Survival Of The Fittest

((Continued from Station of the Cross, Industrial District))

Roland Thomas Kelly had gotten quite a bit of sleep on his way here from the industrial desert. He could not remember exactly where he had taken shelter, but it wasn't enough to save him from ending up soaking wet. All he knew was that he was in a clearing, and that the rain stopped.

The already-risen sun that morning also draped light (through the cracks in the clouds) upon a tall, domineering structure within that clearing. First glance at it gave him the impression that it was almost alien, but closer staring revealed it to be a very Oriental pagoda.

Why a Chinese structure would be out in the middle of Christian Purgatory was beyond even him, but in case it started to rain again, at least he would find shelter.

Besides, he thought as he trudged up the stairs to the Pagoda, I'm the only one here...

That statement revealed itself as a half-truth, through the first thing that greeted him at the top of the stairs.

Roland dropped to his knees before the portly, dark-skinned corpse that lay in front of him, which maggots had long since started devouring. He reached out and carefuly stroked its hair, but recoiled his hand out of reflex when it touched the small, slimy mass of a maggot. Further examination caused him to quickly realize that his little exclamation upon waking up in the defiled sanctuary of God in purgatory could as well have led to this manifestation of death right in front of him.

I have sinned in Purgatory...and this is only part of my penance...

Penance, however, did not seem to include a relatively full daypack which lay on the ground close to the corpse.

"4, Lexx, T." Roland read it aloud, not so much to identify who this corpse was (It's not that bus driver terrorist...) but more to make sure he hadn't degenerated into utter incoherency despite his rage in events past. He still struggled to contain himself that these supplies had somehow appeared for him.

Roland Thomas Kelly especially wondered if these supplies were really given from God, as a glance inside this Oriental structure revealed shattered fragments of once-sacred items - of non-Christian origin across the ground. Still, it was not as if he were suddenly going to die for at least knowing what they were. It was not as if he was opening the Ark of the Covenant, after all.

Inside the pack were pretty much everything he could find in his own pack, which he had left back in Gomorrah. The vermin hadn't gotten to the bread, they were too late for the mold. He yanked the rancid loaf out of the bag and chucked it aside. Thankfully, the cracker tin looked like it was still sealed airtight. There was a first-aid kit and...of all things...several dark-colored canisters of sorts.

He pulled out one of the small canisters. Upon closer examination - and Roland already suspected they weren't unlabeled cans of Campbell's - he made out the words...FLASH BANG.

Roland knew exactly what they were, and what they did, so he didn't need to look at the combat manual that was inside. He slipped the flashbang back into the pack and - irony of ironies - said grace before picking it up. He decided to go into the pagoda to look for a safe place to eat...and figure out what to do next. He still wasn't in Heaven...nor was this pagan temple its Pearly Gates.

Given that Oriental pagodas were associated with Buddhism, it was easy for him to figure that the place's utter defilement was natural in Christian Purgatory. Debris of what were once Buddhist icons lay scattered across the floor, crackling safely underneath his loafers. The damage seemed to be mostly contained to the ground floor of the area though...and other than that all seemed to be peaceful.

Once again, it was an illusion to be shattered as he reached the back of the room.

"Hello?" called a feminine voice from the direction he came in. As if out of reflex, he suddenly ducked behind a nearby shelf, the staff accidentally hitting the wall.

"Huh? Who was that?" the voice added.

Michiro Duli's stint on the island had not been going as well as she had calculated.

Roland peeked out from behind the shelf just enough to visually examine who had come in. Long black hair, pale skin, effeminate figure...and green eyes. Above all, the girl looked...afraid.

"Damien!?"

Michiro squeaked at his sudden exclamation and started to back toward the door.

"Wait!" Roland said, coming out of hiding and looking rather concerned. He left his staff by the shelf, because the blood-stained visage of Christ would look pretty incriminating if not intimidating. "Please...I mean no harm..."

Maybe...just maybe...I managed to redeem it by killing the evil. And yet it's still in this purgatory because I have not yet redeemed myself with its virtue.

"Are you...alone?" Michiro asked.
"Yes...unfortunately." Roland could not help but pour sincerity into it. It was enough sincerity to cause Michiro to cry.
"You're not going to kill me?"
"I'm not...I'm not...I don't want to..." He wanted to add "anymore," but he was not going to jinx his chances. Not that killing Damien's evil was a sin down here.

