Chapter Text
Literal evil isn’t that easy to kill. It’s a concept. It hides away in stories, people, acts and deeds. And it has existed for a really long time, in the old books there is talk of good and evil. And as humans do, they visualize it. Good became a god, evil became a devil. This concept of evil embodiment has been found among many religions.
A lot of people do not believe in it anymore, not in the twenty-first century, where a new trip to the moon is planned and people walk around with wearable tech. All this supported by science, logic and knowledge. Religions and superstitions seem a thing from the past.
But that doesn’t mean it really is.
Because evil really has a body, well, it can manifest. An intelligence, as old as the universe itself, manipulating generations upon generations, drawing out plans to disrupt the natural balance with good.
And a long time ago, this plan was in motion, but brutally stopped by a short, silly alien who played a long and clever game. And not to forget his assistant, the young girl with a history perfect in place. They together, as a team, yet functioning on lies and anger, were able to deal with the evil force. Weakening it, damning it back to its prison, where it lied and waited for a very, very long time.
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And since evil needs a body to do any actual harm, there was one unlucky fellow in the entirety of planet earth. Somewhere, between eight billion people, some man or woman was going to get a surprise.
Some would say it would be a bad surprise, but not Mr. Hartmann. Some people already called him evil, but then only based on his own values. The few big companies Hartmann owned were focused on oil and electronics.
He therefore didn’t care for the planet at all, laughing activists right in their faces. He was generally known as a cold businessman. He’d fire people that didn’t match his vibe, hit on women way not his age and was a heavy drinker with gambling issues.
In short, a lot of people wouldn’t mind if he was dead. His wife included. She’d put up with him for more than ten years. But now, Mr. Hartmann found out she’d been cheating. She’d called in a divorce and Hartmann's heart was broken.
In him formed an unhealthy amount of rage, fueled by the alcohol that he’d pushed through his veins. And even though he didn’t know it yet, the stars were aligning in all the wrong places for the wealthy and influential man.
He’d walked to the bathroom of the penthouse after he’d violently smashed some things around in his apartment. He wasn’t thinking straight, the soberness had long before left him.
He gripped the ridge of the sink and stared at the mirror. The bathroom was dimly lit, and maybe that was why he hadn’t seen the thing staring back at him in the reflection when he came in.
It seemed to be a dark void, a swirling mess of shadows. The only thing that made it more than just a dark spot in his vision that could be signed off by drinking too much, were the glowing green eyes hanging in the darkness. Staring at him.
Hartmann wanted to turn around and scream, and maybe run away. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even so much as make a noise, he was paralyzed. He heard his heartbeat spike up, the only thing that changed in the moment that already seemed to take years.
And then there was a voice, dark, fractured, terrifying and speaking to him. “Jonathan Hartmann.” The voice said slowly, like tasting each and every letter in its mouth, judging. “You are so, so angry. It is flaring through you, burning in those veins, lighting up your aura. Don’t worry, I can help you with that, I can help you blaze…”
The businessman let out a deep breath, one he’d been holding for a long time. His voice had seemed to be returned. “What are you?” He whispered, staring at the black mass since he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off it.
Although the mass had no mouth, the eyes seemed to resemble something of a smile. “I am something you mere mortals have called Fenric. And I can bring you the one thing you need.”
“W- What? What can you give me?” Hartmann muttered, his body visibly shaking all over.
“I can give you the right to avenge, get revenge and take right over those that did you wrong.” The deep voice said, and Hartmann frowned as the vowels got into his head like a warm blanket on a cold night. “What will it cost?” Asked he, who in times of distress, is always the businessman.
“Oh.” Fenric chuckled. “Only your soul.” And in one smooth move, darkness steeped into the man, who let out a gasp of pain and screamed. The green eyes were now his own, his reflection changed in a horrific merge of inkblack veins and piercing eyes.
“What are you going to do?” Hartmann asked, as his hands moved to fix the tie of his suit, although without his permission of movement. His reflection smiled. “I promised you revenge and so you’ll get it. After that, I need to know if Miss Dorothy McShane is still alive.” He turned away from the mirror and stomped off into the wrecked apartment. “There is a wrong I have to set right.”
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Two days later, a heavily beaten body was found in a ditch. Police did not have an easy job on identifying the victim, but they described the many injuries as the work of evil.