Post by Gabriel Baal on Dec 3, 2016 14:49:58 GMT -5
What?
That was the question flicking through the mind of Gabriel Baal as his eyes opened and closed. He was confused and disorientated – his eyes blinked over and over, but he couldn’t see through the thick darkness. He gave up trying and shut his eyes, screwing up his memory to try and remember what the hell had happened. He’d travelled by private jet to Chicago… He could remember that. They had won their match, but more importantly - he and Ichabod had unleashed their pet project upon UGWC and he’d made himself incredibly useful…
The patient… Where the fuck was the patient.
Wait… It was Ok… He could remember that. His orderlies had taken him back to Angelfields via a chartered jet. They’d landed before he’d even taken off in his own plane. He’d spent time talking with the rest of the Engine about their future… It was foggy, but he could remember snippets of the conversation.
What the hell had happened?
He shook his head again, as the cobwebs started to lift – they’d gone their separate ways, and Baal had meant to head back to Angelfields but… Someone… He couldn’t see who, but someone had caught his attention at the airport. He shook his head again, but he couldn’t remember a voice or a face. He couldn’t remember anything except… The sting in his neck. He reached up and touched just behind his ear. It was tender, bruised - the subject of a intramuscular injection. It had not been skilfully administered, but it had done the trick.
How long had he been unconscious?
He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth – it was dry, but not painfully so. He’d either been fed water, or he’d not been out for too long. Judging by his disorientation, he’d been moved around a lot whilst in the midst of losing grasp of his senses. He wasn’t in any immediate pain, other than the numb feeling in his fingers. The metal bonds were tight, but weren’t cutting off any circulation. He pushed himself up – his back against the wall. He pulled his legs tight to his chest and then pushed upwards – he managed to straighten up, and slowly get to his feet.
And then the world burned.
He felt a blinding pain in his head – everything felt like it was exploding, except that there was no heat. Just blinding light and a sensitivity that he’d never before felt – he’d heard of the side effect though. The result of a tranquilizer, and one not commonly given to humans for this very reason.
"It’s alright, Gabriel. The feeling will pass – please, take a seat."
He felt hands on either side of him, slowly guiding him across the now brightly lit room – he felt the pressure of being pushed down into a seat. His arms lowered over the back of the chair, and felt the ties connected to, what sounded like, a chain on the floor. His eyes flickered as the burning slowly passed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and when he opened them again the owner of the voice smiled at him.
"Do you know where you are?"
Gabriel looked up into Uriel’s grinning face, before slowly looking around. He knew the room well – it was one of his interview rooms at Angelfields. He was a captive in his own asylum. Oh the irony.
"What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?"
"I would assume that my mouth has met more pussies than yours, Uriel."
The Curator of the Order of the Inferno let out a burst of laughter before walking around the table and taking a seat upon it. He looked down at Gabriel with pity.
"You were the man who had everything, Gabriel – and you squandered it all."
"Do explain, Uriel. Your bleating is excruciating."
Uriel rolled his eyes at the poor attempt at an insult – Gabriel knew this. He couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t muster anything more than cheap quips.
"Earlier today, the Order of the Inferno met – and we unanimously voted to remove you as the head of our Order. Some needed more… Encouragement… Than the others."
"So Gideon remembers the cost of betrayal, I see."
Uriel’s laughter was mocking and cruel – and Gabriel sensed danger behind it. He wracked his brains, over and over until… His eyes widened with realisation.
"The penny drops – Gideon was the first to suggest removing you from power. He also suggested your replacement. Of course, your lapdog was a little more difficult to convince."
"What did you do to Solomon?"
Gabriel felt his breathing quicken and panic began to pulse through his veins. Solomon had been made the 9th Circle at his bidding, and if he’d attended the gathering his vote would have to be unanimous… He would never have given in without a fight. Or worse…
"Answer me you serpentine creature."
Uriel rolled his tongue over his teeth, seemingly deciding how to break this particular piece of news.
"I wont tell you that Mr. Weightman is uninjured. He is not – He will heel in time, but his loyalty cost him blood and sinew. He may never be the same – it was only when it was suggested that we would have to take your life did he give in."
"And yet here you are, ready to do the very thing you bargained with him for."
"No, no, no, my good man – thankfully, you changed our precedent when you locked the Curator away in the bowls of this place. He was located earlier today, and with the good grace of god he shall return to his former position post haste."
Gabriel’s snarling sneer was enough to momentarily shake the confidence of his captor.
"So… You have been chosen, Uriel. You are the new Father of the Inferno."
"That would be correct, Gabriel – I am the head of the Order and as such, I chose to spare your life. You should be on your knees, kissing my shoes for sparing your life. As you can see, it would have been just as easy to arrange for you to be found floating in the Hudson."
This time it was Gabriel who let out a burst of mocking laughter.
"You don’t expect me to buy that you’re a merciful leader – sparing the man he’s ousted from death, with an extension of his hand. You know who I am and what I can do. You also know the contingencies I have in place should I suddenly disappear. You’re also aware that I have the skill and the means to bring the order down from the inside or the out – you need me alive so you can watch me."
Uriel suddenly appeared to smell something terrible as his cheery façade broke. He stood up and walked around the table, taking a seat opposite Gabriel and pulling a brief case onto the desk in front of him.
"I used to think you were special, Gabriel Baal. I used to think you had a way of hypnotising people – yet all you ever had was leverage. For Our Father, it was Daniel. For me, it was David. For months I worried. I would spend days at a time unable to smile at him because I knew that one day, if I did the wrong thing you would take him away from me. In the end, it all became too much. I thought about breaking things off, but then I realised you could still hold him over my head. I soon realised that there was only one way I could be free."
As Uriel searched through the briefcase, Gabriel tilted his head.
"But… I told you that David was free. I am nothing, if not a man of my word."
"I couldn’t risk it."
"So you killed him? You killed the man you loved so that you could be free of me – is that what you’re trying to say? Why, Uriel, I’m impressed – I never thought you had it in you."
"You dare mock me, Gabriel? After everything you’ve cost me."
Baal half expected Uriel to point a gun at him, the way he tossed aside the brief case and papers littered the ground.
"It was your toxin that killed my beautiful David, Gabriel. Your own venom. I injected that life sapping serum into the neck of my love and he was gone. It was a vial found in The Father’s room when his body was found. We assumed he’d taken his own life. But now… Well… Now we know different."
"Ms. Morgan…"
So she’d chosen to speak – he’d taken credit for The Father’s death in order to frighten her into thinking that he was more than what he was – more than just a clever magician. She’d passed the information on. He couldn’t blame her, the Order could be quite persuasive. Still – he felt a tinge of disappointment. He believed they’d made strides…
"No… Not Ms. Morgan. We approached her – and initially she seemed keen to help us. She seemed to believe she was in danger from you. Whether she helped us or not. In the end, her procrastination forced us to take other action."
"Really – so who was it who betrayed me>"
Uriel rubbed his index finger across his top lip and then down over his chin.
"The wrestling business is incredibly interesting, Gabriel. Your sins exposed for all the world to see – I’d heard rumours of your penchant for chemical control, but it was only when we looked back over your recent contests and saw that you had used some kind of compound on Eden Morgan that I began to dawn in realisation. It wasn’t difficult to lay hands on the test results from the hospital that night. We matched the toxicology report to our own records about what had been found in that vial. It was a match."
Gabriel smiled – if it wasn’t for his immediate peril, he’d take enjoyment in how easy it was for Uriel to add two plus two and come up with something that smelt spectacularly like bullshit.
