Chapter Three

The whirring sound didn’t stop. Not like Dante expected it to, it was a sound he’d come to associate with despair. And it was a sound perfected by one person alone . He had many names, although Dante Danteantly refused to call him anything but Wicked. That was the name of the streets, the name Dante grew up to fear.

“Quite a stint you’ve gotten yourself into, eh?” Wicked said, and Dante could envision his face, and the devilish smile that curved like death’s scythe. Dante didn’t need to see it to visualize it, it was the smile that gave him the nickname.

“What are you doing here?” It took all of Dante’s willpower to not flare at his once guardian. The man who everybody hated, and feared. He was about 35 years old, with a body crisscrossed with scars. The only place left untouched was his face. The face Wicked immaculately groomed.

“You’ve gotten into a fix, I see. I’ll fix you right up.” Wicked placed a saw on Dante’s arm, and the droning of the chainsaw drowned Dante’s screamed, his eyes almost bulging out of its socket.

It was pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced, the saw tore through his flesh and bone as though they were as flimsy as paper. Dante was shaking and foaming at the mouth, his earlier bravado gone without a trace.

“I was beginning to think I’d lost my touch,” Wicked spoke, a resounding burst of laughter emerging from his lips. Then as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Dante could hear a ringing sound in his head, and the pain almost made him black out.

“Be glad that I did this instead of Number 9. She’s the worst you can ever encounter.” Wicked whispered into his ears. But Dante was past hearing, at that point. He was scared out of his mind and Wicked’s words made zero sense. But he held on to survival, even though his grip was slipping. There was so much happening, he couldn’t keep track.

“That’s enough, Number 7.” The strange man spoke in a tone that brokered no room for argument. Wicked stopped his assault on Dante soon after.

“You’re still with us?” The strange man asked, his voice full of concern. Dante was thoroughly confused. There was no precedence as to why he was being treated cruelly one second, and spoken to kindly, the next. He’d successfully bitten off more than he could chew.

Dante nodded in the affirmative, since his eyes were still shut and his body was strapped to a bed. He couldn’t move at will. He was at the mercy of whoever was pulling the strings behind this whole ordeal. And he wanted out. But, there was no way to say it, not without facing the consequences of his stupidity.

“Staunch the blood flow, or he’d be useless to us,” the strange man commanded and Wicked did as he bid. Dante was almost past the point of no return, but he was clinging on to life with fingers of steel.

“Truly admirable. You’ve come farther than most people ever have. Do you have any idea what is happening to you, currently?” The man asked. Dante nodded in the negative.

“Just as well. Magic has evolved in leaps and bounds, we’ve passed the point where we fear our gods. Even though we should. The gods are more powerful, for now. But technology… it’s an emerging concept. A lot of people wanted it, not enough were willing to enhance it. The age of magic continued. I’m here to put a stop to that. To create the perfect life form, without help from magic. To create a new god. And that’s why I need you. Survive. Whatever happens after this, do your best to survive. Show me who you are. Find me.”

Dante understood nothing that the man was talking about. It was all gibberish, another fanatic trying to create a god. Thankfully, Dante felt the anesthesia washing over him. He had no idea when he was injected in the first place.

“You’re young, but young doesn’t always equal inexperienced. Foster the hate in your heart against this cruel world, and come find me when your gate is at its pinnacle. You’ll be a worthy toy then.” The man laughed, and said as a parting word, “I am Zero.”

This time when Dante screamed, it was a merger of his pain, rage, hatred and the anger at a man who tossed his life for the sake of curiosity and boredom.

The world explodes in his vision and one thought remained; Kill Zero.

~~

Dante opened his eyes to see himself in an unfamiliar terrain. There were discarded pieces of old tech piled to high heaven, and what seemed to be… people?

What the hell?

“Relax. They tossed you too.” He heard a voice and turned a full 180° to see a boy about his age, with a gaunt face, and ribs showing. It was malnutrition on the scale of nothing Dante had ever seen before.

“How are you still alive?” Dante blurted out, shocked beyond comprehension. There had to be an explanation to everything.

“Am I? I look alive? That’s a new one,” the new arrival spoke, his body racked with cough. Dante tried to help, but his body felt alien.

“Don’t look down!” The boy chided, raising his voice in alarm. But he was too late, Dante already did.

His body was unrecognizable. There were patches of infected skin and where his arms used to be, prosthetic arms that seemed haphazardly thrown together, were.

“What does this mean? Who am I?” Dante stumbled back and he heard a pouch crunching sound. He slowly turned to see what he stepped on, and an eyeball rolled out in front of him. He looked again and his legs crushed what seemed to be brain matter, the girl at his feet deader than a doornail.

Fucking hell.

He vomited all over the stationary figure, unable to believe what he was witnessing.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you. That was Liz. She just died, apparently. My name is Alan. Welcome to your new hell.” The boy stretched forth his hand and Dante went on his knees.

A couple gold coins spilled out from a pouch hidden in his breast pocket. He stared at it, and then began to laugh. He laughed and laughed.

This was hell. And he was past the point of no return.