Gacha God: Hands We're Dealt (ch. 40) (Patreon)

"Hey now, no need to be rude. If you want to kill me, there's another me running around that I'm happy to direct you towards," I said, floating above the street and making no attempt to come closer to him. Honestly, I didn't feel comfortable being on the same planet as him, even before he knew I was here. "I'll even help you kill him. Call it an assisted suicide."

In response, Zarathos grabbed hold of the chain that was wrapped around his shoulder. The hellfire that burned around him ignited the chain, making it glow a cherry red while hell fire licked at its surface. He uncioiled it and flicked it back like a whip and I held up my hands, "Hey, no, let's not be hasty here. We have some stuff in common, you know? Like hating my dad, for example. Boy, I sure do hate him. So, how about you take a fucking chill pill?"

I was trying to reason with a spirit of vengeance, at the end of the day. Which is why it wasn't much of a shock when Zarathos chose to not take a chill pill and instead lashed the hellfire chain at me. I diverted it with my ATs, making it strike the building behind me. Brick was scorched, the glass bubbled and melted, while the wood panels ignited. Totally not my fault. "I'm not here to fight you. And I'm definitely not here on behalf of my dad. Would you listen to me?" I still tried to reason with him all the same simply because I didn't want to fight him.

"Your existence is a sin," Zarathos snarled at me with hate. "A rebellious son is still a son."

Bro. "Wait, you know I told my dad to get fucked, and you still want to kill me? Have you forgotten that you used to fucking work for the guy?" I shot back and, perhaps, that wasn't the most diplomatic option. Still, that just went right under my skin.

Mephisto. My father.

The devil himself.

He wasn't winning any father of the year awards, that was for sure. And even now, he was determined to fuck me over. The one shot I saw at reasoning with Zarathos was us bonding over how much my dad sucked. He'd enslaved Zarathos for a couple hundred thousand years. He drove me insane hundreds of times and forced me into a death game with my siblings. Yada yada yada, something something something, Zarathos agrees to help me kill Evil Me, badabing badaboom. I didn't expect to become best buddies with him, exactly, but I did figure that Zarathos wouldn't buy into the whole 'sins of the father' thing.

"He held my leash," Zarathos snarled at me and I could hear the seething hatred. Zarathos hated sin, but he megaloathed my father. It was actually kind of impressive, really, even if it was extremely inconvenient. "But I'm free of it now. He never held yours at all. You've always been free and you choose to do his bidding."

I clenched my jaw, "You're running your mouth about some shit you know nothing about." I bit the words out, and I was rapidly warming up to the idea of smacking them out his mouth. Zarathos scared the hell out of me, but plenty of things scared me more and that had never stopped me. "You think I knew that walking away was an option? How many times do you think I tried escaping before I finally got out?"

Oh, he was pissing me off.

"Then look into my eyes, Mephisto spawn," Zarathos commanded. "If you are without guilt, then you will have nothing to fear."

Fuck. "Never said I was without guilt, you flaming dickhead. And I'm not interested in what you have to say about it. I'm here for your help. And to help you. Because for all you've slipped Dad's leash, you're still being led around by the nose by him. An attack dog is still a dog, you know." Also not the best way I could have used that information. It wasn't an accident that the Ancient One gave me that little tidbit. "So, how about we help each other?"

Zarathos' response was predictable, in the end. He snarled before he flicked the chain out at me again, only to twist it so it began to spin. Superheated air washed over me and I took that as my cue that negotiations had broken down. Meaning that we were onto Plan 'B', which stood for 'Bad-Fucking-Idea'. Mostly due to the fact that it meant I would be throwing hands with Zarathos but I would batter his boney ass like a war drum if it meant unfucking this timeline.

I lashed out with a pulse of gravity, flying up into the air. My offensive options were limited for the most part. Attacking him with something physical meant I ran the risk of him nicking it from me. But, I still had options.

I felt a sharp pain in my eyes as Susanoo began to manifest, emerging from me and proving to be far more whole than every other time I had summoned it. Its rib cage formed around me protectively, its arms took shape and a snarling skull looked right back at Zarathos as he whistled for his ride to fall underneath him as he jumped off of the building. I followed him, reaching deep into the Vile Armor that I wore.

I knew it had more to give. I could feel it. Items like this had to be… seduced. Coaxed, into giving more of its power than it might otherwise give. I didn't have time for that. I needed it and I would fucking take it. So, I grabbed hold of the connection and started squeezing.

And of all things, that's what the Vile Armor approved of.

A dozen black shadows emerged from my armor as I floated above the street, Zarathos' bike roaring so loudly that it rattled every window pane we passed as he gave chase. Susanoo responded to their presence, coating them in armor, and allowing me to lash out at Zarathos. The shadow tendrils shot out, skewering the pavement as Zarathos weaved around them deftly as he lashed out with his own chain.

