Chapter Text
The gloomy expression that was Yesod's constant trademark remained on his face the entire time he was walking with his good friend, Malkuth. It was their tradition to always meet every Sunday to stay together even in silence, which had a significant supporting and relaxing effect on them. Someone would say that they are a completely strange couple, with different personalities and appearances. Yesod, as a respected librarian, loyal, although perhaps cold in emotion and overly concerned, gave the impression of a good-natured man who would not say a single bad word about any of his allies. It was a kind of defense tactic against all the evil that was lurking around the corner, and in these times it was not difficult to ask for it. Respond to good with good, and even more to evil. Although, after certain events in the recent past, he began to have doubts whether this was really the best approach.
His gray, gloomy, even gaunt posture contrasted with the lively and radiant face of Malkuth, who looked completely beyond her age. But what can be said - Malkuth took care of herself, and she believed a hundred times that the less reasons to worry and worry, the happier and healthier life became. She was a true lady, and this could also be said about Yesod being a gentleman himself. Perhaps this was what made them somehow very close to each other and, like it or not, they got along without words.
It was another one of those days when both of them walked at a steady pace through the streets of London, looking around and admiring the peace and quiet of a Sunday afternoon. From time to time, they stopped at places they knew and told anecdotes related to that object, which always ended with one of them laughing. Later in the trip, their steps were directed towards a place they knew well, which they had once had the opportunity to visit during a walk together.
- Oh, Yesod, remember how I told you about this place? - Malkuth's hand went up, pointing at a windowless building with a clearly chipped door. - Blackmailer's House, Mr. Giov. This whole unpleasant thing with this little girl. It's hard to believe that all this happened so recently.
- Malkuth, it wasn't that long ago. After all, a year has passed since then - said the man. - But thank God, that nightmare with the disturbing Mr. Giov is over.
- Yes Yes. I remember you talking about it, dear friend - She muttered. - Apparently this "monster in human skin" left this world soon after. You must admit that this is quite unusual, even paranormal!
- Indeed, dear Malkuth, indeed... - Yesod sighed and looked at the ground.
The librarian certainly couldn't deny his companion's words that it was quite an intriguing situation. After all, it was lived in the immediate area, if not the whole of London! A suspicious, terrifying thug who, without a trace of remorse or inner culture, did what aroused terror in the soul of every gentleman. In addition, he is a sophisticated killer! And what's worse - existing as a protégé of one of the most influential people in the city! Nevertheless, he realized that the friend close to his heart did not know the truth behind these disturbing events from the past. But maybe it's better for her when she can sleep peacefully without the memories coming back. Especially regarding that fateful day.
The day when everything seemingly ended.
~
September 14, 12:06
It was shortly after midnight when Netzach entered the prosectorium. He didn't let anyone into the places where he worked. No one but himself. He considered it a kind of sanctuary, although now he described it as cursed, tainted by the devil's touch. However, he felt that he would find peace and quiet here, this disturbing silence that he was slowly getting used to. It was cold outside, but that didn't stop him from leaving the house in just a shirt and pants. Things were no better in the prosectorium. An unpleasant cold touched his skin, causing him to immediately shiver. He shuddered at the feeling and nervously wiped his arm with a cool hand. He began to look around for the matches that were neatly lying on the cabinet against the wall. Without hesitation, he lit all the candles, wall lamps and kerosene lamps in the room. After less than fifteen minutes, the feeling of unpleasant cold began to disappear.
Netzach looked at the chemicals standing in the corner of the room.
Slowly, he approached the table and took a bottle with transparent crystals absorbing the moonlight. In a moment they would decide whether the experiment was a success. The whole nights spent in this room couldn't be wasted. He glanced again at the planned experimental design.
He hesitated, but then opened the bottle and poured the contents into the flask, then watched the mixture bubble up until it turned green.
The lightning outside broke him out of his trance. Time stopped and he stopped with it. After another lightning strike somewhere in the distance, the wind howled, introducing the familiar uncertainty. And fear.
The same one that appeared with HIS person.
He shook himself off and grabbed the flask. He brought it to his lips and drank it in one gulp.
A huge cramp went through Netzach's entire body, causing him to groan in pain. The paralyzed body fell to the ground, and trembling hands greedily tried to break free from the chains that bound his figure. However, this was impossible. His breath stopped in his chest, causing him to choke violently. He was out of breath, even though there was more than enough air. He nervously dug his blue nails into his skin, hoping that it would give him back control over what was happening.
For him, however, it was too late.
A dark red liquid escaped from his olfactory organ, and the victim of the occult incident felt like he was being torn into a million pieces. As if something was trying to separate his limbs from his body. Piece by piece. Saving all nerves so that the victim suffers as long as possible. The organs were burning inside, melted as if by taking a lousy poison made of the worst materials and so carelessly that the greatest masters of this sinister art would have grabbed their heads. As if someone was drilling a hole in it. It led to hard labor.
This is what birth was like?
September 14, 12:21
Hands, with visible scars here and there, rose above his head to land on it and run them through his long, black, disheveled hair. The pain disappeared, but in its place there was an indescribable euphoria. One that pulsed through his veins, traveling through his entire body, sending him into a sick delight.
The man immediately raised his face and inhaled deeply into his nostrils to feel every note of the scent that circulated around the room. He enjoyed it like an alcoholic addicted to absinthe. Which indeed he was. The corners of his mouth lifted significantly and his eyelids lifted, immediately mechanically observing every corner of the place he was in. Superficially, of course, because that's not what aroused his greatest interest.
He looked at his hands that were previously placed on his hair. Now he was observing them, every line drawn on them, every scar that was placed on them. He touched them to his face and cried with happiness. It was his face. Like an idea that was born in him from the very beginning.