A Legion's Spawn [Private] [Legion]

He sat with his legs crossed within the confines of his penthouse suite. This planet had proved opportune, with access to power seemingly limitless. He glared at his reflection through the glass table as he took another sip of his blood-red wine. The demon found himself laughing in response to the circumstance that had developed: a global society which prides itself on peace and tranquility had crumbled into a world keen on containing and condemning its population. He found himself bored; this world had offered all it could in terms of wealth and prosperity and now the fiend hungered for power. This government campaign against superpowers provided the perfect opportunity to manipulate the struggle from beneath the shadows. Sorrow had come to recognize, however, that the time spent on exploring the luxuries of this world had stunted the growth of his abilities. He knew that in his current condition, he’d be unable to accumulate the strength or numbers required to influence this global struggle this benefit.

The young demon had no contact with the family since his birth and he had grown to prefer his individuality. He didn’t like nor did he want to cooperate with anyone, least of all those spawned him. Psaro was no fool, however, and recognized the need for support. He was determined to eventually evolve beyond the reaches of his mother and father, but for the time being he had no choice but to vouch for their support. Making contact with such forces was difficult, especially under the circumstances present. Although not the most plentiful, this Earth did contain some ancient magic parallel to that of the outer worlds. It was with this magic that the hungry fiend finally possessed the medium required to contact his father, wherever he may be.

The demon had spent the better part of three months surveying the globe in search of the ancient magic this planet possessed. His search took him to the most remote and distant islands off Indonesia, where his dark presence garnered the attention of voodoo priests. It was through the practices, resources and bloodied bodies of these priests that Sorrow had discovered the magic required to summon his family.

He took a finally taste of his wine, sampling the flavors against his tongue before swallowing and letting out a sigh of relief. He placed the glass on the table in front as he prepared to begin his ritual. He analyzed the practices of the voodoo priests carefully and repeated each process, save for the silly chanting and humming that really served no purpose other than cinematic homage. He kneeled down on the floor, resting his palms on his lap as he closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts. He channeled the ominous energy from within him and placed all concentration on his target. He mouthed a series of words in both his native tongue and a Latin translation of an ancient earth-language. His eyes began to glow a red hue as he felt an essence of his soul reach an outer plane of existence. It was through this extension of himself that he felt contact with familiar blood. He took in a deep breath of air as he awaited a response from ‘The one who's name shall not be spoken’, ‘He who's name shall not be heard’, ‘He who's name shall not be seen’, ‘He who remained Nameless’: The Legion – His father.

Legion was powerful indeed ...he was powerful enough to defeat Hades and his army though the king of the underworld was weakened no other demon dared challenge him and no other could boast defeating the ruler and his most powerful generals. His evil powers had magnified since then and so he would be ready to take control of the underworld but he needed his own army. An army more powerful than Hades more powerful minions. What better way to raise an army than to breed his own. Half devil half dragon hybrids ....the twins were his first subjects of research. So far they showed accelerated aging and maturity. Yet that was nothing he could effectively use in war. Where his mate had her maternal instincts to deal with Legion's outlook and feelings on her and the twins was a bit grayed. Did he truly have an emotional attachment to her or was he simply using her to mass produce Devil Dragons......were his children beloved sons or nothing more than tools...soldiers to fight in his war.

Either way he had been summoned. As powerful as he was he still had to abide by the rules. Those who practiced the black Arts made a habit of summoning demons and devils. Often this was done to make pacts or bargains, other times the users were devout followers that took some form of worship. It was particularly difficult to summon Legion yet the pull was weak suggesting whoever it was had very little experience in the arcane arts. Legion was often busy including at this present moment so the summoning pissed him off more than anything. Geared to rip the head off of the newbie that summoned him by the time he made it half way through the dark portal had already changed his mind to possessing whoever it was and killing their entire family.

