Author: Mischevious Productions PM
Everyone knows who the devil is, and most of you know who damien is, Satan's son, but no one knows about Satan's... less favorite son, Stan II, read Stan's journey to win his dad and the throne, R&RRated: Fiction M - English - Humor/Adventure - Chapters: 6 - Words: 11,858 - Reviews: 32 - Favs: 3 - Updated: 03-21-05 - Published: 01-10-05 - id: 1804857
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"DIE DAMIEN YOU FAGGOTY ASS-FUCK!" Stan bolted up and grasped his pistols firing them randomly, narrowly missing Shade, who had ducked at just the right moment. Clairice and Scarlette ran for cover behind and old cement pillar.
"DAMN YOU DAMIEN, I AM TEN TIMES THE DEMON YOU ARE…I SHOULD BE THE NEXT DEVIL…DAD LOVES ME! Dad loves me, dad…loves…me." Stan slowly regained his sight, but not his composure. As Shade, Clairice, and Scarlette peeked out from their cover to look at Stan, he burst into tears, dourly crying himself down.
Instead of them yelling and screaming at Stan for his incompetence, they understood all too well the position he was in. All his life his father shunned Stan. He never noticed, nor cared about Stan's wellbeing, this was before he was senile. Back when Satan was younger, he knew full well that he had a second son, he just didn't want him. He did everything in his power to shut Stan out of his and Damien's lives. He tried to abandon him as an infant, but Stan found his way back two days later. He tried to drown Stan, but the water he used evaporated as Stan's flesh came into contact with it. No matter how badly Satan wanted to forget it, he had to come to the conclusion that Stan was different, powerful, and wasn't going to be destroyed.
As a final act of desperation, he showed compassion to Stan, giving him fine tailored clothes and a position of 'demon of false hope', a position that didn't exist until Stan took it. Day by day the jealousy in Stan's heart grew, hating his brother for being the apple of his father's eye. Finally, after a few thousand years of mental anguish, something snapped. Stan didn't care about his father anymore, just the throne. He made a vow to succeed Satan for the throne and be a better Devil than anyone has ever seen.
Seeking training, he learned his skills from the renowned demon of trickery and deceit, Loki. One of the most renowned demons ever, he infiltrated heaven and killed Baulder, one of the most powerful Gods of old. Stan studied under him diligently for many years, learning every move and spell that his brain could take in, pushing out the useless things like Math and English (I talk good, Yay!)
Beneath Satan's radar, Stan became more powerful than any demon in Hell. Damien however, got wind of this shocking information, and quickly sought to counteract it. For one hundred years, Stan was subject to the most grueling punishments in Hell, not only weakening his body, but suppressing his immense power.
"It's okay Stan, we're here for you." Scarlette held Stan in her arms, inadvertently pressing his head into her bosom. Stan, not paying it any mind, continued to weep slightly.
He glanced up at Scarlette, then to Clairice who was smiling in an attempt to console him. Shade was staring fixated at Scarlette's bosom, drooling noticeably. Stan then looked around their current position; it was an old abandoned warehouse, now perforated with bullet holes.
"I-I'm real sorry guys." Stan stopped sulking and regained his normal disposition.
"Its okay kid, we know you came from a shitty background." Shade rubbed Stan's head, messing up his hair.
"Thanks." He said with a grin. "…Did you get a good look at them?" Stan glanced over towards Scarlette's chest. Shade smiled and shook his head happily.
"See that Scarlette?" Stan backed away, leaving Shade and Scarlette parallel to each other.
"Why yes I did." Scarlette pulled her long leather glove taught and clenched her fist, walking towards Shade menacingly.
"…what are you doing Scarlette? G-get away from me, don't do that, No n-no!" Scarlette pushed shade to the ground and thrashed the back of his head, leaving a large goose-egg shaped lump on his skull.
"GOD…DAMMIT YOU GOT SOME ISSUES WOMAN!!!" yelled Shade, rubbing the back of his head.
Scarlette, Clairice, and Stan joined each other in a good heart laugh. It was if, for a moment, that all troubles had dispersed from their dreadful lives.
"Isn't this a touching moment? Makes me sick!" came a disembodied voice from somewhere in the warehouse.
"What the fuck!?" Shade said, clutching his sword, Stan grabbed his pistols, Clairice drew her scythe, and Scarlette clenched her fists, ready to fight.
"Not 'what'…who." A young boy lithely walked out from behind a dumpster. He was about a head shorter than Shade, slightly shorter than Stan. He wore a long black trench coat, accented by the many zippers attached to it. His hair was large and a fiery orange. His eyes were blazing red, just like everyone else's giving it away that he was a hell spawn.
"Okay, 'who the fuck' are you?" Asked Stan, pointing his guns at the boy's forehead waiting for him to move.
"I am Stree, and you, Stan II are coming back to hell with me?" Stree held out his hand, as if expecting Stan to grab it.
"First off, FUCK NO! Second, did my father end you? Or do you have a vendetta against me? It seems a lot of people do these days." Stan lowered his guns slightly, not expecting the kid to do anything.
"Heh." Stree disappeared into nothingness. Stan, Shade, and the others tensed up, looking frantically around to locate the vanishing act known as Stree.
Stan got wind of Stree's location and turned quickly around, only being met by a walloping uppercut, sending him flying through the cement wall.
"Mother Fucker!" Stan pushed the cement pieces from off him and began to fire at Stree. Stree quickly vanished again, leaving Stan bullets to hit nothing but the other wall. Stree reappeared behind Stan, catching him completely off guard.
"For the son of Satan, I'd expect you to be more powerful." Stree chuckled.
"You haven't seen anything yet." Stan replied, kicking a piece of rock at Stree. Stree disappeared after blocking the chunk of rubble, Stan, following suit, disappeared as well.
