Josh Anders's Story

Some people show up to Gambit’s in a poof of magic or a portal or some glittering freaking fairy dust… But not Josh. Josh appeared but it was hard to tell how he appeared since it wasn’t some goddamned entrance of epic proportions. Had he just walked in the door and wandered through the crowd unnoticed? Or something else?

Whatever event brought the man into the bar mattered little because there he was. Standing next to the stool at the bar that held Bug, dressed up in his black hooded sweatshirt and ragged jeans and combat boots. Once again, nothing fancy or outlandish because let’s be honest- This is Josh we’re talking about. A five o’clock shadow dusted his masculine jaw but most of his other facial features were shaded by the hood pulled up over his head. He slipped onto the stool next to the stoned-out-of-her-mind girl and without facing her rumbled out a brief, “Ello” before tapping in an order for a pint. Something hearty… Guinness? Damn right.

Josh took a deep draw from his pint and smacked his lips together once before angling his head towards the girl he had greeted. Crazy? Perhaps. A close inspection of her eyes as she swiveled around to face him for the first time and he recanted his guess. Stoned? Definitely. Combination of the two? Well, that would only be proven through a conversation, right?

He heard her words about the club house and for a second, was at a loss for words. That was, until his own dark eyes dragged over the girl beside him, taking in her entire being from head to toe and it was only then that he noticed the matching outfits. What in the fuck was it about people in Gambit’s wearing black hoodies? Well… They went with everything and they were hoodies. Who could argue with such a stellar fashion choice? Both the phrase itself and the understanding of the phrase had a grin sweeping back across his dry lips and he took another chug of the dark lager to wet them once more before responding.

“As long as ‘ere’s no secret ‘andshake ‘er nuthing.” Had he come into the bar drunk or was that some sort of guttural language that affected his accent? Turning his upper body more fully towards Bug he lifted his pint and knocked it against hers loudly. “Cheers, ‘hen!” With that, he drank down the remainder of his glass and ordered up another round.

Josh shrugged mentally and took the hand as it was extended towards him. Not like he was going to eat anything anyway or perform surgery or any other activity that would require clean hand contact only. Hell, even if he did need clean hands he could wash them easily. The sink was... What? Five feet or so away behind the counter with another in the bathroom. Sliding his larger hand over hers, he shook it once with a firm grip.

"Nice ta meetcha, Bug." He gathered his new drink and took a hearty swallow before wiping his own mouth with the back of his sleeve and peering at her intently. Funny thing was that he hadn't taken those awkward moments of silent to peer at her in the same way she had gazed at him. But he took the opportunity now and decided that she looked sorta homeless. A homeless druggie? Not like it was unheard of but it made his heart clench a bit. Yep, that was Josh. A soft hearted sap with an oddly drunkard-like exterior.

"Name's Josh 'ere. Whatcha doin' in a place like t'is, eh? Notta lot goin' on...." His gaze rolled over the other people in the bar and then turned away to settle upon Bug once more.

Dark clouds blotted out any view of the heavens that one on Terra might try to behold. The lack of moon and star light made traipsing through the dilapidated ruins a pain in the ass but the journey was most likely the least hazardous event that Josh would encounter today. His combat boots sought sturdier ground as he climbed over mountainous piles of rock and debris and at one time, his steps faltered and he almost went tumbling down upon a sea of jagged stones. Yet he found his footing once more and plowed onwards. He intended to reach the center of the ruins by midnight.

It was closer to one o’clock in the morning when the man finally stood right outside of the main tower which had been the centerpiece of these grounds. Calloused hands dug deep within the pockets of his black hoodie, searching for the single item that would make tonight worthwhile and within seconds he procured a small tin that looked like an Altoids tin scrubbed clean of advertisements and logos. The top flipped open easily enough and inside lay a small deep red garnet about the size of the nail on his pinky, floating about in a black viscous liquid.

“’Ere goes…” He muttered to himself, plucking the oil-coated gem and popping it into his mouth like a pill. It slid down more easily than he had hoped but the taste of the lubricant almost eased the garnet back up into his mouth. Despite his body’s intentions, Josh managed to keep it down and he waited silently.

For a minute, anyway. Josh was notoriously impatient and he walked a bit while calling out, “Aye, a’ight then show you’self if you’re goin’ ta. Ain’t got all night, y’know…. Shit to do and wha’not…” The sentence faded with each word until the last syllable was a mere whisper. He wasn’t dumb enough to piss off the entity he was summoning, after all.

Though Josh didn’t have a death wish, he didn’t exactly have a survival instinct either. That left him centuries earlier when he first realized that despite his enemies’ best efforts, he was near impossible to kill. Not saying he couldn’t be killed but a few decapitations, several poisonings, a multitude of death blows from various weapons and even a drowning or two had failed in that aspect.

The thickening of the air made him believe that the oil slickened gemstone had caused some sort of reaction and he raised one of his palms, fingers splayed as he pressed it to his chest. His head swiveled, looking for evidence of a grand entrance by an all-consuming deity and when his gaze roamed to his left, he jerked back as if struck.

“Bloody ‘ell ya’ve got a way of just showin’ up outta nowhere, dontcha?” His voice was thickly accented but not from any known dialect producing a guttural edge to his attempt at the common language.

“Nyar!” He shortened the entity’s name as if familiar with him and his dark gaze continually flickered over the shoulder of the avatar as if focusing on something else. “Yer in the game of chaos, amirite?” The words tumbled together with no pauses or lapses to distinguish one phrase from the next. “I….” He started, bowing deeply towards with a hint of a grin stretching his lips, unbecoming of someone facing such immense power.