"I don't want to play this game anymore..." Michiro sobbed, as she ran and clung to Roland. Roland - having been taken by surprise in turn - had no idea how to reply in words. Instead, he let his free hand rest on her shoulder. He somehow feared that this "Damien" would explode and take him to Hell with him...but reminded himself of God's grace...and how much it would "protect" him from that.
"I wish...there was something else we could do..."
"Is there? Is there anything else for us to do!?"
"We could..." and Roland said the following words as if God had put them into his mouth..."try to get to know each other...before it ends..."

The word "ends" caused Michiro to cling to him tighter in despair.

"My name is...Roland Kelly."
"Roland...Michiro..." she cried, as if it wouldn't matter. As for her name, Roland figured it to be the name of Damien's "good" spirit.
"Calm down. It's going to be all right."
"It's not..."

And it was then that Roland embraced her.

"Sometimes...I play D&D..." Michiro sniffled.
"Dungeons & Dragons...how does it work?"
"You...want to know?"
"Yeah...I guess it's never too late to learn."
"Okay...if you want..."

"Sure. Let's play." Roland said, before slowly letting go of Michiro. He foot-swept away enough shrapnel from the ground to make enough sitting room for the two of them. He made sure not to let his glance too far away from Michiro though, just in case he hadn't completely killed off Damien's evil.

"Now...how does the game work?"
"Well..."

For the next 15 minutes or so, Roland sat before Michiro, taking in the workings of Dungeons & Dragons. Of course, Roland dispelled any analogies to a man sitting before Christ and learning His teachings, because at least he knew that D&D wasn't so much a tool of Satan as it was something that nerds liked to do in their spare time. As "Damien" continued to talk, the signs of her despair - despair Roland knew he had a part in creating - started to disappear. And Roland reciprocated, trying to negotiate his way into "Damien's" graces by...creating his own "character."

Eventually, Michiro finally gained the confidence that she asked to show him something. Roland still had his reservations, even as she insisted...and he finished putting the final touches on his "character."

"Here..." Michiro said, as she withdrew two odd-looking cubes and held them out in her hand. They seemed too small to be real bombs, and they didn't have fuses. Still, anything could be possible in Purgatory...

"Just give them a roll. They won't hurt." she offered, though neither temptation nor seduction were present in his voice. As such, Roland slowly took the dice and held them in his hand.

The announcements started to roll after a few seconds of staring. Roland slowly raised his hand as the announcements continued.

But it was just as Roland was about to roll the 10-sided dice that one particular sentence caught his earshot.

Ninth to die? Alice Nichols, eliminated from the competition by Roland Kelly.

Roland suddenly froze.
"Roland? What's wrong?"

"Last, but not least, killed by Mr. Damien Carter-Madison, the final student to die yesterday was Eli McConnell."

He turned his gaze directly toward Michiro's. It was a gaze of rage, righteousness regardless.
"Roland...you're looking scary again...you're not in character..."

Roland let go of the dice. Suddenly, everything he had just learned about a nerd's role-playing game evaporated, rewinding his own mind to events only hours before.

I didn't kill it...I didn't kill him...he killed Eli...and now he's...

Before Michiro knew it - and as soon as the dice hit the floor, Roland had leapt to his feet, screaming. The scream caused her to shuffle back on her rear, away from the two-sided dice and toward her own daypack, where she pulled out a vial that had been labeled with something that Roland couldn't make out from his range.

In the time it took her to do that, Roland had marched back behind the shelf and come back with the staff to stand above her.

"Damien...I knew you would trick me." he growled.

"AAAAAGH! GET AWAY!" Michiro screamed, as a few swift movements of her hands and a thrust of one arm sent the sulfuric acid in the vial straight into Roland's face.

Roland screamed in horror as he was unable to evade all the acid, the liquid splashing across his lower cheek. He recoiled and seethed, tears starting to stream down his eyes...but no amount of salt water could sooth the fire raging across his cheek...and into his very psyche.

God...its venom...

Michiro cried and sobbed. "Please! Roland! What are you doing?!"

Roland did ponder that for a brief moment, and he hesitated. Unlike the movie cliches, Michiro did not take that opportunity to run away either. She tried to shuffle away further, but ended up getting caught on some of the debris...and the pricking up into her hands didn't do her any good.

What am I doing? I'm purging my own demons. Wait...this isn't God's work...then again...I could only do it when I'm alive. This is purgatory...and God's work is me purging my own sins.

As soon as he resumed focus, he went over and delivered a swift if not crude downward kick upon "Damien's" chest, sending her back onto the ground. Michiro also screamed as she fell back onto the debris, which lodged into her back...and the back of her head...

