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Description
Defiance
A Samurai Jack Fan fiction
Main character~ Demongo
Samurai Jack belongs to Gennedy Tartovrosky
Ch. 1
Aku pulled himself back in the monumental chair that commanded attention in the middle of his main camber. Despite the problems at hand, a sort of sublime and ecstatic peace dropped over him. It was always like this when the cursed samurai was asleep. When you considered it, as Aku often did, the epic fight between them was futile. Samurai Jack was a mere mortal simply possessing great skill. What upped the stakes so dangerously was that sword he kept so close at hand and handled so finely.
The ruler of darkness felt no need to launch a sneak attack on his enemy. It would be a cheap shot, no matter how beneficial. At least let the warrior be awake when he perished. Looking away from the portal, Aku stared transfixedly into the pits of his unearthly domain. There, in the darkness which the bottom of was hidden from even its owners eyes, dwelled among the finest of his servants. Covering the floors in at least a few places down there were also the remains of his dead, there to furnish the place and feed the beasts below. They were failures, desolate of use.
While there was a little empathy born from fear for them, there was not enough sympathy to justify it. The ruler looked away, cutting his dead- thought stare, indifferent of the swallowing darkness again. He studied the phosphorescent fiery orange-red stone that made up his only decor. The lives he had been puzzling over were gone, anyhow. It was best to leave things as they were, in the past.
*******************************
Deep in the pits of Aku's lair an entity heaved a deep, pained sigh. As if part of the wall was collapsing an inky black skeletal shape detached itself from the darkness. Demongo dropped to his knees weakly. In the black-on-black world the only thing that betrayed his presence was a pair of glowing blue eyes. The demon attempted to stand but shuddered and fell over again. He was not dead or near death, of course. The collector of souls was eternal and Aku was a fool for thinking otherwise. But he was in a weakened state.
Demongo's back arched and he vomited a small raw pool of tar onto the floor. He may not be dead but this wounded torture was far worse than any execution Aku could deal out. He must escape or risk eventually being found at his weakest, cowering down here.
Running his long, blue tongue across the tips of his fangs hungrily, Demongo hacked again. Somewhere in the bleak fiery distance there was a glimmer of vitality. The inky creature snapped his head forward suddenly in the direction of this tiny flash of light. He fell forward again, cracking his head painfully against one of the floors rocky protrusions. This was ridiculous, trying to move much at all. He had none of the essences that he had worked so hard to collect. Without that power he couldn't even keep his hair burning.
But such a vast place as this pit was, deep within the earth, it must contain some sort of life. In fact Demongo knew there was life in this abyss. He had dwelled welcome here once, after all. There were thousands upon thousands of Aku's most powerful warriors from which he could take his pick. He was practically sitting at a buffet.
Unlike a buffet, though, he had to get dinner before dessert. Demongo tried and finally succeeded in dragging himself behind a flame- shaped rock spire and managed to sit up. He propped himself against it. His features were lined and tired. Yes, he would have to start small. Demongo sat in wait for something, anything he could trap the essence of. Success was patience, patience was escape.
**********************
Elia padded contentedly in the direction of the commotion. From beneath her hood one fluorescent green eye glowed. A shock of wiry white hair slipped out onto her face and she tried without success to blow it back into place. In exasperation she passed one of her long staffs to another pink hand and brushed the hair away.
She was going deeper into Aku's dwelling because, for a second, she had seen a flash of blue. A twinge of something like hope was coursing through her. Demongo, rest him, had been the source for her and many of the other young girls in this place crushes. After his- if you could call it that- execution they had worked to pick up a many scraps of his memory as possible. There were none to be found.
Now here she was almost two months later wandering blindly into the oblivion. Oh, what a faithful pup am I, she thought, blushing unconsciously. To be chasing after a blinking of color reminiscent of your eyes.
As she moved closer to the pit's walls an inkling of unease filled her. Someone else was definitely down here. Elia pulled her burlap cloak tighter around herself and attempted to blot out the tension with happiness. No one dared lay a badly intended finger on each other here lest they be visited by Aku. As ill-tempered as he was, no one crossed him. Except for the samurai.
