Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Ghosts of Czarnia

Story and Cover by evolution-500

Disclaimer: Lobo is a character belonging to DC Comics.

WARNING: This story contains violence, coarse language, dark, mature and disturbing themes and imagery. Reader discretion is advised.

"The Man In Red"

"The pain we inflict upon ourselves hurt most of all."
― Sophocles, "Oedipus Rex"

"Target located."

The figure sat unmoving in the pilot seat, his form veiled in shadow, his blood-red, featureless eyes glowing in the dimly lit cockpit.

"Are you certain?" he questioned, his voice a rich, dusky tenor.

"Satellites orbiting around Arias I, Barsoom, and the moons of Orion V have picked up his signal,"the AI answered in a flat neutral voice. "We have one hundred percent visual confirmation."

Strong, black taloned hands with black fingerless gloves twitched.

"Show me."

Green light poured into the cockpit as the old DOS-styled monitor flared on, the digitized grid replaced by a still image of a pale man in a black vest and jeans riding on a flying, rocket-powered motorcycle, causing the figure in the pilot's seat to cease breathing.

Leaning forward, he stared into the monitor.

"I'll be damned. So... there is another." Reclining back into his seat, he raised a hand to his chin, tilting his head in thought. "Interesting."

Taking in a sharp intake of air, he let out a deep, rumbling full-chested growl as he narrowed his eyes.

"How long ago was this?" he demanded.

"The image has been taken fifteen minutes ago."

Filmy nictitating membranes flared, slipping over the eyes before quickly withdrawing back into the socket as the pilot leaned forward with predatory intent, his pale mouth slowly etching itself into a hungry smile, revealing sharp fangs and teeth on his upper and lower jaw, his short yet thick black mane of hair bristling.

"Have you managed to lock onto his ion trail and coordinates?"

"Locked on and waiting for further orders."

His smile grew.

"Excellent." Grabbing hold of the joystick, he settled back into his seat, his glowing red eyes mere slits. "I think it's about time we met face to face."

Sharp teeth gleamed in the darkness. "It has been a very long time coming."

Stars glistened lifelessly like frozen and painted tears while asteroids hurled limply past.

His ship, a vehicle with a long, thin nose and frame that was bordered by a pair of sickle-like wings, cut a swath through dust clouds floating around in space, its engines rumbling silently as it continued forward through green and black nebulas.

Flying through the charred and crumbling remains of various massive cruisers, shuttles and ships, he watched the bodies of various crew members as they swirled around him, scanning his surroundings with cold distrustful eyes.

Another corporate skirmish, he surmised, based on the burnt out company logos and uniforms on the ruined freighters and bodies. Probably from Helios VIII. From the look of things, nobody had won, as per usual.

He squinted left, then right, eying everything in suspicion.

"Scan the area," he ordered.

He watched as the DOS-styled monitors lit up, lining and marking the various broken hulls and bodies with green grids.

"No life signs detected."

He narrowed his eyes into a squint, staring out through the window of the cockpit, his gloved taloned hand reaching for the holstered weapon he kept on his hip. Although life signs hadn't been detected, he would be a fool to let his guard down around these parts; it was common practice for pirates and thieves to lay in wait somewhere on the battlefield to ambush the unsuspecting, whether it were to hijack ships, steal equipment or credits, etc.

He studied the bodies as they swirled around his ship.

A vast array of species, ranging from the mammalian, avian and reptilian to the more multilimbed cephalopods, the cadavers - well, what had been left of them - were all artfully poised above the asteroid field, their spilled blood forming multicolored frozen crystals that glinted in the light of the sun. Taken together, it looked like a sort of grisly fresco of decapitated torsos, limbs, organs, detached jaws, beaks, eyes and heads, their faces locked in varying and perpetual expressions of fear and agony.

Just like his homeworld all those years ago.

Bodies brushed against his ship while others bounced off and smashed into his sides, some reduced to icy crystal shards that stained the vessel's hull.

He snarled. He had just cleaned that.

"Farking terrific," he muttered.

Then again, he reflected, it was very apropos. Symbolic even. After all, hadn't he himself been baptized in blood and gore at a young age?

Leaning his head into the back of his seat, he glanced around at the ship graveyard.

How long had it been since Czarnia? How long had he been searching for another of his kind?

Outside, bodies and debris were pulled down into the planet's orbit. He watched as the bodies fell, their forms burning and crumbling into embers as they slowly receded, leaving behind nothing but a burning trail before ultimately disappearing altogether into the planet itself.

Talons tightened around the joystick.

Perhaps this was the universe's way of telling him that it was inevitable. If so, then he needed to lay claim to his destiny at long last, his birthright. His name.

And in order to do that, he needed to meet and kill the slimy bastard that stole it.

It had taken a great deal of time and patience to locate the target, far too long for his liking, but once the ion trail picked up, he was able to lock onto the vehicle's signal and track him to a bar.

The Steaming Load, as it were called, was a heap of garbage mounted on a sliver of moon that used to be a lunar mining colony, but government shutdown rendered it mostly inoperable. What existed now was nothing more than a pitiful excuse of a place, a shithole that had some notoriety for being a hangout for cutthroats, mercs and other disreputable figures.

He studied the structure.

The building itself was appalling, nothing more than scrap metal and organic material scavenged from dead ships, corpses, androids and whatever else the owners presumably found and welded together over the years, parts of its foundations exposed like bone from a rotting corpse. Even the pieces of metal looked like they were ready to fall off like dead skin.

A baby was writhing around in agony, its form bloated and swollen, its skin peeling.

Clutching hold of the controls, he closed his eyes and slowly took in deep breaths.

"Sir, I've detected a spike in your heart rate. Is everything alright?" the onboard computer asked.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head, exhaling with a rumbling growl.

"I'm fine." Opening his eyes, he turned his attention back to the bar. "Run a scan of the building. Check for heat signatures and cybernetic augments. I want a thorough analysis of this...facility's security."

He spat the last two words out with a mixture of contempt and disgust as he waited for the results, staring off to the stars, back to where Czarnia was.

He sighed as a feeling of melancholy came over him.

If Czarnia hadn't fallen, would things have been different?

He frowned.

What was the use in even contemplating?

Czarnia was dead - simple as that.

The judge and Kozar Prison authorities made it perfectly clear that he was to blame for its downfall, a fact that he himself couldn't refute, no matter how hard he tried to.

Who was he to question?

All he had left was his name, and with it, its terrible power and reputation, the last connection he has to his people. With no other choice left, the only honorable thing he could do now was to take responsibility for his actions and reclaim that title once and for all, to commemorate and honor the memory of his fallen brothers, sisters and ancestors.

He will no longer be a Lupo, the Czarnian term meaning a man without a name, without worth.

He will be a Lobo.

A cruel smirk edged at the corner of the man in red's mouth.

Lobo. In his peoples' tongue, there was not one precise definition for it...at least, as he far as he were aware. It was a name of great and terrible power, so great that everyone seemed reluctant to use it themselves.

Nobody had ever explained why it were so in Czarnia when he had been a boy, and whenever the name had been brought up, it was spoken in hushed fearful tones, as if merely speaking the word would summon the wrath of their gods and ancestors. It was that tantalizing mystery that both frustrated and yet drew him.

Perhaps, he reflected, once he finally laid claim to the title he will finally understand what it was that his ancestors tried to hide at long last.

Then again, perhaps not.

He was aware of the word's meaning in the Khundian dialect, and as much as he despised that disgusting race and its customs, he had to admit that he liked the way it sounded.

He leaned back in his seat, his fanged teeth glinting as he recalled that particular phrase, his red eyes shining.

"He Who Devours Your Entrails And Thoroughly Enjoys It."

He had to admit, there was a certain atavistic and bestial charm that appealed to him.

And wholly appropriate, too, especially given how he himself had survived before being whisked away from the rotted remains of his homeworld.

Shaking his head slightly, the Czarnian let out a low rumbling chuckle.

Perhaps once this troublesome pest was dealt with, he could indulge alongside his precious Cave Bears and dolphins back at his base of operations in that particular act as a way of affirming his status to the universe, to his ancestors and the gods themselves.

If they were unwilling to offer any sign of absolution, if he were truly damned as he was led to believe, then he'll proceed forward into the blackest depths without protest.

After all, who was he to question his gods and ancestors?

The monitors pinged, drawing the man in red's attention. Scanners indicated the bar lacked even the most basic of security systems. Some rudimentary augments for communication purposes, with one or two concealed weapons in their arms. A few with optic lasers, but nothing majorly concerning. None of the species present were likely to possess any sort of telepathic abilities, which gave him some relief.

His lips curled in disgust.

Farking telepaths. There were few things he despised in the universe, and 'pathers were near the top of list. Every so often, some dumb motherfarker would decide to reach out and try to mind-grope. Not that he had to be worried - after all, he had thoroughly researched their various possible means of doing so, and as result, he had devised various means to avoid detection, perfecting his craft to the point that it was mere child's play. The only way into his mind, if any ever dared to, was if he would let them in willingly, and hoo boy, would they be in for one hell of a surprise upon entering! One peek, and they would regret it instantly.

He continued checking the readings. Not even a security android.

He scoffed in derision. What a joke. Still, he should be wary just the same. Even a dung heap like this can be dangerously deceptive, plus it was possible there may be the odd 'pather among them.

Landing his vehicle, the man in red carefully checked the gauge on the screen. He should have enough fuel cells for a week or two. Looking up, he scanned his surroundings, then froze as he saw the target's own - a black motorcycle with a skull placed right in front of the handlebars, with turbines and thrusters at the sides.

He coolly observed the model and make. A Spazfrag666, he reckoned, with some customized parts. Definitely Czarnian make.

Clawed fingers twitched with excitement.

He waited as the cargo bay door at the rear opened. Stepping out onto the white silvery surface, light gleaming off it, the man in red had to count himself fortunate that he were able to breathe without any sort of apparatus. Very few species such as his were able to breathe in such extreme and hostile conditions, especially in an open vacuum. Even fewer were just as adaptable.

Casting his red eyes to the vehicle while his own sealed shut behind him, the man in red curiously approached. Tilting his head, his nostrils flared as he picked up the "scent" of his target.

Got him.

Now that his aura has been locked on, there was no way the bastard was going to get away from him now.