The chain wrapped itself around Susanoo, but the hellfire couldn't reach me. My ATs went full throttle as I shot myself upwards, yanking Zarathos up into the air along with me. Susanoo reached out, grabbing the hellfire chain and began to spin Zarathos like a top even as he crawled forward on the chain. With enough velocity built up, I flung Zarathos across New Orleans at mach speeds, shattering the sound barrier. Like a flaming bullet, he flew over the city before his momentum started to bleed off as he countered it by blasting fire out of his hands and mouth.

He still slammed into the ground just off of the highway leading into New Orleans, reducing trees to splinters before landing with a huge plume of steam when he hit the water. I chased after him, seeing more steam erupt from the marsh water as it boiled with Zarathos glowing brightly from underneath. "I'm trying to help someone out here. An innocent. About as close as you can get to one, at any rate. You can appreciate that at least, yeah?" I called out to him, hot steam washing over me.

Reasoning with him was probably a lost cause, but it might be possible. I didn't know the nitty gritty details, but I knew Zarathos couldn't exist in this realm without a host and that host had some degree of influence over him. More importantly, depending on their compatibility, they might not be able to draw out Zarathos' true strength. And based on the fact that my ass had yet to be kicked, that seemed to be the case.

Zarathos at his strongest was able to go toe to toe, eye to eye, and dick to dick with my old man. There were probably only a dozen things in the universe that could claim that feat. I sure as hell couldn't.

"And I know I'm no saint. Never tried to be and never wanted to, but I can't help but feel you're projecting a little my way," I continued, knowing it was a lost cause even before I saw the hellfire glow hotter as it spread out. A massive plume of steam washed over me that was accompanied by the scent of brimstone. Beyond the sound of boiling water, I heard… music?

It almost sounded like an ice cream truck jingle, only if it was remixed by a metal head. The normally innocent tune was twisted into something unsettling and as the steam parted, I saw the source.

An amusement park had been buried under the flood, and Zarathos had infused it with new life. A merry-go-round shifted, the water damage at odds with the burning embers of hellfire, themed bumper cars twisting and growing until they wouldn't look out of place in Warhammer 40k. Worst of them all were the mascots that came to life -- their once friendly and welcoming grins sinister and twisted. At the center of it all was Zarathos, his hands out wide as he possessed the theme park to make it look like it came right out of hell.

The half buried and rusted tracks that belonged to a collapsed rollercoaster surged forward, a snarling cart racing towards me. I wasn't surprised that he had no interest in talking. Instead, I flipped over the roller coaster, my ATs humming with life as I forced the ride off the track before sending the midget train right back at Zarathos. No sooner than I did, the rest of the attractions started to surge forward, chasing after me. I watched on with a vague sense of fascination as the sinister looking horses on the merry-go-round merged together before the resulting super hell horse raced to Zarathos with a dozen galloping legs.

Zarathos managed to avoid a head-on collision by hopping on his new ride, galloping away and leaving a trail of fire. The train hit the ground with a thunderous impact, sending up mud and fire.

A cover, I soon realized as I felt something get wrapped around my foot. Susanoo protected me from the heat, but I looked down just in time to see a feral looking Ronald McDonald yank down on the chain he'd lassoed around my leg. The smoke and mist were a cover as I tried to fight the momentum, but I still found myself slamming down into the dirt with enough force that the air was knocked out of my lungs even with Susanoo's protection.

The rest of the freaks and monsters descended on me not a second later. They chewed and clawed at Susanoo, fighting to get at me. The heat was the worst of it, because down here even Susanoo couldn't fully protect me from that.

"Alright, fuck this," I snapped, the golden ring on my finger splashing out like water, filling the gaps in Susanoo as it lashed out, skewering the twisted monsters upon spikes of gold. Susanoo incorporated the gold into its body, grafting it onto itself as if the spectral skeleton had a mind of its own. "You want to play dirty? I'll start playing dirty," I snapped at Zarathos, opening a portal beneath my feet and I fell into the Fortress of DOOM. "Who does that guy think he is? Judging me for shit," I muttered under my breath, inputting another command into the teleporter.

There were a number of places that were protected from the teleporter. Places that blocked it through either magical or technological means. As it so happened, the US Federal Reserve wasn't one of those places.

The portal opened and I was greeted by the sight of long shelves that were stacked high with bars of pure gold. "Seriously. What the fuck? Fuck that guy," I continued, cursing up a storm as I approached one shelf and touched a bar of gold. Immediately, I felt the connection between us form and I splashed it out, expanding that connection with every other bar of gold on the shelf. With every bar that I touched, the wave of liquid gold grew larger until it was practically a tidal wave.