"For a short while, after David’s death, I blamed you. I hated you. I wanted to kill you myself. But what I’ve come to realise, Gabriel, is that you liberated me. You freed me from the bonds that tied me to a life that I was never meant to lead. And now I want to do the same for you…"
Gabriel’s eyes betrayed him, widening with fear. Faces sprung before his eyes, Lilith, Solomon, Quentin… He felt his pulse quicken as Uriel extended his hand and began to place four pictures in front of him. One by one, he placed them – and with each, he dawned with realisation.
Each of the pictures were his four prized possessions – Hugh McLellan, Johnny Dinucci, Patient Zero and the Engine’s new pet. He felt confused – he hadn’t expected this. He couldn’t, with his still addled mind, fathom what these pictures could mean.
"Angelfields will burn tonight. Everything you’ve ever built, everything you’ve ever done will be destroyed. Luckily for you, that also includes the evidence of some of your more… Unsavoury actions – we’ve already started the evacuation."
They were his patients, yes – but they meant more to others than they did to him. They were tokens, more than anything - trinkets. What could he want with them?
"The story of a gas leak has already begun to spread – a cordon has been set. No-one can get within five miles of this place. It has given us ample chance to remove your patients from harm."
Unless… Was that his plan?
"All of your patients, except these… There will be death here tonight, Gabriel – but not yours. Within the next hour, you will be escorted from these premises, and then there will be a catastrophic explosion. Those in the bowls of Angelfields will not survive."
This was much smarter than he’d ever expected Uriel to be – it would have been easy and predictable to target those who he loved the most. But to drive a wedge between him and those who trusted him only a little? Well that could destabilize everything.
"But I am a generous and merciful leader, Gabriel. And I wish to show you that we appreciate everything that you’ve ever done for us. We all concur that, despite the folly of the last six months, you were a good choice as the Seventh. So here is my gift to you."
Uriel lowered his head, trying to catch Gabriel’s eye. He was staring at the pictures and saying their names over and over again… Hugh, John, Daniel...
"Gabriel – look at me when I speak to you."
Gabriel’s head slowly lifts, his eyes burning.
"You may choose one who will leave with you tonight."
Gabriel looked down at the pictures in front of him – then up at Uriel. He shook his head a little, trying to clear what little of the fog was left. Somehow, this felt worse than losing them all. A choice would mean he had to betray himself or one of the three…
"Three. I want three."
Uriel let out a chuckle and leaned back, placing one leg over the other and resting his hand on his knee.
"You’re not exactly in a position to bargain, Gabriel. One."
"Give me three, and I’ll go quietly into the night. You’ll never see, nor hear from me again."
"One, and we’d better not see nor hear from you again."
Gabriel’s frustration burst out of him for a moment as he tried to pull himself free of his restraints.
"You’re going to cause yourself damage, Dr. Baal."
Gabriel stopped fighting…
"Three – and I will give you everything I have on the order. I will give you every contingency. I will give you everything you need to make sure I can never harm any of you again."
"One. We believe we have everything we need – luckily, we were able to use your biometrics when we arrived to gain access to your safe. There were some quite interesting documents in there, Gabriel. You could have destroyed us all."
Gabriel’s head bowed. His breathing was shallow now.
"Give me three. Please…"
Uriel slowly began to chuckle, before it burst into a roar of laughter.
"What is this? The great Gabriel Baal… Bargaining turning to pleading. I never thought you’d sink so low… You get one, Gabriel… And I suggest you accept my deal before I rescind everything. And then your dear Solomon and the beautiful Lilith will burn along with you as well."
Gabriel stopped fighting… He hung his head, looking down at the photographs. He closed his eyes for second before letting a single thought pass through his mind. I can’t do this… I can’t choose between Eden’s guilt, my first patient, Quentin’s best friend and Ichabod’s trust… I… Just… Can’t. He paused for a moment, until he heard the reply… I’ll take it from here….
And then he began to laugh – no joy, no happiness – just a harsh, malicious cackle. Uriel looked to the men at either side of Gabe and then back down at his captive. Gabe’s laughing was… terrifying given the circumstances.
"Fine – I choose that one."
Gabe broke his laughter to answer, tiliting his head in the direction of the picture he'd chosen... but Uriel didn’t seem sure.
"Are you sure…"
"Of course I’m sure, can we get this over with?"
Baal let out a chuckle again, Uriel’s face now contorting with anger and rage.
"What exactly is so funny, Dr. Baal… The friends of your friends are going to die and they’re all going to blame you. I don’t see anything to find amusing."
"Oh it’s nothing really – I just find it hilarious how much of a fucking moron you truly are."
Uriel sprang to his feet and swung an uneducated punch in Gabriel’s direction. Baal laughed again, spitting a small amount of blood on the foot of one of his guards.
"You’re a disrespectful cretin, Gabriel Baal… I should let you burn. But I would much rather see you have to explain to those that you care about why why the people that they care about more than YOU have perished."
"Oh you should let me burn, Uriel. But not because you’re angry, or because you hate me… But because while I breathe… I will always have a way to bring your entire world crumbling down around you. I will fuck every semblance of your life and I will do it with a cackling smile. I will watch your Order bleed to death, and when you think I can’t do anymore… I will lock you away, to fester forever and you will wish… you’d had the foresight to give me what I wanted, or to have killed me anyway."
Uriel backed away from Baal, his eyes never leaving his quarry.
"Gentlemen… Have them escorted out. I want this place in cinders within the hour."
"Have a Merry Christmas, Uriel… It’s the last one you’ll ever enjoy. Toodle-oo."
And so Uriel left – the feeling of excitement and joy from earlier having evaporated. But he always had a plan… He knew that. He fingered the vial in his pocket as he walked down the corridor.
"He would never take me alive, David. I’ll be with you soon my love…"
The Emerald Wolf may have sounded like a shitty Chinese Restaurant, but it was actually the name of one of the most up and coming bars in all of New York City. At this time of day, it was pretty quiet - given that it was still closed. Quentin Barnes’ attempts to run bars in Texas had been less than successful, but this one had turned out pretty well. He’d carved out a niche as a live music venue. Plus his drinks prices were amongst the most competitive around, thanks to some of Gabriel’s connections.
He was carrying in a crate from storage into the main room, when he saw a man sat at the bar.
"Sorry, bud – we’re not open yet."
"Don’t deny me a drink, Quentin – it’s been a tough night."
Barnes slowly placed the crate on the bar before surveying the heavily bruised and clearly hurt Solomon Weightman. His eye was black, his lip was split and, unless Quentin was mistaken, he had three very broken fingers.
"And here I thought you military types were tough."
"You gonna get me that fuckin’ drink or what?"
Barnes stepped behind the bar and pulled a bottle of whiskey over onto the bar. He poured out a glass and slid it across to Saul.
"Might want one yourself, mate."
"Not for me thanks – kicked the habit."
Solomon swallowed the entire drink on one go, and slid the glass back across to Barnes. Smiling, Quentin refilled it.
"So what brings you here? Coming to bitch about our mutual friend?"
"No mate… He sent me."
"In this condition? One hell of a buddy you’ve got there…"
"Alright, he didn’t send me… I volunteered.”
Solomon looked up into Barnes face, for the first time – for the first time ever, really.
”This is difficult mate… Look, he just… he just wants you to know that he’s sorry."
Quentin’s brow furrowed as he leaned forward on the bar.
"There’s been a fire… At Angelfields. It’s gone…"
"Fire… "
Barnes swallowed – not again, it couldn’t have happened again… Why always fire.
"Did everyone get out?"