Czarnians by their very nature were powerful empaths. An omnivorous race with very strong predatorial features, centuries of genetic engineering, spiritual practice, and planetary mining had made what were already impressive abilities even more formidable; a lone Czarnian can tear off limbs through a mere flick of its finger, rip through steel and titanium with the minimalist of efforts if it so desired. Not even the power of a Green Lantern ring would keep prey safe - once a Czarnian has their sights set on prey, nothing in the universe would stop them, with the possible exception of Darkseid.

He ran his tongue over his sharp fangs.

Now there's prey worth considering! There has to be some contract out there with that farker's name on it! After all, what self-respecting assassin wouldn't want to pursue such a tasty target? If he killed Darkseid, his name would be known across the universe.

He caught himself. Technically, it already was - the problem, however, was that someone was using his name for their own benefit.

Of course, that particular contract will have to wait until this farking imposter had been properly dealt with.

Clawed hands tightened into fists, his sharp teeth grinding angrily.

Time to rectify the situation.

Stepping out from the airlock, he scanned the room, scowling as he took in the foul smell.

The bar was dimly lit and completely stank, the air thick with the smells of its various patrons, humanoid and cephalopod alike, as they enjoyed their myriad distractions, be it drink, drugs, or mate.

Some of the oxygen and nitrogen filters weren't working properly based on the taste of the air, but there was a sufficient amount enough of both.

Some of the patrons were wearing rebreathers while others paid no heed as a couple of bouncers carried one passed-out customer in mining gear toward the air lock, dumping him outside as if he were garbage.

Hardly any of them possessed any sort of manners, with some spitting, snorting and vomiting where they ate, and some slurping up what had been regurgitated.

Some of the females were provocatively dressed, but the man in red paid no mind to them - he was too focused on locating his target, pushing quietly past in disinterest as the women tried catching his attention. One woman, a fuchsian humanoid with gills and scales, made the mistake of putting her hands on him, but one glare of warning from the assassin was enough to tell her and the others to back off, causing them to shrink away in fright.

Black talons flexed instinctively, ready to lash out in a moment's notice.

Grabbing hold of a pickpocket's hand as the person attempted to reach into the Czarnian's jacket, the assassin narrowed his eyes in his direction. The pickpocket, a small four-armed insectoid, struggled and winced at the pressure being applied to his captured limb.

The Czarnian gave him a cold stare.

"Attempting to steal from me?" The former said rhetorically. "Be thankful that I'm busy. You're not worth either my time or attention. Get lost."

Shoving him aside, the assassin watched as the pickpocket stumbled backward, massaging his sore wrist as he regained his balance.

"The next time you try, you're losing that arm," the red-jacketed figure promised.

He smirked as the pickpocket paled and backed away, watching him with fearful wide eyes before fleeing. The assassin shook his head. Another farking dead-end on the evolutionary map.

Squinting, he slowly moved from right to left, then suddenly froze.

Found you.

Sitting in front of the bar at a table with his back facing him was the imposter.

Even from his sitting down he could tell that the man was tall, a fully-grown eight or nine foot specimen with pointed ears and long filthy wild and unkempt black hair that stood up on end in various directions, some of it so dirty that it practically formed dreads in parts.

Taking a step toward the man, the Czarnian curled his lips in disgust the closer he got to him, taking in more of his appearance.

A monument to grime, slime, and other questionable substances on his person, the man's pale white skin had a thick layer of filth that slightly colored him grey. From what the man in red could see of his face, the imposter had rough hewn features with a long and thick aquiline nose that gave him an appearance similar to a tiger. Draped over his upper lip was a thick horseshoe mustache curled down to his stubbled chin.

The top half of his person was concealed in a black vest that had the words "Bite me, Fanboy" stencilled across the back in red, his muscled arms exposed for all to see, his legs clad in a pair of tight leather jeans.

Smoking a cigar, the man shifted in his seat as he raised up one booted foot up onto the table, his knees covered in skull-like decorations as he took a swig from a bottle and belched. One arm had chains wrapped around it, the chains connected to a hook that rested on the man's hip.

Black clawed hands twitched in anticipation as he stepped closer, one hand reaching for his holstered blaster.

His nose twitched.

Gods, empath or not, there was no way anyone would have not noticed this guy - he absolutely stank of various different odors, mainly booze, tobacco smoke and other things he didn't even want to think about.

When was the last time this asshole even bathed?!

If odor were a weapon, this disgusting farker would have killed everyone in the vicinity! It was a miracle nobody around here had noticed. Then again, given the state of this place and its occupants, he wasn't surprised that nobody had.

The man was seated beside a group of similarly dressed thugs, laughing.

"An' just as Wonder Broad latches onto me with her lasso of truth or whatever, I blurted out 'Nice tits, babe!' before punching her in the face!"

The men tossed their heads back in raucous laughter.

"You're the coolest, Lobo!" A yellow tentacled and similarly dressed thug to his right sighed. "That babe sounds hot."

The man grunted. "Hot as fuck, but man is she a prude."

"I bet you showed her your hook, right, Lobo?" A hammerheaded Carcharodon-like humanoid to his left grinned.

The imposter puffed on his cigar, meeting his associate's grin with one of his own. "They don't call me the Main Man for nothin'!"

Hearing that, the group hollered hysterically and whooped, clinking glasses, causing some of it to spill on the counter.

The Czarnian regarded them with loathing.

Disgusting creatures.

He now stood directly behind the man that stole his name.

"I'm looking for someone calling himself Lobo," he spoke.

The imposter leaned back in his chair, huffing out a plume of smoke. "Who wants to know?"

"...Lobo."

There came an awkward and stunned silence at the bar counter. Blinking for several moments, his hairless brows crinkling in confusion, Lobo turned around in his seat along with his associates to face the speaker, taking in his appearance.

Red and black seemed to be a consistent color for the figure. Dressed in a red leather zipped-up jacket with a flared up collar and V-neck, the man, or rather boy, was young, about eighteen, probably nineteen years old at best, his black jeans held up by a similarly colored belt, the buckle silver. Ebony clawed hands adorned in dark fingerless gloves hung down his sides, just barely within touching distance of the pair of holstered blasters resting on both sides of the youth's hips. His long legs clad in a pair of long, red, knee-high boots, the knees were protected by silver knee guards that had two pairs of straight lines punctuated by some slight inward eye-like grooves, making them resemble some abstract, barely finished construction of faces.

From his ghostly white skin, pointed ears, jet black hair and featureless red eyes, there was no mistaking what he was, especially with the black rocky/bony growth around his eyes and patches of dark scales marking parts of his cheeks and forehead like some sort of ornate tattoo, similar to his own.

He was tall, about six-two and weighed, based on Lobo's rough estimates, one hundred and eighty-five pounds.

A lean figure with broad shoulders and good muscle tone, the youth had a short, slicked back though voluminously thick and poofy black mane with a widow's peak, the hair especially so at the back and up top, forming a sort of dome shape. The sides, however, were thinner and cleaner looking with slight sideburns, while neatly tucked behind each pointed ear was a long, thin tendril of hair, framing his face in a way that made him look lupine.

Contrasting this was a perfectly proportionate though narrow and angular V-shaped face with sharply cut and full features despite his seeming so young.

A long, sharp and straight nose protruded outward, his raised cheekbones, high forehead, thin lips and strong pronounced jaw and chin giving him a sculpted and imperiously aristocratic look.

His eyes, however, were narrow, held in a tightly cold squint.

Studying him, the Main Man actually found himself physically reminded of a couple of actors from that two-bit planet Earth - a young Ted Danson with thick, 80s metal band/glam rock black hair and the cold squinty eyes of Clint Eastwood, the latter regarding Lobo himself with pure disdain.

Not that Lobo cared - after all, plenty of bastiches come after him every other day, and such was the life of being the best bounty hunter in the universe. Plenty of dipstick fraggers tried climbing their way to the top, especially new blood thinkin' they can take on the Main Man, and plenty ended up having a pleasant conversation with his meat hook.

This one won't be any different.

In fact, this ought to be interesting...

Sliding the nictitating membranes over his eyes, Lobo felt a feral grin forming as he puffed on his cigar.

"Well I'll be damned! Another Czarnian! And here I thought I fragged every last one," he scoffed, exhaling a thick plume of smoke in the youth's direction.

Pushing himself lazily off from his chair, the bounty hunter loomed over the small figure, his associates grinning, cackling and whispering to each other, some of them making bets.

Bar staff swallowed nervously as they watched the pair, the other customers murmuring amongst themselves, several of them backing away slowly toward the airlock or nearest exit, fearful of what was to come.

To Lobo's surprise, the youth was unperturbed, staring defiantly and coldly up at him with his narrow squinty eyes.

Ignoring him, Lobo turned his attention over to the jacket, giving it an appraising look.

The red jacket that the latter wore was in pristine condition, looking like it had been well cared for.

Silver vertebrate-like decorations lined the shoulders, each side possessing a sharply jagged fin-like piece that protruded upward and back. The sleeves and various other sections of the coat were marked with strange geometric designs mixed with some form of calligraphy that Lobo had trouble identifying, while silver ribbing lined the lower abdomen and chest. Taken together with the lush red color, the jacket almost looked like a freshly flayed and bloody hide.

Tilting his head at certain angles, Lobo thoughtfully regarded the piece of clothing, nodding in appreciation.

"Nice."

The youth said nothing, his eyes glowing.

Folding his arms together, Lobo smugly looked down at him, his cigar tucked between his sharp and yellow-stained teeth.

"Let me guess. You want revenge," he stated in a matter of fact manner.

The youth's response was a mere flexing of his taloned hands.

Lobo chuckled. "Ooh, my killin' senses are definitely tinglin'! You're just seethin' with rage, aren't ya, boy? You really do hate my guts!"

The Czarnian said nothing.

Angling his head, the bounty hunter looked down at the holstered weapons. Grabbing one, he held it up for examination. It was a silver pistol with a polymer frame grip, trigger guard and a long sliding barrel. The top section of the slide, however, was slightly stylized and raised in the middle, giving a sort of furrowed brow with a pair of glowing, squinting red eyes. Part of the slide extended straight to the back, making it look like it had pointed ears. Taken as a whole, it looked like a dog's head, with the barrel forming a sort of snout.

"RPTR-84 Jackals," Lobo nodded admiringly. "Military issue. My my my! It's been a while since I've seen those bad boys. Fun toys, that's fer sure! Customized, I'm guessing?"

The youth's stoic expression betrayed nothing.

