The Devils Comrade

I stood up.

Lying flat on my ass wasn’t going to get me home… Wherever that might be.

I took a good, long look around, finding myself surrounded by trees on a mountain.

What the hell happened last night that I can’t recall ending up on a mountain?

I was then hit with a rather nasty pain localized to my brain. Goddamn, did I get bashed over the head with a damn bat last night. Okay, let’s recall my steps. There was the drinking—that’s where the bloody hangover came from—and the eating… Oh, that fucking light… What?

How can light transport me to a different location?

What kind of sci-fi bullshit is this?

I patted myself down, revealing that I still had everything on me.

My Lucky Strike and my full flask are in my inner pocket.

The right pocket had my pocket watch and MP3 player, and in the left one was where my notebook, pen, and pencil sat.

Of course, I wasn’t buck-ass naked. I am donning a dark-blue suit and tie with my whitish-yellow dress shirt with a trench coat over my clothes. A cowboy hat rests upon my head, and red-tinted sunglasses cover my eyes. A pair of black loafers covered my feet.

Why am I dressed like a damn fool?

Who's to say, but I find it rather comfortable.

I feel like I'm forgetting something...

Am I forgetting anything…

Holy shit, I forgot about my gun!

And I guess the twelve-inch Bowie knife.

I unbuttoned my coat and threw flips back.

Revealing my pistol harness holding my Jericho 941 R with a few magazines on my left and my knife holster on my right.

Jesus Christ, I’m a damn mess today. Looking around, I saw an Indian trail-like thing and decided to take it to the top. Trying to figure out where would be a good start. The air had a rather warm smell to it, matching the temperature, an oddity due to it being mid-December.

About an hour later, I made it to the peak of the mountain. (Something Sisyphus was never able to do.) When I had finally reach the summit and started to view my surroundings, my confusion had grown to its peak. I decided to unseal my flask for the first time in a while and throw back whatever lay within it.

To describe what else my eyes were seeing, it would be something like this. A fortress lay in the distance; it was this Frankenstein’s monster of cultures. The stronghold uses four stone walls that wrap around the fortress, giving it a European design, but it also holds a traditional Japanese design of a shiro or jō. The men who line the wall look as if they were something between samurai and knights, with rows of cannons lying throughout the whole castle walls. I'm trying to get a grasp of this mayhem, but I can’t figure out what the hell is happening. It was like a bad joke repeating itself over and over again, as if the person saying it believed it would become funnier the more they repeated it. When scanning the land, I witness a three-headed beast ripping apart a man like a Snickers bar. Only the caramel and peanuts were replaced with guts and blood… I guess a Kit Kat bar would fit better.

I force myself to forget what I have seen, and while I am trying to forget, I got a glance of a town. It was about a five-hour walk from here; it's better than just standing and doing nothing. So I head off to the town with nothing but my flask to fill my thirst.

The sun was cooking my very white skin even though it was all covered, and the dried air didn’t help with cooling me down. The last of this trilogy of things that was making me sick was the only thing keeping me from a hangover… the same thing that caused it.

The good old hair of the dog.

All of these was rather funny in a non-funny sense.

I throw off my trench coat and suit jacket, laying the two pieces of clothing over my back. Looking across the land, it was all this lush green, but there was something about this that made me feel wrong… like dead was rotting just underneath. As if the bodies of men was the fertilizer for these lands, or I’m just sick from all the booze and meat sloshing around in my stomach.

A few hours later, my mind was still feeding itself on this paranoia, but I was starting to see this shabby town in the distance. I'm guessing it was the one I saw from on top of the mountain. I did want to reveal my hand to people; I also don’t want anyone to just grab my gun, so I throw the two pieces of clothes that were lying on my back and place them back on.

I enter the outskirts of the town, and when I am walking through these streets, people are staring at me. Couldn’t blame them; I would look at me too if I were them. These people were wearing these patchwork clothes, hand-sewn, mismatched scraps of fabric. So even if I didn’t look so goddamn strange, they would still be looking at me.

The town's architecture was crumbling right in front of my eyes; the air reek of shit and death.

I’m feeling grimy just from standing here.

There was a melancholy feeling to seeing all this.

No matter where you go, there are always the poor and the needy wherever or whenever the hell I am.