...which reflexively caused Roland to try ending that screaming by letting Jesus exact the same fate upon this "Damien" as he did on the previous "Damien."

After a few moments of guttural choking and sobbing, Roland withdrew the sceptre from "Damien"'s abdomen. It did not seem to surprise him that his tormentor was still alive, if barely. Apparently, he would need something very special. For this, he trod back to his new daypack and pulled out one of the canisters. He held the canister in the light seeping through one of the windows higher up in the pagoda, half-expecting some heavenly choir to sing to bless it.

After a few seconds of illumination, he walked back to the still-squirming Michiro, who could no longer speak through all the blood she was choking up. But even these deathly throes were not enough to convince Roland that "Damien" still was not dead. He held these convictions as he pulled the pin, flipped the spoon and quickly forced the canister into her mouth at such a direction that it would discharge directly into her.

Roland quickly got back and tried to turn away, but ultimately got blinded by the explosion of holy light, and collapsed to the ground before he could make an action movie one-liner. He yelped as he somehow landed on the porcelain fragments of what was once a vase of sorts.

There was a barrage of noise that left his ears ringing, and save for that he sensed nothing save for the searing pain on the side of his head, which had somehow spread back to Kristey's scar, and that wasn't counting the pricking and poking up into his other arm. For the next few seconds, he also heard nothing but his breathing. As per the Flashbang's effect, the last thing he saw seemed to be a still frame of whatever his head saw just as he turned away.

I'm alive...I'm alive...I know I am...

His eyes jarred open and regained focus. This time, he didn't scream, though he did gasp just a little. He was still in this strange Oriental temple, still with a good slice of flesh melted off of his cheeks. It still hurt like Hell, but then again, one could still feel pain in Purgatory.

The only thing new was that there were now two corpses in this pagan house, and with a little bodily adjustment, he would stare right at one of them.

He couldn't see all the gore from his angle, but he did notice that the body was in its deathly twitches, and the ground around it as well as some of his own clothes had been sprinkled by blood. And somehow, the scepter that he pinned Damien to the ground with still stood proud above him. Christ was not looking down upon him, rather he had helped Roland slay Damien again.

"May God...have mercy...on...your...soul..." Roland seethed as he looked upon "Damien's" corpse. As soon as he was done speaking, he let the pain he held back take control of him once again.

G36 - Duli, M - WASTED!

The acid had worn through his cheek, leaving a bloody patch of exposed muscle and sinews...and teeth in the worst affected parts. It wasn't as if his jaw was going to suddenly fall off anytime soon, but it was still quite painful enough for him to resume crying, groaning and squirming as soon as he had finished speaking. This would obviously make it very difficult for him to get back to the daypack near the much larger corpse in the room.

Not too far from the flashbang, and coincidentially within his field of view, were Damien's dice.

Roland could read the numbers facing him on those instruments of vice.

2 3

And he could somehow remember the truth behind them. He started to say it aloud...choking it out through the pain in order to dull it down.

The Lord is my Shepherd...there is nothing I shall want.

Roland took several deep breaths, ultimately failing to hold in the taste of all the blood that seeped into his mouth. Not that there was much to retch though, as he hadn't eaten a thing since he left New Gomorrah. After his mouth was clear he started to squirm across - nay, drag himself across the floor to the daypack near the second, bloated corpse.

He restores my soul. He guides me along the path of righteousness for HIS name.

He distinctly remembered there being a first-aid kit in there, to "heal" his "wounds." They weren't "real," but he had long since assured himself that it was his soul, not his physical body at risk in this afterlife.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow...of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me. Your rod...your staff...they comfort me.

Comfort, Roland did not find, as another flash of pain forced him to stop speaking and resume trying to get himself back toward his own daypack.

By the time Roland had decided to start off again, the sun was already setting, conveniently in the direction where he decided to head off. Jesus still stood tall upon His cross, on top of Roland's scepter. "Time sure flies in Purgatory..." he added, before he finally mustered the will to pick off where he left off.

You set a table before me in the presence of my enemy.

He slowly trudged down the stairs, this time avoiding the temptation of Lot's wife as he did back when he killed Damien the first time. Of course, even if he did look back, there would be nothing there for him. He had the appearance of a very weary and injured traveler, leaning heavily on the scepter as he went down each step, one at a time. The cold breeze of the wind blew against the bandages hastily applied to cover his desecrated cheek. It couldn't completely extinguish the pain...

...but at least it felt good.

Damien will still be out there...and I will not attain salvation until I have put my own sins to rest for good.

Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.

But first...I need to eat.

((Continued Elsewhere Dawg))