Taking his cigar out from his mouth, a smirk started to crawl along Lobo's stubbled face as he sneered, a plume of smoke releasing through his teeth. "I bet they'd look better on me along with that jacket."

A snarl started to form on the Czarnian's mouth as he quickly snatched back the pistol from his fingers.

"Haven't you taken, enough, imposter?" He said in a low, pointed voice.

Lobo blinked, puzzled. "Huh? What are you talkin' about?"

The youth regarded him coolly.

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," he began, "but taking another's name and reputation? That's downright rude." His eyes narrowed pointedly. "Offensive, even."

One of the guys at the bar, a minotaur with a ring through his nose, stared.

"Wait a minute," he said slowly, his eyes widening, "you mean...you're-"

Lobo watched as the youth's mouth curled into a hideous, hungry and predatory smile.

The bar was quiet.

Moments later, Lobo let out a boisterous laugh alongside his buddies as he doubled over and stumbled to the bar, clutching his chest, the other patrons chuckling nervously. A few were exiting one by one, hoping to escape the inevitable destruction that followed. The Czarnian himself didn't react at all; he just patiently waited until it all died down.

Straightening himself up, Lobo wiped his eyes.

"Ah, Feetal's Gizz, I've never laughed so hard in my life!" He chuckled. Taking in a deep breath, the bounty hunter looked back to the youth. "Yer funny."

A muscled thug with purple skin and a mohawk-like fin on the top of his head, Jo, stepped forward from the bar, sneering at the Czarnian. "This here establishment is for men, brat! Why don't ya run along and go back ta school?"

The man in red said nothing, his red eyes coolly watching him.

Lobo watched as Jo stopped just right in front of the figure.

"You deaf, freak? I said-"

Slowly lifting up his hand, the man in red reached out and gently grasped Jo's neck, causing him to sputter, gasp and choke. He didn't regard Jo with anger, nor was he smiling. He wasn't in a bestial frenzy, savoring the kill. Instead, the youth just had a bored expression on his face, regarding Jo with the detached interest of a physician. Five seconds later, he pulled his hand away, the purple man collapsing in a lifeless heap as startled cries filled the bar.

Lobo stared down at his drinking companion, then casually shrugged.

"Oh well, I couldn't stand him anyway."

"He's still alive," the man in red replied, brushing his hand against his coat.

Lobo raised a scaly brow. "Huh?"

"I prefer not to waste my talents. And besides," he replied, "he's not my target." For emphasis, he looked straight in his direction, "You are."

Straightening himself up, Lobo started to crack his knuckles, giving a vicious, challenging grin.

"Izzatafact?" The Main Man sneered, his face darkening considerably.

Lobo's drinking buddies exchanged nervous glances, some of them sweating.

"Ah, listen, fellas," one of them began, "we see that you guys are busy. The boys and I just remembered we have somethin' to do for the Citadel, so we're just gonna head out-"

"Nobody's goin' anywhere," Lobo puffed on his cigar.

One of the thugs hesitated. "But boss-"

"Sit down."

Swallowing, the men slowly obeyed.

The man in red watched him.

"So," he started, "how do you wanna do this?"

Chomping on his cigar, Lobo ate it whole, the cigar sizzling on his tongue as a plume of smoke escaped from between his sharp, yellow-stained teeth, exhaling out from his nostrils as his grin maniacally grew wider.

"How about with me SMEARIN' YA TA PASTE?!"

No sooner had the words left the Czarnian's mouth when he suddenly drew out a large machine gun and opened fired, forcing the man in red to dodge out of the way as the bar erupted into chaos. Patrons ran screaming in all directions, some of them caught and torn apart by the torrent of bullets thrown erratically around as the imposter guffawed at the mayhem.

The young assassin snarled as he exchanged fire with his Jackals, setting them to burst mode as he rolled along the floor beneath the tables and chairs, avoiding the target's shots.

The bastard was farking reckless as hell. He had been caught completely off-guard by the total disregard the man had for both his surroundings and the people around them. He had been so sure that they would have taken it outside, to some other planet or moon, and it was only through sheer luck that he had avoided getting hit.

The assassin's Jackals sang a three burst note as they rang throughout the bar.

BARACK! BARACK! BARACK!

Somersaulting up in the air in an arc from the floor, his boots connected with the imposter's head, causing him to discharge his weapon at a weak section of wall that eventually gave way. Customers and staff screamed as they were sucked into the cold vacuum of space, and with them the struggling Czarnians as they fought and clawed for dominance.

'Goat-farker is a good fighter, I'll give him that,' the man in red thought.

Twirling through the black void, the two danced in a violent exchange of blows, each one trying to overpower the other. Each one sought to find an opening and dominate the other side. Some blows made their way through, others deflected. Punching the imposter through the hull of an abandoned ship, Lupo drew up a sleeve and pressed a button on his gauntlet, summoning his ship just as the bastard summoned his own vehicle with a whistle.

Sliding into the cockpit, he belted himself up just as the imposter settled onto his motorcycle and pulled out his hook.

"Ya wanna party?!" The opponent sneered as he swung the hook and chain wildly around overhead.

The assassin growled. "Let's rumble."

Pursuing each other across the stars, the Czarnians blasted at each other, each side shifting in their roles from predator to prey in mere moments. And thus began the battle of battles, with an unsuspecting universe caught in the middle.

From the yellow surface of Kalibak, a penal colony run by the cruelest of despots, slavers mercilessly whipped and beaten their charges, forcing them to mine caverns of crystal, gold, plasma and other valuable, often irradiated materials.

One of the corrections officers paused to take a sip from a pool of mercury before finding himself staring up at the three sun-lined sky. One by one, the inhabitants of Kalibak followed his gaze, and beheld terror; two pale demons relentlessly hunted after one another, clashing violently, their blows sending shockwaves, lasers, bullets and missiles raining down, crippling entire cities, factories and temples, causing panic and confusion among them all. Convicts were eviscerated as a wild flailing chain and hook tore them apart.

On the desolate, dead world of Hades II, where volcanoes erupted and overflowed with lava, the skies red and orange with ash and flickering embers, and islands of stone floated freely in zero gravity, the hunters battled. On its blackened and scorched surface, through the floating buttresses of mausoleum ships, their clashes sent molten rock in all directions as they battled for dominance, the two tearing through anyone and anything in their path, including each other. Flesh, clothing, body parts, blood and metal flaked from the skies, snowing down as quickly as they healed, each piece dissolving into the lava as both opponents moved on, taking their fight elsewhere.

Warp driving into another plane of reality, the Czarnians continued to fight on, paying no heed to the dark and mist-covered world that they were in, the titanic, crystalline Non-Euclidean-styled temples surrounding them, nor the various dark gods, horrifying Elder things and other nameless horrors that lurked and watched.

To any mortal, the conflict would be considered magnificent, but to the Old Ones, they regarded the conflict with only the slightest of interest, then turned away, ignoring them as if they were mere flies as they warp drove out from their world.

Lightning crashed through the clouded indigo skies of Odin-IX and crackled, sending sprawling arcs of blue, green and violet arcs of electricity as the Czarnians battled with one another like war gods made flesh.

Lifting out from the planet, the two continued in their relentless pursuit throughout the stars, cutting a bloody swath through space, time and dimensions, with various space vessels, planets, planetoids, moons, asteroid fields and pods of giant space squid decimated. Through fire, rock, ice, flesh, metal, acid and radiation, the Czarnians raged on uninterrupted, going on for hours, days and weeks before gaining the ire of a massive golden three-headed dragon that destroyed their vehicles as it passed, sending them spiralling through space.

Spinning through the cold void, the two exchanged blows, neither one relenting as they crashed through long-abandoned shipwrecks, passing asteroids, satellites and ships before finding themselves hurtling down into planetary orbit, the two catching fire as they fell.

From the planet's surface, a four-eyed, partially scaled green wolf stared up into the mauvish-crimson sky as a fireball soared down and exploded against the ground, driving the animal away in fright, the newly-formed crater smoking, the air still. A few minutes later, loud groans broke through the silence, as a singular being crawled its way up.

The assassin grunted as he opened his eyes. From the singed flesh to the aching in his bones, every part of him hurt, although it lasted for only a moment.

Thank the gods for Czarnian regeneration.

"You still alive, imposter?" The assassin called.

A second groan answered.

"Frag, what a fucking ride."

The assassin looked around. The voice sounded close, very close, but he couldn't spot the other Czarnian in the crater.

"The hell?" He said aloud. "Where are you?"

"Wha? What are ya, blind? I'm here, ya dumb bastich."

He felt something scratch at his back and flinched.

"What the fark!" The assassin yelled, startled.

"What? I'm just scratching my chest!"

"My ass! You were scratching my back!"

"Huh? What are you-?"

The assassin felt something shift within him.

"Hey, uh, something feels odd," the other Czarnian spoke.

"What are you talking about?" The assassin demanded impatiently.

"Uh...something doesn't feel right."

His flesh squirmed, as if it had a mind of its own.

'He's right,' the assassin suddenly realized.

Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

It was then that he became aware of something; he felt thicker.

Heavier.

And aroused, which was impossible, since glancing down at himself he wasn't erect. So why-?

The young assassin's ruby eyes widened.

Oh ancestors no!

Looking over his shoulder, the assassin found himself face-to-face with the other Czarnian and discovered the awful truth - the two have become fused together by the spine, forming a sort of conjoined twin.

"By the gods, NO!" The assassin yelled in horror.

The green wolf watched as the bizarre entity stepped out from the crater, screaming. Completely nude, two pasty white bodies were fused together into an ugly Czarnian spidery mess, with various limbs twisted, gnarled and twitching as it struggled for balance.

"What the fuck?! Are you kidding me?!" Lobo said aghast.

"The heat must have fused us together."

"No shit!" Lobo retorted. "How do we get out of this?!"

"Let me think!" The other Czarnian said.

Lobo scratched his crotch, causing the other side to growl.

"Stop that! I can you feel you doing that!"

The conjoined twins twitched and pulsated. Looking down, the Czarnians paused as they spotted a collection of sharpened obsidian stones.

Lobo grinned. "You thinkin' what I am thinkin'?"

The other Czarnian nodded. "I think we're on the same page."

The mass struggled as one side leaned down to pick up one of the stones.

"Bend over more!" The assassin said with gritted teeth.

"The Main Man bends over for nobody!"

"Do you want to free yourself, or do you want to be stuck like this for the rest of your days?" the assassin said in exasperation.

Lobo sighed, relenting.

