Last Penance: Chapter 2 – Through the Muck of My Own Making

Chapter 2 – Through the Muck of My Own Making

After traveling for a while through the underground tunnels of Eastern Europe, I rest at an underground ratmen stop though I wish I didn’t need the rest. The reason for this is that most rest stops like this double as prostitution and drug dealing dens. Around me are not only ratmen but also bandits, traitors, and cultists of all races that we’ve convinced to be on our side. The ratmen with the bodies of women dance on tables and makeshift stages to the drunken cheers of the degenerates of this rest stop. Along with the fake women, there are real women dancing and prostituting themselves with them. Some of these women have been brainwashed with chemicals or forced to do this by us or truly believe that this is what they want for themselves.

Regardless of the circumstances of their being here, some become brood mothers who give birth to children who will be used to give birth to ratmen if the child is female or experimented on to become a ratman if the child is male. It feels disgraceful to be here not only because I’m wearing dirtied brown rags after letting go of the luxurious robes that I earned after generations of hard work but also because I’m in the presence of these people and their sins. This reminds me too much of my own disgraceful actions and the life I lived. Why did you allow me to live that sort of life, Lord? Why didn’t you come to me sooner, father?

My father’s voice speaks to me from my shoulder. He says, “My son, my greatest treasure from God, I am sorry for dragging you through this. The reason why you were allowed to live the sinful life you lived is because the shame you feel now for it is a driving force that will propel you to do your penitential act.”

It's definitely doing a good job of making me want to move. I’ve obtained the grace of the clarity of conscience even in the depths of my sin and in the sinful places I’ve been in. Still, I can’t help but feel abandoned. Even when I was a normal human, the churches of Eastern Europe acted questionably because of Vicar Sylvatic. The Vicar accrued all the power and influence he could in Constantinople and made his seat of power a den of prostitution, daily orgies, and parties. Those who dared try to stop him were assassinated quietly and disposed of as if they had simply disappeared. To be honest, he and his supporters are no different now than he was before except in the obvious way where his character is now accurately depicted by his appearance.

His corrupt church is the environment I grew up in, with my father being one of the few virtuous people in it. I find it hard to accept that God allowed me to be trapped in such a den of darkness even though I have an idea about how it may bring about a greater good through it. It also brings to mind the nature of my birth and how I grew up with a natural distaste for women because of what my mother tried to do and the typical sluts I’ve met during my time who wanted power by trying to get me to like them. That’s one lesson I’ll never forget, father. Never be too quick to trust or fall in love with someone.

“Your mother regretted her decision before and during her execution,” I hear my father say. “She is in Purgatory now and will be there for quite a while. Please, put aside your feelings and pray for her as I am doing. She does love you.”

My father’s words make me question whether or not they are his or am imagining them, but then again, I feel like I’ve been imagining his voice ever since I saw him in my dream.

“Here is your food and water as requested,” the supplier ratman says as he finally brings me what I came here for.

I managed to buy some basic animal meat and dirty water after killing some ratmen who were eating a human alive in the tunnels and taking their gold and goods that I could sell. People typically die in these tunnels for petty reasons and infighting so no one should care. I hardly even care that I killed those men because, in comparison to my previous deeds, my killing of those ratmen was a virtuous deed. Moving on from this location, I find a place in the tunnels where I can no longer hear the sounds of people being tortured, orgies, women giving birth and being eaten alive, and other sinful deeds. In the dirt and dark, I eat alone and can’t help but appreciate it.

I’m tired of the constant noise and seeing people controlled by their vices. The reason why they rape, murder, and engage in homosexual acts is because they are ruled by their feelings, and their conscience is darkened by their sins and corrupted will. I’m hoping that whatever God has planned for me will bring an end to the madness even if it ends in the erasure of the ratman race. Once I finish my meager meal, I continue through the barely lit tunnels. Even though these tunnels are barely distinct from one another and I lack a map, I remember the way to the Vatican and have only asked back at the rest stop for meager clarifications. I’ve been through these tunnels so many times for so many hundreds of years to experiment and to spy on the Vicar’s enemies, so finding my way around is child’s play.

While going through the tunnels, I can’t help but hunger again for more food. I knew I should’ve gotten more meat, but I didn’t think I would get this hungry this fast. Because of my hunger, I grow desperate enough to eat the actual rats, mice, and vermin that I find in the tunnels alive. With each meal, I look at my bloodied hands, wipe away my salivating mouth, and realize how much of an animal I am. My body craves constant sustenance and the stimulation of my senses to the point where I start to get the shakes. To curb these desires, I pray and try not to focus on them.

