The Diary of the Wasteland Bear God: The Devil May QQ

This time, we are looking in on Dante, son of The Wasteland Bear God, Sincados. Dante has been led to believe that his father is a deadbeat dad, and left him and his mother behind, so that the evil Black Council could do bad wrong things to them. It’s not true, all of it. The guy got screwed over with time stasis and shit, power robbed, and so on.

So, this is Dante, heir to the throne, badass extraordinaire, and “he who has magnificent hair.”

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Dante hurried with his ritual set up. He did a final once over of making sure that the candles, tome passages, blood seals, that everything was just right.

He flipped a few pages in a small black book he had retrieved from his knapsack. “All I need now is a sacrifice.”

He looked around the room where there were no other souls visible. He let out a sigh. He felt a sensation, though, a heightened sense if you will, that something—or rather someone was approaching. He hid behind the door and cloaked himself, invisible to the naked eye.

Outside, a sizeable group of raiders and their mutant hounds came on the grounds of Dante’s makeshift home.

“He’s been through here. I know it.” The lead Raider sniffed the air. “Search the area, fan out and kill on sight! We don’t want our precious bounty getting away.”

Great, this is exactly what I needed. Dante grinned to himself.

He clenched his dual pistols tight and slowly made way towards the window that led outside. If I can get to a better vantage point, I can get this over quick, start the ritual, and find mom.

“Dante, just hurry up already. Go out guns blazing!” A voice boomed overhead and rattled off like thunder.

What the hell was that?! Dante pressed his hands to his ears, grimacing through the pain.

“What the hell is that!? Who was that?!” The Raiders yelled to one another in confusion.

Dante seized the moment and began his attack. One by one, two by two, the Raiders began to drop like flies.

Stylish! Nice! Yeah! Boom, headshot!

Who the fuck is in my head talking!? Dante wondered.

Oh, just call me the Maker. You know, the guy that created all of civilization (that is in ruins, but hey!), you, your mom, your father.

Do not speak of my father! That traitor left us behind. He left us to be experimented on by the Black Council. 

As Dante killed more Raiders and their hounds, the Maker continued to tell him the tale and also said that he, Dante, didn’t even know how father.

Hell, boy, he didn’t even know you existed until I told your Uncle Rubricon. 

Shut up! I don’t care who you are. You do not speak of them! They left us; they abandoned us to the Council, and because of them. . .

Dante had nearly killed all of the Raiders except for two, which were in cover, waiting. He fell to his knees, his cloak coming off, revealing his location. The Raiders took note and readied their attack.

“They did horrible things to her. What, am I supposed to believe that he’ll just show up and be like, ‘Dante! I am sorry. Please forgive me, blah blah blah,’ bullshit? No! Mom’s missing, somewhere, and could be dead. This ritual is the only way I have of finding her, and I’ll be damned if I let some voice in my head, let alone some supposed ‘father’ or ‘uncle’ of mine change my way.”

The Raider held a pipe-pistol to the back of Dante’s head. “Hands up, boy.”

“Go ahead, do it, get it over with,” Dante said.

“Not until I’ve had my fun.” The Raider started fumbling with his belt buckle while the other held Dante at gunpoint. “Open up and say ‘ah,’ bitch!”

Dante started laughing hysterically. “Listen, needle-dick; I may have had a moment of weakness, but I am by all means not helpless.”

The Raider was clearly not amused and grabbed Dante by his hair. “What was that you little shit?! You’re gonna take this dick in your mouth, and you’re gonna start sucking for forgiveness, and let me tell you, boy, forgiveness ain’t gonna come for a long, long time!”

“How about you suck your own dick?” In a swift motion, Dante grabbed his knife and sliced the Raider’s penis off, grabbed it and shoved it in the Raider’s mouth. “Make sure you swallow! Or don’t choke on it for all I care!” He punched the Raider in the throat, leaving him to fall to the ground bleeding and choking to death.

“Argh, you son of a bitch!” The last Raider yelled as he fired his assault rifle at Dante.

“Ah ah ah, I need you alive.” Dante maneuvered with grace and agility, slicing the Raider’s tendons, leaving him helpless, and screaming incessantly.

Can you at least shut him up?

Fuck you.

Dante could hear a groan of disappointment. After the battle had been won, Dante dragged the screaming Raider back to the makeshift altar. “Actually, he was right; you do need to shut the hell up.”

“He’ll come for you, and when he does, when he does, he’ll kill you!” The Raider screamed.

“Oh, really? Who?” Dante replied.

“Zodiac, he’ll be your end, the end of all of you!” The Raider screamed, spewing blood with each word.

Dante readied his prisoner for death, standing behind him, his knife on his throat.

“Well, I doubt he’ll be as annoying as you,” Dante replied as he slit the Raider’s throat, wide and deep, upon the altar.

He spoke an incantation aloud. The candles flickered wildly, and there escaped a guttural growl from the shell of a man in front of him. The Raider’s body floated in the air and began to snap, pop, and regurgitate blood and black ooze. A bloody arch formed and flowed from the man—a portal.

Did I do it right? Dante wondered.

You fucked up. You. Have. Fucked. Up.

A pair of sickly glowing green eyes peered back from the bloody portal. “Foolish, child. You thought you could find your precious mother? You have found death itself instead. Let me reunite you with your pathetic family!”

Red monstrous hands reached out from the portal, clinging to its sides. Dante grabbed his tomes and knapsack and fled outside. He watched in horror as the hellspawn was unleashed upon the Wasteland.

What have I done?

I told you already, kid. You fucked up.

There before him stood a monster from the fiery depths of Hell. He was several stories tall. His red skin seethed rage, fire, death, and despair. He had four horns that were bent, crooked, and were extremely sharp. His teeth were so sharp; they could probably open a can of soup with precision. Though, it was also questionable, since he had…breasts? Really? Oh, come on, he’s got a freakin’ hourglass figure too?! Are we sure it was a he? Design team? Hello? Ugh, whatever.

“I am free, at last, free from my prison!” It bellowed.

“Yeah, OK, I fucked up,” Dante sighed.

 

The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God is an ongoing A.B.Normal Publishing exclusive story by Robert J. S. T. McCartney. Check here for more posts!

Author: Sincados

Writer, gamer, foodie, brew enthusiast, and awesome dad. Also likes to make explosions...but not in any particular order.

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