Resurrection

by Quartzjaguar

Summary:

I always thought Johnny was surprisingly calm about the whole being brought back to life thing. Personally, I’d be a little bit peeved. In his defence, he did attempt to rectify the situation, but still. Anyways, I’ve written a thing, and made him angrier. Enjoy!
Tags may change later, Im trying to work out the logistics of an exorcism.

Chapter 1

It hadn’t been a mistake. Definitely not. How could it be a mistake to bring him back? He was a good man, and he deserved to live.

But still…

He came back wrong. Middenface could admit that now, now the dust had settled. It was clear as day, written in the way he moved, stared out the windows or through a wall, the way he was angrier. He was so, so much angrier.

He lashed out more, snapping and snarling. He hadn’t bought new cartridges for his Westinghouse for months, he just used Electronux. A newer model. A higher voltage. More and more of his bounties became terminations, and the bodies he dragged back started to rival Red’s in terms of gore. That was about as impressive as it was concerning. The last guy he’d brought back (some norm on a murder charge, only worth 25k) had been missing an arm, an eye and half his internal organs. One of the Stix brothers had seen it, and even he’d looked a little green.

When he’d asked about the sudden violence, the sudden rage, Johnny had just shrugged, said he’d had a bad day. The bad day turned into a week, then a month until it’d been nearly a year. By the time Middenface managed to corner him, try to work out the issue, the bodies were barely bodies. It’d be quicker to list the parts they still had than all the pieces missing.

You might be wondering how they’d gone a year without asking what was up. How can you watch all this and not say anything? The answer was, as with many things, fear. Everyone on the Doghouse was fucking terrified of him. It was like the week after Wulf’s death, but ten times worse. He broke Kid Knee’s femur for making a crap pun, and nearly gouged out Red’s eyes when she asked what’d crawled up his arse and died. Under the threat of serious bodily harm,no one was brave (or stupid) enough to try and ask.

But eventually, the moment came. It was about midnight station time, meaning the crappy lights were dimmed and all the usual alarms were turned down (they were never turned off. No one even knew what they were alarms for). Johnny had just turned in a bounty, a termination, as always. It was pretty gory, even by his new standards. The ‘body’ consisted of three teeth, a severed thumb and about five pints of blood, all on his gear. He claimed the reward and stalked towards his apartment (he always stalked now, or crept, never strolled) when Middenface got up the courage to follow him. He’d spent all day getting up the courage to do it, just check his tab.

That’s besides the point. He followed Johnny to his room, and waited outside. Then, having said a couple dozen prayers, (to saint Piran in particular, he’d always respected a man who could hold his liquor) he knocked on the door.

Chapter 2

Summary:

What’s it like having a demon onboard? Find out from Johnny. Also, it’s Strontium Dog’s birthday! I found out too late to write a nice story, so have this instead! Birthday punches, but make it mild trauma.

Johnny had been having a shitty year. Quite possibly the worst year of his life, and that was saying something. You may be wondering, what could outdo all his prior years? What’s worse than war, what fear can outdo that of your own father? What torment could outdo lying next to the slowly cooling corpse of the one person you had left in this world? Can anything be more painful than having your eyes gouged out, than being impaled by a demon in some forgotten hell dimension? Yes.

First, there’d been the resurrection itself. Contrary to popular belief, it isn’t painless. It actually hurts like fuck - especially when you have to regrow both your eyes and a good chunk of your chest cavity. Once he could think again, there’d been learning. Living is apparently nothing like riding a bike. A decade of death will make your walking a little bit rusty. He hadn’t told Middenface or Precious. They’d worked so hard, done so much to bring him back. He had nothing to complain about.

Besides, it wasn’t really anything new. He had practice at ignoring injuries, it was nearly second nature to hide flinches. The nightmares had been familiar as well. Sure, they sucked ass and he could gladly do without them, but they were familiar territory. This new decade was different and he didn’t really have anyone to share it with. The nightmares had new storylines, inspired by his most recent traumas, but change was good. The old ones of blood and dust and heat had gotten a bit boring. But anyway, even though the galaxy had moved on, trauma was consistent. Thank God for that.

