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The road to redemption is something you can’t drive down. It's a walk. A boring, painfully mundane walk. It takes time, effort, and a constant well of regret to put out the smoldering remains of the life you want to rewrite.
Infernus knew this well, he had a routine that pressed this knowledge so deep into his body that it felt like every cell in his body was dedicated to proving to the world that he was different, that he changed.
He woke up at 5 AM, eats a good hearty breakfast, takes care of his hygiene after that, and then by 6 AM he was at Hank’s bar, Jezebel’s. Hank was the one who gave Infernus a chance when no one else would. Not many people would have given “The Hound of Hell’s Kitchen” another chance. There were several dozen missing mafiosos and small time punks that would attest to that.
But Hank did. Hank saw a broken bloody Ixian punk and offered his hand. Infernus was used to people staring at him with fear whether they knew him or not. After dozens of scowling faces turn you away at every point like job interviews, parties, dates, you start thinking that the world is something that should just be doused in gasoline and lit with a match. But Hank didn't look at him with fear, he looked at him like a disappointed coach.
“You gonna sit there lookin’ like a flamin’ sack o’ shit? Or are ya gonna get up?”
Infernus remembers taking his hand and thinking to himself that Hank had a grip like a vise. It was strong, bone crushing strong. It felt like a warning and an offer at the same time. “Don’t try to screw me, I will break you.” and “This hand can pull you out of every dumb situation you put yourself into.” all at the same time.
For the first time in Infernus’s life, he had a legal and respectable job. And for the first time, Infernus felt like he could be someone better.
Shiv could feel his right arm sometimes. Late at night when the nightmares came for him.
The leader of a small gang, Shiv claimed his own little pocket of New York to rule with an iron fist. Back then, he was known for being ruthless, violent, and for being a one man army.
He beat, he murdered, he extorted, he was a king whose name was whispered with both reverence and fear. That was until the massacre. Shiv couldn't tell you why, who, or what. All he could tell you is that all the money he had, every lesser man he commanded, everything didn't matter in the face of that monster that took his right arm.
The smoke was thick, suffocating, he had to watch as he bled out, the scales of the thing shined through, little vermillion eyes glaring in the fog of war. It had so many knives inside it, oozing like a stuck pig. But the damn thing kept ripping his men apart. He had to watch the new kid, a teenage boy get his head torn off by the monster’s large ugly jagged teeth. The sound of the boy’s screams flowing to gurgling and bone snaps and pops, it still haunts Shiv now.
Even as it turned it's attention to him, it's teeth glowing with gristle and viscera, the licking flames making the death inside it's maw seem alive with dancing shadows, Shiv raised his remaining arm.
“C’mon you ugly bastard. Let's see if you can do what everyone else couldn't.”
But before Shiv could have his last hurrah, he heard an owl’s screech, and he watched as the monster was tied up with ghostly green ropes, holes were punched out of it by arrows, and a brilliantly emerald owl slammed into the monster. It fell over, dead, Shiv was taken aback.
It was the only time in his life you would ever catch Shiv looking shocked instead of his calm set face.
“You didn't give up. Not bad for a thug.”
A hunched over old man approached Shiv, and without Shiv asking him to, he began to tend to Shiv’s wounds. Before Shiv could thank or question this old man with braided silver hair, he passed out.
When he woke up, his body was patched up with a mixture of medicinal gooey herbs, bandages, and wrappings. He tried to get up and instantly a firm hand pushed him back down. The room was draped with green curtains, the walls brown with pictures of men standing next to dead monstrosities, and the ceiling had an ornate hanging chandelier above him.
“You barely survived, boy. Don't waste my good herbs.”
To his left, the old man. Stern looking, eyes that look like they've seen the world’s end and came back to never tell the tale.
“They tell me you have a talent for hurting things. But you used it mostly on innocent people.”
Before Shiv could answer, he felt the old man’s fist crush into his eye. Shiv didn't grunt in pain. Not out of machismo, not out of manly stoicism. Shiv could tell that this was the one and only time in his life he should be quiet. Otherwise he may be just marked up as a “waste of good herbs” instead of “dead human”.
“I saw the way you battled that monster. You kept going, fighting like a rabid dog even after it swallowed your arm. Impressive. Stupid. Unrefined. But also…”
The old man pursed his lips, thinking.
“But also interesting. You have potential. I am Gray Talon, and you have been rescued by the Baxter Society. You have a choice now. You can either go out these doors and I will give you a ten second head start before I put you down like a dog. Or you can pay the world back by saving others like I saved you.”
Truth be told, it was a no brainer.
Infernus slowly worked his way up, cleaning the bar, the glasses, the gross bathrooms, until he was mixing cocktails and serving up shot glasses of whiskey and vodka. Eventually Hank declared his retirement, gave the keys to Infernus. “You're not that stupid kid anymore. Don’t burn down my bar.”
It was a pretty good day.
Shiv slowly got better, going through both training and physical therapy, he got a new prosthetic arm. It was wooden, itchy, and not his. But it could pull a trigger and it could comb his hair just fine. He hunted monsters with Gray Talon all throughout North America until one day the old man just stopped showing up. But Shiv kept hunting.
