Freak

Prologue

He was standing there, over the body of the adversary that he had worked so hard to defeat. He had won; something he never expected to do. He turned and walked back towards the way he had come, reminiscing on everything that had led to this. He was sitting on the street, begging for change, for a meal to eat, anything at all. When people threw their scraps at him, he greedily ate it even if it was on the ground.

Slob, beggar, freak, monster. These were all the titles he was awarded for being the way he was. Then something speaking brought him back to reality. There before him beyond the gates, was a group of people armed to the teeth with guns, bats, and all manner of weaponry; and they didn’t look too happy.

‘How am I going to go about this?’ He asked himself. He didn’t want to fight them after all he had done to protect them. But there was the mob, staring him down with that horrible look of pain, and horror in their eyes. They dared not set one foot beyond the gate, fearful of what lay beyond.

‘Well they're too scared to come get me,’ He thought ‘So maybe we can talk this through.’ However as he approached the mob, they began to bombard him with their ‘Titles’ and their accusations.

“Hey, Freak why don’t you come out from behind that gate and face us?” One man yelled. He sighed; so much for a peaceful talk. He took a deep breath, and flames gathered in his hands as he prepared to slaughter them with his abilities, when another voice spoke out from the mob.

“Lampâ, wait please don’t.” The female voice jolted him.

He was visited by an unwanted memory. One he had tried so hard to bury. It was a bright sunny day in New York City, and there was a girl that was alone in the park. She was sitting on the bench crying.

‘Why is she alone?’ He wondered ‘A pretty girl like that must have someone who loves her.’ As he was contemplating this, he decided to walk closer to get a better look. When he got closer he realized that she was far more beautiful than he had thought. She had short cut auburn hair, very high rosy cheekbones, and very dark green eyes. However there was one aspect that struck him the most, there was a single bruise on the right side of her face.

The bruise was a blemish on her, otherwise, beautiful face. As he approached her, he could not help but feel jealous. This woman was so pretty. He wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't for he feared how she might react when she saw him. He decided to walk out of the bushes, to at least try to help her. A scream pierced the air, and he instantly regretted his decision, but when he looked around she was not running away from him, but away from a figure in the distance.

“GET BACK HERE NOW, YOU BITCH. I TOLD YOU NOT TO RUN.” He could instantly see what was going on, and he knew what he had to do. He had to defend the woman, even at the cost of his life, but he was in no shape for any kind of combat, as he was half-starved and had no strength of any kind. However the woman’s abusive boyfriend was obviously hitting the gym. Bulging biceps and a large chest deterred him; but he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try, for he knew what it was like being abused.

“Leave her alone.” Simply standing there in front of this muscular hulk took all of his self courage. He couldn’t do anything, and there would be no shame in backing down. But something held him in place, he didn’t know what, but something had snapped within him.

“Hey bitch who’s this, your new friend?” The man was talking in an ‘I am superior to you’ tone and he didn’t like it.

“I am not going to let you hurt this woman anymore. I would rather die than see her hurt.”

“HAH, that’s pretty righteous of you little man. What are you going to do, ugly me do death?” He shoved him down and kicked him, and something cracked within his chest. He fell to the ground coughing up blood.

“CHAD STOP, please you are hurting him!” Cried the girl with a very large amount of concern in her voice. It touched him how much a stranger cared for an ugly freak like him. Chad simply pushed her away, and continued to talk to the man lying there broken on the ground.

“You follow us or call the police and I will hunt you down.” Grabbing his girlfriends wrist, he yanked her away and walked off.

He lied there on the ground, for a few minutes. There was no sound, no noise, save for a few birds chirping. The sun was going down, and it was getting cold. Without any provocation, the ground started rumbling, as it slowly split open beneath him, and when he looked down, instead of seeing blackness or even magma, he saw solid, red ground. Fires were alight everywhere, and there were things crawling around everywhere. Then he heard the screaming, that horrible screaming noise. It didn’t sound like a crowded movie theater when a new scary movie came out or a haunted maze during Halloween, it was a continuous screaming of pain. The screams of the damned.

By this time he was in too much pain to move and he let the opening earth swallow him. He expected to fall down into the giant fire pit of hell and be punished eternally, but before he hit the ground, he stopped. There was something holding him. When he looked around there was a giant demon holding his coat with disgust. He screamed, after all he couldn’t help himself; there was a DEMON in front of him.