Solomon’s reluctance to answer seemed to be all the answer that Quentin needed…
"Who?"
Solomon picked up the glass and drained it once more.
"John?"
His voice quavered as Solomon stood up, draping his jacket over his arm.
"Daniel?"
"I’m sorry mate… I really am. But not as sorry as Gabe…"
Solomon turned and walked towards the door – as he did, he heard a sound that was so rare that few would ever have heard it before… The melancholy howl of an Emerald Wolf.
The Engine of Chaos had, once again, had a mixed night. But as ever – the results meant less than the actions. Gabriel had separated from them at the arena, stating that he had "business to attend to" – but the others had stayed in Chicago overnight. The following morning, they had all met for breakfast – except for Holden who just drank Cold Brew coffee, all hipster-like.
Ichabod and Holden were sat together – talking quietly, whilst Rogan made a call to Sid. It was Tuesday morning, and the trio had planned to head off in their own directions. Rogan hung up the phone and turned back to the others.
And then his phone rang.
He looked at the display – it read “Samantha”.
"What the… I don’t have Samantha’s number."
Ichabod reached out and took the phone from Rogan.
"Samantha doesn’t have a phone."
He smiled as he answered and lifted the phone to his ear – he paused for a moment, listening and then, without speaking. he placed it on the table in front of him and turned on the speaker.
"I felt it… So much pain. So much… Anger. Gabriel… He’s… He’s…"
"What is it, lass? Is he Ok?"
"He’s fine… He’s just… So angry. The fire… It’s consumed everything. It’s… Burned everything away. The field of angels has been scorched. Some did not survive."
The three exchanged a look – they feared the worst.
"The Engine of Cruelty was allowed to escape… And with him… He took your pet."
There was something between the three of them – unspoken. Could it be relief? They looked back at the phone, and realised quickly… She was gone.
Enjoying a casual wash and blow dry was one of Eden’s subtle pleasures – she could let her mind wander, and she could forget about Fear – even about Killian as amazing as the past couple of days had been– for a little while. Her hair was still dripping as she looked down at her phone. She was flicking through the news section, sports result, gas explosion, UGWC card for this week. The stylist had asked for a moment to take a call, and Eden had given her the go ahead. She felt fingers work into her scalp, and for a moment she let her eyes close. She let out a sigh.
"Hello Eden…"
Eden looked up with a smile, which faded almost instantly.
"Oh no, you, go away..."
Those big beautiful eyes could only belong to one person – and it wasn’t a person she had any intention in spending time with. Eden tried to stand, but the hand in her hair pulled tight.
"I have no intention of hurting you, I promise… I’ll only be here for a moment."
Lilith had an eerie way of maintaining eye contact – despite Eden’s attempts to move.
"This would be so much easier if you just sat still…"
Lilith held up a pair of scissors threateningly…
"Woah, woah, woah… Hold on… Okay, umm, just tell me whatever it is you want to tell me and then leave."
Eden’s concern about being scalped certainly trumped her unwillingness to listen to what Lilith had to say.
"There has been an accident – at Angelfields."
Eden relaxed and allowed herself a small smirk.
"Did Gabriel get beaten up by one of his patients? Oh, did he get locked in one of his cells? Wait… Did he accidentally inject himself with that stuff? Please tell me it’s the injection thing…"
Lilith smiled slightly – before tilting her head.
"There has been a fire – Angelfields is no more."
The mockery in Eden’s eyes seemed to falter.
"Did everyone get out alright?"
"Unfortunately not… I’m sorry Miss. Morgan. Gabriel asked me to extend his sincerest apologies – Mr. McLellan has passed."
Eden looked down at her phone – the story about the gas explosion. She looked back up and opened her mouth to speak, but Lilith was gone.
It had been four days since the explosion. What was left of Angelfields had been declared derelict and had been scheduled for demolition in the coming weeks. Uriel had been true to his word – the explosion had destroyed almost everything that could have incriminated Baal – but it had also destroyed his life’s work. Of course, the area was still cordoned off, but Gabriel still had the one thing Uriel had underestimated – the loyalty of his followers. Two phone calls and he was waved through the cordon… It had been heart breaking walking through these doors.
"Tell me something – hearing voices in your head – is that an original gimmick these days?"
"I’m not sure, Gabe… What do you think?"
"Well… I suppose I’m not really one to judge. What about you?"
"Oh, I’m definitely not one to judge… I mean, I’m sat in what was my office having a full blown conversation with myself."
Gabriel is sat behind the ruins of his desk, in what was left of his huge, high backed leather bound chair. It had lost much of it’s comfort, but it served a purpose. He looked upwards into the night and rued the decision not to have a skylight in his office.
"Austin Alexander – one of two number one Contenders for the Chaos Championship and opponent of the Engine of Chaos this week. He’s an intriguing character to say the least – and has achieved some modicum of success since joining UGWC. Unfortunately, that success comes to a screeching halt this week. I would love to say that it’s because we’re better than you Austin… I would love to say it’s because we have something that you don’t. I would love to claim dominance over you both physically and mentally but the truth is very different."
"Yes… The truth is that the biggest reason you’re going to lose this week is because of your partner… Jordan King. The perennial loser. The man whose only reason for coming back to UGWC was to pay back Rogan and myself for embarrassing his friend… Yet thus far, Jordan has achieved exactly what in that little war? Nothing… He is yet to cast any kind of stroke in the name of revenge… Each and every time he faces us he is on the receiving end of defeat. At some point, you would surely have to just admit defeat?"
Gabriel shifted his weight, trying his level best to find a spot of comfort. It was difficult… Looking out over the sea of books that were now ash. He’d spent a small fortune on some priceless first editions… Now lost forever.
"But you’re not entirely blameless in defeat Austin – you’re not in control of all your faculties. That’s the rumour at least – and from what I’ve heard, you’re at odds with whatever it is that stirs inside you. I can tell you, first hand – doing battle with your demons breeds little but discontent. It is so much easier to accept what they whisper in your ear and hope that you can come to some kind of arrangement – because in the end – it is inevitable. You sometimes just have to accept that there are some things you just can’t change."
"Take JK for example… He’s unable to change the nature of what he is. He is a parasite – desperately sucking the life blood out of every host that he can. Taking everything he can get before he moves on to the next. Jordan King has a penchant for those whose coat tails he believes he can ride higher and higher up the card. First it was Moss Edwards – using our goodbye celebration as an excuse to make his underwhelming and vastly unimpressive return to UGWC – and then when he realised that less people cared about Moss Edwards then they did him – a feat in and of itself – he latched on to everyone’s favourite luchador. When I say favourite, I mean the only… And when I say luchador I mean mask wearing failure."
His paintings! He’d just remembered the paintings. Oh how he’d searched for the perfect accompaniment to this office and now they were gone.
"Luckily for you, Austin – you’re not nearly famous nor talented enough for Jordan to latch upon. You’re merely a carrier, until he can latch back on to his host at Horizons. You’re merely a means to an end. Because that’s all you are, Austin… A means to an end. You’re no-ones destination… You’re not the man that people want to challenge. You’re not a mountain that anyone wants to scale – at best, you’re a stopping point on a journey to better things. The Engine roars – and so many want to stop that. There are men who would give anything just to put us in our place. But you? You’ve been successful for one reason – you’re not important enough for anyone to care about beating you."
