A Butcher's Tale

Sciens se Melius (Pars 1): "Knowing them Better (Part 1)"

If he had to describe the place in wich he was at the moment, Jack would not be able to say anything else other than "hot". Even then, that simple word would've not been able to truly convey the temperature around him. It felt like a sun in a sun.

Terrible.

All consuming.

His body was immersed in scalding iron blood, pungent in the smell and beyond liquid in consistence. More solid than air, but barely. He sensed beyond the vast sea he was in, the scent that reached him being of brass and bone, embers and iron, adrenaline at it's most quintessential.

Smouldering.

Soft.

Hard.

He bit.

He tasted.

He FELT.

THEY LIVED.

Kharneth manet in rubeo regno et Manus Sanguinea dormit ecpectants Lunam

A roar resounded, the anger fueling the scream making the boiling blood 'round him seem like ice. It was the heat death of the universe. The wielder of the Woebringer, of the Warmaker

The End of All Things

Jack's brain collapsed, his cranium so utterly crushed that the very quarks forming it were whiped from all planes of inexistence.

Soon followed his ches and arms, the bones rooting in the ground like ghost trees as the flesh upon spawned thoughts of anger.

His guts snaked out like hydras, twisting in horrible forms but never setting on one while the rest of the meat was vaporised into nothingnes. 

His heart, modified and ugly, still pulsating with vitae, rose from his devastated body right into an open, bloody palm.

Fingers covered his non eyes and the soothing voice of Mom whispered in his ear to

"Sleep well, my little angel"
==================================

Jack was in the room he had awakend in before the talk with the nurse. He opened his eyes, feeling them rough from his interrupted gangr 'He almost came out. I gotta be more careful. And calm'.

He sat on the matress calmly and inhaled deeply. He looked down at his abdomen, moving his new "Punisher" shirt to the side to expose the relatively old wounds: they were already healed, but on them were the residues of sterilizing products and stitches. 'Healed. Ann, more than likely' he briefly turned to the clock on the drawer near his bed, checking for the date and hour. Something that he, in retrospect, should've done the first time he found his ass in the mansion. '11:17. A day passed. I'm gonna have to thank and apologize to her. God knows I owe it to her'. Now that he looked the room was different, with more decorations and other things to make it more comfortable. 

Movements from the side alerted him of Slenda's presence, looking like she had fallen asleep on a nearby chair, close to his bed. Her head was slumped to the side while her arms were loosely crossed across her bosom. It rose and fell rithmically, the imperceptible sound of inhaled air reaching his ears like a naturalistic song. Soothing. Calm.

'Why is she here? What does she want? She kept me alive despite being more than able to kill me. She didn't punish me for almost killing Jess, nor for hurting Jill and Rouge'. His brow forrowed sligthly 'I went berserk on the nur- on Ann, and yet my head still is on my shoulders. Fucking Hell, I almost broke her neck. Things don't add up. As does her kindness'. Confusion replaced the suspicion on his face 'Why was she sad? When we met in the forest. When she took me in. What is her game?'. Jack turned again torwards her,eyes slightly narrowed. Her breathing hadn't changed. Neither her heartbeat. One would think of her a stone so deeply was she asleep. Yet...