I was listening to all these conversations that surrounded me and how they were talking about the strange, tall man in odd clothes. These people, wherever I went, just kept on giving me suspicious looks everywhere I went. Not wanting to stay still for long, I just keep on walking.

I wasn’t sure where I was going, but what I need is to learn more about this place. A place to gather information, and of course, for somewhere like this, it would have to be the local watering hole. The search for one was too hard, but finding the right one was not, and the right one was in a hidden area in this hidden town.

A sentence was written upon the tavern.

“For the fools who die to live.

And those who saw demon wars.

Welcome to a place that doesn’t care.”

Walking into the bar, I found the place to be rather rowdy. The place was a course filled with drunks, and while looking around, I was seeing these people all armed with bows, swords, and long wooden sticks.

It was like a powder keg waiting to kill everyone here.

I continue my search trying to find something. My eyes, for a few seconds, were drawn to a man who was sitting in the corner alone with a katana next to him. But I got my head on straight, and I walk my way over to the counter, where I start up a conversation with this bartender.

“I’m new around here and have no idea where the hell I am.”

“All right, welcome to the town of Scheißloch. This town has been forgotten and forsaken by its county of Sisyphu.”

“Okay… strange question, my lad but what the money for these lands?”

“We use coins—copper, iron, and gold coins. Same as anywhere else where copper is the most common and gold is the rarest. We don’t get too many travelers here, as you can see the reason why all around you. So why are you here?”

“Let’s just say I had a very wild night last night.”

“Well, you came to the right place if you want anyone.” Right when the bartender finished talking, an arrow passed a few inches from my head. “WOULD YOU DUMB FUCKS KEEP YOUR WEAPONS DOWN! … Sorry about that; what would you like to drink?”

“I got something, but thanks for the help.” I pull a nickel from my pocket and place it on the counter. (Why do I have a nickel in my pocket? Reasons.)

“Funny coin.”

“Well, I hope it works around these parts. Cheers.”

Earth seems to be long gone, like a con man who’s been caught in his charade. Maybe I should be more surprised about all the impossibilities, but I can say I care awfully much.

The man who was sitting alone had gotten up, walk to the bar, and stood next to me during my talk with the bartender. He was wearing a deep, dark blue kimono with clogs. His breath stank of booze, and he was just not saying anything to me. He's just standing next to me, not even ordering another drink. I can’t do anything because he’s not doing anything, so I decided to just walk away. But while I was walking away, he grabbed hold of my shoulder.

“Looks like you got your clothes off the Devil.”

“Well, that’s because I am The Devil… and I came to do The Devil’s work.”

The man with the blade by his side started to chuckle at this response and replied with, “Then should I kill you and send you back to the pits of hell?”

He started to draw his katana out of its sheath and laid it next to my neck. The room falls into an uneasy silence. All eyes were upon us now, waiting to see if the tavern was about to be repainted with a shade of red.

“You may kill me, but prepare yourself to follow shortly afterwards.”

I pulled my gun out and pointed it inches from his face.

The cool blade was resting on my neck.

My gun was pointed at his chest.

He laughed.

I laughed.

“I’ve been waiting for a reason to leave this fucking place, and you seem like a good enough reason.”

We returned our weapons to their resting place, and the thickness in the air vanished.

I reached my hand out, and the man did the same.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Miyamoto, and yours?”

“The names V.”

“V?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, you want a drink.”

“I don’t have anything on me.”

“We better keep it cheap then.”

We fill the afternoon that turns to night with the tales of our lives.

Miyamoto was a bounty hunter. He didn't care much for it, but it paid the bills, and the reason he stopped me was to make sure I wasn’t a man on the run, but after the first question, he knew I wasn’t. He only pulled his blade to see what type of man I was and whether or not he should join me on my journey, a journey he knows nothing of.

“How do I know I’m on a journey?”

“The way you walk.”

“Really?”

“No, it’s because you just said it.”

“Oh, piss off. Why do you even want to join me?”

“I’m sick of drifting around all by myself, and you seem to be a rather good drifting partner.”

Well, after a few drinks, I decided that he would be perfect and allowed him to come, like it was ever a real decision. We drank like fools about to go to war. Talking, fighting, and joking as if we've known each other since the start of time.

When the next morning arrived, and I woke with a hangover, this time, I knew that this time I had a comrade to join in with the pain.