December Year 3

By Manuel Chavarria

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Start Game.

Static flicker. Neon green light fills the room, then ebbs. Fills then ebbs. Whispers in the dark. Murmurs.

Clarice regains consciousness. Or was she ever conscious to begin with? Her eyes shoot open. She looks around. Nothing but darkness. Darkness and the static. It would kill an epileptic. She hears the whispers in the distance. She hears the murmurs. How distant? They could be right next to her. Or miles away. Her surroundings were a mystery. If they even existed at all.

Through the static, through the whispers in the dark, she hears a single voice begin to take form. It breaks through.

".teg uoy tahw si ees uoy tahW"

Clarice remembers the voice. She remembers it from when she was taken. Her abductor.

"...heH heH heH"

Clarice struggles, but she can't move. She tries to ask questions, but she can't find her voice. Completely helpless.

".gnihtemos uoy wohs em teL"

She couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was grinning. He was taking a perverse pleasure in all of this.

She heard a snap of fingers. A ring of blue flame. Appeared in front of her. It lit the surrounding area just a tad. It moved away from her, and over. She moved her eyes to where it stopped. She saw, faintly, a body. A body hanging upside-down, headless. Her body.

Clarice tired to scream. She couldn't.

"?ti t'nsi, hctib a si noitatipaceD"

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I look over at the young woman next to me. She smiles.

"Here, take a hit of this..." she says to me.

"No thanks," I reply. "I'm already fucked-up enough as it is."

She starts rubbing my back. She lays her head on my shoulder.

"C'mon...it'll make you feel better," she purrs.

I stay quiet for a while. I move my hand down her face.

"That's probably true," I finally say. I get up from my place on the staircase, and begin to walk off.

I turn back to her, taking one last look. She lies on the stairs, staring u at the sky. I think about moving her, getting her back to her apartment upstairs. No. Her sister'll find her passed out somewhere, like always. Maybe get her to join the convent, too, this time.

Yeah, right.

I continue out the door, then start down the street. My mind turns to Clarice again. Like it has been for the past few days. She was a good fuck, sure. But I didn't think I'd end up obsessing over her like this. She's been gone a week now. Whole thing still bugs me.

My thoughts are interrupted as something shoots by me like a rocket. Flames. An accompanying scream. I light a cigarette, and keep walking. I'm only twenty-four. How'd I get so jaded?

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The blazing streak makes its way through the surrounding blocks, never slowing, never giving the impression of stopping.

It's a feeling the mugger is none too pleased with.

"Ohshitohshitohshitohshit..." the mugger whines and cries.

The Ghost Rider's motorcycle revs again. The Ghost Rider tightens its grip on the mugger's arm. The sound of the engine turns the mugger's stomach. He can feel his arm twisting in ways its not supposed to. His skin burns.

The joyride ends as the Ghost Rider pulls into an alleyway and makes a sudden stop, releasing the mugger's arm as it does. The mugger's momentum carries him into the back wall. The back of his head slams into it. His back does the same. He crumples to a heap on the ground.

The Ghost Rider dismounts its motorcycle, kicking the kick stand into place. It approaches the mugger slowly, then stands over him. It nudges him with its foot. The mugger coughs up blood, then weakly turns his head to his assailant.

"I've...I've had enough...Please..."

The Ghost Rider disregards his pleas and grabs him by the throat, lifting him from the ground. The Penance Stare does the rest. The Ghost Rider releases its victim, and lets him fall. It remounts its motorcycle and tears away.

From the darkness, the scratchings of a pencil on paper are heard. Mr. Nacht finishes his note-taking for the moment. He removes a two-way radio from his inside coat pocket.

"It's on the move. I remain in pursuit," he says.

"Very good," the voice at the other end responds. "Keep tracking it. And stay out of sight as long as possible. We aren't ready to make our move yet. We must first develop...animosity...between our two variables."

"Understood. Nacht out."

As Nacht skulks through the shadow, leaving the scene, the mugger remains, whimpering. He rolls over on to his back, finding it easier to breathe in that position. He looks at the sky. Clear night, he thinks. He remains relatively peaceful, until he sees it.

He looks harder. Off in the distance. It looks like a spark. Or some flaming debris. He notices it get larger and larger. It's coming closer. He squints, so he can see more.

"...the hell?" he asks himself. He stares in disbelief, as he notices something atop the flames. Something that looks like a man...

It comes closer. And closer still. The man strains to see it...then cries in terror as he realizes what it is. He's heard stories. But he never thought it would happen to him...

The Demogoblin flies in close, as if inspecting the mugger. He chuckles to himself.

"The Ghost Rider should really learn to finish what he begins," the demon observes.

The mugger screams as he's charred by a flame jet. The screams stop once the flesh is gone.

The Demogoblin cocks his head and looks at the remains. He grins as he takes again to the night skies.

Judas Traveller had watched the whole sequence from his library window. He rubs his hand along his chin. The corner of his mouth rises into a smirk. His eyes smile. Everything was going as he knew it would.

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Been walking almost the whole night. Lost track of time.

I head past a coffee shop. I hesitate a moment, deciding whether or not to go in. My fatigue gets the better of me. I go in.

The woman at the counter gives me a grin and a cheerful "hello". I disregard it, and order a cup of coffee, black. The woman stiffens, looks at me for a brief moment, then turns to fetch me my coffee. As I wait, I turn to the door. A woman walks in. She looks lost. But then she looks in my direction and seems to have a purpose. She approaches the counter, and sits next to me.

I turn to the counter again. My coffee shouldn't be taking this long to make.

The woman is staring at me. I try to ignore it, but my curiosity gets the better of me.

"May I help you?" I ask.

The woman looks at her hands, then back up at me. "Clarice," she says.

My brow furrows.

"I'm looking for Clarice."

I suddenly get a feeling of deja vu. This entire exchange is just like then one I had in the bar the other day.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I ask.

She runs her fingers along my chest. "I want Clarice."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure..."

What's the connection between this woman and the man in the bar? I don't care much for being in the dark about things.

As if on cue, I'm in complete darkness. Blackout? No. This is something different.

I hear whispers. I hear murmurs. A faint voice begins to break through. It's calling my name. I try to answer. I can't.

I hear the sound of snapping fingers. A ring of blue flame appears. It moves along the darkness. Where it stops, I see a faint form. It's a body, hanging upside-down. A headless body. Clarice's body.

I recognize the voice now. It's hers.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn to see what it is. I'm in the coffee shop again. The first woman finally brings me my black coffee. I take a sip.

Yum.

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