The nightmares never stopped. They were ever constant and horrible. But one day, after saving a small town from ghouls, vampires, and werewolves having a small war, Shiv realized that he didn't see the new kid’s face when he blinked anymore. He realized that his arm ached just the tiniest bit less.
It was a pretty good day.
But no matter how many good days you have, it doesn't stop tomorrow from coming.
Although prohibition ended, the government was still zealous with legislation targeting establishments that sold alcohol. In other words, Uncle Sam still had his eye on the booze joints. Taxes, fines, and sudden new laws made Hank stressed. Long nights burning the candle at both ends trying to pay the bills and keep the government happy.
Infernus couldn't let the man who saved him go into debt. It wasn't right. Jezebel’s wasn't just a bar, it was sometimes the only good place on earth. So when he heard about the ritual, he snuck away. He called out sick, and he went to the ritual to save Jezebel’s.
Shiv’s arm ached more and more everyday, the nightmares kept coming, and no matter how many people he saved, he kept feeling like he had to prove to the old man, to the world that he was not only worthy of being alive but also worthy of being the next head of the Baxter Society. The Patron’s wish could make the nightmares go away. The Patron’s wish could save every small town the long arm of the government abandoned. The Patron’s wish could grant Gray Talon peace.
Shiv would do anything to prove himself.
And that is how they got here. This moment. Infernus and Shiv stared into each other's eyes, surrounded by stained glass and church pews.
Infernus was a nice guy, a man with a spine.
Shiv was a cool dude, he tipped good, didn't cause trouble in the bar.
Despite their mutual respect, despite the year and some change of friendship, the two men weren't smiling.
They were enemies in the ritual. Hidden King chose Infernus. ArchMother chose Shiv.
“Shiv.”
“Fern.”
Infernus flexed his fingers, his Ixian blood starting to pump. He felt like he was 20 again, all adrenaline and anger. Angry at the world for it's discrimination towards him being different. Angry at the world for making him having to kill a friend.
Shiv combed his hair, bobbed his head, the song playing on repeat was the only thing keeping him cool. He had calmed down a lot during his time with the Baxters, but the way he gripped his knife, shaky and unsteady, betrayed his frustration with the situation. The kid was some Puerto Rican, born topside. But somehow, he kept seeing his face in Infernus’s.
“Damnit, Fern. Don't make me do this. You know I'm good. I always get my mark.”
“I know you like a screwdriver on Thursdays. And I know that I'm gonna have to send a box of ashes to Gray Talon.”
A moment of silence. Questioning, begging silence.
“Hank needs me.”
Infernus didn't cry. But he could feel that same guilty pit in his gut acting up. The same thing he felt when he was alone in his apartment, 4 AM listening to the city breathe.
“I gotta redeem myself, Fern. You don't get it. I’m gonna prove to the old man he didn't make a mistake.”
Shiv steadied his hand now. When it came time to work, his hands eventually always steadied themselves out. It didn't stop the kid from showing up, it didn't stop the phantom pain in his right arm. But he always steadied out.
“I do know.”
Infernus’s skin glowed, more prominent as he stepped forward, away from the light bleeding through the stained glass.
“We all got skeletons in our closet, Shiv.”
“Then you know better than anyone that I wanna get rid of mine.”
Another moment of silence. No more begging. Charged quiet filled the air, the moment before lightning strikes.
Shiv threw a flurry of knives, three blades in formation like birds in the sky. Infernus quickly took cover, catching a knife in his shoulder, he took it out and found the wound was jagged, still bleeding.
Shiv too was in cover. Gathering courage. Justifying the guilt in his head. There had to be no more hesitation.
“I guess my tab is gonna be settled huh, Fern?”
Infernus chuckled. The cigarette in his mouth swaying with the chuckle.
“I wrote down everyone’s tab. If Hank doesn't kill you, he’s sure as hell gonna get his money.”
Shiv sighed.
Infernus dashed out towards Shiv, his hand in front of him, he blasted Shiv’s cover, a pillar near a pew, and the church began to burn.
“I know you're bleedin’, Fern! We keep going like this and you're gonna die slow. At least lemme give you a good end!”
Shiv rolled away from the flames, Infernus was already flame dashing towards him. The ceiling began to crack, the fire was spreading fast. “Brother, there is no good end here. Either I bleed out or you burn.”
Shiv dashed towards Infernus, and Infernus could feel his side open up. Shiv had sliced his gut open. He turned then to see Shiv throw another barrage of knives. He began to bleed more as two knives were stuck in him, steaming hot blood oozed out of him in steady rivers.
Shiv turned to Infernus, about to throw more knives but Infernus was gone. He looked up, Infernus’s body was glowing and sparkling. He looked like the sun.
Infernus had jumped off one of the pillars that wasn’t burning and started to unleash his energy. It would explode, stun Shiv, and Infernus could end this.
But that's when Infernus saw Shiv’s body glow red, his amulet now shining. Shiv shot his gun upwards, stopping Infernus's momentum and inside of the gun was a large hunting knife.
