Beautiful Death

Very few new words tonight. I actually lost a page or so because I went through the whole draft so far and edited. I know, I'm not supposed to do that much, but I needed to check some consistency through the sections before I forgot. I'm trying to build suspense through all the other characters knowing that Isabella and Hades met before, but Isabella herself doesn't know that the monster who fed on her ten years ago is Hades himself. I had to go back through and eliminate a few things to make sure it made sense.

Same with exactly who Zeus and Persephone are. Originally, I had Persephone spill the beans in her first section, but I've eliminated that for now. Yeah, Persephone hates Isabella, you totally get that. But not why, exactly, or at least not completely.

So I'm still sitting at 20,500 tonight, but I made some good choices.

Oh, I also succumbed and posted a pitch for this piece on Deidre Knight's blog for the contest she's running. *nervous*

I've trained and worked with these people for years. Will they turn on me once they find out I've been contaminated? Friendship won't prevent me from killing them if I must.




Atalanta, Jason, and Hercules

This is the little prick who calls the Erinyes after confirming I've been contaminated. He'd better hope I'm never called upon to save his ass from one of the monsters. I'd take pleasure in watching him get torn apart.

DVD Sleeve:

Block	Description	Pages
1	Contamination	27
2	Refuge	23
3	Friends and Lovers	18
4	The Dark Side	0
5	The Monster Awakens	0
6	The Pirate Enforcer	0
7	Monsters Collide in Death	0
8	On Wings of Death	0
9	Delphi's Oracle	0
10	Father of the Gods	0

Sections:

Block	Section	Description	Progress
1	001	A Simple Termination	first draft
1	001a	Troubling Questions	first draft
1	002	Death Goes Shopping	first draft
1	003	Icarus's Flight	first draft
1	004	Diagnosis	first draft
2	006	The Hunter Becomes the Hunted	first draft
2	007	Cornering the Prey	first draft
2	008	Loyal Friends	first draft
2	008a	Dodging Zeus's Thunderbolts	first draft
2	008b	Allies and Enemies	first draft
2	009	Nowhere to Go	first draft
3	011	First Feeding	first draft
3	012	Monstrous Reflections	first draft
3	012a	Death Awakens the Master	first draft
3	013	Let Me Help	first draft
3	014	Out of Control	first draft
3	015	Release the Keres	first draft
4	016	On Death's Wings	first draft
4	016a	Meeting a Fellow Monster	first draft
4	016b	Goodbye, Icarus	first draft
4	016c	Abandon Hope	first draft
4	017	Hell's Master	in progress
4	018	At Hell's Door	not started
4	019	Critical Contamination	not started
4	020	Persephone's Deployment	not started
5	021	Sex, Blood and Flesh	not started
5	022	Crysalis	not started
5	023	Mutations of Death	not started
5	024	Fear's Flavor	not started
6	026	Icarus Knows Everybody	not started
6	027	Into Tartarus	not started
6	028	Beast Against Beast	not started
7	031	Fragile Meat	not started
7	032	The Monsters Inside	not started
7	033	Demons of Violent Death	not started
8	036	Final Transformation	not started
8	037	A Friend's Love	not started
8	038	Crossing Over	not started
9	041	Paradise Realized	not started
9	042	Apollo's Confession	not started
9	043	Return to Hell	not started
9	044	For Love of Death	not started
10	046	Too Close to the Sun	not started
10	047	Mount Olympus	not started
10	048	Death's Enforcer	not started

The desecration of this planet's culture is one of my greatest sorrows. We did not come to conquer or destroy, but to learn. To share. Human science was on the verge of great work, work we wished to explore with them. Virology had never been studied on our planets. We had never even suffered Earth's common cold.

We thought we had taken every precaution. We met with only the top scientists, we limited our exposure to the common races, and we took the human immunizations as their doctors suggested. But it was not enough.

Ironically, they blame us for the resulting plague. The general populace believes we infected them with some alien virus from which they were incapable of defending themselves. That it was a deliberate act of terrorism on their planet. They do not understand that it is we who were infected. Slow, insidious as first, the virus entered our bodies, mutated, absorbed our DNA, and released hell on Earth. The resulting plague struck alien and human alike with equal ferocity.