Anyone would say his plan was ill advised as an eyebrow shot up seeing that it was his own son. A gloves hand would knock away a stray white bang that fell over his eyes as he looked at the the spitting image of himself. Dressed in his usual black and red a slow smile crossed his face before his head tilted to the side to show an expression of curiosity. He waited a moment and relished the awkward and rather uncomfortable silence basking in it a moment before he broke words. "I was busy.......please give me a good reason why I should not hand you from the roof by your intestines?" That smile only widened as the words were spoken as if they were sweet upon his lips.

“How charming”, he responded in a dismissive matter to his father’s hospitality. “You look as sickly as they I was born”, he continued, this time with a slight grin. The young and feral demon had always held himself to a higher degree than the inhabitants of this planet. He was more agile, more intelligent and physically more impressive; however, for the first time in his life he had no solution. He knew full well that amidst the chaos of this superhuman extermination, an opportunity arose to manipulate the struggle from within the shadows. The government had waged war on mutant kind, the meta-humans had begun to revolt against their oppressors and the Sinister Six had reigned supreme as the ultimate faction on Earth. Sorrow had begun to grow bored of the exploits and bounties of this planet and now hungered for nothing but power. This gluttony is what brought him to his father. He knew full well that his family possessed the force and might to conquer any galaxy in the universe, but he wasn't too certain on what resources were readily available. Besides, the hungry fiend found it repulsing enough to have to call upon the aid of his father; he’d rather keep the operation small.

He released a deep sigh of disdain as he set his gaze upon his creator. “I need your help” he proclaimed in a cold and calculated tone. He glared deep into his father’s beady eyes: they radiated an essence of darkness and hatred and despair that would leave most with a stomach-churning nausea. “This planet, it’s bountiful, it’s ripe and it possesses so much potential” he explained. “I don’t know how much attention you've paid to earth-strife, but the planet’s in conflict and this chaos has proved most opportune”, he continued. “I can manipulate this situation; build strength for our cause from the shadows without arousing suspicion, but I don’t possess the strength to do it alone.” He glanced down at his sky-blue robe, marked with the insignia of The Order of Shadows. Of course Psaro had his own agenda -- he was weak. He had allowed the allure of this planet to blind him from his goal. He had no lust for conquest or overpowering his oppressors, but his greed for individuality would not be a merit unless he regained the strength to stand on his own. He once again looked up at the imposing figure before unmasking a slight grin. “What I’m saying is that…….Maybe it’s time for a family reunion.”

He would listen and the smile on his face would be unwavering. His eyes shifting throughout the conversation before his face went blank ....the smile disappearing. When his son stopped talking, Legions serious tone would burst into laughter a hand covering his mouth epically failing to muffle himself. His laughter was almost hysterical. "You are adorable...really" He could barely get out from laughing so hard. "You are funny you little mutt but I am no one stop shop for power...no shortcuts here at least not for you. You are weak....fragile, whoring yourself out for superficial items. You are no better than these meat sacks. Listen to you practically beg and gravel. I don't know whether to tear you apart of unzip my pants for you princess. So since you want to act like a human ....a little bitch... I'll show you what happens to them when they summon me with requests for power.

In that instance Legions eyes would turn pure black and Sorrow would be on a torture rack in some weird looking building.The place looked like an abandoned warehouse and was gloomy to the third power. Legion would whistle a tune to himself as he grabbed an apron upon entering the room. He would then pull out a rolled up type satchel and undo it's binds before rolling it out to reveal various medical and torture tools. He did a quick inspection making sure thy all were sterile before grabbing the scalpel first. The binds that held sorrow was reinforced steel. This of course was an illusion yet Sorrow wouldn't know this. Yet not only that Legion has the ability to make his illusions quasi real. So Sorrow would feel every bit of the pain.