So it had been like that for a while. Then -because his ‘life’ was a sick cosmic joke- it got significantly worse. He started to go insane.

At least, he thought he did.

He’d black out for days, waking up with a body next to him, some bounty or other. He could deal with that. Sure, it was awkward finishing a conversation you couldn’t remember starting, but it it worked. Thank fuck for mind reading. Then he heard voices, then he could see things. Those had been harder to hide, at least, they would’ve been. Everyone had been avoiding him. He’d broken Kid Knee’s shin, and he couldn’t remember doing it. The blackouts got worse. Days turned to weeks, and then a whole month. He’d sit down and wake up, half-starved, with more blood on his jacket than a human body could possibly hold. He was fucking terrified.

He tried to research it, but the blackouts made that… difficult to say the least. His files would be deleted, any physical notes shredded. His search history would be filled with threats, and eventually his laptop had been impaled. You wouldn’t think things could get much worse, would you? Well, they did.

He tried to talk to Precious, to try and explain that they’d brought something else back with him, but he couldn’t. Every single word he said came out wrong. Instead of telling her about his blackouts, they were talking about fuel prices, book recommendations replaced nightmares. That was what broke him. He was possessed, and he’d lost. The blackouts stopped after that at least. Now he had to watch as his hands pulled people apart, listen to himself laugh as his prey screamed in agony.

And he couldn’t even tell anyone.

So, yeah. It had been a hell of a year.

Then Middenface knocked on his door.

It’s a little known fact that demons, at least certain types of demon, show up in different types of lighting. Some under UV light, some under black lights and so on so forth. Why does this matter? Well, the Doghouse has a lot of faulty alarms. And some of those alarms are connected to larger systems. In particular, the lights. Do you see where this is going? Middenface didn’t, and Johnny didn’t either.

He probably should’ve, considering how many wiki articles he’d read, but he was a bit busy brooding in the back of his head. It’s hard to focus on the little things when you’re having a six month long breakdown.

Middenface knocked on the door, and it slid open in a manner that would’ve been dramatic and ominous, if not for the fact it got stuck halfway. The minute or so of jiggling required to get it moving again slightly dampened the atmosphere. However, to his credit, Johnny didn’t seem at all phased. Middenface though? He was very much thrown.

Normally Johnny didn’t leave his room unless he had to. He’d never been the most social guy around, but he could still be relied on as a drinking buddy. For the last year though? He’d entirely avoided communal areas after dropping off his kill. This meant he’d not seen the new alarms. It meant, he didn’t know about Rave Hour.

Rave Hour was the nickname given to the hour long alarm (generally assumed to be an air pressure alarm) that went off at 5:30 and ended at 6:30. Why was it called Rave Hour? Because the lights went absolutely mad. Bright flashes, spinning designs and - most importantly - UV lighting in Sector B, AKA the living sector.

Normally, this would be inconsequential. Johnny would be in his room, and no one would be around (he didn’t have any neighbours. They’d said their rooms felt cold, and that the air was crushing them. This was probably the demon next door, but there was also a strong case for it being the cause of Rave Hour). However, tonight was different. Middenface was standing in the hall, and Johnny -at least, Johnny’s body- was halfway into the hall, trying to open his door.

This meant he was under UV lights. This meant, Middenface could see it. And it was not a pretty picture.

Notes:

So, that happened. Thoughts, comments? Anything goes and I really appreciate feedback. It’s my first properly angst story, and I hope I’ve done it right! Hope you enjoyed!

Chapter 3

Summary:

How does our dear demon react to the mortifying ordeal of being known? Badly.

Standing in front of him was Johnny, but something was very wrong. There were horns sticking out of his hair, gnarled and twisted, pitch black with veins of silver and gold running through them, as if someone had carved them from stone. His eyes looked about the same, just a shade of scarlet instead of the usual blinding white. He opened his mouth, asking something Middenface couldn’t hear, and his mouth was crammed with razor sharp teeth; the type that’d turn Red as green as his jacket.

