Capítulo 162: Šassūrātu III
●●●Dean Winchester●●●
He screwed up.
He screwed up by screwing the woman who screwed them because the guy who he had previously thought screwed them over screwed someone over.
The context of the screwing did not matter to him, just the mere fact that it had happened had him reeling from the shock.
Bobby suddenly chuckled, "I can't believe this shit works."
"What?"
"The foot. It's… I'm walking." Bobby's tone surprised Dean.
He had neither seen the grumpy old man this happy and amazed. If not for the newness of his foot, then Dean would have bet that Bobby would be skipping right about now.
He had to admit that Richard kept giving them miracles and all of it seemingly coming out of his pocket. He had been distraught when he saw Bobby's stump, knowing full well that it would take him entirely out of the field and would further entrench him into his drinking habit.
Even with brother's newest girlfriend, Richard had seemingly come up with a miracle. What was once a death sentence now had a viable cure, albeit with the caveat of unbearable pain.
He halted his thoughts once they found themselves in front of the stairwell. Dean set Bobby to the side before checking the inside of the door, which was empty and quiet, save from the repeated clangs of the fire alarm blaring across the building.
"Let's go." Dean tried to pick up Bobby, but the old man shoved him off to the side.
"RUN, BOY!"
His words soon made sense as Suzie Anne appeared in front of them in a puff of smoke, her glamorous dress and radiant smile bare in contrast to the blood on her face.
Dean was alarmed, immediately taking out his M1911 pistol and aimed it at his latest fling.
"Bobby, go." Dean stood still, protecting his father figure for the last time in his life. "You can kill me, but I ain't gonna make it–What are you doing?"
Bobby scoffed at Dean, taking out his shotgun. "Like hell, I'll let you die here like a damn fool."
Suzie Anne clicked her tongue, "Boys, boys, boys. Calm down. I'm not gonna bite…dressed up, that is. How are you, Dean?"
"Better bow that I can pump lead on you!" He growled and pulled the trigger, but found the metal unmovable. He pulled the hammer to make it easier for him, yet it remained hard as welded steel. "Son of a bitch."
Suzie Anne chuckled as she drew closer with a mystical fog, hiding much of her lower limb, looking as if she was gliding through the halls. Dean knew that his gun was now out of the picture, so he threw it away, or at least he tried to.
The moment his thoughts were processed by his nerves, he felt every muscle in his body taut and tighten against his will. Sweat now trailed down his cheeks as he felt the weight of the world in his shoulder.
With much strain, he opened his mouth. "R-run… run, Bobby. Can't move. Tell Sam… Love him."
Suzie Anne was now inches away from the tip of the gun, her eyes locking on him as he heard Bobby replied with horror, "I can't move, Dean–"
Bobby suddenly ceased talking just as Suzie Anne's nose touched that of Dean, a smile on her face as she said, "Why are you so afraid, lover boy?"
She moved past the touch and planted a kiss on his lips. Dean wanted to resist and reject her kiss, but he felt his body succumbing to the pleasure raging within that motion.
The kiss was brief, yet it felt like eternity to Dean and, before he knew it, Suzie Anne had leaned back and his body grew lighter. As if his puppeteer had taken control of his strings once more, Dean could move again.
"Wha–?" Dean couldn't believe what he was seeing. Suzie Anne merely snapped her fingers and moved backwards, giving them enough space not to feel threatened. "What are you doing?"
Suzie Anne grinned, "I'm not going to kill you, Dean. After all, you did me a very… satisfying favor."
Dean was confused, befuddled even–a word he learned from his brother who once said it when he opened his laptop and found it full of porn virus. It looked to him as if Suzie Anne was going to let them go for the moment.
"I did, didn't I? My mother taught me–Nope. Not gonna say that." He caught himself as he backed away ever so slowly until his back had touched the door to the stairwell. "Why do this? What's the catch? You're a fucking goddess in both senses of the word… so why do this?"
"Nothing, dear. I made a promise to my man." Dean frowned at her words, which made Suzie Anne giggle. "Come, now. Our time together may have been short and quick–"
Bobby chortled softly.
"–but know that it was fulfilling. Nevertheless, my heart beats for another." Suzie Anne placed her dainty, yet unimaginably strong, hands to her heart and added a sizable cute pout to her lips.
"It sucks. We do what we have to do. Just… We could have had some good times." Dean, unfaltering, grinned as tucked in Šuzianna's hair.
"Oh, I know, Darling. I know." Suzie Anne said. "Irwin Bellios and Ellen Harvelle survived the twin sisters, barely, of course. I have given them an hour of respite, escape, or realization of your deaths–your choice, but know that I prefer for you to escape–and I will do so to you. One hour. That will be all I can give you. After that… Well, let's just say, your mentor's left foot won't be the only thing missing after your encounter with the Pantheonic assembly."
The fog around her legs climbed up to her torso before completely encapsulating her. The fog then dissipated, along with Šuzianna.
"Congratulations, Dean. Being a man-slut does work in your favor for once." Bobby clapped Dean's shoulder as he tried to walk on his new foot.
●●●●●
Soon.
The offspring will be born to the mortal plane and she would inhabit its body and string its soul along with her divine form. Her vengeance would soon decimate the mortal world and her clan will take their rightful place amongst the echelon of divinity.
Centuries of preparation all for one moment, dozens of her kin had died in the process, their home burned and pillaged to the ground, and her followers exiled with nothing but their skin on their back.
'No more', She thought. No more would these heathens desecrate a name that was once sacrosanct, and no more would they forget their existence. She will burn their fields and write her name:
Nintur, the Great Matron, will rise from the ashes of the Emptiness and take vengeance on those who had killed her.
She could hear it now, in this dark and empty world, filled with nothing but the echoes of the fallen otherworlders. A waste bin for Angels, Demons, and Gods alike, recycling their energy to fuel the space between realities.
She had been careful, intravenously communicating with her brood without arousing the suspicion of the reality itself. But, every so often, she could sense something behind her, looking on with mirth and murder in their eyes.
She has not felt safe since her awakening, a tingling sensation in her true form. Only the sacrifices her brood had religiously collected for her could calm her down, akin to a drug that would soothe the wounds in her form.
Alas, after eons of looking over her back, she has had enough. She would soon escape from this prison.
Her barely visible form suddenly surged with energy, creating a rippling effect across the vast emptiness. What she had once assumed to be spaceless nothingness was finally revealed to be a field of oil-like substance.
She knew the purpose of oil, a seer had one peered into the future to foretell their important usage. Humanity would soon gain the upper hand against the creatures that stalk the dangerous woods or the monster that roamed the fields of disease and decadence.
She had believed the seer, which was why it had been important for her to secure a sizable amount within the confines of her palace. It was supposed to be used by her worshippers to claim the lands that bordered the other gods.
'But I can start again.' She thought as two more globules of energy entered her body, making her form become more corporeal in nature. 'The ritual has begun. The mortal sacrifices will come in droves, then those of my children… soon, I will–What's that?'
She enlarged her vision, an inkling at the back of her mind alerting her to some unseen entity watching her every move.
"Who… are… you?" She had asked the nothingness, opening her mouth and speaking for the longest time. She did not expect an answer, merely questioning the effects of her eternal slumber, yet the nothingness answered.
"You are something while I am nothing. There must only be the Empty."
Estado de energía semanal
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Poder 
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Poder