"But fear not, Austin – because if you’re underwhelming then Jordan King is looking up at you. Because the truth about Jordan King is this… He’s a man who couldn’t win a vote to face a retiring superstar that no-one even cared was leaving. He’s a man who lost out to Jet Somers whose relevance has waned more over the last year, than that of Dave Rydell… And that is saying something. He’s a man who needs to attach his name to bigger and better names in order to be relevant. Horizons will be the last time I mention your name, Jordan King. I don’t care if you’re here or not. After Horizons, I will never face you again. You matter so little, The Engine doesn’t even want to consume you for fuel. You… Are… Nothing."
Gabriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes, surveying the scene of devastation in one of the few places that he felt at home… His office was gone, as were the bodies of those who had perished. Hugh McLellan, Johnny Dinucci and…
"I was told you’d be in here…"
Gabriel opened his eyes and looked to the spot where his door once was. Quentin Barnes was slowly picking his way through the charred and burnt pieces of Gabriel’s life.
"Thank you for joining me, Quentin – I appreciate it."
"Didn’t give me much fuckin’ choice, Baal."
Gabriel took a deep breath. He’d calculated that an angry Barnes would be unwilling to meet, so he’d… Perhaps… made the foolish decision to have him brought forcefully.
"You and I needed to speak and it seemed fitting that it would be here where we've both lost so much…"
"Both? Both? You kept my brother and my best friend locked up in this place… You stopped them from leaving and now they’re dead and you have the gall to say that we’ve both lost so much? Fuck you."
"Quentin please…"
Gabriel stood up from his seat, but immediately put his hands up. Barnes fists were balled into fists, and his stance was for set for fighting.
"I’m not coming any closer, Quentin… Just listen to me."
"What happened?"
Gabriel cleared his throat.
"It was a gas leak… We managed to get most of the patients out but…"
"Don’t give me that bull shit, Gabriel… What happened?"
Gabriel reached up and rubbed the back of his neck – he looked out into what was the squared garden outside, now scorched and parched of any life.
"My order… I was ousted. This was my punishment… This place would burn and my prized patients would be killed. I swear Quentin, I bargained for more but… He wouldn’t give. I will make him pay… I swear I will make them all pay for this…"
"Wait… What?"
Gabriel took a deep breath as the fight seemingly left Quentin’s body – his hands lowered, his eyes opened.
"I said I’ll make them all pa…"
"No… Not that. You said you bargained for more… What does that mean?"
Another mistake – Quentin, of course, had had no idea that he’d been given the option to save someone. A careless slip of the tongue and now…
"I… Was given one I could save."
"Who the fuck did you choose?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. He sat back down in his seat, as he saw the tears well up in Quentin’s eyes.
"You had a chance to save John… Or Daniel… I’d even have understood if you’d have saved Hugh for Eden… But you didn’t. Did… Did you choose Ichabod, over us?"
"It wasn’t… It’s not that simple, Quentin. I gave my word that I would keep him safe… And I had to keep that."
Quentin stumbled, and Baal jumped to his feet again. Once more, Barnes warned him off as the tears built in his eyes. Baal felt a lump in his throat.
"You swore to me that you would keep John safe…"
"No… I swore I’d keep him out of prison and I did that."
"And now he’s in the fucking morgue!”
Barnes yelled and moved forward… But he held himself back.
"Even Daniel… Your so-called best friend. My brother. Even him… If you’d chosen Daniel we would have had something to build from. I lost a best friend and a brother."
"No…"
He heard the word, but it took a moment to realise that it had come from him. Barnes narrowed his eyes – confused in his devastation.
"No, Quentin… You did not. It’s time that you learnt... how I came by my name."
He took a deep breath…
"The man who died tonight, the man you knew as Daniel Collins… Was born Gabriel Baal. His parents were killed when he was seven years old. He was an orphan with a significant trust fund. We met at the age of thirteen – both orphaned, and with lofty ambition. We were together through thick and thin… We were together through everything. And then… I stole his identity and locked him away for his own good. His parents death had changed him… He was truly, my first patient. Yet with his identity I had the resource and ability to become the man I am today…"
Quentin looked unsure whether to believe… This was a story so far-fetched that it made no sense.
"The man I am today, started life as Daniel Collins – he wasn’t your brother, Quentin… But I am."
This time, Quentin did stumble… He fell back to the ground in the charcoal and dirt.
"Gabriel loved me, Quentin… For all of his faults, he wanted me to be happy. He mistook my grief at missing what we could have had as brothers as a hatred of you. He mistook my anger towards our father as a hatred of him… And so he did what all fools who love do – he sought to make me happy. He killed our father, Quentin… And he would have killed you too. I had to lock him away, to keep you safe."
Barnes closed his eyes and shook his head. Baal wiped away the burgeoning tears in his eyes. He had waited so long to tell the truth of who he was…
"If… If this is true… Why didn’t you come to me? Tell me?"
"I never knew if you’d believe… I had quite the reputation. I would have understood if you hadn’t have trusted me but I had to know there was a chance before I admitted the truth… Now, my hand has been forced by circumstance. Quentin, you’re not just my mentor… You’re my blood. And I love you... Brother. I love you..."
Gabriel stepped forward now, and extended his hand to The Fallen Barnes. Quentin’s eyes, shining with tears made contact with Gabriel’s… And for a moment there was a connection of some kind. He reached up to take Gabriel’s hand and then…
"Wait… If… If this is true, then that’s worse. If we’re brothers… You still chose Ichabod over me."
"Quentin, please… It wasn’t that simple…"
"Yes… Yes it was. If you’re not my brother than you’re a fucking liar, and If you are you chose this fucking Engine over your own blood. You let me believe that my brother killed my dad, you let me believe my brother had died… And John is still dead. You’re a fucking liar, and a cheat. I don’t want brother like that."
"Quentin, please… Don’t do this."
Gabriel’s voice broke as the tears began to fall down his face… He could feel his heart breaking inside. This… This moment was what he’d worked towards for the last twenty years and it was slipping away.
"No, fuck you… Fuck you Gabriel, or Daniel, or whoever the fuck you are. I don’t need this shit in my life. I’m not your mentor, I’m not your friend and I’m not your fucking brother. Leave me the fuck alone…"
"Quentin… Please…"
Gabriel slowly lowered his hand into his pocket as Quentin turned his back on him and moved for the door.
"No… Fuck off. I don’t want to speak to you ever again."
"So be it…"
Quentin had never expected Gabriel to be upon him so quickly. Baal swept his legs from under him and pulled him backwards. Quentin felt the needle slip into his skin, and he met his brother's stare for the first time - with pleading.
"I’m sorry, brother… But if you won’t speak to me, then you won’t speak to anyone."
He leaned forward and placed a kiss upon Quentin’s forehead.
"Sleep well. I love you…"
And Quentin’s eyes closed. Not to open again, for a long, long time.
What felt like an hour later, five masked figures entered the location that was once Gabriel’s old office. They found him sat in his chair, with Quentin Barnes unconscious at his feet. Four of the masked men quickly set to work moving Quentin’s body, the fifth walked towards Gabriel. His voice was altered by the mask he wore.
"I presume you’ve accepted our offer?"
Gabriel looked up slowly, and nodded.
"The Façade welcomes you, Dr. Baal. We have a brand new facility set up for you – for the moment, we would ask that you keep it private – just a few select guests."
"Not a problem my good man…"
"We look forward to working with you as we look to rid our country of the corruption that has infiltrated it. Your former position should open some doors."
Baal slowly climbed to his feet, and fastened the jacket of his suit.
"Make no mistake, my friend… We will destroy the Order of the Inferno. Without question… But you work for me now. Let’s not have any façade over that."
Gabe closed his eyes and smiled as he imagined Gabriel taking a well-deserved rest - with his final words, Gabriel gave his ultimate blessing.