Whatever it was, it frowned; and fuck if that wasn’t wrong. It reached out and Middenface flinched back from the taloned hand. He stepped back, further into the hall, further into the light, and Johnny -or the thing wearing his skin- followed him. He stepped fully into the hallway, and Middenface could see all of it. He could see the tail, see the claws and horns, and all the while it kept talking.

He paused for too long. It tilted its head, opened its mouth, then froze. It followed his gaze down, down to its hand. It saw the talons, and they both came to the same realisation. Johnny was possessed, and Middenface knew.

If Johnny had been able to use his vocal cords, he would’ve cheered, or maybe cried with the sheer relief of the revelation. As it was, he just sat watching. He sat; and felt his mouth twist into a snarl, felt himself move to a fighting stance, and he started to scream.

To survive as a bounty hunter you need three things; extreme weapons, speed, and a metric fuck-ton of luck. Middenface had the weapons, but so did the demon. The demon also had the speed, and it lunged. Claws slashed, and once again, Middenface owed his life to his money belt. It kept coming, swiping and kicking, acting like a wounded animal in a corner; and suddenly Middenface could understand what had happened to the bodies. He could hear them scream as they realised they weren’t a bounty. They were a new toy, nothing but a scratching post for a sadistic monster.

That left one thing. Sheer dumb luck. And thankfully, Middenface had that in shedloads. As the creature made another lunge, it tripped. Whether the carpet was loose, or whether Johnny had taken some control through sheer desperation, no one would ever know for sure. No one really cared. All that mattered was that it happened.

Johnny’s body went down, slamming into the floor face first. He would’ve been able to catch himself, but his hands were raised to scratch and claw, not stop a fall. He only stayed down for a split second, but it was enough. Middenface ran like sneck.

Normally Middenface detested the Doghouse’s layout. The twisting corridors and sharp corners made for an interesting walk home if you’d recently been to the bar. Tonight though? It was a blessing. The sheer terror had somehow sobered him up, at least enough to be aware of his surroundings. The demon behind him was apparently less than familiar with the layout, and the lighting was definitely not helping. From the sound of it, it had decided to go for him at full pelt, which would usually be a good choice. Johnny was fast as fuck, a benefit of being so small (even if he’d protest that: he wasn’t scrawny, everyone else was just built like a brick shithouse.). Usually the speed was a big help, but today it was a hindrance.

The Doghouse prided itself on very little, but it’s weirdly shiny floors was ones of its few joys. They were carefully polished, and slippery, at least if you had metal on the soles of your boots. Which Johnny did. All of this combined to turn the corridor into a slip and slide for the hell-spawn. Every turn, every twist was an impossibility. Middenface didn’t look back, but he could hear the thuds, the snarls and the occasional snap as something broke. He could only hope it wasn’t one of Johnny’s bones. The noises were growing steadily quieter, and it looked like he was home free.

Then the corridors ran out. It was one long hall, the lead up to the canteen. One perfectly straight, perfectly waxed hallway and at the end - salvation. The canteen door was a blast door (no one actually knew why, but most reckoned it was the same reason the PA system sometimes played slow jazz: simple stupidity) and as such was big and heavy. It could be slammed down by a button, and then formed an impenetrable wall. Standing at the door, was Durham Red, who looked understandably confused by Middenface’s Usain Bolt impression. Confusion quickly turned to horror, and Middenface guessed Johnny had made it to the hallway. His suspicions were confirmed by an animalistic growl, and the insistent sound of boots on syntholeum.

Red realised that unless there was a sudden miracle, Middenface was absolutely fucked. She recognised the look on Johnny’s face - even if she usually saw it on her own features - bloodlust. The horns and fangs really added to the effect. She turned to the table next to her and grabbed a spoon. It was a shitty weapon, but beggars can’t be choosers. She lobbed it straight at Johnny, hitting him in the forehead. He stopped dead, more out of shock than anything else, but it was enough. Middenface crossed the threshold and Red hit the button.

