From the confessional booth of Rage Obannon, AKA Death Toll, the Demon DestroyerCountdown 2 ResurrectionFriday, 19th February –
This is Rage Obannon, paying penance for my sins, on a lonely highway, cruising straight thru the hillsides of hell. Just listening to some fat-ass distorted beats in my car as I take a break from loneliness to relay the word of Rage regarding my last dance with the devil.
Its been… hell, too long since my last confession. I hear thru the holy wire that you holy-types like to call me the Hell Racer, ‘round the office. Cool, I like that. Makes me sound.. bad-ass. Not to gloat any, but damn, I’m good at being bad-ass. .. just kidding, now. I’m fully aware of the sin of gluttony. Certainly something I for one, do not indulge in, Heheh.
Its been one hell of a journey trying to get so much as the scent of demon breath amidst the mortals. Word must be getting out that the demon destroyer, Rage, here is hot on the heals to grab their pointy little tails and send ‘em straight back to the dirty unborn rat holes that they came from. Ol’ Reaper n’ I got ‘em runnin’ shit-scared.
Damn, I hate doing this. Cursing into some cosmic confessional via the stereo in my car. Feel like an idiot talking to myself like this. Well I hope you’re hearing all of this, whoever’s out there, listening. Whatever I gotta do to get my wings back to fly me to paradise on a one way ticket thru the gates of heaven to see my angel babies.
I miss them so much. Wish I could take it all back, what I did. Wish I could just hear her voice for a minute. I sure could use the pep talk right now ‘cause I’m feelin’ lonely as all – Oh yeah, forgot, cursin’ like that got me another week on my penance last time. Won’t be doing that again. (I’ve learn’t my lesson. Keep the cursin’ to a minimum, save it for the hell-pit.) I’m to close too the final countdown to stuff it up now.
One thousand demon souls on the ol’ Sol-O-Meter is where it started. A number that seemed like a lifetime away, I suspect it has been that long already.
Yep, one thousand of those sick n’ twisted, soulless suckers is what stands between me and an eternity of happiness. Over 600 of those vacant-eyed, vicious bastards have stared into the bright lights of ‘Ol Lady Reaper here, right before I push the throttle and slam their fearful faces right into Reaper’s bonnet. Oh yeah, Rage is a bad ass.
Death-Toll stands at 666 vanquished demons. I say that number almost dials up a ‘cause for celebration. Although hearing the sound of demon splat, almost makes it worth the penance of banishing their dreaded flesh and hearing their bones - break-on thru to the other side.
Ahh, now there’s a song that brings back memories. I wonder if Morrison knows that his songs are being played in aid to a wannabe angel who shoves demons into the bonnet of his car. You open your doors to perception, Jim, and I’ll pop the hood to open the portals of hell.
What I’d give to settle for opening only the doors of perception…
On that fateful day, the highway, the split second I looked away to reach for my bottle, was when it all changed… when my car-crashed straight thru the gates of heaven leaving me crawling from the wreckage of mortality into the lifeless void of limbo. Oh what a timeless flat lining wreck I must have been.
I killed my baby, my girl, and not to mention the 3 other lives lost in the carnage – all because of my drunken stupidity and rage. Now I gotta pay the price for my sins. Ain’t no free trip to heaven with the weight of those sins on my soul.
Its gonna take some work to hack that tarnish off my conscious. 634 black marks across my soul to be exact. We can do this Rage. Just one damned demon at a time. Ahh yes, the senses are picking up some activity up ahead, Hark how I hear the angels calling…
Make that 633 black marks left.
