towards him. The air around him cooled, and the sheer clouded darkness seemed to lessen.

"Pro Lux Lucis Itaque Deus!" He cried, spreading his free palm which shone a light like a thousand football stadium spotlights. The light shot forward like a bullet fired from a gun, straight into the Aberration that was now looming almost on top of Richard, and it flew back with a cthonic screech, and Richard saw a large hole in the creatures upper-mid-section, where a man's heart would be.
Every fabric of his being cried for him to run to Susan, to catch her, or pull her up into a room, but... This, is a test. This momentary lapse for focus wasn't the best decision however, because the creature had righted itself and had lashed out with an arm and caught a firm grip on Richard, who screamed in surprise. The Devil raised him to it's head level... and gazed into his eyes, him looking right back into dark, flaming cores that burned like suns.

"What do you fear, son of Adam, one who walks the line of dark and light?" Said a horrifying... yet, pleasant, inviting voice, inside his head. Far away buried in his concious at the moment, Richard's sense of humor would have been amused to know that the Demon had a Welsh accent. It continued to stare, the eyes boring into Richard's head, and he felt, his soul. The things eyes widened for a split second in recognition. "And so I shall take that from you, son of Adam. And you shall know despair." With that, it cast him against the side of the office building so hard he felt bricks crack beneath him, knocking his wind and almost his senses from him.
"Mathias, it's gone too far!" Shouted a voice that Richard could hear over the din. "Stop it!" A different voice now.
"I can't, i've... oh sod, i've lost control of it! Adrian! ADRIAN! We need to stop it, Harper is hurt!" Richard rolled over. The street was fading back into the endless office he had been occupying before, Susan still where she was before in front of the window, but the Demon was now swinging it's huge, blazing spear at one of two men in white suits, each clutching rapiers. One of them lunged in at the Demon, only to realize at the last moment that was just what was expected of him as the monstrosity jumped backwards and brought its spear down in a savage arc which sank into the man in the suit, who almost exploded outwards in a shower of water. Angels bleed tears, A faint voice echoed through his head. He tried to stand, to get to Susan, but his legs would not hold his weight and he collapsed back onto the floor.

"Adrian, thank the boss! Matthew, get him!" Richards vision was far more blurred now, but he saw more white shapes appear, only to be flung back by the Demon. It turned, and in a moment of clarity, stared again into Richards eyes, and pointed at the wound in it's chest, which obviously pained it so, and smiled the most horrible smile he'd ever seen. It struck him on a primal level of fear before unknown to him.
"Balvantilorthirr! Halt in the name of the Lord, this breaches the pact and deal!" Shouted the voice of the first "White" man. Richard then heard again the voice of the demon, and its words haunted him still.

"Fuck the deal." And it launched itself at Susan, who's now-concious eyes met her husband's for a split second, and then she was carried through the glass window, along with the demon, shards of glass peppering the room. She hadn't said a word. She couldn't have. "Farewell son of Adam. May you walk the balance eternally." He heard on the wind say with malice and venom.
Richard collapsed on the inside. He knew that life as he had known it was over, but rage, and sorrow were vying for dominance in his head. His blood ran iced, his vision blacked and all he could see was the replaying scene of his Susan, carried silently out into the night and into the urban abyss below. And then Richard knew no more.

"It was never meant to happen." Said Colin, senior partner. His face was pale, his eyes filled with genuine remorse. Richard didn't care. He sat in the office with Colin, blank, empty, and almost devoid of life. He stared at some point behind Colin's head, never focusing. "The test was meant.. as a show of faith, you must understand... Susan knew it was a test, and that nothing should have happened, but the equipment failed, and that Demon..." Colin sighed and rubbed his temples. "God. How could this have happened..." He reached over, and put a hand on Richard's shoulder. "I'm... i'm so sorry Rich." He then got up, and left the office, leaving Richard alone with his shock and grief. Richard, who hadn't been able to say a word, not able to say his wife's name, felt something was required of him.
"It's Richard." He said. And then began to cry.