"Where'd they go?" cried Clairice, looking around worriedly, unable to find her invisible friend.
An explosion rang out from the other side of the warehouse. About two seconds later another one followed, closer this time. Blast after blast the explosions would get closer, until finally Shade, Scarlette, and Clairice were thrown back by the ferocity of the discharges. In a charred circle stood Stree and Stan, staring at each other, both strangely smiling. Shade tried to attack Stree but was halted by some kind of shield protecting Stan and Stree from outside contact.
"Well, I take back my previous comment; you are your father's son." Stree chuckled, brushing the dust off his coat.
"So does that mean that you are working for my father?" Asked Stan, fixing his red and black striped tie.
"Nope, sorry." Stree replied.
"My brother than?" asked Stan.
"Wrong again. I'm in this for myself. It's because of you that my life is now in the shitter!" Stree yelled, obviously annoyed.
"How so?" Stan asked, clutching his pistols, ready to brawl again.
"Because of your unexpected departure, they needed somebody quickly to replace you as the demon of false hope. I, being a younger demon, was selected to fill the role. Do you know what it is like to have such high expectations and then have them dashed at a moment's notice? I was gong to be a fucking Death Dealer. But no, you had to go and leave me with your bullshit job! It isn't even a real position, but you father wanted it filled. I don't even think he realizes why you left, oh well." A symbol burned into visibility on Stree's forehead, it was the Arabic symbol for death.
A large demonic portal formed behind Stree, gaping wider and wider. From it emerged a tall, thin, scarecrow like creature. With an…onion, for a head…yeah.
"Oro?" asked the scarecrow like creature.
"This, ladies and gentlemen is…" Stree was cut off by Shade.
"Zero! Holy Shit, great to see you man!" The scarecrow, now known as Zero, acknowledged Shade and ran towards him, but was stopped by Stree.
"No no no." Stree held Zero back, preventing him to go near Shade.
"Shade, what is that thing, and how do you know it?" asked Clairice, confused.
"He was a science project of mine. I kept him in my basement once I got my grade back. We've been best friends ever since, he always knows what to say. He can always get you out of a fix." Shade was proud of his creation, but something struck him as odd.
"Wait. How the Heaven did you get him?" demanded Shade.
"Simple, we raided your house after you went off with Stan. I found ol' Zero here and well…we've been the best of friends." Stree pointed to a dark spiked collar on Zero's neck.
"You're controlling him! You son of a bitch!" Shade charged at Stree but was knocked back by Zero, who had slid in between them.
"Oro." said Zero, in a very blank tone.
"Ungh…Dammit!" Shade picked himself up and grabbed his sword.
"Hahaha, you think you can make a difference with those futile efforts? Zero, show them how to get it done!" Stree pointed at Clairice, and Zero obeyed. He lunged at Clairice, pinning her to a wall. Scarlette tried to subdue the scarecrow but her punches just seemed to tighten the grip on Clairice's neck.
"H-help…me…agh" Clairice began to slip into unconsciousness.
"No you don't you Donkey Fucker!" Stan pointed his guns at Stree, who disappeared again. He then pointed them at Zero, but was stopped by Shade.
"Stan no! He's my friend, I beg of you to find another way!" Shade stood between Stan and Zero, impeding Stan from doing his duty.
"I wish there was another way Shade, but if I don't do something Clairice will die, and then Scarlette, and then us! Do you want that to happen!?!?" Stan pushed Shade out of the way and regained sight of Zero, now holding Scarlette in his other hand.
"I'm sorry Shade." Stan opened fire at Zero, leaving his silhouette in a cloud of smoke. As the smoke cleared Stan looked on at his target, now lying on the ground, Scarlette and Clairice backed up against the wall, gasping for air.
"Scarlette, Clairice, are you okay?" Stan rushed to their side.
"Y-you didn't hit him…" Scarlette choked out.
"What?" Stan said confused. Behind him stood Zero, completely unharmed.
"Mother Fu-" Zero now held Stan in his hand, choking the life out of him.
"My my, what a pity. It seems your bullets were just too slow." Chuckled Stree, juggling Stan's bullets in his hand.
"Damn your fast, I'll give you that." Replied Stan, "But I don't think that you're that fast." Stan pointed over to Zero, who was standing behind Stree, his collar broken, smiling viciously.
"Oro…" said Zero, cracking his knuckles. A punch to the head and a couple of kidney shots sent Stree back to the wall, pinning him. He tried to disappear again but Stan caught him in mid air and struck him down with a punch to the face.
"Ungh…you think this is over, then you've got another thing coming." Stree pulled out a small glass marble. While holding it up in the air, he crushed it, forcing it to emanate a thick black smoke, shrouding Stree in darkness.
"You will come back with me Stan…one way or another." Stree's voice slowly faded away. When the smoke cleared, Stree was sitting in the same place.
"Fuck, I was supposed to run." Stree got up and sprinted for the door, slamming it behind him.
"…Well, that was anticlimactic." Said Shade, scratching his head in disbelief.
"Whatever, we should get going." Said Stan, picking up a button which had fallen off his shirt. "Clairice, do you think you can sew this for me?"
"Blow it out your ass!" muttered Clairice, her back turned to the group.
"What!?" Stan asked, not sure of what he heard.
"…I didn't say anything, sure I can sew that for you." She said, turning with a genuine smile on her face.
"O…kay, let's get going then." Stan began to walk out of the warehouse, now a place of twisted metal and concrete rubble.
"What about Zero?" asked Shade.
"Take him with us; he has already proved himself more than worthy." Stan said, not bothering to look at them.
"He's really starting to grow up, I'm so proud!" said Scarlette to Clairice, who seemed to be thinking intently.