Suddenly, I hear the sounds of screams, and my senses flair up again. Curiosity gets the better of me and I track the sounds of orc traitors carrying women down the tunnels. Three of them are carrying the women and two of them are carrying torches. I shouldn’t get myself involved in this, but I feel pushed to for no other reason than to save them. Why should I? I have more important matters to see to. So what if they are sold, die a horrible death in childbirth, or are subjected to the desires of sick men for the rest of their lives? I’ve passed others who are already suffering that fate, but didn’t help them, so why am I feeling the need to save them now?

The burdens of my conscience eventually crush me under their weight and I leap into action by starting with cutting the throat of the orcs that are carrying the torches with my bare claws so that they are now walking in the dark. My eyes as a ratman allow me to see in this darkness as if it were evening and my speed and strength give me the tools I need to impale the chests and heads of the remaining orcs with little trouble as their attacks don’t manage to hit me.

After freeing the restraints of the women, I point in the direction of the nearest exit and tell them, “Escape! Leave here now and don’t stop running in that direction unless you want to suffer a worse fate than them!”

The women scream and run in the direction I pointed towards. This is strange. I feel both justified in what I did and a rush of sinful delight. I…I need to feed! No! I need…I need more bloodshed! No, no, no! I…need to control myself. Get away from here! Sprinting as fast as I can from this place, I run down tunnel after tunnel until I reach another rest stop, another den of filth and debauchery. The ratmen who have made themselves look like women try to involve me with their partying and pleasures even as I resist.

“Unhand me, cretins! I have no time to deal with you filthy men of perdition,” I say.

One of the guards who is a bit too tipsy on his job approaches me, grabs me by the shoulder, and says, “Hey, man, the ladies just want to show you a good time. You look like you’ve been through a lot so why don’t you unwind with us?”

“Yes, why don’t you take a break and sit down with us? I know all the ways to make even the most hardened travelers relax,” one of the ratmen says in a feminine voice while running his hand over my chest.

Disgusted by this, I push them aside and say, “I’ve had enough of you, fake women! Leave me alone!”

“Calm down she’s just trying to help you, sir,” the guard says.

“HE is nothing more than a man wearing the flesh of a woman.”

My anger and need for violence flares up even more now even as the drug-filled air and people of this den of filth try to get me to relax. In the face of every one of them, I hear the accusation, “This is all your fault, this is all your fault!” The screams of women in deathly labor tell of the evils I’ve done and the partying, orgies, and torturing that is happening in this place yell at me for all the times I chose my safety and interests over virtue and doing what was right. Again and again, I hear “You are not your father’s child. You are no servant of God or virtuous in the slightest. All your works are nothing more than the reason why you should be damned for all eternity.” The noise drives me insane to the point where I push my way through the crowds, bust into the armory, and start mixing the chemicals and explosives within it to blow and burn this place to the ground and surely enough, it does soon after killing most of the people in it.

The explosions have given me a way out of the tunnels and into the fresh air of the surface. I finally sit down and look at the destruction I’ve caused as my wounds quickly close and heal. This quick healing is the result of the research between Ischemic and me, research that I wished never bore any fruit. Right now, all I want to do is die and be free of this cursed and guilt-filled existence, however, I don’t have long to rest and catch my breath as one of the ratman guards on the surface, a mutant with various heads of rats and men comes to attack me. It’s the size of a tiger, has the strength of ten men, and is another result of my experimentation, which means I know its weaknesses and how to easily kill it.

There’s a weakness in its legs that I cut with my claws to take advantage of so that it stays in place, cut off its razorblade-like tail, and then make it lower itself even further by cutting at its neck area. I then light the abomination on fire with nearby branches and the fires from the destruction that I caused in the tunnels so it doesn’t regenerate. Once the creature stops writhing and screaming in pain and finally dies, I sit down in the dirt to catch my breath. Putting that thing down took more energy out of me than blowing up the rest stop. Not many of the abominations, experiments, and ratmen soldiers are able to regenerate the same as that creature, Ischemic, and I, but once more ratmen do, the Church’s army will have a nearly impossibly task in pushing them back.

It's only now that I realize why I was chosen by God for the penitential task He has for me. I know the weaknesses of the regenerating ratmen, how to effectively create explosives, and how to make the undercities collapse in on themselves. I’ve been to the undercities under the Vatican multiple times and know the weaknesses of the structures that hold them up. The buildings that hold up the ground above them may be strong and marvelous, but after I take out the primary structures, they’ll fold in on themselves like a house of cards. Now the last piece of the puzzle will be finding a man near the undercities who will be a credible witness to my deeds and speak of the true magnitude of the threat of the Vicar’s forces to the Church.

The realization I recently received makes me confident that I will not only find him but succeed in my task as well. Thank you, God and father, for the clarity of mind and conscience, so that I don’t end up like Ischemic, the Vicar, and the many perverted ratmen I’ve come across, and thank you, especially for this last chance to make up for my life of sin.