We can never go home. Even those of us who never suffered the full effects of the virus are now carriers of the plague. Do you comprehend what levels of destruction this virus would work on our home planet? Our galaxy? At least here we have the benefit of trained virologists to study our blood and the humans' to counteract the effects as much as possible.

I was a leader on my planet, a trusted ambassador to this planet, and so I have tried to unite the remnants as much as possible. So few, so very few remain.

I have been changed by the virus, although not as badly as most of my people. Yes, my people have always drawn energy from other lifeforms. We never killed, though. Our preferred way of feeding is through sexual release with enthusiastic partners, although a simple bonding to unite master and dedicated servant is more common for long voyages such as this one. We brought our own "food" to this planet deliberately, so we would not expose Earthlings to our truly alien nature.

Violence and blood are repulsive to us. Rather, they were repulsive to us before the virus.

It's as if the very worst corruption possible has happened to us. We can no longer control our urges to feed. Energy gained from our loyal and willing servants is not sufficient for most of my kind any longer. We need blood. We feed off violence. The incredible rush of fear in our victims is so much more than the pleasure we once enjoyed. The more violent the claiming of our victims, the more power we gain in the feeding.

It is no wonder the humans call us monsters.

My nature has been corrupted, although I struggle to maintain the old ways. I have never killed to feed. In fact, I have only fed off a human once, and that experience torments me more than the horrors we accidentally wrought on this planet with our very presence.

She was the one I had sworn to find and protect, the daughter of my trusted friend. Such a fierce, strong little thing, she nigh burned up in my arms with her rage and thirst for my demise. Her lifeforce brushed against mine, melded, melted, sealing me to her in a way that has never happened before.

In my weakness, I fed. I feasted despite her struggles. She brought my blood with her teeth, raked my face with her nails and screamed her hate at me. And Zeus forgive me, I loved it.

I would sell what remains of my soul to have her in my arms again. I have, in fact. I gave her the keys to my soul when she howled and raged in my arms that day. When I tasted the sheer essence of her soul. She will be mine.

My Death. Our very salvation.

She just does not know it yet.

I'm Isabella Thanatos, Marshal for the City of Athens. I execute criminals on sight.

Killing is easy. Facing what I've become, impossible.

I barely remember a time when the aliens weren't here. I was just a kid when their ships first arrived. They promised peace and sharing of knowledge to improve our lives. Instead, we began dying. A plague thousands of times worse than the Black Death swept through Earth. The lucky ones died in convulsions of blood and raging fevers.

Most of the others...became monsters. Twisted by the viruses that mutated faster than anything we'd ever seen before and corrupted by alien DNA, they murdered and feasted on blood and flesh. If their victims survived the attack, they turned into monsters, too. Werewolves and vampires of legend, I suppose, only twisted worse than any horror movie we've ever seen.

The shapeshifters aren't any beast we can recognize from Earth's natural species. With scales and fur and wings, they resemble vultures crossed with dragons instead of plain old wolves. The vampires certainly don't wear cloaks or turn into bats, although unfortunately, many of them do ooze sex appeal. The better to lure their victims in for the kill, my dear.

They are monsters, real live monsters. And we died by the billions. We're still dying.

The aliens did this. There were two kinds of aliens who came bearing palms leaves of friendship and peace. One kind fed off human lifeforce, non-violently, of course, or so they professed. Their soldiers were shapeshifters called Enforcers. We stupidly believed the Enforcers were simply bodyguards. We stupidly believed the aliens would uphold their promises and not feed off us like sheep. But sheep we were, and we went peacefully to the slaughter.

Only a few thousand humans survived the plague of mutating monstrosity. Our greatest scientists and doctors worked tirelessly to develop an immunization, but as soon as one was developed, the virus mutated again, worsening the epidemic. In desperation, they consulted with the alien researchers, for by then, even the aliens were infected with the virus. Barred from ever returning to their own home planets as carriers of this virus, they were marooned with us, forever.

Unless I kill them all first.

I will never forgive the aliens for what they've done to mankind. What they've done to my family. I've lost everyone I ever loved, although I can't blame the aliens entirely. The one I hold personally responsible is my own father.

A famous hematologist for his research into AIDS and virology, my father left us to join the central laboratories in search of a cure. He left us. My mother, me, and my older sister. I was twelve when I held my mother's head in my lap and wiped the blood from her eyes, nose and mouth as she suffered. We were all sick despite the last-minute shot my father gave us before he left. Despite his promise it would protect us. That he would return and take us to safety. Amelia and I recovered, although we were never the same again. The virus claimed our mother.

