The cafeteria was quiet now. The floor was covered in pools of black ichor, already dissolving into the tile cracks, and scattered chunks of demon flesh that steamed as they melted into nothing.
Raven swayed. Her legs buckled, and she had to grab the edge of the nearest freezer unit just to stay upright. Her face had gone white, her breathing rapid and shallow like she'd just run a marathon.
"Raven!"
Marco was at her side in two strides, catching her shoulders before she could collapse.
"What's wrong? You having a blood sugar crash?"
"No." She pushed his hands away, forcing herself to stand straight. "It's just... using my power accelerates the wear on the barrier."
"The barrier?"
Raven took a slow breath.
"Trigon the Merciless..." She looked past Marco toward the spots where the portals had torn open. "Between the dimension my father inhabits and Earth's reality, there exists a barrier. It acts as both protection and a prison."
"So he can't get through?" one of the officers asked. The guy was still clutching his shotgun.
"All he can do right now is force small, unstable holes in the barrier. They are only large enough to push some of his weaker servants through. Like what you just saw."
Darnell stepped forward, wiping demon blood off his shotgun barrel with a rag. "Then why doesn't he just send an army? Open a bunch of these holes at once?"
"Because the cost is too great. Every portal requires enormous amounts of power to maintain, and they're extremely unstable. Only weak demons can pass through. Anything truly powerful, or any kind of organized force, the barrier still holds against them. But there is one exception. One way to open a gate large enough and stable enough for his true form to pass through."
Marco understood immediately. "You."
"Yes." She didn't flinch from it. "My bloodline and my soul are tied to it. I am the key. I am the coordinate. If they capture me and use my power, they can build a permanent bridge between Earth and his dimension. That is why the people who worship him are so persistent. And that is why they will not stop."
She looked down at her hands. They were still trembling slightly.
"I can kill these things easily. But every time I draw on his power, it strikes the barrier. The more I use it, the easier it becomes for him to sense me."
When she raised her head again, her eyes held something Marco had never seen there before: helplessness.
"So basically," Darnell said slowly, "every time you save our asses, you make it easier for your demon daddy to find you and bust through?"
"Yes."
"That's fucked up."
There was a long pause. Then Darnell scratched his head and offered, with absolute sincerity: "Should we just apply to use a nuke?"
Marco almost laughed. "Darnell, what the hell is wrong with you?"
"I'm just saying! If we're dealing with dimensional demon invasions, maybe it's time to escalate our response protocols—"
"We're not nuking Gotham."
"Not the whole city. Just, like, a tactical strike—"
"Officer Wilson!"
"Fine, fine. Just brainstorming."
---
Command Post, East End Precinct.
Edward cycled through camera feeds. Behind him, Dr. Quinzel stood excitedly.
"Those lights!" She leaned over his shoulder, close enough that he could smell her perfume. "What happened down there? Were those actually demons? Can I get footage? For research purposes, obviously."
Edward didn't look away from the screens. "This is the domain of scientific researchers. You are a mental health professional. Please focus on your area of expertise."
"Okay, okay! No problem." Dr. Quinzel backed off. As she turned away, she muttered just loud enough for him to hear: "Defensive language patterns stemming from an inferiority complex developed through long-term academic suppression. Classic compensation behavior. It's fine. I won't take it personally."
Edward's jaw tightened, but he kept his eyes on the monitors.
Dr. Quinzel was already wandering toward the logistics area when she spotted Marco and several officers running back into the command post. Marco was carrying Raven, and the girl looked like she was barely conscious.
"Over here!"
He laid Raven down on one of the folding cots they'd set up against the wall.
"Keep an eye on her. She needs rest. She's all yours."
"Oh." Dr. Quinzel walked over. "Hypoglycemia? No, wait... magical exertion? What a rare clinical presentation! The psychosomatic..."
She reached out to check Raven's forehead temperature, but the girl tilted her head away slightly, avoiding the touch. Her eyes were half-closed, breathing shallow. Dr. Quinzel's hand hovered uncertainly.
Then Raven's eyes snapped open wide.
"No." She tried to sit up. "Something came in."
"What?" Marco's hand went to his sidearm immediately, eyes scanning the room. "What came in?"
That's when someone screamed.
It was a raw, agonized sound. Everyone turned toward the source.
Hopkins.
The young tactical officer had been resting against a stack of sandbags near the back wall, catching his breath after the demon fight. Now he was on his feet, both hands clamped around his own throat like he was trying to strangle himself. His body convulsed violently.
Worse than the convulsions were the veins.
They turned black under his skin, spreading from his neck across his face like cracks in porcelain. The blackness spiderwebbed outward, racing along his arms, disappearing under his vest.
And his face... His features were blurring. His eyes, nose, mouth, all of it was becoming indistinct, like someone had smeared a wet painting. In their place, four new eyes snapped open across his forehead and where his original eyes had been. They were yellow, compound, and insectoid. Each one swiveled independently, tracking movement.
"Hopkins!" His partner staggered backward, weapon half-raised but hesitating. "Jesus Christ, Hopkins!"
"He's possessed." Raven said. "Shadow demons can parasitize hosts whose will is weakened or whose body and mind are damaged."
Before anyone could react, Hopkins' hand shot out with inhuman speed, grabbing the shotgun that had been leaning against the sandbags beside him. He brought the barrel up toward the cluster of officers near the command post.
"Stop him!"
Marco was the closest.