"Rise... And introduce yourself."
That was the question flicking through the mind of Gabriel Baal as his eyes opened and closed. He was confused and disorientated – his eyes blinked over and over, but he couldn’t see through the thick darkness. He gave up trying and shut his eyes, screwing up his memory to try and remember what the hell had happened. He’d travelled by private jet to Chicago… He could remember that. They had won their match, but more importantly - he and Ichabod had unleashed their pet project upon UGWC and he’d made himself incredibly useful…
The patient… Where the fuck was the patient.
Wait… It was Ok… He could remember that. His orderlies had taken him back to Angelfields via a chartered jet. They’d landed before he’d even taken off in his own plane. He’d spent time talking with the rest of the Engine about their future… It was foggy, but he could remember snippets of the conversation.
What the hell had happened?
He shook his head again, as the cobwebs started to lift – they’d gone their separate ways, and Baal had meant to head back to Angelfields but… Someone… He couldn’t see who, but someone had caught his attention at the airport. He shook his head again, but he couldn’t remember a voice or a face. He couldn’t remember anything except… The sting in his neck. He reached up and touched just behind his ear. It was tender, bruised - the subject of a intramuscular injection. It had not been skilfully administered, but it had done the trick.
How long had he been unconscious?
He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth – it was dry, but not painfully so. He’d either been fed water, or he’d not been out for too long. Judging by his disorientation, he’d been moved around a lot whilst in the midst of losing grasp of his senses. He wasn’t in any immediate pain, other than the numb feeling in his fingers. The metal bonds were tight, but weren’t cutting off any circulation. He pushed himself up – his back against the wall. He pulled his legs tight to his chest and then pushed upwards – he managed to straighten up, and slowly get to his feet.
And then the world burned.
He felt a blinding pain in his head – everything felt like it was exploding, except that there was no heat. Just blinding light and a sensitivity that he’d never before felt – he’d heard of the side effect though. The result of a tranquilizer, and one not commonly given to humans for this very reason.
"It’s alright, Gabriel. The feeling will pass – please, take a seat."
He felt hands on either side of him, slowly guiding him across the now brightly lit room – he felt the pressure of being pushed down into a seat. His arms lowered over the back of the chair, and felt the ties connected to, what sounded like, a chain on the floor. His eyes flickered as the burning slowly passed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and when he opened them again the owner of the voice smiled at him.
"Do you know where you are?"
Gabriel looked up into Uriel’s grinning face, before slowly looking around. He knew the room well – it was one of his interview rooms at Angelfields. He was a captive in his own asylum. Oh the irony.
"What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?"
"I would assume that my mouth has met more pussies than yours, Uriel."
The Curator of the Order of the Inferno let out a burst of laughter before walking around the table and taking a seat upon it. He looked down at Gabriel with pity.
"You were the man who had everything, Gabriel – and you squandered it all."
"Do explain, Uriel. Your bleating is excruciating."
Uriel rolled his eyes at the poor attempt at an insult – Gabriel knew this. He couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t muster anything more than cheap quips.
"Earlier today, the Order of the Inferno met – and we unanimously voted to remove you as the head of our Order. Some needed more… Encouragement… Than the others."
"So Gideon remembers the cost of betrayal, I see."
Uriel’s laughter was mocking and cruel – and Gabriel sensed danger behind it. He wracked his brains, over and over until… His eyes widened with realisation.
"The penny drops – Gideon was the first to suggest removing you from power. He also suggested your replacement. Of course, your lapdog was a little more difficult to convince."
"What did you do to Solomon?"
Gabriel felt his breathing quicken and panic began to pulse through his veins. Solomon had been made the 9th Circle at his bidding, and if he’d attended the gathering his vote would have to be unanimous… He would never have given in without a fight. Or worse…
"Answer me you serpentine creature."
Uriel rolled his tongue over his teeth, seemingly deciding how to break this particular piece of news.
"I wont tell you that Mr. Weightman is uninjured. He is not – He will heel in time, but his loyalty cost him blood and sinew. He may never be the same – it was only when it was suggested that we would have to take your life did he give in."
"And yet here you are, ready to do the very thing you bargained with him for."
"No, no, no, my good man – thankfully, you changed our precedent when you locked the Curator away in the bowls of this place. He was located earlier today, and with the good grace of god he shall return to his former position post haste."
Gabriel’s snarling sneer was enough to momentarily shake the confidence of his captor.
"So… You have been chosen, Uriel. You are the new Father of the Inferno."
"That would be correct, Gabriel – I am the head of the Order and as such, I chose to spare your life. You should be on your knees, kissing my shoes for sparing your life. As you can see, it would have been just as easy to arrange for you to be found floating in the Hudson."
This time it was Gabriel who let out a burst of mocking laughter.
"You don’t expect me to buy that you’re a merciful leader – sparing the man he’s ousted from death, with an extension of his hand. You know who I am and what I can do. You also know the contingencies I have in place should I suddenly disappear. You’re also aware that I have the skill and the means to bring the order down from the inside or the out – you need me alive so you can watch me."
Uriel suddenly appeared to smell something terrible as his cheery façade broke. He stood up and walked around the table, taking a seat opposite Gabriel and pulling a brief case onto the desk in front of him.
"I used to think you were special, Gabriel Baal. I used to think you had a way of hypnotising people – yet all you ever had was leverage. For Our Father, it was Daniel. For me, it was David. For months I worried. I would spend days at a time unable to smile at him because I knew that one day, if I did the wrong thing you would take him away from me. In the end, it all became too much. I thought about breaking things off, but then I realised you could still hold him over my head. I soon realised that there was only one way I could be free."
As Uriel searched through the briefcase, Gabriel tilted his head.
"But… I told you that David was free. I am nothing, if not a man of my word."
"I couldn’t risk it."
"So you killed him? You killed the man you loved so that you could be free of me – is that what you’re trying to say? Why, Uriel, I’m impressed – I never thought you had it in you."
"You dare mock me, Gabriel? After everything you’ve cost me."
Baal half expected Uriel to point a gun at him, the way he tossed aside the brief case and papers littered the ground.
"It was your toxin that killed my beautiful David, Gabriel. Your own venom. I injected that life sapping serum into the neck of my love and he was gone. It was a vial found in The Father’s room when his body was found. We assumed he’d taken his own life. But now… Well… Now we know different."
"Ms. Morgan…"
So she’d chosen to speak – he’d taken credit for The Father’s death in order to frighten her into thinking that he was more than what he was – more than just a clever magician. She’d passed the information on. He couldn’t blame her, the Order could be quite persuasive. Still – he felt a tinge of disappointment. He believed they’d made strides…
"No… Not Ms. Morgan. We approached her – and initially she seemed keen to help us. She seemed to believe she was in danger from you. Whether she helped us or not. In the end, her procrastination forced us to take other action."
"Really – so who was it who betrayed me>"
Uriel rubbed his index finger across his top lip and then down over his chin.
"The wrestling business is incredibly interesting, Gabriel. Your sins exposed for all the world to see – I’d heard rumours of your penchant for chemical control, but it was only when we looked back over your recent contests and saw that you had used some kind of compound on Eden Morgan that I began to dawn in realisation. It wasn’t difficult to lay hands on the test results from the hospital that night. We matched the toxicology report to our own records about what had been found in that vial. It was a match."
Gabriel smiled – if it wasn’t for his immediate peril, he’d take enjoyment in how easy it was for Uriel to add two plus two and come up with something that smelt spectacularly like bullshit.