"On three," the assassin began. "One, two, three."

The mass twisted itself down, the pair letting out groans of pain. Picking up one of the sharpened stones, the Czarnian brought up close to their conjoined shoulders, the sharpened edge directly aimed at their flesh.

"Okay, this is going to hurt a hell of a lot," he began.

"Just get it over with already!"

The assassin exhaled. "Okay. Here goes."

Slamming down as hard as he could, the Czarnian repressed the urge to yell as the bladed edge cut into their joined flesh.

"FEETAL'S GIZZARD!" Lobo yelled.

The young assassin bit his lip, tears staining his eyes as he drove the sharp stone over and over into their joined flesh.

The Czarnian mass convulsed and flailed with each blow struck, with one side sporting a massive erection.

The assassin glared over his shoulder. "Really?! You're getting a hard-on from this?!"

"Just shut up and keep cuttin'!" Lobo panted, whether from exhaustion or arousal, the assassin didn't want to know, nor did he care. The sooner he got away from this freak, the sooner they can finish what they've started. He slammed the sharpened edge into their merged flesh, though every so often he would alternate between violently jabbing down and sawing, which was just as painful.

Several sharp cuts and slices later, part of their torsos were free, although the two unfortunate Czarnians were still joined by the hip.

"Okay," the assassin swallowed. "That's one side down. Time for the other."

Several hours passed, followed by nonstop screaming.

Tossing another dull stone aside, the Czarnians struggled, their backsides still bound.

"Okay," the young assassin panted, wiping his forehead. "Now we got the other side. You pull yourself one way, I'll pull in the opposite direction."

The two Czarnians leaned forward, straining with everything they've got as their flesh tore, rocking themselves back and forth in order to tear more of their flesh away. With every tear in their flesh came more screams, and with every tear they were able to move an inch at a time. Grabbing some more sharp rocks, the duo continued chipping away and continued rocking back and forth.

The process took five hours to finish.

Pulling away with all their might, the Czarnians let out a final scream as their flesh gave way. Laying opposite one another, the duo panted heavily from exhaustion.

Lobo lay flat on his stomach, his back feeling as if it had been flayed from his spine.

Frag, this was a hell of an experience.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up. The last thing he saw was the other Czarnian as he slammed a very large rock into the side of his head, followed by darkness.

When Lobo awoke, the first thing he heard was an echoing drip and waves crashing down. Opening his eyes with a groan, he winced at the light and tried to move.

"What the frag?"

He was lying on his back on some sort of gurney or operating table, his arms and legs bound by thick chains.

Least the bastich had the fuckin' courtesy to let him wear pants. Even was nice enough to get him cleaned up.

Looking up, he found himself in some sort of massive cave, with vine-covered walls marked with hieroglyphs and overhanging stalactites on the ceiling, the entrance concealed by a heavy waterfall that ran down from an overhang. Lobo saw massive humanoid faces with blank eyes carved into the walls, with bits of vegetation clinging on and flowing down from the sides of their heads like locks of hair, staring at him. Holding the ceiling up at the entrance in a kneeling position was a massive statue of an octopus-faced figure with beady emerald eyes, its muscular, titanic stone arms and torso marked with runic symbols while water ran freely down its massive, ivy-clad back.

Turning his head, Lobo found himself on a raised platform and saw a majestic, though derelict city built into the back of the cave itself, its various buildings, spires, buttresses and temples standing erect and partially dilapidated. What must have been majestic roads were now flooded with water, forming even smaller waterfalls which, in turn, formed a shallow pool by the cave's center, close to the entrance, with some of the water pouring down into a black chasm.

Several buildings were preserved along with various bridges and raised platforms, each of the latter occupied by an array of different vehicles, including his bike.

Snorting loudly, Lobo cleared his throat, then spat onto the floor beside him.

Looks like he found his ticket outta here.

Something stirred and growled.

Turning his head to the left hand corner, Lobo saw something move in the shadows. Six tiny red dots gleamed, staring in his direction. Stepping into the light, the thing edged closer, its mass jiggling with each step. Roughly eight feet high, nine or ten feet long and five feet wide, the animal appeared to be some sort of large bear with long shaggy fur that was a creamy alabaster in color, although a very strange one; unlike a normal bear, it had six beady red eyes dotting its high forehead, while on its back and parts of its broad shoulders was a thick, black and shiny beetle-like carapace. Opening its mouth, Lobo saw long, sharp, finger-like teeth with exposed gums that were covered in saliva, the animal letting out a low growl as it slowly approached. The Czarnian bared his fangs and narrowed his eyes back.

"What are ya lookin' at?!" He growled.

"Ah! You're awake."

Hearing the familiar voice, Lobo moved his eyes to his left, watching as his opponent approached fully dressed with more of those ugly animals by his side. Reaching out with one hand, the Czarnian gently petted the head of a nearby beast, the creature purring contentedly in a low, rumbling growl.

"Has it been bothering you?" He asked with concern.

"Just about to," Lobo replied.

"I was talking to my Cave Bears," the man in red said as he scratched behind the ears of another. "Your presence seems to have greatly distressed them along with the other animals I keep under my care. My pods of astro-dolphins are especially fearful of you, it seems."

Lobo hesitated.

"You...have dolphins?" He said quietly.

"Indeed," the man in red answered, his eyes lovingly focused on his animals as he gently caressed, patted and scratched at them.

Lifting his eyes, Lobo looked around.

"Where are we?"

"Home," The other Czarnian said enigmatically.

Lobo frowned. "This doesn't look like Czarnia."

"That's because it isn't."

"So, if it's not Czarnia, then where the hell are we?"

The man in red smiled. "A good question. As far as I can tell, none of the maps in this part of the galaxy, hell universe, have ever discovered this world. I sometimes call it "Waterfall City", but as far as I know, it has no name." He chuckled. "In a way, it is very apropos. After all, I myself am unnamed, a Lupo, so what better place to call home than a world with no name?"

His caressing stopped.

"Of course, that may change." Turning his eyes back to Lobo, the man in red's eyes narrowed seriously. "Now that I managed to capture you, imposter, I can take back what is rightfully mine."

Lobo barked out a harsh laugh.

"BWAHAHAHA! You think you can be the Main Man?! You got some serious balls, kid, but you're nowhere in the same league as me!" He sneered.

The man in red stared at him for a moment.

"You're right," he said, his face forming into a sneer, matching Lobo's own. "I'm better."

Dropping the smile, Lobo's mouth curled into a snarl. "You fraggin' little shitstain! Who the fuck do you think you are?! What makes you think you can just waltz in and just take my name and rep?!"

"Because I earned it, cretin," The man in red snarled back in a low voice. "I earned it! While you were drinking and wasting away or whatever the hell it was you were doing, I MURDERED CZARNIA!"

Shouting the last part, his words echoed through the cave, startling purple bats as they screeched and fluttered away.

"Izzatafact?" Lobo said quietly. "And how did you do that, pray tell?"

Taking in a deep breath, the man in red neatened his hair and turned away, revealing more of his red jacket to Lobo.

On the back of his coat was an elaborate silver sculpture depicting a frightening tentacled face with emerald eyes, its silver tentacular "beard" forming the ribbings along the coat's side. The very same tentacled face as the massive statue in the cave itself. Lobo watched the young man as he stared into the black chasm below, watching the waterfall pour down into the vast gulf at the bottom.

"...I don't know where you were, nor do I know what you had been doing during the events of Czarnia," he began, "but at the time, our planet was undergoing a bit of a political revolution. People were protesting, you see, because they were dissatisfied with the system that our government had. People wanted to give their children names rather than have them labeled with serial numbers until they were of legal age. I was ten years old then - too young to be named at the time, but my parents wanted to take advantage of the situation and give me a legal name of my own as a birthday present."

The man in red shifted. "When the plague came to our world, however, our people were forced to hide in underground shelters. Hundreds of souls crammed together, with barely enough food, water, tools, supplies and space to support everyone. I was among those at the time. Barely even ten years old, dressed in my white junior cadet uniform. My parents...even though both were medical officers of some standing..."

He swallowed. "...The shelter didn't even have enough room for them. I was one of the few that managed to get in before it was sealed off."

Lobo clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Sounds like you were one of the lucky ones."

Tilting his head over in his direction, the other Czarnian arched a quizzical brow.

"'Lucky'?" He repeated, letting out a cold mirthless laugh. "I suppose that is one way of looking at things."

Raising his eyes to the ceiling, the other Czarnian sighed.

"...Nine weeks. Nine weeks was how long we had stayed down there for. By then, supplies were running out, and the lavatories had ceased working entirely, resulting in the air smelling like shit. It didn't help matters that the temperature control systems malfunctioned, and as a result, it was hellish. Either suffocating heat or freezing cold. Some were telling stories and singing to pass the time. A couple of us kids played while the adults did other things to keep themselves busy and from thinking about our predicament. We meditated, but over time, people were starting to crack."

Droplets echoed hollowly as the man in red sat still, as if reminiscing.

"Many were trying to use their communicators to reach someone, anyone, hoping someone would pick up, even the farking Lanterns," he said bitterly, "but in all that time, nobody answered. Many of us prayed. Many of us cried. Most of us were silent. Little by little, we were all breaking down. Some of us were starting to lose our minds, muttering to ourselves aloud. People got upset and fought for no reason other than irritability, stress and tiredness. A couple of people actually committed suicide, some doing it in masse. I remember..." he hesitated, "...I remember a mother had been lying there against a wall next to her three children. I went over to them, thinking at the time that they had been asleep. I was concerned, just because I had played with these same children earlier that day. When the daughter collapsed onto the floor..."

The man in red swallowed.

"As more people started to drop and our supplies dwindled, the more desperate we became. We had to micromanage every bit of food and water we had, even going so far as to drink our own piss. Some of us had to steal just so that we could live another hour, another day."

Lobo remained quiet, listening intently.

"And just when we thought things couldn't get any worse, it did. Some of the other people were so desperate they started to eat their own shit." The man in red shuddered. "I never did it, but seeing people that had...ugh!"

Shaking his head in disgust, he resumed, "Being stuck down there for weeks on end, where things continued to degrade, we all felt the walls closing in. Suffocating us. Eventually, one of the adults snapped and couldn't take it anymore. He was screaming about being trapped and wanted to get out. Everyone was trying to hold him back, but... it's amazing how desperation can drive a person forward. Once he pushed past and got the shutters..."

The man in red fell quiet.