Ten tons of steel slammed down, and the resounding thud was the best thing Middenface had heard all day. Silence sat heavy for a minute or so, only interrupted by an undercurrent of scraping sounds and quiet bangs, as the thing on the other side of the door tried to get through.

Red was the first to snap out of her daze, and decided to tactfully enquire about the current situation. At least, she meant to. What she actually said was-
“What. The. Fuck.”

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed! As always, feel free to interact in the comments! Sorry about the ‘fight’ I did my best to avoid it, but somethings are inevitable. Forgive my transgressions.

Chapter 4

Summary:

A quick catch up on what Red’s been doing! Also, a bit of a look into what the demons thinking. It’s mostly thinking about murder.

For Red, it had actually been a pretty good day! At least, as good as it could’ve been. She’d collected a termination warrant, getting 25k and a nice drink for her troubles. The hunt had been surprisingly easy - the target practically threw himself at her! She hadn’t bothered to think about why, it made her life easier so why ponder the how’s. She’d made it back to the Doghouse due to a miraculous repair of shuttle 5, meaning the boarding queues had been halved! She’d made it back in time for dinner so she was hurrying to the canteen when things started to go wrong.

First she’d run into Middenface. Literally. He’d been standing in the middle of the corridor, mumbling to himself in a semi-drunken stupor. She didn’t pay a lot of attention to what he was saying, assuming it was complaints about the cost of Mac-Mac, or something like that. If she’d listened a little more carefully, she would’ve caught Johnny’s name, maybe even part of the pep talk. As it was, she didn’t. She’d regret that later. For the moment she just shrugged and kept walking, making a mental note to talk to Precious about it. Whilst Middenface would likely never be sober, he had been getting better. It was a little concerning seeing him like that again. But she could deal with it tomorrow. Right now? There was a steak pie with her name on it.

She kept moving towards the canteen and took a shortcut through lounge C, which proved to be her second mistake that day, as long as you didn’t count waking up.

Lounge C was generally deserted these days. In the past, it had been used as a social hub for the Mutant Army remnants, always busy and bustling. Then, it had been the Stix family’s lounge. Once they were gone, it had become a general open space. At least, until last year. Johnny had set up shop, and no one wanted to get too close to him. His bad mood was contagious and a bad mood can be fatal when you’re wearing two miniature nukes.So, why did Red decide to cut through lounge C? Surely she wasn’t that stupid? She wasn’t. She was a fairly observant person… when she wanted to be. She knew that Johnny never left his room after 4pm. It was just turning 5. That meant she could cut through the lounge in perfect safety.

But, of course, something went wrong.

See, what Red didn’t know was that Newton had been right. Every action does in fact have an equal and opposite reaction. Her excellent day had come at the cost of Johnny having a shit day.

First, he’d had to give up his hunt because some fucker had wandered into the warehouse he’d been chasing them through. Really he shouldn’t have been playing with his food, but it was so much fun being able to see their heartbeat rise. X-ray eyes came in handy, especially for sadistic demons. Anyway, he’d lost his hunt, which had pissed him off. It wasn’t like he needed the money, or the food, but it was the principle. He was one of the foremost bounty hunters in the galaxy (at least, the body was) and he was a fucking demon! No one should be bold enough to take what was his! So yeah, he was pissed.

Then he’d missed his shuttle. some bastard had repaired shuttle 5, pushing the entire departure schedule forward by a whole snecking hour! His 3 o’clock flight has apparently become 2 o’clock, leaving him stranded. It was a long day, and not a particularly good one. It wasn’t like he got shot or stabbed or exorcised, but it was just generally unpleasant. The upshot of all this was that he’d been trudging through the doghouse just before 5, when he decided to go lurk in lounge C. No one ever went in there anymore - broken bones make a good deterrent- so it was his spot. Quiet, secluded and perfect to chill in in his true demonic form. But, just like the rest of today, it didn’t work out.