She snickered nervously at the thought of Jack. He was an excellent fighter to be able to avoid Aku for so long. But, she more sourly remembered, how severely he had injured her. Elia had been sent out to fight him and came back missing one of her four arms. Having narrowly escaped but dealing a fair amount of damage to the samurai, she was given welcome to stay.
Wincing with a memory of pain she passed the long staffs away again and cupped her stumpy wound. She had nursed it for months all by her lonesome. Letting go she held out the staff again and gingerly poked it into the shadows. "Anyone here?" Her voice sounded small and childish in the empty passage.
"Yes?" the voice was eager, high pitched and whiny with an accent that stressed the S syllables to a point where it was comedic. He sounded weak, barely poking his head from behind a rock to signal his presence.
"Demongo!" Elia clapped her hand over her mouth in excitement to muffle a childish scream. She hadn't really expected to find him, and yet here they were. "Everyone said Aku killed you!" She dropped to his side, scrambling for a way to help.
The demon smiled weakly when he recognized Elia. She, along with many other girls, had followed him about affectionately before. Who could blame them? "Elia! I never thought I'd see your pretty pink face again."
She blushed and giggled, patting his knee. "You're injured." Her hand traced up his chest where the skulls had once laid thick. There were none now. He was also missing his cape, she noticed, and his hair was out.
"It's nothing a little collecting can't fix." He sighed, nodding his head back and forth.
After a moment Elia began to help him up onto his feet. "Is there anything I can do?"
Demongo doubled over but remained standing. Only his hunger for essence kept him from stumbling and hitting the floor. The girl supported him by hugging herself under his shoulder. She was small and, missing that arm, weak. Perfect. "No, no. Don't do a thing."
She felt the crook of his arm bend downward, and suddenly his sharp claws were in view. He danced them playfully up and down on her throat. Elia smiled and swallowed as the pressure increased. The girl never saw the expression of raw weakness on her captor's face. She never even had time to realize he was her captor. Because, just seconds after that playful pressure became threatening, Demongo tore his admirer's throat out with his bare hands.
Demongo collected the girl's essence in her own skull tenderly, as if he had all the time in the world. The essence was a cloudy grey fog that hung over Elia's body. He collected it easily, though. One of Demongo's many talents.
He watched the jawless skull with excitement as it filled. Hands shaking, the demon hitched it to his chest. There was an explosion of power within him. Demongo's apprehension evaporated with a sense of relative safety. And below the vitality, he felt his prisoner's emotions.
Elia was, like most of the souls he had taken for his own, surprised. There was also fear and a touch of anger. He didn't really care, personally, because it always faded into a kind of drugged tolerance after just a few days. It was simply the effect he had on them.
Feeling some strength return to his weary body brought some sensed thinking with it. Tiredly he wiped a hand across his face, smearing some of the girl's viscous blood onto one cheek. Could I, he thought, possibly regain a station beside Aku in power? It was not out of his options. But the cowardly shadow wouldn't be pleased to see him alive. He might even strike him down over and over again until the collector of souls was just a bubbling pool of tar, indefinitely alive yet helpless to rescue himself. Demongo shook the disturbing thought away distastefully. No, he could never go back to the tyrant's right side.
So escape was the only option that really didn't end in pain as far as the demon saw. That brought two points into play. Would he snake away now when no one knew of his presence yet, or would he take his fill? The latter had a chance of either being extremely beneficial or ending in anguish. Someone could squeal and alert Aku and then he would be forced to go up against an evil almost as infinite as himself.
But Aku was no longer guaranteed eternity thanks to the samurai. Yes, Demongo had failed against him too, but that was a learning experience. As far as anyone knew Jack's enchanted steel was a mere toothpick against Demongo's power. And that was good. "If I had something like that, I could take anyone I wanted." He muttered absently.
With a click of envy and stupidity he had it. He would try taking the samurai again, but not without help. Then Aku would be as good as his. Without hesitation he tossed Elia's skull to the ground. Smiling with anticipation he clapped his black hands together and opened them, finger splayed and still touching at the wrist in a way reminiscent of a moth or raven shadow puppet. From the open palms came an aimed burst of concentrated energy. The beam of yellow light jumped through the air and hit Elia's skull with a flash. Moments later there she stood, reanimated and totally healthy. "D...D...Demongo?" She stuttered in confusion.
He waved a hand dismissively. "We have work to do."