"For a short while, after David’s death, I blamed you. I hated you. I wanted to kill you myself. But what I’ve come to realise, Gabriel, is that you liberated me. You freed me from the bonds that tied me to a life that I was never meant to lead. And now I want to do the same for you…"
Gabriel’s eyes betrayed him, widening with fear. Faces sprung before his eyes, Lilith, Solomon, Quentin… He felt his pulse quicken as Uriel extended his hand and began to place four pictures in front of him. One by one, he placed them – and with each, he dawned with realisation.
Each of the pictures were his four prized possessions – Hugh McLellan, Johnny Dinucci, Patient Zero and the Engine’s new pet. He felt confused – he hadn’t expected this. He couldn’t, with his still addled mind, fathom what these pictures could mean.
"Angelfields will burn tonight. Everything you’ve ever built, everything you’ve ever done will be destroyed. Luckily for you, that also includes the evidence of some of your more… Unsavoury actions – we’ve already started the evacuation."
They were his patients, yes – but they meant more to others than they did to him. They were tokens, more than anything - trinkets. What could he want with them?
"The story of a gas leak has already begun to spread – a cordon has been set. No-one can get within five miles of this place. It has given us ample chance to remove your patients from harm."
Unless… Was that his plan?
"All of your patients, except these… There will be death here tonight, Gabriel – but not yours. Within the next hour, you will be escorted from these premises, and then there will be a catastrophic explosion. Those in the bowls of Angelfields will not survive."
This was much smarter than he’d ever expected Uriel to be – it would have been easy and predictable to target those who he loved the most. But to drive a wedge between him and those who trusted him only a little? Well that could destabilize everything.
"But I am a generous and merciful leader, Gabriel. And I wish to show you that we appreciate everything that you’ve ever done for us. We all concur that, despite the folly of the last six months, you were a good choice as the Seventh. So here is my gift to you."
Uriel lowered his head, trying to catch Gabriel’s eye. He was staring at the pictures and saying their names over and over again… Hugh, John, Daniel...
"Gabriel – look at me when I speak to you."
Gabriel’s head slowly lifts, his eyes burning.
"You may choose one who will leave with you tonight."
Gabriel looked down at the pictures in front of him – then up at Uriel. He shook his head a little, trying to clear what little of the fog was left. Somehow, this felt worse than losing them all. A choice would mean he had to betray himself or one of the three…
"Three. I want three."
Uriel let out a chuckle and leaned back, placing one leg over the other and resting his hand on his knee.
"You’re not exactly in a position to bargain, Gabriel. One."
"Give me three, and I’ll go quietly into the night. You’ll never see, nor hear from me again."
"One, and we’d better not see nor hear from you again."
Gabriel’s frustration burst out of him for a moment as he tried to pull himself free of his restraints.
"You’re going to cause yourself damage, Dr. Baal."
Gabriel stopped fighting…
"Three – and I will give you everything I have on the order. I will give you every contingency. I will give you everything you need to make sure I can never harm any of you again."
"One. We believe we have everything we need – luckily, we were able to use your biometrics when we arrived to gain access to your safe. There were some quite interesting documents in there, Gabriel. You could have destroyed us all."
Gabriel’s head bowed. His breathing was shallow now.
"Give me three. Please…"
Uriel slowly began to chuckle, before it burst into a roar of laughter.
"What is this? The great Gabriel Baal… Bargaining turning to pleading. I never thought you’d sink so low… You get one, Gabriel… And I suggest you accept my deal before I rescind everything. And then your dear Solomon and the beautiful Lilith will burn along with you as well."
Gabriel stopped fighting… He hung his head, looking down at the photographs. He closed his eyes for second before letting a single thought pass through his mind. I can’t do this… I can’t choose between Eden’s guilt, my first patient, Quentin’s best friend and Ichabod’s trust… I… Just… Can’t. He paused for a moment, until he heard the reply… I’ll take it from here….
And then he began to laugh – no joy, no happiness – just a harsh, malicious cackle. Uriel looked to the men at either side of Gabe and then back down at his captive. Gabe’s laughing was… terrifying given the circumstances.
"Fine – I choose that one."
Gabe broke his laughter to answer, tiliting his head in the direction of the picture he'd chosen... but Uriel didn’t seem sure.
"Are you sure…"
"Of course I’m sure, can we get this over with?"
Baal let out a chuckle again, Uriel’s face now contorting with anger and rage.
"What exactly is so funny, Dr. Baal… The friends of your friends are going to die and they’re all going to blame you. I don’t see anything to find amusing."
"Oh it’s nothing really – I just find it hilarious how much of a fucking moron you truly are."
Uriel sprang to his feet and swung an uneducated punch in Gabriel’s direction. Baal laughed again, spitting a small amount of blood on the foot of one of his guards.
"You’re a disrespectful cretin, Gabriel Baal… I should let you burn. But I would much rather see you have to explain to those that you care about why why the people that they care about more than YOU have perished."
"Oh you should let me burn, Uriel. But not because you’re angry, or because you hate me… But because while I breathe… I will always have a way to bring your entire world crumbling down around you. I will fuck every semblance of your life and I will do it with a cackling smile. I will watch your Order bleed to death, and when you think I can’t do anymore… I will lock you away, to fester forever and you will wish… you’d had the foresight to give me what I wanted, or to have killed me anyway."
Uriel backed away from Baal, his eyes never leaving his quarry.
"Gentlemen… Have them escorted out. I want this place in cinders within the hour."
"Have a Merry Christmas, Uriel… It’s the last one you’ll ever enjoy. Toodle-oo."
And so Uriel left – the feeling of excitement and joy from earlier having evaporated. But he always had a plan… He knew that. He fingered the vial in his pocket as he walked down the corridor.
"He would never take me alive, David. I’ll be with you soon my love…"
The Emerald Wolf may have sounded like a shitty Chinese Restaurant, but it was actually the name of one of the most up and coming bars in all of New York City. At this time of day, it was pretty quiet - given that it was still closed. Quentin Barnes’ attempts to run bars in Texas had been less than successful, but this one had turned out pretty well. He’d carved out a niche as a live music venue. Plus his drinks prices were amongst the most competitive around, thanks to some of Gabriel’s connections.
He was carrying in a crate from storage into the main room, when he saw a man sat at the bar.
"Sorry, bud – we’re not open yet."
"Don’t deny me a drink, Quentin – it’s been a tough night."
Barnes slowly placed the crate on the bar before surveying the heavily bruised and clearly hurt Solomon Weightman. His eye was black, his lip was split and, unless Quentin was mistaken, he had three very broken fingers.
"And here I thought you military types were tough."
"You gonna get me that fuckin’ drink or what?"
Barnes stepped behind the bar and pulled a bottle of whiskey over onto the bar. He poured out a glass and slid it across to Saul.
"Might want one yourself, mate."
"Not for me thanks – kicked the habit."
Solomon swallowed the entire drink on one go, and slid the glass back across to Barnes. Smiling, Quentin refilled it.
"So what brings you here? Coming to bitch about our mutual friend?"
"No mate… He sent me."
"In this condition? One hell of a buddy you’ve got there…"
"Alright, he didn’t send me… I volunteered.”
Solomon looked up into Barnes face, for the first time – for the first time ever, really.
”This is difficult mate… Look, he just… he just wants you to know that he’s sorry."
Quentin’s brow furrowed as he leaned forward on the bar.
"There’s been a fire… At Angelfields. It’s gone…"
"Fire… "
Barnes swallowed – not again, it couldn’t have happened again… Why always fire.
"Did everyone get out?"
Solomon’s reluctance to answer seemed to be all the answer that Quentin needed…
"Who?"