Amelia and I roamed the streets for two years. We slept in boxes, gutters, abandoned buildings, graves. She might have been 18 months older than me, but she was delicate, ethereal, and, yes, weak. I protected us. I stole food. I fought off the monsters to keep her safe.

I learned how to tell how dangerous a stranger was at a glance. Later, I realized that I can see people's energy, or aura, and I can tell what they intend. It's like every bad deed the person ever did or intends to commit is painted in bold full color for me to read. This sight told me when to hide with my sister beneath me in the mud and rubbish of the ditch. When to fight. When to run like the wind. When to beg for help.

This gift has failed me, though, so I've learned the hard way not to depend solely on my sight. Blinded by my own special sight, I lost my sister.

I was barely fifteen when we stumbled into a whole flock of aliens. At a glance, I knew they were the real thing. The virus hadn't infected them yet, but they had been touched by it. Their auras were dark and tortured, but they hadn't lost the battle. Not yet.

One of them crouched down before me, his black eyes glittering with a rainbow of stars. His silver hair was so bright I blinked, overcome with the simple, stark beauty in the grimness of my young life. And his aura. Gleaming ivory, pure, sparkling black and vibrant scarlet glowed and swirled, taking my breath away. I had never seen anything like it.

I remember that I actually touched him. I put my hand in his hair, and it was incredibly soft and silky. He picked me up like I was a child, his hands gentle and strong. He cradled me in his arms. He told me he'd been looking for me. That my father had sent him.

My father. The coward who had left us behind to die. The traitor who had gone to help the aliens. He was one of them, now. A monster.

I screamed and fought, using every street trick I had learned over the years. I bit him in the throat, the most vulnerable spot I could reach. I shredded his face with my fingernails. I tore at him with my human teeth and pitiful, ineffectual claws, rage and hate burning up in me, and the alien would not let me go. He held me closer, whispering something to me in his language. His energy roared higher, bathing me in a glorious blaze of scarlet.

Hot. My skin burned, sizzling against his coolness. The more energy he dumped on me, the hotter I burned. I could feel him sucking down my lifeforce, draining my strength, my will to live. He squeezed me tighter, sucking me dry, and I surrendered. In that moment, I died. I gave myself up to him. I was so tired, tired of the constant ache of hunger in my stomach, the filth of the street, the strain of protecting my sister when she could not protect herself.

Something struck him, jarring me free from his grasp. I fell to the ground, too weak to lift my head. He was so beautiful my heart hurt, and so deadly. His own blood stained his throat and shirt, startling against the pale perfection of his skin. His aura had bled almost completely red, clouded now by darker shadow. His silver hair glowed like the moon, and his eyes, a midnight kaleidoscope of dancing stars. Beautiful. He had tried to kill me, and I would have let him.

Someone shouted for the monsters to back off. A man appeared, standing over me with some kind of weapon. The other aliens actually seemed afraid of it and backed away.

The one that had fed off me stared at me. I saw the hunger in his eyes, immense and dark. Desperation warred with his sense of self preservation, and he almost flew at my human rescuer. I could see the tension radiating in his tall, slender frame. Fury radiated like flames in his aura. I struggled to look beyond the beauty to read his intentions.

He would find me again or die trying.

I licked my lips, tasted his blood, and remembered the hatred blazing in my veins when I bit him. And I smiled. I would be more than happy to oblige him in his death.

Isabella died that day, ravaged by the vampiric monster with silver hair and rainbow eyes. He haunts my dreams when I allow myself to sleep. He is the only thing left that can make me fear. Not my death, but my surrender. I don't ever want to give up again.

Now, I am Death. I never stop. I kill because someone needs to protect the weak from the monsters. The weak, like my sister who was carried away by the aliens that day. My father, who crossed over into Hell itself. My mother. Her last words were "I wish to die." She smiled when she found peace after three days of agony.

I give the tortured their dearest wish, as I did for my suffering mother. Some kill with hate, with rage, with fear. I kill with merciless mercy.

They call me Beautiful Death.

