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Warriors of the Fourth Soul	By : DetectiveRaana Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 2369 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Warriors of the Fourth Soul
- 1
Warriors of the Fourth Soul

I

Henry

The first
day of year 2009 wasn�t going well. Leon Kennedy didn�t deny that he was used
to waking up next to strange men � it was part of his job, at least during one
point. The twenty-something blonde groaned, stretching his back and hiding his
eyes from the morning sun with the back of his arm. The bed didn�t feel like
his own, but he didn�t want to deal with it. Not just yet.
Then the
man beside him screamed, and thus the day began.
The man
sprang out of bed, staring at Leon in horror. He appeared to be no older than
Leon himself, perhaps even younger, with brown hair and eyes the color of
emeralds. Judging from his half-naked body, he was the average male, not buff,
but not a slob either. All he wore were navy blue boxers with white spots.
Leon
would�ve chuckled if the man didn�t speak up first.
�What the
hell are you doing here!?�
Leon sat
up. The bed was big, enough to accommodate two people, with crisp white sheets.
He wasn�t wearing anything. Leon said, �Happy new year to you too.�
The man
seemed to calm a little. �Did we...do anything, last night?�
Leon shook
his head. �I don�t think so.�
The man
actually chuckled. Leon thought he had a nice laugh. The man said, �That�s
good, because if my girlfriend found out she�d totally flip��
He froze. A
moment passed. Then the man clamped his hands to his mouth, his eyes bugging
out, before he bolted out of the room, slamming the door behind him hard enough
to startle Leon. Leon was not easily startled.
Leon got up,
transformed a sheet into a toga-like garment, and left the bedroom. Directly
across the bedroom was a bathroom, the man leaning over the sink like he was
going to be sick. Leon made it to the hallway separating the rooms when the man
spoke again.
�Get out.�
Then he
flared up with the kind of outraged intensity Leon was all too familiar with.
He shouted, �Get out of here! I hope I never see you again!�
Leon
couldn�t help but wince. The man had an inch on him, at least. Leon said,
�Easy, compadre. Let me bathe, and then you�ll never see me again. Ever.�
The man was
still angry. �No! Leave, now!�
Leon had
enough. He snapped, �If this happened in my house, which is a house, mind you,
not some dingy apartment like this, I would let your sorry ass shower.�
They stared
at each other like sparring animals, neither letting the other down. The
doorbell rang, and the man, with a growl, turned to answer it. The man dressed
quickly into a white shirt, a pale blue shirt over it, and blue jeans.
It was the
superintendent. He was old, mid-fifties, with gray hair and calm brown eyes. He
held a leather jacket in his hands. He said, �Hey, did you drink too much last
night?�
The man
looked down the hall. Bits of a man�s outfit were scattered around the hallway.
The man turned back to the superintendent. �Those are mine.�
The
superintendent looked at the tag on the jacket. �Your name is Leon?�
The man
angrily collected the things in the hall, ripped the jacket from the
superintendent�s hands, and slammed the door in his face. He threw the clothes
into his laundry room. By this time, Leon had finished and had come out of the
shower, one towel around his waist, another draped over his shoulder.
The man
literally threw him out, blocking the doorway with his larger body, and
snapped, �Get out of here, and never return! I hope you forget this ever
happened!� He slammed the door shut and he was gone.
Leon
pounded on the door, called, �At least give me your name!�
There was
no answer. Frustrated, Leon managed to memorize the apartment number before
storming down the hallway past a very surprised cleaning lady.