Solomon picked up the glass and drained it once more.
"John?"
His voice quavered as Solomon stood up, draping his jacket over his arm.
"Daniel?"
"I’m sorry mate… I really am. But not as sorry as Gabe…"
Solomon turned and walked towards the door – as he did, he heard a sound that was so rare that few would ever have heard it before… The melancholy howl of an Emerald Wolf.
The Engine of Chaos had, once again, had a mixed night. But as ever – the results meant less than the actions. Gabriel had separated from them at the arena, stating that he had "business to attend to" – but the others had stayed in Chicago overnight. The following morning, they had all met for breakfast – except for Holden who just drank Cold Brew coffee, all hipster-like.
Ichabod and Holden were sat together – talking quietly, whilst Rogan made a call to Sid. It was Tuesday morning, and the trio had planned to head off in their own directions. Rogan hung up the phone and turned back to the others.
And then his phone rang.
He looked at the display – it read “Samantha”.
"What the… I don’t have Samantha’s number."
Ichabod reached out and took the phone from Rogan.
"Samantha doesn’t have a phone."
He smiled as he answered and lifted the phone to his ear – he paused for a moment, listening and then, without speaking. he placed it on the table in front of him and turned on the speaker.
"I felt it… So much pain. So much… Anger. Gabriel… He’s… He’s…"
"What is it, lass? Is he Ok?"
"He’s fine… He’s just… So angry. The fire… It’s consumed everything. It’s… Burned everything away. The field of angels has been scorched. Some did not survive."
The three exchanged a look – they feared the worst.
"The Engine of Cruelty was allowed to escape… And with him… He took your pet."
There was something between the three of them – unspoken. Could it be relief? They looked back at the phone, and realised quickly… She was gone.
Enjoying a casual wash and blow dry was one of Eden’s subtle pleasures – she could let her mind wander, and she could forget about Fear – even about Killian as amazing as the past couple of days had been– for a little while. Her hair was still dripping as she looked down at her phone. She was flicking through the news section, sports result, gas explosion, UGWC card for this week. The stylist had asked for a moment to take a call, and Eden had given her the go ahead. She felt fingers work into her scalp, and for a moment she let her eyes close. She let out a sigh.
"Hello Eden…"
Eden looked up with a smile, which faded almost instantly.
"Oh no, you, go away..."
Those big beautiful eyes could only belong to one person – and it wasn’t a person she had any intention in spending time with. Eden tried to stand, but the hand in her hair pulled tight.
"I have no intention of hurting you, I promise… I’ll only be here for a moment."
Lilith had an eerie way of maintaining eye contact – despite Eden’s attempts to move.
"This would be so much easier if you just sat still…"
Lilith held up a pair of scissors threateningly…
"Woah, woah, woah… Hold on… Okay, umm, just tell me whatever it is you want to tell me and then leave."
Eden’s concern about being scalped certainly trumped her unwillingness to listen to what Lilith had to say.
"There has been an accident – at Angelfields."
Eden relaxed and allowed herself a small smirk.
"Did Gabriel get beaten up by one of his patients? Oh, did he get locked in one of his cells? Wait… Did he accidentally inject himself with that stuff? Please tell me it’s the injection thing…"
Lilith smiled slightly – before tilting her head.
"There has been a fire – Angelfields is no more."
The mockery in Eden’s eyes seemed to falter.
"Did everyone get out alright?"
"Unfortunately not… I’m sorry Miss. Morgan. Gabriel asked me to extend his sincerest apologies – Mr. McLellan has passed."
Eden looked down at her phone – the story about the gas explosion. She looked back up and opened her mouth to speak, but Lilith was gone.
It had been four days since the explosion. What was left of Angelfields had been declared derelict and had been scheduled for demolition in the coming weeks. Uriel had been true to his word – the explosion had destroyed almost everything that could have incriminated Baal – but it had also destroyed his life’s work. Of course, the area was still cordoned off, but Gabriel still had the one thing Uriel had underestimated – the loyalty of his followers. Two phone calls and he was waved through the cordon… It had been heart breaking walking through these doors.
"Tell me something – hearing voices in your head – is that an original gimmick these days?"
"I’m not sure, Gabe… What do you think?"
"Well… I suppose I’m not really one to judge. What about you?"
"Oh, I’m definitely not one to judge… I mean, I’m sat in what was my office having a full blown conversation with myself."
Gabriel is sat behind the ruins of his desk, in what was left of his huge, high backed leather bound chair. It had lost much of it’s comfort, but it served a purpose. He looked upwards into the night and rued the decision not to have a skylight in his office.
"Austin Alexander – one of two number one Contenders for the Chaos Championship and opponent of the Engine of Chaos this week. He’s an intriguing character to say the least – and has achieved some modicum of success since joining UGWC. Unfortunately, that success comes to a screeching halt this week. I would love to say that it’s because we’re better than you Austin… I would love to say it’s because we have something that you don’t. I would love to claim dominance over you both physically and mentally but the truth is very different."
"Yes… The truth is that the biggest reason you’re going to lose this week is because of your partner… Jordan King. The perennial loser. The man whose only reason for coming back to UGWC was to pay back Rogan and myself for embarrassing his friend… Yet thus far, Jordan has achieved exactly what in that little war? Nothing… He is yet to cast any kind of stroke in the name of revenge… Each and every time he faces us he is on the receiving end of defeat. At some point, you would surely have to just admit defeat?"
Gabriel shifted his weight, trying his level best to find a spot of comfort. It was difficult… Looking out over the sea of books that were now ash. He’d spent a small fortune on some priceless first editions… Now lost forever.
"But you’re not entirely blameless in defeat Austin – you’re not in control of all your faculties. That’s the rumour at least – and from what I’ve heard, you’re at odds with whatever it is that stirs inside you. I can tell you, first hand – doing battle with your demons breeds little but discontent. It is so much easier to accept what they whisper in your ear and hope that you can come to some kind of arrangement – because in the end – it is inevitable. You sometimes just have to accept that there are some things you just can’t change."
"Take JK for example… He’s unable to change the nature of what he is. He is a parasite – desperately sucking the life blood out of every host that he can. Taking everything he can get before he moves on to the next. Jordan King has a penchant for those whose coat tails he believes he can ride higher and higher up the card. First it was Moss Edwards – using our goodbye celebration as an excuse to make his underwhelming and vastly unimpressive return to UGWC – and then when he realised that less people cared about Moss Edwards then they did him – a feat in and of itself – he latched on to everyone’s favourite luchador. When I say favourite, I mean the only… And when I say luchador I mean mask wearing failure."
His paintings! He’d just remembered the paintings. Oh how he’d searched for the perfect accompaniment to this office and now they were gone.
"Luckily for you, Austin – you’re not nearly famous nor talented enough for Jordan to latch upon. You’re merely a carrier, until he can latch back on to his host at Horizons. You’re merely a means to an end. Because that’s all you are, Austin… A means to an end. You’re no-ones destination… You’re not the man that people want to challenge. You’re not a mountain that anyone wants to scale – at best, you’re a stopping point on a journey to better things. The Engine roars – and so many want to stop that. There are men who would give anything just to put us in our place. But you? You’ve been successful for one reason – you’re not important enough for anyone to care about beating you."
"But fear not, Austin – because if you’re underwhelming then Jordan King is looking up at you. Because the truth about Jordan King is this… He’s a man who couldn’t win a vote to face a retiring superstar that no-one even cared was leaving. He’s a man who lost out to Jet Somers whose relevance has waned more over the last year, than that of Dave Rydell… And that is saying something. He’s a man who needs to attach his name to bigger and better names in order to be relevant. Horizons will be the last time I mention your name, Jordan King. I don’t care if you’re here or not. After Horizons, I will never face you again. You matter so little, The Engine doesn’t even want to consume you for fuel. You… Are… Nothing."
Gabriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes, surveying the scene of devastation in one of the few places that he felt at home… His office was gone, as were the bodies of those who had perished. Hugh McLellan, Johnny Dinucci and…
"I was told you’d be in here…"
Gabriel opened his eyes and looked to the spot where his door once was. Quentin Barnes was slowly picking his way through the charred and burnt pieces of Gabriel’s life.
"Thank you for joining me, Quentin – I appreciate it."
"Didn’t give me much fuckin’ choice, Baal."
Gabriel took a deep breath. He’d calculated that an angry Barnes would be unwilling to meet, so he’d… Perhaps… made the foolish decision to have him brought forcefully.
"You and I needed to speak and it seemed fitting that it would be here where we've both lost so much…"
"Both? Both? You kept my brother and my best friend locked up in this place… You stopped them from leaving and now they’re dead and you have the gall to say that we’ve both lost so much? Fuck you."
"Quentin please…"
Gabriel stood up from his seat, but immediately put his hands up. Barnes fists were balled into fists, and his stance was for set for fighting.
"I’m not coming any closer, Quentin… Just listen to me."
"What happened?"
Gabriel cleared his throat.
"It was a gas leak… We managed to get most of the patients out but…"
"Don’t give me that bull shit, Gabriel… What happened?"
Gabriel reached up and rubbed the back of his neck – he looked out into what was the squared garden outside, now scorched and parched of any life.
"My order… I was ousted. This was my punishment… This place would burn and my prized patients would be killed. I swear Quentin, I bargained for more but… He wouldn’t give. I will make him pay… I swear I will make them all pay for this…"
"Wait… What?"
Gabriel took a deep breath as the fight seemingly left Quentin’s body – his hands lowered, his eyes opened.
"I said I’ll make them all pa…"
"No… Not that. You said you bargained for more… What does that mean?"
Another mistake – Quentin, of course, had had no idea that he’d been given the option to save someone. A careless slip of the tongue and now…
"I… Was given one I could save."
"Who the fuck did you choose?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. He sat back down in his seat, as he saw the tears well up in Quentin’s eyes.
"You had a chance to save John… Or Daniel… I’d even have understood if you’d have saved Hugh for Eden… But you didn’t. Did… Did you choose Ichabod, over us?"
"It wasn’t… It’s not that simple, Quentin. I gave my word that I would keep him safe… And I had to keep that."
Quentin stumbled, and Baal jumped to his feet again. Once more, Barnes warned him off as the tears built in his eyes. Baal felt a lump in his throat.
"You swore to me that you would keep John safe…"
"No… I swore I’d keep him out of prison and I did that."
"And now he’s in the fucking morgue!”
Barnes yelled and moved forward… But he held himself back.
"Even Daniel… Your so-called best friend. My brother. Even him… If you’d chosen Daniel we would have had something to build from. I lost a best friend and a brother."
"No…"
He heard the word, but it took a moment to realise that it had come from him. Barnes narrowed his eyes – confused in his devastation.
"No, Quentin… You did not. It’s time that you learnt... how I came by my name."
He took a deep breath…
"The man who died tonight, the man you knew as Daniel Collins… Was born Gabriel Baal. His parents were killed when he was seven years old. He was an orphan with a significant trust fund. We met at the age of thirteen – both orphaned, and with lofty ambition. We were together through thick and thin… We were together through everything. And then… I stole his identity and locked him away for his own good. His parents death had changed him… He was truly, my first patient. Yet with his identity I had the resource and ability to become the man I am today…"
Quentin looked unsure whether to believe… This was a story so far-fetched that it made no sense.
"The man I am today, started life as Daniel Collins – he wasn’t your brother, Quentin… But I am."
This time, Quentin did stumble… He fell back to the ground in the charcoal and dirt.
"Gabriel loved me, Quentin… For all of his faults, he wanted me to be happy. He mistook my grief at missing what we could have had as brothers as a hatred of you. He mistook my anger towards our father as a hatred of him… And so he did what all fools who love do – he sought to make me happy. He killed our father, Quentin… And he would have killed you too. I had to lock him away, to keep you safe."
Barnes closed his eyes and shook his head. Baal wiped away the burgeoning tears in his eyes. He had waited so long to tell the truth of who he was…
"If… If this is true… Why didn’t you come to me? Tell me?"
"I never knew if you’d believe… I had quite the reputation. I would have understood if you hadn’t have trusted me but I had to know there was a chance before I admitted the truth… Now, my hand has been forced by circumstance. Quentin, you’re not just my mentor… You’re my blood. And I love you... Brother. I love you..."
Gabriel stepped forward now, and extended his hand to The Fallen Barnes. Quentin’s eyes, shining with tears made contact with Gabriel’s… And for a moment there was a connection of some kind. He reached up to take Gabriel’s hand and then…
"Wait… If… If this is true, then that’s worse. If we’re brothers… You still chose Ichabod over me."
"Quentin, please… It wasn’t that simple…"
"Yes… Yes it was. If you’re not my brother than you’re a fucking liar, and If you are you chose this fucking Engine over your own blood. You let me believe that my brother killed my dad, you let me believe my brother had died… And John is still dead. You’re a fucking liar, and a cheat. I don’t want brother like that."
"Quentin, please… Don’t do this."
Gabriel’s voice broke as the tears began to fall down his face… He could feel his heart breaking inside. This… This moment was what he’d worked towards for the last twenty years and it was slipping away.
"No, fuck you… Fuck you Gabriel, or Daniel, or whoever the fuck you are. I don’t need this shit in my life. I’m not your mentor, I’m not your friend and I’m not your fucking brother. Leave me the fuck alone…"
"Quentin… Please…"
Gabriel slowly lowered his hand into his pocket as Quentin turned his back on him and moved for the door.
"No… Fuck off. I don’t want to speak to you ever again."
"So be it…"
Quentin had never expected Gabriel to be upon him so quickly. Baal swept his legs from under him and pulled him backwards. Quentin felt the needle slip into his skin, and he met his brother's stare for the first time - with pleading.
"I’m sorry, brother… But if you won’t speak to me, then you won’t speak to anyone."
He leaned forward and placed a kiss upon Quentin’s forehead.
"Sleep well. I love you…"
And Quentin’s eyes closed. Not to open again, for a long, long time.
What felt like an hour later, five masked figures entered the location that was once Gabriel’s old office. They found him sat in his chair, with Quentin Barnes unconscious at his feet. Four of the masked men quickly set to work moving Quentin’s body, the fifth walked towards Gabriel. His voice was altered by the mask he wore.
"I presume you’ve accepted our offer?"
Gabriel looked up slowly, and nodded.
"The Façade welcomes you, Dr. Baal. We have a brand new facility set up for you – for the moment, we would ask that you keep it private – just a few select guests."
"Not a problem my good man…"
"We look forward to working with you as we look to rid our country of the corruption that has infiltrated it. Your former position should open some doors."
Baal slowly climbed to his feet, and fastened the jacket of his suit.
"Make no mistake, my friend… We will destroy the Order of the Inferno. Without question… But you work for me now. Let’s not have any façade over that."
Gabe closed his eyes and smiled as he imagined Gabriel taking a well-deserved rest - with his final words, Gabriel gave his ultimate blessing.
"Rise... And introduce yourself."