So even among the dead, greed enjoys its life; even that great god Charon, who gathers taxes for Dis [Haides], does not do anything for nothing. A poor man on the point of death must find his fare, and no one will let him breathe his last until he has his copper ready.) You must allow this squalid elder to take for your fare one of the coins you are to carry, but he must remove it form your mouth with his own hand. Apuleius 6.18

Charon, in Greek mythology, is the ferryman of the dead. The souls of the deceased are brought to him by Hermes, and Charon ferries them across the river Acheron. He only accepts the dead which are buried or burned with the proper rites, and if they pay him an obolus (coin) for their passage. For that reason a corpse had always an obolus 1 placed under the tongue.

Those who cannot afford the passage, or are not admitted by Charon, are doomed to wander on the banks of the Styx for a hundred years. Living persons who wish to go to the underworld need a golden bough obtained from the Cumaean Sibyl.

"Charon was receiving passengers of all kinds into his boat. Magnanimous heroes, boys and unmarried girls, as numerous as the leaves that fall at autumn, or the flocks that fly southward at the approach of winter. They stood pressing for a passage and longing to touch the opposite shore. But the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose, driving the rest back. Aeneas, wondering at the sight, asked the Sibyl, 'Why this discrimination?' She answered, 'Those who are taken on board the bark are the souls of those who have received due burial rites; the host of others who have remained unburied are not permitted to pass the flood, but wander for hundreds of years, and flit to and fro about the shore, till at last they are taken over.' Aeneas, displaying the sacred golden bough given him by the Sibyl, persuades Charon to make an exception and allow him, one of the living, to cross into the realm of the dead in order to bury a fallen comrade and see his father." (from Dante's Inferno, 1300AD).

The Cumaean Sibyl wrote her prophecies on leaves, which she then placed at the mouth of her cave. If no one came to collect them, they were scattered by winds and never read. Written in complex, often enigmatic verses, these "Sibylline Leaves" were sometimes bound into books. It was said that the Sibyl herself brought nine volumes of these prophecies to Tarquin II of Rome, offering them to him at an outrageous price. He scoffed, and she immediately burned three volumes, offering the remaining six at the same high price. Again-rather less casually--he refused. Again she burned three volumes, again asking the original price. This time the king's curiosity was high, his resistance low, and he purchased the Sibylline prophecies.

The Sibyl of Cumae gained her powers by attracting the attention of the sun god Apollo, depicted as doing so in the painting by Salvator Rosa (cir. 1650s) above. Apollo offered her anything if she would spend a single night with him. She asked for as many years of life as grains of sand she could squeeze into her hand. Granted, the sun god said; and Sibyl, glad to win her boon, refused his advances. Thereafter she was cursed with the furfillment of her wish--eternal life without eternal youth. She slowly shriveled into a frail undying body, so tiny that she fit into a jar. Her container was hung from a tree; Sibyl needed, of course, no food or drink, for she could neither starve nor die of thirst. And there she hung, croaking occasional oracles, while children would stand beneath her urn and tease, "Sibyl, Sibyl, what do you wish?" To which she would faintly reply, "I wish to die."

Thanatos resides in the Underworld with Hades. He is associated with bone chilling darkness and said to have a heart of pitiless iron. The Sun never casts his light on Death.

He is often pictured with a butterfly.

Thanatos represents the death instinct--the desire to give up the struggle of life and return to the grave. He is directly opposed to Eros, the life instinct, the desire to create life.

Thanatos embodies Death.

Devilish smile, sharp intellect, with more "contacts" than any fashion designer should ever know, Icarus is my friend, designer, and informant. He has a fabulous eye for clothes, and an even more vicious marketing sense. He used my reputation and love for his clothes to create the most famous shop in Athens. I don't mind; he gives me the best stock at cost.

His material is unbelievable, one of a kind soft natural fabric that is unlike any other materials we can manufacture. It's his fault that these blasted butterflies are everywhere. He has a thing for wings, you see.

He is the luckless chance.

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Letter

Luck is a four-letter word.

Birthed from Uranus's blood, the Erinyes are the punishers of sinners, also called "those who walk in darkness." The heads of the Erinyes were wreathed with serpents, their eyes dripped with blood, and their whole appearance was terrific and appalling. Sometimes they had the wings of a bat or bird, or the body of a dog.

