Ace's Past, Part 1

"Why are you here?" A woman asks before putting a cigarette to her mouth and taking a long drag. After releasing the cigarette from her mouth, the woman exhales the smoke then lets out a dry, hoarse cough.

"I'm out of jail." The man answers.

"Again?" The woman asks in her dry, rash voice.

The man nods.

The woman sighs.

"What do you want, Lance?" The woman asks. "Money."

"No," the man -now known as "Lance"- orders. "You're my mother, I just need a place to stay for the night.

The woman -now known as Lance's mom- lets out another dry cough, this one right in Lance's face, causing the man to flinch.

"Where's Spike?" Lance asks.

"Arrested again," Lance's mom answers. "This time for good. The Lincoln Correctional Facility."

"So again, about a place to say for the night-"

***

Lance sighs to himself as he walks down the dingy, filthy city streets, His stomach growls, but Lance has no appetite. Not that he has any money for food to begin with.

As Lance walks down the street, he passes a man frantically trying to hand out fliers. The man has slicked back black hair and scruffy goatee. He wears a black religious rope with an upside down red cross on it.

"Are you tired of the human race? Disgusted by other people? Then come to the Church of Demonology! Where we worship demons and preach about rejecting modernity and tradition and embracing instinct. That way, we humans can be truly happy! Truly happy life demons!" The man desperately exclaims.

Most people just ignore him. A few roll their eyes, and some snicker.

As Lance nears the assumed-to-be crazy man, Lance ignores him as well. He attempts to pass by him without a word, but he's interrupted when trouble ensues.

"Yo guys, check out this clown!" One man heckles.

"The dude's crazy!" Laughs a second.

"Wonder what he's talking about?" Mumbles a third.

The three men are bruised and dirty and wear ripped jeans with leather jackets. Lance knows their type.

"Guys like these wished they were gangsters, but were too cowardly to handle the real deal so they spent their time being public nuisances for those around them in between jail trips," Lance remarks under his breath.

The three thugs laugh as they slowly approach the crazy religious preacher.

"Are you three interested in the church of Demonology?" The preacher hopefully yet fearfully asks as he turns towards the three thugs.

The three thugs look at each other, laugh, then turn back towards the preacher.

"Not exactly," the first thug smirks before launching his right fist outwards, punching the preacher in the nose, who crumbles to the ground, clutching his broken nose in agony, which is gushing pools of blood.

Lance flinches for a split second, then continues walking.

The preacher attempts to get back to his feat, but fails when a second cackling thug kicks him in the gut, sending the preacher doubling over to the ground again.

The three thugs then bellow like hyenas as they pounce on the breacher, beating, punching, and kicking him and attempting to rob what meager possessions he has.

Lance keeps his head low, attempting to pass straight by the commotion, but makes the mistake of stealing a quick glance at the preacher, who accidentally catches Lance's eye.

"Please, help!" The preacher pleads.

Lance pauses. Although he doesn't know why, he feels drawn to his crazy, demonic preacher. As if there's something inside of him, his soul is calling out to Lance's own soul, like the two have something amazing in common.

Lance makes his way over to the first thug and taps him on the shoulder.

"Eh?" The thug asks as he pauses his beating on the preacher, and turns around to face Lance. "What do you wa-" the thug is interrupted when Lance cracks him in the face, sending him flying backwards with a single punch.

"Yo, what's the deal?!" A second thug cries as he lunges towards Lance, aiming a hook punch towards Lance's nose which he ducks under and parries with ease, before popping back up and slamming the thug in the chin with an uppercut, causing his head to violently snap upwards as his feet even leave the ground for a spell, before crashing back down to the dirty city street.

The preacher watches in awe with wide eyes and a mouth hung open.

The third thug then charges Lance, but Lance deals with him with a single snap- kick to the chest, sending the thug flying backwards into some trash-filled garbage cabs.

"Why thank you, sir, thank you!" The preacher cries as he leaps to his feet and takes Lance's hands, shaking them profusely.