Lobo whistled. "Damn," he muttered, then gave the other Czarnian a curious look. "How did you survive?"

The latter scoffed. "I don't know!" He admitted, shrugging. "Even after all these years, I still don't know how."

Raising his head to ceiling, he stared upward, exhaling. "When the doors opened, I was so sure I was going to end up like everyone else. Imagine my surprise when I found myself the only one standing." Lowering his eyes back to the chasm, he nodded to himself.

"All around me were the dead and dying, their forms bloated, swollen and pus-filled. The ones inside the shelter had died instantly due to asphyxiation. When I left the shelter...it...it was like a whole other world, like a nightmare. There were bodies all over the place. Crashed vehicles, burning and crumbling buildings. When I came out, it had been so eerily quiet. No talking, no screaming, no machinery...nothing." He spoke the last part quietly. "I wandered the streets, searching for my parents. I never did find them. There-there were so many bodies piled on top of each other, so many that were...unrecognizable. I kept wandering, too frightened to call out, too afraid to look away. I kept wandering until I heard crying. A baby's crying."

The man in red was still.

"...I followed the sound all the way back to its source, to some tight alley. When I found it...there wasn't anything I could do. I could tell from its jaundiced and bloated flesh that it was infected, that it was in pain. Every time it moved, every time it cried, it shrieked in agony. I...I thought that I could save it, so I tried picking up." The Czarnian shuddered. "It-it was crumbling to pieces in my hands! When its arm snapped off in my hand, I was screaming! The baby also screamed, but for entirely different reasons! It was writhing around crumbling in my hands, and I was yelling at it to stop! It didn't end there, oh no! It just screamed, even as it was falling apart! Even when it was in pieces it wouldn't stop! So, I grabbed a rock and smashed it over and over and over again. When it finally stopped, I was shaking so hard, so disgusted that I threw up."

He rubbed his red sleeve against his face.

"It was then that I heard a voice. Someone calling for help, just a few feet away, hidden behind a dumpster. When I was able to recover, I approached. It was a man, some sort of miner or engineer based on his uniform. He had a bunch of tools hanging off from his belt, including a pair of energy sickle picks for mining minerals."

He reached into his inner coat and pulled out a pair of exotic-looking, red-lined, crescent-shaped blades mounted on long thin handles with long whip-like cables at the end.

"These, in fact," the man in red said in a matter of fact tone as he eyed the blades in admiration. "Apparently, he had been trying to kill himself, but his flesh had become so necrotized that he couldn't even properly hold it. He begged me to kill him. I didn't want to do it, but his pleas were so incessant, so full of pain that..." He swallowed. "When I finished, I told him that I was sorry. I guess you could say that he was my first official kill. Second, if you were to count the baby."

Lobo remained quiet, absorbing everything that the Czarnian said.

"After that, my search of the streets became punctuated with meeting and killing an infected. It started off rough, with their begging for me to kill them, my begging them to not make me do it, our arguing, their screaming followed by my hacking at them, my apologies, and so on. Eventually my reluctance gave way. I became desensitized to the violence. It became a common pattern of finding food, going to the washroom, killing an infected, apologizing, read and search for some means of communication or rescue, some hint of life, then sleep, rinse and repeat. I lost count of how many I ended up slaughtering. Later, I ended up in some section of the downtown area where there was plenty of crying and moaning to go around. I discovered a transport full of infected children of all ages and sexes. They had all been calling for help, but when they saw me...well...let's just say that I had made an awful lot of apologies."

His eyes remained fixed on the glowing crescent blades in his hand.

"When I had moved on, I was completely numb. I wandered the streets, systematically killing anything and everything mechanically, despite the protests, despite their cries, their pleas for mercy. I was covered from head to foot in blood, pus, piss, vomit and shit, and I didn't stop. After a while, I stopped throwing up entirely. It were almost as if I had been automated. My body functioned, and yet my mind...it felt as if I were neither dead nor alive. I don't know how long I had been in that state for. I may have stopped occasionally to eat something or to relieve myself, but for the most part, it was just constant slaughter. One day, I had just finished killing an old woman when I heard a voice: 'Lobo...'

'Startled by the sound, I turned and found myself staring at another Czarnian! I couldn't believe it! She was a girl probably no more than fifteen, probably sixteen years of age, completely untouched by the disease. Short black hair, wide red eyes. A junior medical student, based on the green and white uniform. I remember smiling. Ancestors help me, I think I had been smiling! She, however, didn't smile; instead, she shrank away from me slowly, then quickly turned around and fled. I don't know why I followed after her. I think I said something like 'Wait!' followed by 'Don't run!'."

The Czarnian laughed dryly. "In retrospect, I must have been quite the sight! Ten years old, covered from head to toe in blood, smiling at her...I imagine she must have been absolutely terrified of me. No wonder why she had fled!"

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"I must have chased her through eight or nine blocks calling after her, but she was absolutely legging it, screaming all sorts of profanities at me, screaming for someone to help her. I had followed her into an alley when somebody answered her screams."

The man in red stared ahead.

"To this day, I could never figure out how the infected were able to move in such a state, but despite the excruciating pain they had all seemed to have been in, dozens rose up collectively and had attacked me, piling on top of me in order to save the girl. I tried explaining that it was all a mistake, but they were so driven by pain and madness, so full of anger that my pleas fell on deaf ears, resulting in them all piling on top of me, determined to crush me with their combined weight. There were so many bodies on top of me that it became impossible to tell which way was up, with pus, blood, piss and shit coming from all directions, in my face, hair, mouth..."

A disgusted shudder rippled through him. "I just flailed in every direction, hoping to hit whatever. I sliced, pushed, clawed and bit my way out, even with so many bloated, pus-filled rotting bodies pressed up against me, tearing through them all. When I finally got free, I emerged from the pile and wiped my eyes, then looked around. There were pieces of them scattered everywhere, the ground marked with a giant red pool. I heard something behind me. Not taking any chances, I whipped around and lashed out with my scythe, cutting down my would-be attacker."

He faltered. "...It was the girl. She had been trying to sneak up on me with a scalpel, but my scythe had buried itself deep into her neck before she could even finish.

'I remember staring at her in shock, horrified by what I had done. I told her that I was sorry. She coughed up blood, then shook her head at me, giving me a cold look. 'No...you're not.' With that last utterance, she fell. Sorry, not sorry...it didn't really matter in the end."

Lobo watched the Czarnian as he stood with his back facing him, then let out a whistle.

"Dang, man! Sounds like you had a hell of a trip!" He regarded him curiously. "How did you escape the planet?"

The man in red started to chuckle.

"I didn't!" He replied. "Some farking two-bit mining crew from Neptune just stopped by to refuel their skiff months later and had found the planet dead. When they found me, I had been eating the remains of a dog."

"And let me guess, they took you in, raised and fed you?"

The Czarnian barked out a harsh laugh.

"Ha! Not at all. Apparently, they saw it as an opportunity; with my being the last Czarnian, they figured that they might be able to earn some money from law enforcement for turning in the cold-blooded killer of his home planet. They radioed different penal colonies in the system, took me to each of them and waited for an offer for their 'bounty'. Between visits, they grilled me about what I had done. At first, I denied their claims that I had murdered my own people, and each time I had, the more my "rescuers" tortured me, calling me a 'liar', 'scumbag' and so on. Every time I protested, I was beaten. Every time I resisted, the more they sleep deprived me. Every time I maintained my innocence, the more they starved me. Despite it all, I had always said the same thing - 'I didn't do it'."

"So what made you decide to accept?" Lobo asked.

The man in red was still. At first glance, he seemed perfectly poised, but then his Cave Bears started to back fearfully away, as if detecting some invisible electrical field in the air itself. For a non-Czarnian, it could only be described as an oppressive feeling of dread, the sort of sensation that came when someone announced that a nuclear bomb was about to go off. Some of the animals whined and whimpered away, leaving the two Czarnians alone.

"...One of the men decided to bring a hooker onto the skiff," the man in red began, his nictitating membranes flaring. "She was a Venutian, a pretty thing in her twenties, with emerald skin and blue hair. Gemma, I think her name was. When they brought her onboard, they were seemingly affable, the ever-perfect gentlemen. When they brought her to see me...the charade dropped. They started to hurt her. They...they threatened to do...unspeakable things to her if I didn't-"

He fell silent.

"Damn, kid, that's rough," Lobo nodded.

"...Eventually, I just accepted what I had done," the man in red said. "I was sent to Kozar Prison for a time, then waited for my court hearing, where I was tried and found guilty after making my admission of guilt. I was then sent back to Kozar, where I was part of a chain gang before eventually being sold as a slave at some farking Khund-controlled slave settlement."

Turning his head, the Czarnian angrily spat onto the ground. "Farking Khunds. May their disgusting species be wiped out from existence." He lifted his head. "There, I saw them do all manner of debased things to adults and children. They didn't touch me, oh no! They knew I was a Czarnian, and since Czarnians can produce clones through each drop of blood spilled, they knew the danger I posed. Since I was a Czarnian, I could only be killed by another Czarnian or if I willed myself to die. Because I was a Czarnian, they knew about our people being powerful empaths, so they didn't need to lay a hand on me. Instead, those Khund bastards forced me to watch and experience what they did to their prisoners. Whatever horrors they inflicted on them, I felt it all."

Clawed hands tightened into fists, his hands shaking.

"One day," he said simply, "I just snapped. When I regained consciousness, the entire farking settlement was destroyed. All the Khunds were dead along with some of the prisoners. The few of the latter that survived were absolutely terrified of me. To this day, I still can't remember a damn thing that happened. I don't know if that's a blessing or not."

Inhaling, the assassin let out a deep, full-chested rumbling growl.

"So, when the next transport came, the farking Khunds recaptured and stored me in cryofreeze, but the ship transporting me, I later discovered, had ended up damaged by a meteor shower, resulting it in being lost in space for several centuries. That was, until it had crash-landed into this rock, thereby releasing me in the process. The life support system had long been inactive, but, being a Czarnian…" he gave a rueful smile, "... I ended up a sole survivor once again."

He placed a hand over his face and made a sound. At first, Lobo thought the other Czarnian was crying, making him scoff him in derision.

'Pussy,' came the thought.

The man in red's form shook, and suddenly Lobo began to realize his mistake as the youth let out a low chuckle, the sound growing. Dropping his hand away, the Czarnian tossed his head back and laughed even harder, the sound cold and cruel, catching Lobo by surprise.