Strangely,
Leon didn�t remember going home and changing, or how he got there in the first
place. The last moment he�d left the apartment. The next, he was dressed casually
and sitting on the front step of his home.
Leon�s home
was a gift from the President himself. It wasn�t a mansion, but it was bigger
than average. Though he had no love life or children to fill it up with, he
felt that he occupied it just fine by himself. It had two floors, a black
shingle roof, numerous light-giving windows, and was painted a crisp white. It
lay on the mountainous region on the outskirts of Wolverine, a Midwestern town
that clung to the highway that cut through it like a lifeline. It was a small
town, mostly made up of drifters, but that was fine. Leon didn�t plan on making
any new friends any time soon.
Leon still
remembered the events of that morning. It intrigued him, as it wasn�t something
that happened daily...and for that same reason it also frightened him. Leon
wasn�t easily frightened.
There were
things in his past that still clawed their way to the surface.
There were
certain aspects of his early adventure that made him feel uneasy. Wolverine,
being attached to the freeway, sported lots of hotels, but no permanent
apartment buildings. The nearest town was several miles away, and Leon felt
confident that he�d remember a walk of that distance, in nothing but two
towels.
There was
nothing he could do, so he went back inside, and curled into bed. The
consequences of drinking too much last night rang in his head and raged in his
stomach and he fell into a restless sleep.
He was
awakened in the evening by the doorbell. He got up and smoothed out the
wrinkles in his clothes and made his way to the door. He looked out the
peephole and asked, �Who is it?�
A warm
brown eyeball looked back at Leon. �FBI.�
Leon opened
the door and noticed with relief that it was Antonio Velvetine. The
Spanish-Anglo hybrid was an old friend. They�d met years ago when Leon first
stepped foot into the maze called the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Antonio was a
sweet guy all around, with a wife, a kid, and another on the way. Everything
about Antonio, from his fashion sense to his personality, could be summed up in
one phrase: a warm, kind brown.
Leon said,
�What brings you to this less-than-humble home, Antonio?�
The other
man laughed, letting himself in. �My wife�s sister is getting married. My
family and I are just passing through. I have something for you.�
The two sat
down on two black leather couches, sitting across from one another. A black
table separated them. Antonio gently threw a manila folder onto the table.
�While my
family and I were stopping for lunch,� Antonio said, �I noticed you asking
around for a room number. It rang a bell, so I got you this.�
Leon
investigated the folder. Inside was an old newspaper clipping. It was three
years old.
It read:

As of recently,
Silent Hill was a normal town. Perhaps a bit on the foggy side, but with a
bustling population and successful economy.
Then the incident
occurred.
In South Ashfield
Heights, an apartment in Silent Hill, two people were found dead in room 203.
The incident calls back to one year ago, when a Joseph Schreiber wrote a series
of documents detailing ten murders done in the very same apartment block where
he stayed.
During the course of
several weeks, more bodies have been found, bringing the death toll up to
twenty-one. The killer managed to murder ten people before being arrested. He
committed suicide in his jail cell. He was buried in Silent Hill Cemetery.
However, the other
eleven murders occurred in the same method as the previous ten. Authorities
suspect a copycat killer, and are patrolling the streets for any suspicious
persons.
The tenth and
eleventh murders were found in room 203 of the apartment. Also in the room were
Schreiber�s account of what occurred, as well as a red journal describing the
eleventh�s perspective of what happened. The journal is being studied at the CSI
unit of SHPD. Though we could not be allowed to copy what the journal said,
there have been rumors of accounts of whole other worlds, scenes of explicit
torture, and the appearance of demon-like creatures.
Time will tell if
these rumors are true.