You know that moment when two lions see each other? When they look and watch and try to decide if a fight’d be worth it. If the territory they’re on is worth the blood and pain. Imagine that. Now, imagine that both lions have guns. And electric knuckledusters. And aren’t actually lions. Alright, it’s not much like two lions, but it was a nice metaphor.

Red looked at Johnny. Johnny looked at Red. Both of them reached for their guns and prepared for death. Then, the dinner bell sounded.

You might be asking, why is there a dinner bell on the Doghouse? That makes no sense. Of course it makes sense. A space station full of bad tempered muties, each with their own arsenals and a fairly cavalier attitude toward the law. Now, imagine none of them have eaten recently. Not a pretty picture, is it? That was what the Doghouse’s builders - whoever the hell they’d been - had been trying to avoid. So, a dinner bell was built. It also rang at breakfast, lunch and to announce that bounties were about to be assigned. It was really loud, and perfect for cutting tension.

The noise startled them both. Johnny because he’d never heard it, and Red because she just hadn’t expected it. They both waited a moment more, and then backed down. Still facing each other, they walked towards the doors. Whilst a fight might not be on the cards, neither really trusted the other. A fact which probably saved Red’s life.

This… interaction had two major consequences. First, the canteen had been out of steak pies, so she’d had to settle for a sausage roll. Sure, she’d had to ‘convince’ the roll’s previous owner to hand it over, but she could be very persuasive. Especially when she was hungry. The second consequence was that Johnny’s mood had been significantly worsened. At least, the demon’s had been. Johnny had no clue what was going on. This meant that its patience was already running thin when Middenface knocked on the door. It had been denied two hunts already, so Middenface looked like a nice target. So, obviously when given a reason (namely it’s exposure as a demon possessing well know. war hero John Alpha) it went for him.

But, tragically, the demon's luck hadn’t changed. A canteen with a blast door and a vampire with a spoon blocked its meal. It spent a few moments pounding on the door and growling, but it was mostly for show. Nothing short of a bomb was getting through that door. Unfortunately, the demon was on the Doghouse, and was technically a bounty hunter. Which meant access to the weapons store. Which contained a lot of things that go boom. A plan started to form in its mind…

The demon turned and walked away. It didn’t bother hiding its appearance. The jig was up. It happened. Someone finds out, so you burn the town and kill everyone in it. A space station would probably be easier to clear out. Nowhere to run.

Maybe it could have its hunt after all.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! It’s taken a while to write this, but most of it was trying to work out how to refer to the demon. Hope you enjoyed!

Chapter 5

Summary:

In which Red and Middenface reflect on themselves.

“What. The. Fuck.” It was a valid question, and actually a pretty good one. Short and sweet, getting right to the heart of the matter. Middenface’s only real problem with it was that he had no clue how to answer it.

“Not a snecking clue hen.” Ok, so he did have some idea of how to answer it. Just, not in a particularly helpful manner. In his defence, he was feeling a little bit rattled. A man he’d known for almost a decade (if you didn’t count the time said man had been dead for) had just grown a pair of horns and tried to rip out his throat! He felt justified in being a little bit shaken!

“How do you not snecking know?! You’re his friend, how the sneck did you not notice that some hell-spawn had stolen his skin?!”

Middenface flinched at that. It was a reasonable question, but the kind of question that hurt because of what admitting the answer meant. The answer was, he hadn’t really wanted to know. He knew something was wrong with Johnny, but he didn’t want to admit it because then he’d have to find out what was wrong. And then he’d have to know the reason, have to accept that what him and Precious had done was wrong. That bringing Johnny back from the dead hadn’t been the right move, that all he’d been thinking about was the fact that he wanted Johnny to be alive. He hadn’t even considered how Johnny might feel about it. So they’d resurrected him. And then he’d started acting wrong. And Middenface assumed it was his fault, so he’d run away, just like he did when the Churchers came, just like he always did. He thought distance would help (that’s what he told himself at least), but instead he’d just watched as his friend became less and less himself, until all that was left was the thing in the hallway.