Taking in a deep breath, the man in red continued, "From then on, I took the name Lobo as my own. The way I saw things, if I were indeed destined for hell, then who am I to question fate? So, I decided to pursue my path as an assassin. And I was good at it. Really good. It's not particularly difficult - after all, I came from a family of medical officers and had been trained in medicine. I knew the various ways in which a person could die, the ways in which muscles and organs can fail regardless of species. From the tiniest pressures to a vein or organ, I can have a person crumple lifeless in seconds. Even the tiniest little things can be fatal, as you and I both know from Czarnia. I targeted the wealthy, and the poor. The old, and the young. Male, and female. Whoever was willing to spend the money and/or met my criteria for a client, I took the job. Those that dared to cross me...well, you get the picture."

The man in red brushed a speck off from his jacket.

"One day," he continued, "while getting in contact with a client, he told me some rather interesting news. Imagine my surprise when I learned that I wasn't the only Czarnian in existence! Even more, this same Czarnian was using my name and my reputation, profiting from it! And now here we are, our meeting long overdue."

Turning around to face Lobo as he said those words, the man in red narrowed his eyes in a tight squint, the nictitating lens flaring.

"All I have left from Czarnia is my name," he said with trembling, barely contained ferocity, "the only connection I have to our people. It is my duty to take responsibility for my crimes, and to reclaim the title of Lobo once and for all, to commemorate and honor the memory of our ancestors. How dare you take that from me?! Who are you to come and steal what is rightfully mine?! It was MY rite, MY crime, not yours!"

Shouting the last part, the Czarnian took a dangerous step closer, his fists clenched so tightly that tendons and bones snapped and popped, his face formed into a snarl, his teeth bared. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes, slowing his breathing.

"You had no right," he said quietly. Looking up, he regarded the strapped down Czarnian before him. "Before I disembowel you, cretin...I will give you the chance to explain yourself. After all, since you are a brother, I owe you some...measure....of dignity. Now that you know my story, it's your turn, imposter. What is your story? How did you survive Czarnia?"

Lobo was still for a moment, then smiled. A moment later, he chuckled. The man in red watched in confusion as the strapped down Czarnian's chuckle grew into a full-blown howl of hilarity.

"BWAHAHAHAHA! Feetal's Gizzard, this is too funny! What a shithead! What a shithead rube you are!" the Main Man said, shaking his head in amusement.

The man in red remained quiet, patiently waiting.

"You really don't know," Lobo marveled. "You wanna know my story? Let me fill you in on a little secret - I fragged the planet myself."

The man in red scoffed. "And how did you do that, pray tell? Hot air and bullshit?"

Lobo grinned menacingly, his eyes and teeth glinting up at him. "I created the plague."

The Czarnian was still for a moment, then smirked.

"Ha!" He barked, then pointed to him, "You're good. Creative, I'll give you that. It never occurred to me to take credit for the plague-"

"I'm being serious, kid," Lobo interrupted. "I created a parasite, a winged scorpion-like microorganism with lethal stings. I designed it as a high school science project. Gave myself an A."

The man in red remained still.

"...Do you have any proof of this, or am I to rely on your word?"

Lobo growled. "You callin' the Main Man a liar?"

"Damn straight I am," the man in red replied.

The Main Man's face contorted in anger, his snarl growing.

"Fine," he said. "You want proof? I'll give ya proof. I made a graduation video of the whole thing. I keep a copy of it in my bike as a memento." Lobo smiled darkly. "I like to watch it sometimes and beat off."

Curling his mouth in disgust, the stranger turned away from the Czarnian over to the platform with the imposter's vehicle.

He was just about to head over when he paused.

"Well?" Lobo said expectantly.

The man in red smiled. "Clever. You almost had me there. Obviously you have your vehicle booby-trapped."

"Wha? Hell no, I love my bike! Besides..." Trailing off, the imposter whistled.

Looking back to the motorcycle, the two Czarnians waited. Nothing happened.

"What the frag?" Lobo muttered as he whistled several different tunes, waiting for a response.

Nothing.

"The hell?" Looking back to the man in red, Lobo narrowed his eyes accusatorily. "What did you do?!"

The Czarnian smiled.

"I took some precautions," he admitted. "I didn't want you to get any funny ideas upon waking up. It wasn't easy, but I did manage to rebuild most it from scrap alongside my android units. Dangerous stuff." He nodded admiringly. "Of course, I can't discount the possibility I may have missed something."

Lobo grunted. "Believe me, it ain't rigged with explosives. I love that bike too much to blow it up."

A wicked gleam and smirk appeared on his face.

"Besides...seeing your reaction to the video...it will be more than enough for me..." he added ominously. "I'm going to enjoy this!"

As the man in red studied the imposter's sneering features, a feeling of unease nestled into the pit of his stomach. Looking back to the parked bike, he turned his eyes back to the other Czarnian.

"Go on," the man grinned challengingly. "What are ya waitin' for?"

Clutching the handle of his scythe, he stepped toward, the weapon partially raised before suddenly stopping. Giving a curious glance over his shoulder, he regarded the motorcycle.

'...What are you listening to him for?' Part of him mentally berated. 'Get it over with and kill him already! Reclaim your birthright!'

Facing the imposter, the man in red raised his scythe, preparing himself for the final step.

….And yet...curiosity got the better of him.

Could it be possible...?

Lowering his arm with an annoyed growl, the man in red bared his teeth at the imposter.

"Congratulations, you bought yourself a second of life, imposter," he grunted. "If this turns out to be a waste of time, make no mistake - you will regret it."

Rather than feeling intimidated, the strapped down man chuckled.

"Ohh believe me, kid - this won't." He smiled a little too eagerly for his liking.

'He's bluffing,' the man in red thought.

Inside the farker must be scared stiff.

And yet...why couldn't he feel his fear? The only sensation the man in red felt from him was a warm, tingling anticipation with a tinge of dark, barely restrained amusement.

He's getting inside your head. The little shit is playing mind games with you and you're letting him get to you. Finish him off. Make him suffer, and get it over with. Reclaim your heritage and become the man you were destined to be!

Looking conflictedly between the parked vehicle and the strapped down Czarnian, the man in red closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose as growled out. Opening his eyes again, he refocused his attention on the bike. Approaching it, the man in red checked and felt around, stopping upon finding a latch. Pulling on it, he watched the back of the bike opened up, revealing various pornographic magazines, a pack of condoms, cigars and other questionable items before finding a black disc with a button in the center. Definitely Czarnian tech.

The feeling in his stomach started to grow.

Don't play it. He is distracting you. Use this time to finish him off. Turn back now! Whatever you do, don't-

Lights flickered as the hologram fluttered to life.

A younger version of the thug strapped to the table was staring back.

"Testing, testing! Is this fraggin' thing working?" he muttered. Once he was sure it was, the thug smirked. "Finally. Today's presentation will be one of a fraggin' kind. In fact, by the time it's finished, that is exactly what I will be! But first, we're gonna run a trial test, just to get things started."

Moving out from the camera's view, the scene shifted to an old man in a lab coat strapped to a table, his eyes soaked with tears as he squirmed, his cries muffled by a gag.

"Subject is nine thousand years old and is in really good health all things considering," the thug narrated as he raised up a needle with a yellow fluid. The assassin watched as the old man squirmed in fear, shaking and trembling as he looked at him with pleading eyes. As the needle sank straight into his flesh, the man cried out in muffled pain, his form starting to swell up like a balloon.

The assassin stared, his breath caught in his chest, his heart stopped.

Blisters appeared, the man practically screaming through the gag.

"Perfect!" The young voice said excitedly. "And now for the main event."

The scene shifted to a rooftop, where the thug was now releasing huge cannisters into the air, releasing an ominously thick, yellow cloud, laughing as if he were having the time of his life.

"Suck it, Czarnia!" He laughed. "Take it all in!"

He stared at the hologram, watching as Czarnians down below were running in all directions screaming. Those that didn't get away in time were writhing on the ground in agony.

He felt his clawed hands tremble as he took it all in, the memories of those horrible times coming back as if it were yesterday. He recognized the buildings, the streets. Even more, he remembered seeing the floating yellow cloud.

And that laugh...

He remembered how he and his parents had first heard the sound and how chilled they were. It was the sound of it that made them want to flee, to escape. It was an evil sound.

The young man on the screen roared with hilarity at the suffering down below, the sound rising higher and higher with elation.

Looking over his shoulder, the assassin stared in shock at the man strapped to the table, who now stared back with a smug, victorious grin.

"Y-You...?" He said in incredulity.

The man cackled in delight. "Yep. Me. Me, me, me."

Looking back to the hologram, he watched in horror as more started to unfold. The young man was actively hunting down and killing people left and right, torturing them. Doing unspeakably vile and disgusting acts that actually made the assassin shake with a mixture of fear, disgust, and - - most of all - - outrage. Anger.

Clenching his fist, the disc cracked and shattered, crumbling into a pile on the floor as the hologram faded.

"Hey! That was getting to the good part!"

Turning around, the man in red walked in a deliberately slow straight line toward him. There was no doubting it now - he was indeed Lobo. Lobo, the Scourge of the Cosmos. The monster that butchered his people and whose name he helped perpetuate.

Stopping just a foot away from the strapped down Czarnian, his fists trembling, his knuckles crackling, one word escaped the young assassin's lips. "...Why?"

Lobo's sneer grew. "Why not?"

"THEY WERE OUR PEOPLE!" He shouted in outrage.

"Yeah! So?"

"Why kill them?!"

"Because I could," Lobo said simply.

"THEY DID NOTHING WRONG!" The man in red screamed, his cries echoing.

"Haw!" Lobo snorted. "Course they didn't."

He leaned his head back, staring to the ceiling. "You wanna know what sucks about being a Czarnian? Ya can feel everything the other person does. Ya can't tell the difference between who felt what, let alone know if the sensations, emotions or whatever feeling of happiness yer feelin' at any given moment are even your own or somebody else's. Who'd have thought that the moons close to our home would have some unexplained, interconnected link with it on the quantum level, with space and time itself? Who'd have guessed that centuries of our people minin' moons would tap into that and result in our people developing empathic qualities on an unprecedented level? Feeling what everyone is feeling at the exact same time...it's oppressive. Ya feel trapped. You try to ignore it, but it's practically impossible. What sucks even more, though? Czarnians are fraggin' liars."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"The Czarnian government tried to censor me! ME! The Main Man! As if I were some dirty secret just because I refuse to be some goody-two shoes! Unlike those fucks, I'm honest about what I am - - a bastich! I love murder! I love the feel of warm blood dripping down my arm, the feel and sound of snapping tendons and bone. I love hearing peoples' screams and that wild look in their eye as they struggle, as their lives starts to fade." He closed his eyes, his face locked in that awful smile as if he were reliving the experience, licking his lips in ecstasy. "I love feeling what they feel during those moments. Every time somebody releases their last breath, every time their eyes glazes over, I'm able to feel more of myself! I feel free in a way I never imagined! It's those moments that make being a Czarnian bearable."