Eight thousand, one hundred and thirty four metric tons of gold. A little lack luster as a heist, but I was well beyond caring at this point.

"See how you like this, you flaming dickhead," I continued. It actually really bothered me, I realized as the gold flowed back towards me. It was too much to be condensed into a single ring. I compromised – I made another ring and a necklace, while the rest was fed into gold trimming for my Vile Armor. I would have to fine tune the aesthetics later, but for now it would do. As the security alarm started to blare, I had already made a portal back to the Fortress of DOOM, and imlnputed some coordinates.

I reappeared to see that the hell beasts were tearing apart the golden Susanoo that I left behind, still thinking that I was hiding inside of it. Reappearing in the open air, I reached deep -- there was no finesse. I wasn't anywhere near as good as I needed to be with this power to use so much gold with any degree of fine control. All the same, I unleashed the gold around my body in a tidal wave that crashed down upon the theme park from hell, smothering the hellish creatures. Zarathos immediately began to superheat the gold as it washed over him.

His power wrestled with mine over controlling the gold, and with my weak grip, he ended up stealing a portion of it from me. Which just increased my control over the rest, as I consolidated the gold around the theme park. Turning the mascots into statues of gold while the remainder flowed into my Susanoo, shaping it into a two ton fist clad in armor.

Zarathos quickly melted away the gold, it bubbling off of him as he snarled up at me, the pilfered gold shaping into a fist of his own -- a twisted skeletal hand that was wreathed in fire, much like his own. Gritting my teeth, we both threw the punch and our fists clashed in the middle with a deafening impact. His hellfire scorched my armor but with my ATs humming to life, the two tons of gold became twenty and Zarathos' punch buckled under the weight.

Hellfire scorched along the surface of the armor clad fist as I punched Zarathos deep into the earth that made the ground tremble with the impact. It was then that I decided to make a call. Luckily, they picked up on the first ring. "Peter, I have a very pissed off spirit of vengeance here, and I could use some help transporting him."

"Mr. Stark is already on his way," Peter answered, his voice flat. "They'll help us… but you're kind of in a lot of trouble. Did you… steal the US gold reserves?" He asked, sounding curious despite himself.

"Yes, but that's not important right now-" I started, cutting myself off when the flames around the massive semi-truck sized fist keeping Zarathos still began to grow more intense until the entire fist was surrounded by them. The Susanoo armor was being burned away, proving that it was by no means invincible, and the gold began to liquefy despite my attempts to keep it solid. There wasn't a heat quite like literal hellfire. "When is Tony getting here?!"

As if to answer, I heard thrusters echoing out a split second after I caught a flash of rainbow light. "Alright, what's the sitch?" Tony asked, flying well away from the conflict. Susanoo was protecting me from the worst of it, but Tony couldn't come anywhere near us because of the severe heat.

"Please tell me that you have somewhere safe to store this guy?" I requested because the only other option I was seeing was space itself.

Ironman's featureless face plate looked at me for a moment, then at the fire, before he nodded. "I think I have something in the cards. Need you to give me an opportunity to take him there, though." And I don't think I had ever been more relieved to get someone's help before.

I nodded, accepting that. If Zarathos didn't want to help me, then I'd just throw him at Evil Me and let him decide who was the bigger threat. A plan that came with its own considerable risks, but I was banking on Zarathos at least hating Kilgrave more than me.

I sent a dozen golden tendrils through the bubbling gold to cover their approach while Zarathos was scorching the earth to bedrock, still standing as he fought to take control of the fist. The tendrils wrapped themselves around his torso before I pulled him into the gold itself. Then I began to condense it around him, pushing all eight thousand tons of gold into a ball.

It wouldn't last. Already, he was escaping, but it lasted just long enough for Tony to dive forward and touch the ball. Then, with a flash of rainbow light, Zarathos was gone,  hopefully to a secure container that I could crack open at my earliest convenience.

Tony looked back at me, surveying the damage. The marsh water was trickling back in, but for the most part, everything was scorched and ruined. Thankfully, just as my connection to the gold had vanished with the teleportation, Zarathos' connection to the theme park did too. Even if they were left in that twisted state. "So," Tony began, drifting up towards me with his arms crossed over his chest. "Care to explain what all this is about?"

"Not really?" I ventured, figuring he got the TLDR from Peter.

"Kid, I have cut you literal miles of slack at this point. The joke has stopped being funny," He said, sounding as serious as I've ever heard him.

He was right, in the end. I knew that much. And he said the words that all men dreaded because when they heard them they knew an uncomfortably serious conversation was incoming.

"We need to talk."