I.N.F.E.R.N.O.: HELL STARTS ON EARTH. КИРИЛЛ МИХАЙЛОВИЧ ДЕНИСЕНКО

      – There are dark gravestones, lit bonfires and the forthcoming Orgy

      with the female of the pack of werewolves who was the witch; there are captives, chained with barbed wire to abandoned, overgrown with morning glories crucifixion; everything is so delightful, – prepuce voice was heard. –

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      You’ll behold the reign of darkness this night, and you will change. Darkness will embrace your souls and the blood will wash you, throw you out of the relation… ha… and you will become a part of the new life that will gain you.

      The quiet of the night was broken by roar of a motorcycle; chrome turbine was spitting fire.

      – You, Sweeney, come. Take this blade from my hands and stick it in the heart. Yes, Sweeney, in your heart. You, Bella, take off your garments, appear before Baal; tie her to the altar… – the speaker tripped and fell with his head crushed by the slug.

      Bulky motorcycle shooted up off the sloping roof of the vault and landed on the cemetery's land; and, throwing the ground from under broad rear wheel, whirled, and intensively ran off ahead. The driver in the black fluttering cloak opened out his hands clutching the silver and black handguns and started riddling cartridge clips of lead. Eluding like the lightning werewolves were escaping wounds; suddenly the werewolf grabbed the bumper and knocked the «steel horse» appeared from nowhere.

      – Shit, the sect, I see the things seem to be crappy…

      Pale werewolf in a suede cloak stood up. The upper part of his head, having been splitted, exposed brain.

      – Oh, shit!

      – Yes. Yes! – chuckling, said the disfigured. – You showed up on time to become the victim.

      – Fuck! Arthur King has two tiddlers, and they like it hot!!! – He grabbed out two guns; werewolves swiftly ran. – A-Ah!!! Devil, die!!!

      A Goth, appearing behind him, stuck a folding knife between his ribs. Arthur howled and threw the teenager over his head; bullets flew cursorily, without touching the moving werewolves. His hair dropped on his sweat face and prevented him from seeing the surroundings. The sword ascended, and the detective, dodging the naked blade of the katana, disappeared behind the scattered column with the cherubim. Moving in the flying dust, he took a short blade with the fabric intertwined handle from his trouser-leg. A single swing resulted in a demolished to the ground werewolf’s head; katana of the defeated enemy struck in his hands, and Covenant invested by the master, was expressed in the speech:

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      – The debt of the soul is deeper than the seas and higher than the mountains. My enemies are you. Happiness is ephemeral, when a foe’s heart hits shivering of life and bubbling Evil deters willful strike of all- conquering character. Have I frightened you, whoresons?! I’m pouring out my blood; – he laughed madly, – do not rejoice! I will die with you, here and now! Fear, rescued from my soul, will descend in you! – and, playing with the swishing blade, Arthur was rapidly approaching the werewolves, ripping and crushing the Goth who had broken into a run. His sword was seen as a revolving circle, being a perfect mastery of renzoku-waza that is a complex combination of thrusts. His gaze became cold-blooded determination and extraordinary calm; the second werewolf fell, having experienced the power of iaijutsu; the third, being behind Arthur, clasped him in his arms and plunged the claws into the flesh, whispering in his ear:

      – You will die a long and painful death. Your words are mere. Fear is inside you, for you are hopeless; the wounds are incurable. You are bleeding profusely. And your blood is blackening. Do you imagine yourself the hero? Nonsense! – the claws sunk deeper into his flesh close to the liver. – Who are you now? Or what will you be? You are nothing. And do you know why? Because you're a human being. And like Neko-Mata I’m going to amuse myself with your lifeless body. Are you terrified with the impending decease?

      – The teacher had been telling me from the first day of consecration to remember about the death. When I go to sleep or wake up, when I eat or starving, when I’m awake or reflect when I watch the farewell rays or the rising sun, I always remember about death. So behold the feeble person, me Arthur Jorja King!!! The man who doesn’t care about death, who doesn’t care about you, freaks! That’s because God is with me, and you are beneath me! – he burst into insane laughter, stamped his boot – the blade slipped off the soles – a kick in the groin followed; the werewolf recoiled, and Arthur turned around with lightning speed, picked up the fallen sword and cut off werewolf’s head with the blade. – Who wants the tail, who wants the crock, huh? Neko-Mata, dammit!

      Sighing heavily, he wiped the blood flowing from his nose, and, clenching his bloodied teeth, with a shout rushed toward the Goth appeared in his way. He hack the body from the shoulder to the belt. The youth fell to

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      his knees, breathless with the blood gushing from his mouth. Black bangs fell on his pale forehead, eyes with red lenses look upward. With pain Arthur looked at the ruined soul, at the sacrifice made not by his hands. The barrel of a gun set into his head and he heard a female voice:

      – You’ve ruined everything! I'll kill you! You’ve killed them, you’ve shredded them like babies! Damn! Who the hell are you?

      – You wish to hear the answer… And who are you and who are they? You’re going to kill me? Do! I’ve seen enough of horror and death! These O-Yama and Beherits are different in the languages but the same in nature. They are those slanderers and opponents, the Devils and Sets that have poured into new regime and flooded the minds of people as parasites, stuck in you, in me. I’m fed up with them for they have filled the whole world! The world is being convinced and has been convinced by them that there is no, no, no, fuck, either Evil, or Good! Because we're Evil and we're Good. Yes! We humans, puny humans are the both. Then, then, then we are Gods, only we are and nobody else! – he turned around and the muzzle of the gun set against Arthur's forehead. – So, bitch, you want to know the answer, don’t you? – he shouted, – Must you know the answer or not?!

      – Yes…

      – It doesn't exist! The existing thing is Lie! Lie was splashed out abundantly. Dirt and ink peals of Lie corroded and thinned the truth. Verity is ephemeral and forgotten, and conscience is eroded by decay, so there is no truth, there are you, me and these degenerates. It’s full compliance with the reality of our times. And some contrast will be lost. But there is something that keeps me from shooting myself in the head… Are you intrigued? – he slowly grinned. Being honored to be consecrated Mycoden, I renounced the ways of formation of the highest stages of knowledge, in favour of a different achievement of self-improvement.

      His hand reached in his bosom and pulled out large crucifix on a black cord carved from pine, – the bent head, and outstretched hands, pained face full of suffering and clearly looking out from under veiled eyelids eyes burnt only by the view of betrayal and apostasy. The eyes finding unattainable and great in the simplicity of greatness, power and spirituality, full of Light and power, enclosed mercy… and understanding.

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      – Your hand trembled, and your face contorted. Yes. You see the person who has mourned, but hasn’t rejected, with killed body, but arise from the dead in the soul embodied in the flesh. So who are you? You are destroying the flesh and transformed in the body; you are werewolves, a variable link of ghouls! You are vampires, occult geeks, parasitizing in the bodies. You die and your body comes to life and not as Gods; you, merged with the matter, penetrate into the material world, and you disprove Descartes’s dream by your dependence on space, oppressive and subordinating your nature, for you are the prisoners of the world. And the world will abuse the dependent, will bound by time and space! You are the devil incarnate; your look reflects your emptiness enclosed by the seals of evil, – Arthur snatched the gun put to him and turning back, released