Opening his eyes, his demeanor changed, his eyes narrowed. "For thousands of years, our people were predators. Warriors. But then they decide that they couldn't handle the violence when we became empaths."

He scoffed.

"Fucking pussies," Lobo said with derision. "They'd been lying to themselves, believing themselves to be morally superior, wanting to be all "peaceful", "nice" and "respectable", creating some bullshit narrative about themselves. And those bastiches thought they could lock up the Main Man and hide me from Czarnia?! Fuck that! I'm a true Czarnian, dammit! Not those bastich pussies!"

"So that's what it's about?" The man in red retorted. "You're angry that Czarnia turned its back on its past?"

Lobo laughed.

"Haw! Hell no. I wish it were something noble or some shit like that, but what can I say? The truth is, I'm a simple guy with simple tastes. I am what I am, a killer," he replied. "Simple as that. Anything not a dolphin is meaningless."

The man in red stared, his mind shaken.

"But...but the judge-"

"Feetal's Gizz, you still on about that?!" Lobo swore. "You really don't get it, do ya?! The guy messed up! Who was the bozo that sentenced ya?"

The man in red scrunched up his brow, trying to remember.

"...Honorable High Lord Chancellor Mitchell," he answered.

"Mitchell?! HAW! The guy was corrupt as fuck!" Lobo laughed.

The man in red felt his mind reeling.

"If you-if you are Lobo...if you were responsible for Czarnia….then...that means-"

"That's right, kid," Lobo nodded. "You were innocent. Meaning that it's you that's the imposter. That it was you who has been profiting from my name."

Lobo's words struck him at his core, causing him to flinch. Grabbing onto a stone section of rail overlooking the chasm, he steadied himself, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Low blow, huh?" Lobo laughed at his own joke.

Staring dazedly into the chasm, the assassin felt his mind unravel, his form numb with horror.

"Hell of a shock, I know. Now, will you get me out of this?"

Looking up dumbly, the man in red stumbled toward the table, unlatching the Czarnian. Part of him wanted to stop himself, but the shock was such that his mind was still struggling to catch up. When he finally realized what he had done, it was too late - the beast had been unchained.

Pushing himself off the table, Lobo stretched and cracked his neck before turning to face him.

"Finally."

Taking out the pistol from his holster, the man in red collapsed down onto his knees, holding it out in offering.

"Do it," he said flatly. "Finish me."

Snatching the pistol from him, Lobo sneered down at him, twirling it in his index finger.

"With pleasure."

Lowering his eyes, the young assassin waited, closing them as he braced himself for the coming shot.

When it never came, he looked back up to see Lobo deep in thought.

"...What is it?" the man in red demanded. "Finish me."

Looking back to the downed figure, Lobo regarded him, his nictitating membranes sliding over his eyes.

"...Ya know," he spoke while moving toward his bike, "it's just occurred to me, since you've been profiting from my name and rep, it stands to reason that you must have had made some money."

Lobo searched through the compartment of his vehicle, then took out a cigar and put it in his mouth. Flicking his talons together, he lit the cigar with the tiny flame that sat on the edge of his claw on his index finger as he turned around to face the kneeling Czarnian. "Let's talk business."

They stood before a monitor, staring up at the massive fifteen inch screen as the man in red typed away. Lobo stared giddily like a child waiting for Christmas to arrive, a grin plastered onto his smug face.

"That was the last account and transaction," the man in red said flatly as he pulled away.

Lobo's grin grew as he studied his account, whooping and laughing loudly in glee.

"Sweet wounded mother, with this much money I'm gonna be havin' a ball!" He crowed as he put on his black vest. Looking to the other Czarnian, he dropped the grin. "And what about my bike?!"

"Completely restored," The man in red answered.

"Including its original paint job?"

"Down to the last detail."

"It better be," The Main Man said darkly as he whistled, watching as his motorcycle flew off the deck toward him. Circling around it, he inspected the vehicle carefully, scrutinizing every bit of detail. Once he was satisfied that it was in tiptop condition, he gave an approving nod.

"Nice."

The man in red stared down to the ground. "You now have everything you wanted."

"Not everything," Lobo said as he meaningfully eyed the red jacket and holstered weapons.

Sighing, the young assassin tiredly took them off. He felt a great weariness come over him as they came loose, leaving him in a black tank top and jeans.

As Lobo took hold of them, he tried putting on the jacket, then frowned.

"Fuckin' thing is too small for me," he muttered as he threw it back to the young assassin. Studying the pistols and scythes, Lobo nodded to himself while the youth placed the jacket back on. "Very nice."

Looking back to the man in red, he grinned. "Thanks."

The next thing the man in red knew, Lobo backhanded him, hard, sending him rolling along the floor. Pushing himself up, the assassin suddenly felt a hand grab him by the hair as he was slammed face-first into a rocky wall multiple times before suddenly lifted up and thrown into the air, careening toward the pool at the cave's center, causing him to skip and splash hard against the water and stones.

Rolling onto all fours, he pushed himself up again only to find himself kicked back down as Lobo laughed.

"It's been a long time since I killed a Czarnian…...I kinda missed it!"

Struggling to get up, the young assassin felt another kick, then another, and another. He felt his ribs crack as another kick planted straight into the side, causing him to wheeze as he grabbed hold of his chest.

"Does that hurt, kid?" Lobo said in mock concern, grinning savagely. "This is so much fun!"

The assassin grunted with each blow. Just as he braced himself for another, the blows stopped as a loud grunt came followed by a roar. Looking up, he watched as one of his Cave Bears tackled Lobo, knocking him off his feet as it stood protectively close.

"Why I oughta-"

Lobo was cut off as the cave echoed with the sounds of various animals.

Puzzled, the young assassin looked around, then watched as his pod of green, incandescent astro-dolphins along with his Cave Bears came toward him, the animals crying out in distress as they all gathered around him.

"...Ah, frag," Lobo groaned. "So ya do have dolphins. Guess I have ta play nice after all."

The Cave Bear protectively guarding the man in red roared, causing Lobo to raise up his hands.

"Alright, I'm leavin', I'm leavin'!" He said. Turning to look back at the fallen youth, he merely shrugged. "Well, it's been fun, kid. Perhaps I'll kill ya some other time."

He watched as Lobo turned his back to him and took out a cigar. As the various animals nuzzled and comforted him, something glinted in the young assassin's eyes in the pool directly in front of him, drawing his attention. Looking down, he noticed the weapons in the shallow pool before him.

'Must have dropped them after my Cave Bear tackled him,' he surmised.

'Take your revenge,' some part of the man in red whispered. 'Avenge your people.'

Grabbing hold of them, he took out his pistol from the holster and raised it up to eye level, aiming directly at Lobo.

This monster had cost him everything, and to let him escape and cause even more untold suffering would be an affront to what it means to be a Czarnian.

Sensing something was up, Lobo turned back to face him, his cigar propped in his mouth as he carefully watched him.

Nictitating lenses slicked across the man in red's eyes.

"For. My. People," he whispered harshly.

Pulling the trigger, something within the man in red sank when he got no response. Pressing it again, and again, and again, he dropped the arm down into his lap as he sat there on his knees.

Taking out a match, Lobo moved toward the young assassin, ignoring the angry snarls and growls as he flicked it across the other Czarnian's black-scaled cheek, lighting it. Raising the flame to his cigar, he inhaled deeply, then blew straight into the man in red's face as he gave him a smug look, then turned away as he proceeded onto his bike without uttering a word.

Once he got onto his bike, Lobo glanced back to the fallen figure, and sneered.

"Too bad, kid! Just goes to show ya - luck is always on the Main Man's side! See ya around, loser!"

Cackling, he raised up his hand and gave the man in red the middle finger as his motorcycle blasted off, tearing through waterfall as it ascended through the planet's orbit.

Lobo leaned back into the seat of his motorcycle as it drifted through the cold vacuum of space.

Man, oh, man, what a ride! Granted, he hadn't killed the bugger yet, but still, there will be plenty of opportunities in the future. Besides, why not have fun?

It wasn't all a waste.

Sure, the bar ended up destroyed, but who cared?! He got a load of money and a shitload of clientele, so that was something!

Now, what should I do with all this cash?

The Main Man had plenty of ideas. Too many, in fact - a lot of them particularly lewd and would have probably made the Justice Dweebs on Earth vomit.

Then again, maybe he could buy some new weapons and upgrades for his bike - after all, he did have his eye on the new buzz-saw rounds that were being advertised lately.

Hell, maybe he could try his hand at the races and test his luck.

Or...perhaps he could buy some food for his dolphins.

He contemplated the best course of action.

He pondered, and pondered, and pondered, then stopped, a smirk edging its way up one side of his face.

Fuck it, he'll do them all, but first?

Fanged teeth hungrily flashed as he smiled, the light of the stars and suns gleaming off them as he eyed the unsuspecting galaxies before him like a hungry wolf, the universe waiting with bated breath for his decision.

"I'm gonna get myself a drink."

Author's Note: So, the idea for this story came from a couple of different places.

Initially, I had been working on a Lobo fic called "The Drink" that was similar in premise to this one, but then New 52 Lobo happened and I held off from writing, mainly because I was intrigued and wanted to see what they did with the imposter concept. I'm going to be straight up - I LOVE "Justice League 23.2"; even though the design was somewhat different, his voice was very much spot on, and Marguerite Bennet captured Lobo's character perfectly. It sounded like Brad Garret. If you were to redraw that entire comic with classic Lobo, be it the 80s or 90s version instead of the New 52 design, it would still be Lobo, and I invite anyone to redraw it and prove me wrong. Cullen Bunn's take, though...yeah, not great. It was pretty bad, although it did have some bits and pieces I liked.