"Er…no problem…" Lance awkwardly replies as he forces his hand away from the preacher's. "You okay?"

"Oh, yes! I'm okay, I'm used to this kind of stuff!" The preacher answers as he wipes his bleeding nose. "But are you okay? You did a lot of fighting?"

Lance recoils, taken aback by the shock of someone showing genuine concern for him. "Um…yes, they didn't even touch me," Lance answers. "I'm used to this kind of stuff."

The preacher smiles at Lance, which fades mere seconds after as he sees one of the thugs charging Lance from behind.

"I'll show you!" The thug shouts as he reaches into his pocket and draws a switchblade.

"Look out!" The preacher cries as he points behind Lance. Lance shoves the preacher out of the way, towards safety, before turning around and noticing the thug with his switchblade bare. But it's too late. Lance doesn't have any time to defend himself as the thug slashes him down Lance's left eye with his switchblade.

"ARGH!" Lance grunts in pain as he stumbles backwards, clutching his bleeding eye which has been slashed shut. Only a wicked scar remains in its place.

"Wow, I cut him! I actually cut him!" The thug yelps, sending genuinely surprised. But the thug's miniature celebration is cut short when Lance grabs his skull with a single, meaty hand and slams it into the brick wall beside him. The thug's eyes roll into the back of his skull as he limply slumps to the ground.

"Oh my gosh, are you alright?!" The preacher panics as he rushes over to Lance, grabbing Lance by the shoulders and helping to hold him up as Lance slumps over from the pain of his slashed eye.

"Ugh…I'm fine…" Lance grunts.

"No, you're not, let's take you to the hospital!" The preacher cries as throws Lance's arm over his shoulder and attempts to drag him to the nearest hospital, but Lance doesn't budge. "What's wrong?" The preacher asks.

"I can't…go to the hospital…" Lance pants.

"Why not?!" The preacher cries.

"I'm not exactly what you'd call a "free" man," Lance sheepishly answers.

"But you're injured!" The preacher cries.

"You have money?" Lance asks.

"No…" the preacher answers.

"Me neither…" Lance replies, before slipping unconscious.

***

When Lance awakens, he finds himself lying in a bed in a cramped, unknown room. Lance has bandages wrapped around his swollen missing left eye, which is still in agony. The entire left half of Lance's head is throbbing.

"Oh…" Lance groans as his eye slowly flutter open.

"Ah, you're awake!" A voice exclaims, and Lance's singular right eye flickers over to where he hears the voice, seeing that same preacher eagerly standing at Lance's bedside.

"Where…am I?" Lance groggily asks.

"My apartment!" The preacher answers, like a kid excited to show his new friend his bedroom. "It may be small, ramped, and dirty, but it's home! How's your eye?"

"Hurts like Hell," Lance apathetically answers.

"You don't sound like a man who hurts like Hell!" The preacher laughs. But when he sees that Lance isn't laughing, the preacher shuts up. "You know, I never got your name," the preacher asks.

"Lance," Lance answers. "Lance Ashford. You?"

"Darius Raven!" The preacher proudly answers as he extends a hand towards Lance. "Nice to meet you!"

Lance takes the preacher's -now known as "Darius"- hand with his own weak hand, and gives him a feeble shake.

"Speaking of Hell…what's up with that?" Lance asks as he motion towards the fliers scattered all across Darius' floor.

"Oh…that," Darius answers as he turns and peers towards his fliers with a sheepish chuckle as he timidly rubs the back of his neck. "I call it the "Church of Demonism." Though I doubt it'll go anywhere."

"What is your goal anyway?" Lance asks. "What's the point of all this?"

"Come again?" Darius asks as he blinks rapidly, sounding shocked that someone is actually taking an interest in his teachings, as shocked as Lance was when someone showed compassion towards him.

"Why are you trying to start your own cult?" Lance asks.

"Cult is such a harsh word…" Darius replies with a sheepish chuckle.

"Answer my question," Lance answers.

"So you want to know why?" Darius asks as he turns back to Lance and smirks.

"Yes," Lance answers.