As long as there was sin in the world, they could not be banished. According to Virgil, there were three sisters: Alecto ("unceasing"), Megaera ("grudging"), and Tisiphone ("avenging murder"). Vengeance personified.

"Not even the sun will transgress his orbit but the Erinyes, the ministers of justice, overtake him."

Marshals keep the peace of the Cities. We act as detective, judge and executioner, terminating anyone not keeping the peace. In the early days, we executed contaminants on sight. Still, the viruses continued to spread, mutating faster than the vaccinations, and some Marshals succumbed to the virus. Who kills the killers? Who executes the executioners?

The Erinyes.

Mythology
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According to mythology, the Keres are demons of violent death. They craved blood and feasted upon it after ripping free the souls of mortally-wounded humans. They were also personifications of epidemic diseases, haunting areas riven by plague. They were usually pictured as fanged and taloned women, although for this story they are both men and women.

Keres Gallery

In traditional mythology, Hera and Zeus were married. Zeus had numerous infidelities, and Hera was portrayed as a vengeful and jealous wife. She often withdrew from Olympia and once even conceived a child on her own. Unfortunately, Hephaestus was deformed (lame in the legs), although he became known as the God of the Forge.

Her symbols were the peacock and the cow. She was often considered the Goddess of Marriage.

There is also a reference from Dionysiaca where Hera obtained treacherous flowers from the demon, Achlys, and used them to curse some women who had angered her. She shed a sleep of enchantment over their heads; distilled poisoned drugs over their hair, smeared a subtle magical ointment over their faces and changed their earlier human shape.

My name is Isabella Thanatos. This is my story.

Apollo helped found MedOps, the medical corporation in charge of developing continued vaccinations for the mutating viruses. Brilliant scientist, somewhat of a heretic, he shocked the Pantheon when he left his chair and pulled Delphi out of the Pantheon. Now, he seeks knowledge most of all.

He is the unifying heretic.

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Character Sheet

Hera has reason to hate Zeus as much as I do. For her revenge, she counters Zeus's technology and research, fouling his improvements, corrupting more humans with mutations she herself created. She's always been fascinated by the bizarre and the monstrous, especially how humans can become so perfectly monstrous.

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According to Mythology

Her symbol is the pomegranate, and her favorite color is red. She especially loves Argos, the City shunned by the others because of their refusal to implement vaccinations.

Who are the real monsters?
Greed, ultimate power, and hate combine to make a monstrous brew.
The search for knowledge brings redemption of humanity, peace and understanding.
Hate is ugly and monstrous.
Hate causes people to lose their humanity.
Hell on earth.

The most powerful member of the Counsel Pantheon, few have spoken to him. Few have seen his face. I wish to Hades I'd never found out the truth.

He is the flawed perfection.

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Character Basics

My older sister was taken by the monsters when I was fourteen. For most of my adult life, I feared Amelia was dead. Someone terrifyingly familiar now calls herself "She who destroys the light." Persephone.

She is my bright shadow.

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Character Basics

Premise: Love and knowledge lead to a beautiful paradise.

Opposite: Blind hate and ignorance lead to a monstrous hell.

Another of the aliens, Charon is an Enforcer, a shapeshifting soldier turned pirate now that he's stuck on Earth. He'd sell his own mother's hide for the right price. I need him, though. He's the only one that can guide me between the Lost Cities and Hades itself. After all, no one knows hell like those who live in it.

He is my trustworthy betrayer.

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Mythology
Character Basics
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Lord of the Underworld, he is the worst monster I know. I hate his kind. I would kill him if I could. Now, I need his help more than anything. Unfortunately, he has only one desire in this world -- to overcome his exile on Earth and return to Macedon -- and he'll use anything and anybody to achieve it. Especially me.

He is the homeward exile.

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Character Basics

He is the one person I would trust with my life. I love him as my dearest friend. I wish I could love him more. I wish I could love him as much as I know he loves me. But he's one of the weak. He's someone I must protect, even from myself. As much as I love him and value his friendship, I cannot give him my heart, no matter how much I wish I could.

He is my fragile fortress.

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Character Basics

Who am I? Human or monster? Marshal or Executioner? Avenger or Murderer?

The only part of my name I claimed from my past is Isabella. When the Cities were founded, I claimed a new name. Thanatos. It suits me, don't you think?

I am the merciless mercy.

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Mythology
Character Basics
Character Letter