I love Lobo, but by the same token, I really feel like DC has seriously mishandled him, especially in "Rebirth". I absolutely hated the stuff by Steve Orlando, and while there has been some fun little things here and there, I didn't really find any of it satisfying as a Lobo fan.

So, I opted to do my own take. As much as people like to make comparisons to Deadpool, he really isn't anything like him; there are slight similarities here and there, but Deadpool is such a wonderfully complex and tragic character, a very human character who is suffering from mental illness, a man whose humor is masking his pain and sadness, who is trying to better himself and do the right thing. He has a morality (even though he has lapses every now and then and makes some downright stupid, even terrible decisions).

Lobo, on the other hand, is more like Sabretooth but worse. So so much worse. Even though he is a satire, he is a gruesome and horrifying character. His backstory is one of the darkest and most disturbing within the DCU - even though he loves dolphins, he murdered his own planet for no other reason than for the pleasure of it. I'm actually surprised there aren't more Lobo fics on here, let alone ones based around this aspect or his species. I was especially surprised that nobody ever decided to explore the imposter storyline of New 52 Lobo, just because it potentially could have worked either as Lobo or as a separate character connected to him. I mean, what if it had been another Czarnian survivor? Or, what if Lobo really had been an imposter? I honestly think it had been a missed opportunity for some really interesting stories.

So, since nobody seems to be doing anything with either, I thought that I could write this up and explore the different possibilities along with some stuff related to Czarnia. For those of you wondering, no, the character in this isn't New 52 Lobo - it was an OC I dubbed "Lupo" ages ago before that had even been a thing. There will be a chapter featuring him and classic Lobo, though, and I think Lobo fans will get a kick out of what I have planned for that.

Any sort of feedback or constructive criticism is always welcome, but please refrain from flames. If you have an issue with the story, I'll gladly address it and make whatever sort of revisions are necessary.

Also, I want to give a shout-out to TheDoctor36, Captain Omnitron, Stuff3 and JusticarNemesis for their immense help - thank you so much, guys! :)

I hope you enjoyed the story.

Chapter Text

Ghosts of Czarnia

Chapter Text

Ghosts of Czarnia

Chapter Text

Ghosts of Czarnia

Chapter Text

Ghosts of Czarnia

Chapter Text

Ghosts of Czarnia

Story and Cover by evolution-500

Disclaimer: Lobo is a character belonging to DC Comics.

WARNING: This story contains violence, coarse language, dark, mature and disturbing themes and imagery. Reader discretion is advised.

"Day of the Dolphins"

Lobo let out a tired grunt as he got himself into his specialized suit, doing up all the buckles.

"Man, I can't wait 'til I get out of this thing," he grunted while placing on his gloves. "As soon as we're finished with this job, it's happy hour at the bar!"

Beside him, a member of his unit, Tal, let out a deep chuckle. "Took the words outta my mouth, brother. First one to finish the job gets free drinks, loser pays up."

Lobo smirked. "You're on," he said, arm bumping his friend before finally putting on his lead-lined helmet.

He watched as his commander, a tall, clean-shaven man with a short haircut and stern features, eyed him, looking him top to bottom.

"Is your helmet secure?"

Lobo nodded. "Should be, sir."

"Are you sure?" His commander narrowed his eyes.

He grunted. "I'm pretty sure it is."

"You know what will happen if you have failed to properly inspect your helmet. You know of the risks with the job, with these creatures."

Lobo frowned. "All too well, sir."

Beside him, another crewmate, Curiae, a young man in his teens with goggles and blue skin, just finished strapping on his boot.

"Remind me again why we can't use drones for this?" he asked.

"It's because the dolphins' telepathy interferes with their signals," the commander replied. "Completely scrambles and fries 'em." A smirk climbed up one side of his face. "Besides, where's the fun in letting them do all the work, huh? Where's your sense of adventure and tradition, boy? Ain't you a Czarnian, after all?"

"Ah lay off the kid, Commander," Scuzz, a heavyset Czarnian with a beer belly and beard, waved. "He's a Xrexian."

The commander frowned. "Xrexian, huh? Seems you've been missin' out. Well, good news for you, kid - yer about to learn some new Czarnian traditions, starting with dolphin huntin', our oldest and proudest! Lobo's family here has been hunting for generations, and he's bagged..." He glanced back to the aforementioned hunter, "How many has it been, son?"

Lobo smirked proudly, puffing out his chest. "More than a dozen. Plannin' on baggin' more!"

The commander let out a raucous laugh and slapped him on the shoulder. "What a guy!" He then placed his helmet on and sealed it shut. "Alright, people, it's showtime!"

Lobo sat buckled in his seat, drifting off as he felt the shuttle shaking. He was moments away from falling asleep when the speaker went off.

"Heads up, everyone - we've spotted a fresh school of astro-dolphins. ETA five minutes," the pilot said over the intercom.

"Roger."

Narrowing his eyes, Lobo grabbed his hook and harpoon gun as he unbuckled from his seat along with the others.

Outside, among the free-floating asteroids, pods of astro-dolphins soared through zero-gravity, their green, luminescent forms gleaming as light from a distant sun reflected off their near-translucent shapes as they all squealed and clicked happily. One lone dolphin strayed from its pod as it playfully approached a small piece of debris, nudging it with its snout when a spear suddenly exploded out from its head, its blood creating frozen crimson crystals.

Lifting their heads, the pod fled and dispersed in all directions as they were pursued by the large ship, a thing that resembled a large, dark, mechanical whale.

From the rear, the cargo bay doors opened, revealing the suited-up crew as they all revved their interstellar bikes, their engines rumbling and pulsating.

"Last to get all the dolphins is a Korugarian wet blanket! HAW HAW HAW! " Lobo hollered as he brandished his hook and swung wildly overhead in a horizontal loop.

One by one the Czarnians sped off in pursuit of their quarry while the vessel trailed close behind.

The dolphins twisted and turned as they navigated their way through the asteroid belt, their number dwindling and skewered gruesomely as hooks and spears pierced their glowing flesh.

Tal whooped loudly as he skewered two into each other, whirling them into the main vessel. "YEAH! THIS IS THE LIFE!"

Lobo guffawed as he drove up and fist-bumped him. "RIGHT ON, BROTHER!"

The Czarnians revved their engines as they continued their pursuit, with Lobo speeding ahead.

"Lobo you're going too fast, son," the Commander called out. "You might want to slow down a little-"

"Don't worry about me, Commander," Lobo grinned as he looked over his shoulder, "I'm having the time of my life out here!"

Looking ahead, his grin widened as he spotted a small fat dolphin cut off from the rest of its pod.

Revving his engine again, Lobo felt the space bike buck wildly under him as he charged after his target, dodging and weaving through the asteroids with ruthless animalistic persistence that verged on maniacal.

"HAW HAW HAW! WHERE D'YA THINK YER GOING?!" He called after his prey as he swung his hook in a round loop. "THE PARTY'S JUST GETTIN' STARTED!"

Tossing his hook, Lobo scowled as it narrowly missed. Reeling it back in again, he flung his weapon again, watching it smash through a nearby asteroid as the dolphin ducked.

He repeated a third, a fourth, a fifth time.

Clenching his teeth together, Lobo snarled, "Slippery fraggin' bastich!" He reared back his arm, "I'M GONNA-"

Lobo was cut off as an asteroid crashed into the side of his bike, the Czarnian letting out a loud grunt as his vehicle was smashed into pieces and as he briefly blacked out, the last thing he heard being the alarmed cries of his companions on the radio.

"LOBO?! LOBO, ARE YOU THERE?!" Commander S'aras frowned. "Where in the worlds has that boy gone? Lobo, can you hear me? What's your status?"

"Sir, I got his signal," one of the crewmembers said from a nearby console.

"Where is he?"

Lobo let out a groan, reaching up to massage his head.

Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find his helmet gone.

"Ah, frag!" The Czarnian swore as he started to look around. "Where the fuck did my helmet go-?"

He suddenly froze, staring at the pod of dolphins as they started to approach him.

Wincing, Lobo clutched his head, letting out sharp yells as he felt sharp, digging pains in his scalp, his mind feeling as if something was forcefully pressing itself into his head.

"Lobo? Lobo, are you there?" Commander S'aras frowned as he heard nothing but static. "What in the name of our ancestors has happened to that boy?"

It was then that he and the rest of the crew suddenly heard it.

Screaming.

"What's going on?!" He demanded. "What is happening?!"

The crewmate shook his head, "I-I don't know! Everyone's heartrates are flatlining!"

Hearing the reving of an engine, Commander S'aras and the other looked up to see a shape speeding toward them, the figure laughing maniacally as he swung a hook and chain dangerously overhead.

"Isn't that-?" The Commander's eyes widened. "By the gods, he's coming-he's coming for us! Turn this ship around, before he-"

His words came too late as Lobo tore straight into their ship.

One by one, the Czarnian crew fell to the monster that was unleashed.

No matter how many begged, no matter how many pleaded, Lobo gutted them all with relish, the madman laughing to his utmost content as he hunted after everyone.

No matter what weapons were used, no matter where they ran, no matter how far they fled, he pursued and tore them apart, until finally, only he remained.

Cadavers, body parts, spilled, frozen blood, the various parts of the ship and meteors floated all around Lobo, a grotesque kaleidoscope that glistened.

As Lobo leaned his head back, basking in his murderous afterglow, he found himself joined by the Voices.

Looking up in surprise, he gave a soft, fond smile at the Voices' owners as they silently approached, their alabaster forms shining under the sun's light.

'You have done a wonderful job, Lobo,' the Voices said in a calm and placating tone, the sound soothing and hypnotic, 'but...there is still much for you to do.'

Blinking dazedly, Lobo's smile grew, the Czarnian taking out a cigar from his pocket.

"Where d'ya want to start?"

Author's Notes: My apologies for the late chapter. Things have been incredibly busy.

So, one of the most curious things about Lobo as a character is, despite being a complete and utter psychopath who holds every being in the universe with contempt, he is very passionate about dolphins for some inexplicable reason. This trait was something that I puzzled over for a long time, just because, for a guy like Lobo to love them so much, it defied reason. I played around with various story ideas - that it was some sort of Tarzan-like situation where perhaps he was raised by dolphins or something - but then the idea hit me: what if Lobo was being manipulated? What if these adorable and cuddly-looking creatures actually had a role in shaping Lobo and his genocide of Czarnia?

Thus, this particular story was born.

I hope you guys like it!

Take care, and stay safe and healthy! :D