“Sorry, Fern. But I'm earnin’ my tomorrow!”
Infernus exploded then, the church's windows bursting out, shards of glass rained down. Shiv was blown to the wall, momentarily stunned.
“Nah, I'm sorry Shiv. I got a bar to run, faces to see.”
He lit Shiv up, his fancy clothes and that large pompadour now riddled with bullet holes and embers. Even though Shiv was stunned, his eyes were still aware. Wide open, predatory, animalistic, Shiv rushed forward.
“Grit your TEETH, INFERNUS! THIS IS IT!”
Infernus felt the other side of his stomach be sliced open, his body now struggling, threatening to fall apart. Infernus fell against the wall, barely holding himself up. Shiv looked at him. Raised his gun’s barrel to Infernus’s temple.
“I’ll make it quick, Fern… Any last words?”
Infernus smiled, the same manic toothy smile that made people call him the Hound. A cornered dog, Infernus bared his teeth.
“You ever taste burnin’ asphalt?”
Infernus grabbed the gun’s barrel and forced energy into the barrel and melted it. Then he tackled Shiv and flame dashed him through the wall. It was now a scramble on the outside of the church. Infernus kept slamming Shiv’s head into the pavement that he flame dashed on. Shiv kept stabbing Infernus.
Shiv’s gravely voice rumbled against Infernus's neck as they struggled on the floor. “I’ve killed bigger than you!”
Infernus wrapped his hands around Shiv’s throat.
“But they ain't as mean as me.”
Infernus tried with all his might to choke the life out of Shiv. But Shiv had sliced him too much, his guts were on the outside, his magma blood was everywhere, burning Shiv beneath him, his skin now forever scarred with burns.
Infernus’s last memory was of Hank. Scared, stressed, and alone. The issues with Jezebel's had made the large behemoth of a man look small as he worried at his desk. Hank gave Infernus a new life, but now it felt like his past killed him anyways.
“Sorry, friend. See ya on the other side…”
Shiv heard him as Infernus slumped to the side. He couldn't tell if he was apologizing to Shiv or if he was saying sorry to Hank. Shiv tried to get up, but now with the fight over, he realized that Infernus’s heat had melted the knife into his prosthetic, ruining it. And the super heated asphalt had now trapped his legs. With Infernus’s magma like blood now seeping down onto Shiv, Shiv’s clothes caught fire, his skin burning as he became a human bonfire in the middle of York.
“God damn it. I can't move…”
As his body burned, he struggled and tried to crawl away, his spirit refusing to give up. But the most he managed was feeling his legs snap, bones breaking as he used a nearby light pole to try and pry himself free. As he lost strength, the fire taking the oxygen from his lungs, Shiv had two final thoughts.
The old man believed in him and he failed.
And his mother was right. He did end up in the flames like she always said.
“Here I come, Mama.”
The bad days never ended. The good days came always. Tomorrow doesn't wait for you to be ready. It comes anyway.
Infernus woke up in the hospital, Fairfax branded IV tubes in his arm. His clothes were missing, the majority of his body now wrapped in darkening gauze fields and medical tape.
Shiv woke up in the same hospital, same tubes. His body had to be covered in patches, his hair burned slightly but his pompadour still standing strong. The burns were smaller than he thought but even so, now Shiv had tiny patches of burns that warped his skin. Funny enough, Shiv was still sure he could woo any lady anyways.
Infernus was slapped.
Shiv felt that same punch to his temple.
Hank was standing beside Infernus, stone faced, yet tears were flowing like angry rivers flooding from storm rains.
“You stupid idiot. Do you know how worried I was?! I don't need you to save me! I need you to STOP THROWING YOUR LIFE AWAY!”
Gray Talon flexed his fingers from claw to open palm, cracked his knuckles as he sat down next to Shiv.
“Most members of the Baxter Society go out because of a bad hunt, they get cocky, they're not careful, or they forget their training.”
He then looked into Shiv’s eyes.
“You were gonna go out trying to kill a friend? Are you stupid?”
Infernus and Shiv, despite being in different rooms on different floors both acted in unison. They looked up at the ceiling, ashamed, and they both said:
“I’m sorry.”
Hank wiped his nose with a tissue.
“I'd rather have you alive than my bar, Fern. Don't you ever try to save me, ‘specially if it means your dumbass bites the dust in the process. How am I gonna open up Jezebel’s tomorrow without my bartender, huh?”
Gray Talon sighed, he rested his head now on his palm as he leaned forward.
“We’re gonna have to get you a new gun. Then physical therapy again. Then I'm gonna have to obviously join you on hunts again. I had plans, things to do, people to kill, Shiv. That's ruined now.”
The old man never had any emotion on his face besides the lips pursing kind. Bitter, sad, thoughtful, angry. Gray Talon looked into Shiv’s eyes, the light inside honed by anger for his family was more visible than ever.
“Revenge can wait. You need to be better. Tomorrow, you and I are going to have a meeting with the society. You can't be the head if you're going to be like this.”
The bad days never end. The good days will always come. But you need to be here today and tomorrow to see those good days. You don't need to earn tomorrow, it doesn't wait for you. It comes anyways.