Before he would begin with the scalpel Legion would take a syringe and fill it with a strange liquid. "Ahhhhh Epinephrine ...I don't need you passing out on me. Gotta make sure you don't miss all the good stuff. He said gently injecting it into the man's shoulder. Taking up the scalpel once again he would press the scalpel to the boys flesh the cold steel against his skin. "To some torture is a job to me it is an art form.....one I have spent many centuries mastering. I'm going to enjoy carving and mutilating your flesh. As he stated this the scalpel dug slightly into the flesh as a few drops of blood fell. It would sting a bit more than usual however."Stings a bit huh? I like to dip the blade in salt to prolong the sensation" after that Legion would begin slicing around the face. The sharp scalpel easily slicing through skin and muscle before he was able to peel off his sons face slowly. "You don't deserve the good looks I have given you." He stated placing the saggy skin of sorrows face on the table. "Ahhh now we are getting to the MEAT of things!!!" He said now picking up a hammer.

He let out a slight grunt through his clinched teeth as the blade first dug through his skin. He found himself questioning his whereabouts. He didn’t have much recollection of his father’s abilities but this all seemed wrong. Regardless of his doubts, however, the pain he felt was far too real. Every sense was vibrant. He could taste the tartness of blood dripping off his teeth, he could hear fine blade tearing through his skin and he could smell the stench of his father. The overwhelming agony stunted his reasoning, but Sorrow was intelligent enough to realize that he was alive and he was at the complete mercy of his aggressor. He glanced away in horror as he saw the flesh of his face thrown down in-front him, but took a deep breath and set his gaze upon the intense eyes of Nameless. He opened his mouth to speak but felt his words consumed by the blood in his mouth. He gathered the fluids in his mouth as he spit them at his father, the pain still searing through his body. The pain was agonizing and the young demon found it difficult, but he did his best to squeeze out every word, after all, this may be his only opportunity. He glared at his father with a cold, content look masking the pain screaming in his eyes.

“You’re really fucked up, you know that?” he grunted, sampling his dry sense of humor. “You must not forget that I am your descendant. My flaws are of your doing and my potential is of your own.” He proclaimed. He took in a few deep breaths of recollection as Legion approached him with the meat-hammer. “And coming from your mold, I hope you understand that I am not one for conformity. If this massacre is your idea of teaching me a lesson than I can assure you that I already knew the circumstances at hand”, he continued. He felt a shiver pass through his body as his father stepped ever so closer with mallet in hand. The blood was pouring from his face and the feral fiend felt weak, with nothing but the Epinephrine keeping him from a state of comatose. Aware that his time was limited, he made one final statement. “I did not come here begging for your power or your support.

I’ve grown bored of this world and its inhabitants and I’ve come to reconnect with those who cast me away at birth!” “Perhaps I didn’t make the best impression, but I did not come here urging for your help. I thought stating so would be the best approach, but clearly I was mistaken. I’m aware of your capabilities and I’m aware of mine. Think of my offer as a ‘family vacation’”, he chuckled as he closed his eyes awaiting a response.

He would pause as he approached his son with the hammer right in front of a sink he used to wash his instruments. He would take out a bucket and a glass from inside. Using the hammer he began smashing the glass until it was small grains. He would then fill the bucket with water and pour in a bottle of salt he would then place the fine grains of glass in the bucket as well. He looked at the peeled off face next to him with a bit of disgust and whistled. He grabbed the slab of skin and tossed it on the floor as the whistle earlier was no doubt to call a viscous hell hound that would gobble the skin in a matter of seconds. He kneeled down and petted the hell hound before taking the hammer and slamming it into his sons jaw hearing the bone break. This was to make sure he could not close his mouth. A hand would slip under his neck raising his head up and he would begin pouring the liquid mixed with glass and salt into his mouth.

"Hydration is very important I wouldn't want you thinking I was inhumane." He stated as the last bit went down his sons throat. The grains were small so they would not kill him but the process would be agonizing. He would then go back to his instruments and pick the scalpel back up. "There is an art to filleting a man, doing it just right so you don't remove the meat from the bones. The problem is my dog Rufus over there is pretty hungry so the meat might be tempting.. He stated this as the scalpel pressed into his pectoral and slid across removing the skin and flesh. Legion would simply sling it on the floor for the dog to come by and gobble it down. "Tell me what I want to hear and this pain can be over....." He stated as he dug another patch of flesh from the mans should slapping it down on the ground for his dog.