It grunted in disgust and carried him along the tortured red ground and through screaming mobs of souls trying to escape. The demon dropped him on his chest and he yelped in pain. He just lied there, not caring about the pain. He just wanted to die, to make his misery stop.

“Now, there is no reason to be rude.” Said a strangely charismatic voice. “Now get up so I can look at you.” He lied there on the hot ground, not moving. This new man wouldn’t care about him more than any others. He was just an ugly freak that everyone hated.

“I SAID GET UP!” The voice thundered immediately. He decided to comply; it wouldn’t help the situation that he was angering a person who wanted to talk to him. As he looked up there was a man there, he had a soul patch, a chiseled chin, and deep blue eyes. He was wearing a friendly looking name tag, that said ‘Hello my name is: Lucifer’. He was stunned; the devil wouldn’t wear a name tag.

“It's about time. Wow, you are an ugly one aren’t you? Well no sense in delaying things, what is your name?”

He couldn’t remember ever having a name so he just shook his head and replied, “I can’t remember if I ever had one.”

“Well that complicates things a bit. Well for now you may use the name... " He stopped and pondered for a moment. "Pentru Moartea. Now, straight to business. How would you like to get revenge on those nasty people that treated you like dirt?”

"Yes." Moartea replied without thinking. It was the thing he had dreamed of for years after all.

“A-hah! Well that makes things simple again. I will grant you the power to destroy those who hurt you and give you looks enough to charm a goddess, but in return, you answer to me. You will do my will, and become my servant.” The devil wore a smirk on his face, sure that he had won this pathetic mortal over.

“Yes” Said Moartea again. He relished the chance to get back at everyone who had ever hurt him. All those who had spit, kicked, beat, and insulted him.

“Then go, and worry no longer about your injuries, don’t worry about contacting me, I will summon you when needed.”

“Wait!” He was confused “What did you give me?” The Devil smirked again. “Goodbye Pentru Moartea” He said.

Then he woke up.

He was lying in the park, where he had been attacked by that man.

‘It was all a dream.’ He thought. ‘I am not beautiful. I don’t have the power to fight back.’ He moved. Wait, his ribs weren't broken. He was no longer in pain. He walked over to the nearby pond and looked at his reflection, and he gasped. He was not a deformed freak anymore. He looked more like a male version of the woman he saw earlier. Short brown hair, deep green eyes, and a pointed chin. He wasn’t particularly buff, but he had extra muscle and wasn't starved anymore.

“I wonder what he did to me?” He wondered aloud.

“Hey! Who’s there?” A familiar voice sounded out from behind a nearby tree. When the owner of the voice emerged, Moartea remembered. It was a cop, who had frequently seen him and decided to beat the deformed freak down.

“I do hope you can remember me. But after all I guess you beat homeless deformed freaks every day. Why would I be an exception?” He shot back at the cop.

“What do you care what I do?” Asked the cop snarkily, pulling out a nightstick and tapping his palm with it.

“I care because when you beat homeless people just trying to survive they might hold a grudge." He still had no idea what powers he had but, he figured he could screw with him at the least. "They might want revenge.

“I don’t think so.” Came a second voice, and a second cop emerged from behind another tree, pointing a gun at Moartea's head.

“You can’t beat me.” He said, confidence brimming in his voice. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the first cop was on him swinging his nightstick into Moartea's gut, making him double over and the second cop ran over, drawing his nightstick and hitting him upon the back making him fall over.

Lashing out blindly in desperation, there was a slight swoosh noise and two intense cries of pain. He looked around in a daze. Had he somehow hit both of them? Moartea spared a look at both of them and they were curled on the ground screaming their heads off, with hands over their faces. Grabbing a tazer that was lying on the ground, (it had probably fell out of one of their pockets) he jabbed both of them, and after they stopped crying and stopped moving he relented. Pulling their hands away from their faces, he saw that they were burnt black, with red patches of burnt flesh covering them.

He lashed out with his hand again and saw what had happened. An arc of fire spread from his fingertips in a slash pattern just like how he moved his hand. He smiled maliciously to himself. Kicking the cops till they woke up, he glared down at them and they looked into his eyes. His eyes, which they contained so much hurt, so much pain. Their life was ended with a painless slice to the neck.

Breaking out of his revere, he looked up to the mob, standing at the gates before him, and the girl. That girl from the park, from not too long ago.