It was his fault. He’d dragged Johnny back to this world, and had been too… too selfish to even ask what was wrong, and now everyone was in danger because he couldn’t accept the fact that he was a coward, and that had killed someone. So, to answer Red’s question, he hadn’t noticed because he didn’t want to. He couldn’t tell her that though. It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, if she even wanted an answer. In fact, Middenface wasn’t even sure it was him she was asking.

Red had never been one to take responsibility, doing whatever she felt like and leaving chaos in her crimson-tinted wake. The consequences of her actions rarely caught up to her, and if they did, she tended to put a couple of holes in them, either with a blaster or her fangs. As such, she wasn’t particularly well versed with guilt. Most people who joined the S/D agency had one of two reasons; either they were looking for something, or trying to avoid something. Red was trying to avoid her past, and the consequences of her mutation. It wasn’t murder if you got paid for it. It was why she didn’t tend to work with a partner, if you don’t get close to anybody, you can’t let anybody down. But then she’d been paired off with Johnny, and that had gone right out the window. Sure, he was annoyingly attached to his morals, and wasn’t too keen on Red initially, but she liked to think he didn’t hate her, despite her many shortcomings. It was like Middenface had said in his letter all those years ago, they were both quite fond of eachother, even if neither of them would ever admit to it. So when she found out that Johnny was dead, that he’d sacrificed himself saving people, shed been pissed. She was angry at him for getting himself killed, she was angry at the Church for killing him, angry at whatever god there was for letting it all happen, but mostly? She was angry with herself. She knew that there was nothing she could have done, she’d been on the other side of the universe, but still. Like Middenface, she couldn’t help but feel like she should have done more.

So when Johnny had just shown up on the Doghouse, alive again, she’d been happy. She hadn’t talked to him much, out of fear that he wouldn’t want to see her. She’d finally started to work up the guts to approach him, to apologise for how things had ended between them, maybe for shooting him that first time, but she didn’t get the chance. He’d started to act… wrong. She hadn’t noticed much was amiss at first (she wasn’t one to judge how brutal a kill was, have you seen her record?) but then she heard what he’d done to Kid Knee and… she got spooked. It was like when Wulf had died, he was so angry and he was lashing out at anything that moved. She didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. So she hung back. She knew something was wrong with him, but she didn’t try to help, because what could she do? What would he do? She didn’t notice what had happened to him because she was afraid of whether it had changed how he felt about her.

There was silence in the canteen as they stood there, trying to come to terms with their own flaws, trying to justify their own behaviour, but they couldn’t. Maybe they were being unreasonable, maybe they shouldn’t be held responsible for matters of gods and demons, of death and resurrection, they just didn’t know. They felt responsible, they both felt like they themselves were solely responsible, and they didn’t really care what anyone else had to say on the matter. They knew what they’d done. They both knew he must hate them.

(If Johnny Alpha had been present, aware of what they were thinking, and able to speak, he would have had some choice words to say. As it was, he wasn’t there, he wasn’t really anywhere, and that was the problem.)

“We need to stop it.” Red was the first to speak, she’d never been good at being idle.

“Aye, but how? I dinnae about ye, but I’m no’ exactly familiar with hell beasties.” That was an issue. Red had never exactly been welcome in churches, and the Doghouse was a little bit short on priests.

“I guess we look it up.”

Notes:

Sorry this took so long! I am a tragically slow writer and have been fairly busy! However, I should hopefully be more able to write at the moment, so watch this space! As always feedback is always appreciated in the comments.

Notes:

So yeah. I feel slightly bad, but also not. I didn’t kill him! But yeah, comments and kudos are appreciated, it’s nice to know people enjoy these silly little things.
Also, St. Piran is a Cornish saint, who spent most of his life drunk. He seemed appropriate for Middenface.