“Would like to sign up. Yer new go-to kinda guy. Death and destruction and mayhem and such, aye?”

Sadly, this was why Josh was more suited for the role of ‘lackey’ than ‘leader’. He rarely thought his plans through.

“Och no disrespec’ meant. Y’need me to bow or some such?” With that he lowered himself to his knees, obviously checking the ground to make sure that no sharp rocks would stab him inadvertently. “Never saw a… Ar’ye a God? I don’t quite know what’a call ya. Damn powerful, y’are…. “ By the end of the rambling he seemed to be talking more to himself than Nyarlathotep but centuries of drifting along throughout life with no real anchor to reality tended to make a person forget their manners.

“Roight. Driving force. Affec’ change an’ all that. Not in a coupla decades, so I migh’ be a bit rusty at it but Wing City….” A grin spread over his lips again as he cast a look up at the avatar. “Wing City deserves ta be spruced’ uppa bit. Y’think? I want ta be a driving force in this ‘ere town. Y’know?”

This meeting could go one of two ways and Josh would probably be fine with either outcome. Either Nyarlathotep embraced him and accepted him, guiding his path on this plane of existence or he ended his existence.

Surprise flashed through Josh’s shadowed eyes as the avatar dragged him to his feet with a single hand and he swayed slightly to get his bearings.

“Bargainin’ time!? A’ight then…” He briskly rubbed his hands together and then spread them out to his sides as if presenting his own self as the trade. “I ‘aven’t pledged myself to anyone’s service inna considerably long existence, eh? Nah claims on my soul… If I even ‘ave one…” His brow furrowed as if he were trying to figure out that small conundrum before proceeding forth.

“I ‘on’t ‘ave much of a moral compass, y’know? Won’t get all squishy an’ all if ya ask me to kill another lout. Maybe I shoul’ work onna whole deception an’ such but we’ve got time, you an’ I….”

Once again, it was hard to tell whether the conversation was a two party affair or whether Josh was mainly just babbling in the direction of the dark god.

“Ere’s an idea. Whattya want? Aye!” The last exclamation came quickly, as if a sudden idea had popped into his head. “I can take a beatin’, aye? I mean…” His hands waved briskly in front of the avatar. “Not challengin’ ya or nothin’ but from mortals anna like.” Withdrawing a switchblade from his pocket, he flipped it open and then stabbed it into his thigh. “See?”

The displays of power twisted with the throbbing shadow of the avatar, causing Josh’s gaze to dance back and forth between the two as his boot-clad feet began to hover over the ground. A moment of clarity seemed to afflict his otherwise rambling, babbling and confused thoughts.

“They said you promised death and destruction. Chaos at a grand scale not petty squabbles used to tear at allegiances otherwise too frail to withstand an onslaught or dissolving governments designed to instill order upon the mortals.”

His eyes fell from the being in front of him, focusing for a moment on the fact that he was levitated and one of the inky black tendrils seemed to edge into his line of sight, causing him to fret and frown.

“And if I succeed, if I am worthy then you will grant me power. Power which every being on this plane craves but few can truly obtain and fewer still can bestow that type of power onto others.”

His words rang true though terror began to lace his last sentence as if he were truly beginning to see exactly who what he was dealing with.

Despite the voice echoing in his mind and threading its way through every fiber of his being, Josh couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the true form of the God of Chaos and Madness long enough to answer. It was as if a mortal had met the gaze of Medusa; petrified at first glance.

Unplagued? Truly, he had thought that he would escape here with little more than a pact from a God granting him power beyond his wildest dreams while gifting him with a path in life far greater than the one he had taken up until now. In his mind, he would no longer be the creature drifting from century to century leaving behind no real footprints in the annals of history. No great feats or tasks, nothing to be remembered by.

Yet, with his eyes now frozen upon the dark, hovering mass that seemed to truly be the stuff of nightmares, Josh dug deeply into his conscious thoughts in an attempt to find his words. If he answered the God then perhaps this would end. Maybe he would still gain his pact without losing much more of his sanity.

“Ch….” His voice stuck in his throat and he swallowed hard before trying again.

“Chaos.”

Obviously the men that followed Nyarlathotep were the same type of wankers that went around proclaiming, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” You think it’s going to be all fun and games because of the secrecy surrounding the seemingly sinful lifestyle but then you realize that it’s just a money sink infested with crab-ridden whores and a bunch of drunks facebooking their every step.

In other words, nothing could have ever prepared Josh for the torment that he endured. Every nightmare and phobia ever imagined whether based in reality or the dark depths of some psychopaths imagination came to fruition and the word pain didn’t even begin to describe the tactile sensations involved.

So it was no surprise that when Josh awoke on the moon, the thoughts resurfaced quickly and he flailed his arms about, trying to fight off faceless demons. His hands caught a patch of dirt, sending it flying into the air and only then did his gaze rake across his surroundings.

“I ‘on’t think I’m in Terra anymore… Toto…” He muttered to himself as he pushed up into a standing position. Every once in awhile his hands would bat wildly at his torso as if flicking off imaginary bugs crawling across his skin.

The Butcher of Wing City snarled a foul howl, echoing into the night as he arrived back upon the mortal plane. His boots crunched into the familiar hunting ground, carrying him forward into the darkness to find a new victim.