Description
Defiance
A Samurai Jack Fan fiction
Main character~ Demongo
Samurai Jack belongs to Gennedy Tartovrosky
Ch. 1
Aku pulled himself back in the monumental chair that commanded attention in the middle of his main camber. Despite the problems at hand, a sort of sublime and ecstatic peace dropped over him. It was always like this when the cursed samurai was asleep. When you considered it, as Aku often did, the epic fight between them was futile. Samurai Jack was a mere mortal simply possessing great skill. What upped the stakes so dangerously was that sword he kept so close at hand and handled so finely.
The ruler of darkness felt no need to launch a sneak attack on his enemy. It would be a cheap shot, no matter how beneficial. At least let the warrior be awake when he perished. Looking away from the portal, Aku stared transfixedly into the pits of his unearthly domain. There, in the darkness which the bottom of was hidden from even its owners eyes, dwelled among the finest of his servants. Covering the floors in at least a few places down there were also the remains of his dead, there to furnish the place and feed the beasts below. They were failures, desolate of use.
While there was a little empathy born from fear for them, there was not enough sympathy to justify it. The ruler looked away, cutting his dead- thought stare, indifferent of the swallowing darkness again. He studied the phosphorescent fiery orange-red stone that made up his only decor. The lives he had been puzzling over were gone, anyhow. It was best to leave things as they were, in the past.
*******************************
Deep in the pits of Aku's lair an entity heaved a deep, pained sigh. As if part of the wall was collapsing an inky black skeletal shape detached itself from the darkness. Demongo dropped to his knees weakly. In the black-on-black world the only thing that betrayed his presence was a pair of glowing blue eyes. The demon attempted to stand but shuddered and fell over again. He was not dead or near death, of course. The collector of souls was eternal and Aku was a fool for thinking otherwise. But he was in a weakened state.
Demongo's back arched and he vomited a small raw pool of tar onto the floor. He may not be dead but this wounded torture was far worse than any execution Aku could deal out. He must escape or risk eventually being found at his weakest, cowering down here.
Running his long, blue tongue across the tips of his fangs hungrily, Demongo hacked again. Somewhere in the bleak fiery distance there was a glimmer of vitality. The inky creature snapped his head forward suddenly in the direction of this tiny flash of light. He fell forward again, cracking his head painfully against one of the floors rocky protrusions. This was ridiculous, trying to move much at all. He had none of the essences that he had worked so hard to collect. Without that power he couldn't even keep his hair burning.
But such a vast place as this pit was, deep within the earth, it must contain some sort of life. In fact Demongo knew there was life in this abyss. He had dwelled welcome here once, after all. There were thousands upon thousands of Aku's most powerful warriors from which he could take his pick. He was practically sitting at a buffet.
Unlike a buffet, though, he had to get dinner before dessert. Demongo tried and finally succeeded in dragging himself behind a flame- shaped rock spire and managed to sit up. He propped himself against it. His features were lined and tired. Yes, he would have to start small. Demongo sat in wait for something, anything he could trap the essence of. Success was patience, patience was escape.
**********************
Elia padded contentedly in the direction of the commotion. From beneath her hood one fluorescent green eye glowed. A shock of wiry white hair slipped out onto her face and she tried without success to blow it back into place. In exasperation she passed one of her long staffs to another pink hand and brushed the hair away.
She was going deeper into Aku's dwelling because, for a second, she had seen a flash of blue. A twinge of something like hope was coursing through her. Demongo, rest him, had been the source for her and many of the other young girls in this place crushes. After his- if you could call it that- execution they had worked to pick up a many scraps of his memory as possible. There were none to be found.
Now here she was almost two months later wandering blindly into the oblivion. Oh, what a faithful pup am I, she thought, blushing unconsciously. To be chasing after a blinking of color reminiscent of your eyes.
As she moved closer to the pit's walls an inkling of unease filled her. Someone else was definitely down here. Elia pulled her burlap cloak tighter around herself and attempted to blot out the tension with happiness. No one dared lay a badly intended finger on each other here lest they be visited by Aku. As ill-tempered as he was, no one crossed him. Except for the samurai.