He launched himself forward like he'd been shot from a cannon, closing the distance in three long strides. Just as Hopkins' finger started to tighten on the trigger, he slammed into him with his full weight, one hand shooting up to force the barrel skyward.
BOOM!
The shotgun roared, buckshot tearing into the ceiling. Concrete dust and chunks of tile rained down on them. The muzzle flash left spots in Marco's vision, and the sound was loud in the enclosed space, leaving his ears ringing.
"Hold him down!"
He threw all his weight onto Hopkins, driving him toward the ground. The possessed officer thrashed beneath him with strength that shouldn't have been possible. Hopkins had always been wiry, maybe seventy kilos soaking wet. Now it felt like Marco was wrestling someone twice that size.
Darnell and three other officers piled on, grabbing arms and legs, driving knees into pressure points. Five grown men struggling to keep one skinny kid pinned down.
"What do we do?" Darnell had his knee planted in Hopkins' back, both hands locked around one wrist. "Knock him out?"
"That won't work!" Raven called out from the cot, Dr. Quinzel supporting her. "The shadow demon isn't connected to his consciousness, it's connected to his soul. You need to cause intense pain or serious injury."
"Pain?" Darnell glanced at the other officers. "Okay, I got this. Hold him steady, I'm gonna kick him in the nuts. Nothing hurts worse than—"
"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Marco snapped. "You might as well shoot him!"
His eyes swept the command post frantically, looking for something, anything... They landed on Dr. Quinzel. More specifically, on the decorative metal brooch pinned to her collar.
"I need your brooch!"
"What? This is limited edition Gotham Fashion Week..."
Marco didn't wait. He freed one hand, reached over, and yanked the brooch off her collar.
"Hey!"
He ignored her protest. The brooch pin was about five centimeters long, thin, with a sharp point.
Hopkins was still thrashing beneath them. Marco positioned himself, found the right angle, and drove the pin straight into the flesh where Hopkins' thumbnail met the skin.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
The scream that tore out of Hopkins' throat was barely human. It cracked on the high notes, spiraling into a shriek that made everyone in the room flinch. His body went rigid, every muscle locking up at once like he'd grabbed a live wire.
Then the inhuman strength drained out of him.
Something erupted from Hopkins' mouth and nose. It twisted in the air, coiling into a shapeless shadow that let out a faint, angry hiss. For a split second, it seemed to hesitate, as if deciding whether to attack or flee.
Then it shot toward the floor, disappearing into a crack between tiles.
Hopkins collapsed. His features had returned to normal.
"Medic!" Gordon came running down from the upper level where he'd been coordinating with headquarters. "Someone get the first aid kit!"
One of the officers scrambled for the medical supplies, but Marco was already scanning the room. That shadow demon had fled, but it hadn't left the building. And if there was one, more black smoke began seeping through the cracks.
"Heads up!" he shouted. "We've got more!"
The first tendril whipped toward one of the officers standing near the monitors, Jackson, a middle-aged patrol cop who'd been on the force for fifteen years. It shot up his leg faster than he could react, disappearing under his pant leg.
Jackson's eyes went wide. Then the black veins started spreading.
"Get him!"
Two officers grabbed Jackson before he could reach for his weapon, wrestling him to the ground. More shadows were appearing now, slithering through gaps in the walls, seeping up through floor vents.
"Hold them down!"
"This one's coming for me!"
"I'm feeling dizzy... shit, get it off—"
"I was kidding about the nut kick earlier, if I get possessed don't you fucking—"
Officers were dropping left and right, black veins spreading across their faces as shadow demons latched on. Their partners had to tackle them immediately, pinning them down before they could grab weapons or hurt themselves.
"Move! Find something sharp!" Marco was already yanking the tactical knife from another officer's belt. "Not this! Too dangerous! Keys! Use your keys! Stab the hands! Anywhere with nerve endings!"
The command post dissolved into violence. Cops wrestled other cops to the ground. Grown men screamed as their partners jabbed keys into the webbing between their fingers, drove pens through their palms, and did anything they could to inflict enough pain to break the demons' hold.
Each scream was followed by a puff of black smoke fleeing the host, another body going limp.
"Over here! I need help with... fuck!"
Marco helped Gordon wrestle down one of the officers, a big guy named Rodriguez who'd been possessed mid-step and immediately tried to grab Gordon's sidearm. They got him down, and Marco drove his car key into Rodriguez's earlobe hard enough to draw blood.
Rodriguez howled. The shadow demon fled.
"Thanks," Gordon panted, helping Rodriguez sit up against the wall. The big officer was conscious but dazed, blood trickling from his ear.
"Don't mention it."
More smoke was still seeping in. How many of these things were there?
That's when Marco heard it.
"Come on! Over here!"
He turned to see Dr. Quinzel chasing one of the shadow demons as it slithered across the floor. She was waving at it like she was trying to flag down a cab.
"Let me experience parasitic consciousness intrusion! Come on, don't be shy!"
The shadow demon she was chasing suddenly veered away from her at a sharp angle, moving faster than before. It dove into a crack in the wall rather than get anywhere near her.
"Hey! Come back!" She stomped her foot. "Why won't any of them possess me?"
"Maybe because your brain's more fucked up than theirs!" Marco snapped, helping another officer to his feet. The guy's hand was bleeding from where someone had stabbed him with a pen, but the shadow demon was gone. "They can't handle the chaos! Back off! You're making it worse!"
Dr. Quinzel looked disappointed, but she stepped back, pulling out her notebook to document everything instead.
---
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