She snickered nervously at the thought of Jack. He was an excellent fighter to be able to avoid Aku for so long. But, she more sourly remembered, how severely he had injured her. Elia had been sent out to fight him and came back missing one of her four arms. Having narrowly escaped but dealing a fair amount of damage to the samurai, she was given welcome to stay.
Wincing with a memory of pain she passed the long staffs away again and cupped her stumpy wound. She had nursed it for months all by her lonesome. Letting go she held out the staff again and gingerly poked it into the shadows. "Anyone here?" Her voice sounded small and childish in the empty passage.
"Yes?" the voice was eager, high pitched and whiny with an accent that stressed the S syllables to a point where it was comedic. He sounded weak, barely poking his head from behind a rock to signal his presence.
"Demongo!" Elia clapped her hand over her mouth in excitement to muffle a childish scream. She hadn't really expected to find him, and yet here they were. "Everyone said Aku killed you!" She dropped to his side, scrambling for a way to help.
The demon smiled weakly when he recognized Elia. She, along with many other girls, had followed him about affectionately before. Who could blame them? "Elia! I never thought I'd see your pretty pink face again."
She blushed and giggled, patting his knee. "You're injured." Her hand traced up his chest where the skulls had once laid thick. There were none now. He was also missing his cape, she noticed, and his hair was out.
"It's nothing a little collecting can't fix." He sighed, nodding his head back and forth.
After a moment Elia began to help him up onto his feet. "Is there anything I can do?"
Demongo doubled over but remained standing. Only his hunger for essence kept him from stumbling and hitting the floor. The girl supported him by hugging herself under his shoulder. She was small and, missing that arm, weak. Perfect. "No, no. Don't do a thing."
She felt the crook of his arm bend downward, and suddenly his sharp claws were in view. He danced them playfully up and down on her throat. Elia smiled and swallowed as the pressure increased. The girl never saw the expression of raw weakness on her captor's face. She never even had time to realize he was her captor. Because, just seconds after that playful pressure became threatening, Demongo tore his admirer's throat out with his bare hands.
Demongo collected the girl's essence in her own skull tenderly, as if he had all the time in the world. The essence was a cloudy grey fog that hung over Elia's body. He collected it easily, though. One of Demongo's many talents.
He watched the jawless skull with excitement as it filled. Hands shaking, the demon hitched it to his chest. There was an explosion of power within him. Demongo's apprehension evaporated with a sense of relative safety. And below the vitality, he felt his prisoner's emotions.
Elia was, like most of the souls he had taken for his own, surprised. There was also fear and a touch of anger. He didn't really care, personally, because it always faded into a kind of drugged tolerance after just a few days. It was simply the effect he had on them.
Feeling some strength return to his weary body brought some sensed thinking with it. Tiredly he wiped a hand across his face, smearing some of the girl's viscous blood onto one cheek. Could I, he thought, possibly regain a station beside Aku in power? It was not out of his options. But the cowardly shadow wouldn't be pleased to see him alive. He might even strike him down over and over again until the collector of souls was just a bubbling pool of tar, indefinitely alive yet helpless to rescue himself. Demongo shook the disturbing thought away distastefully. No, he could never go back to the tyrant's right side.
So escape was the only option that really didn't end in pain as far as the demon saw. That brought two points into play. Would he snake away now when no one knew of his presence yet, or would he take his fill? The latter had a chance of either being extremely beneficial or ending in anguish. Someone could squeal and alert Aku and then he would be forced to go up against an evil almost as infinite as himself.
But Aku was no longer guaranteed eternity thanks to the samurai. Yes, Demongo had failed against him too, but that was a learning experience. As far as anyone knew Jack's enchanted steel was a mere toothpick against Demongo's power. And that was good. "If I had something like that, I could take anyone I wanted." He muttered absently.
With a click of envy and stupidity he had it. He would try taking the samurai again, but not without help. Then Aku would be as good as his. Without hesitation he tossed Elia's skull to the ground. Smiling with anticipation he clapped his black hands together and opened them, finger splayed and still touching at the wrist in a way reminiscent of a moth or raven shadow puppet. From the open palms came an aimed burst of concentrated energy. The beam of yellow light jumped through the air and hit Elia's skull with a flash. Moments later there she stood, reanimated and totally healthy. "D...D...Demongo?" She stuttered in confusion.
He waved a hand dismissively. "We have work to do."