Antonio
sighed. �We had a lot of problems with this up at the Hoover. Civilians were
outraged that twenty-one people could have died without the real culprit being
caught. Now it seems to have blown over, however.�
Leon said,
�This was three years ago.�
�Yes.
During the time you were in....�
�I don�t
like to talk about that.�
Antonio
shot him a knowing look. �I understand.�
�The real
culprit has never been caught.�
�No, though
they are still looking. Many people believe the culprit has fled the country or
is dead.�
Leon
returned to the article. It continued on the other side. Though the article
itself continued on and off the page, there was a picture on the backside that
made Leon�s blood run cold.
It was the
man he had woken up to that morning. The name beneath the picture called him
Henry Townshend.
Antonio
noticed Leon�s focus on Henry. He said, �He was the eleventh murder. The
numbers 21121 were carved into his back. Postmortem, I hope. That would�ve
really hurt.�
Leon
searched for words, but found none. He suddenly felt like he had to be alone.
He said, �Antonio, I�m sorry, but...I�ve seen so much damage, and death,
and...and....�
The man
took the hint. He stood and said, �I understand, Leon. If you ever need to
speak to me,� He took a card from his pocket and gave it to Leon. �This is the
hotel where I�m staying. Just ask, old friend.� Patting Leon�s back, he let
himself out, closing the door behind him.
A dead man
had spent the first morning of the new year with him. Leon thought he was done
with death. He wanted to retire in his baby mansion and stay by himself until
the end of his days. Most people he met ended up dead or in worse predicaments
anyway. Now, with the Henry Townshend incident fresh in his mind, that didn�t
seem like an option.
A
screeching voice ripped him from his thoughts.
�For
Aaaauld Laaaaaang Syne, m�dear, for Aaaauld Laaaaaang Syne!�
Leon stood,
tucked the newspaper clipping into his shirt pocket, and dashed to a section of
his home devoted to the animals he loved ever since he was a child: birds.
�We�ll take
a cup of kiiiindness yet, for Aaaauld Laaaaaang Syne!�
The aviary
was, like most of the house, white, with huge windows pouring sunlight into the
room. It was lined with cages. Leon was expecting a shipment of lovebirds that
he planned to breed into a thriving population. There was one cage in the
center of the rectangular room that housed a vibrant blue macaw.
The bird�s
name was Carver. It had been love at first sight in the pet shop. Carver
trusted and respected him from day one, and Leon did likewise. The parrot was
very intelligent, but in some ways more than others. He picked up songs
quickly, and Auld Lang Syne was his favorite.
Leon opened
the cage and Carver burst out in a flurry of blue, flapping around the room and
perching on a roost on the ceiling.
Leon smiled
and said, �You little fiend. You can�t stand other people around me, can�t
you?�
The macaw
squawked loudly, gazing at Leon from a black eye. �Leon mine.�
He chuckled
and lifted an arm for the bird to sit on. Carver spread his wings, revealing
the bright yellow feathers beneath, and relieved himself on the floor. Leon
sighed, looking at the mess, then at Carver.
�Wonderful.�
Carver
merely laughed. �Swab the poop deck, sailor.�

After feeding
Carver and letting the bird run free in the aviary, Leon left his home for food
of his own. The resident bar, named after the town, suited him perfectly. As he
ate his dinner of steak and beer, he noticed a rowdy group at the bar itself
hooting at a hockey game on a television. Leon got caught up into the
excitement of the game, and didn�t notice when a woman sank into his booth with
him.
She had
soft blonde hair and blue eyes, the classic American girl. There was a twinkle
in her eyes, however, that spoke of things the classic American girl wouldn�t
know, faced, or fought down, coming out victorious. Her white sweater fought
off the cold air and her white slacks matched. Her name was Melissa Genevieve,
a registered pyromaniac and Leon�s realtor.
�Hockey
fan?� she asked.
Leon
snapped back and finally took notice of her. �Ah, Melissa. Yes, I played in
high school. I was considered a hero.�
She
chuckled, flagging down a waiter. �I don�t buy it.� To the waiter, �Another
beer, please.�
�I�m
serious! I was once knocked against a wall so hard I lost a tooth. I have a
fake one now, so you can�t tell. Lost the real one ages ago.�
A fight
broke out on the television and the group cheered. Melissa acknowledged it
casually and said, �I�ll speak to your dentist about that.�
�Doctor-patient
confidentiality.�
Melissa�s
eyes twinkled with a mischievous edge. �I have my ways around that.� The waiter
came back and gave her a beer. She poured it from the can into a cup.
Leon
changed the subject. �Have you been to Silent Hill recently?�
Melissa�s
entire demeanor changed. She became very grave. �Yes, my ex-boyfriend lives
there. He decided that he�d rather become a priest than date me.�
Leon
immediately thought up several retorts, but this was serious business. �You
remember the Silent Hill murders, don�t you?�
�Oh, god,
that was horrible. Twenty-one people dead...they say it was about some silly
religious cult. God, I hate those people. They�re not afraid to take down
anyone or anything to get what they want.�
Leon felt
ill. Her words hit nerves. He continued, �I�m looking for information about the
twenty-first murder. Do you know anything about a Henry Townshend?�
She shook
her head, sipped from her cup, and said, �No, I didn�t know him. You know as
much as I do, if not more. He lived in room 203 of South Ashfield Heights,
wrote that crazy journal, and was the last person to die in the incident.�
�Know
anything about the journal?�
�No. The
local police department isn�t letting anyone read it. If they can keep me out,
they can keep anyone out.�
Leon
finished his dinner and gingerly cleaned his face. �That settles it then.�
Melissa
stared at him with wide eyes. �Settles what?�
He stood
and said, �Mind watching the house? I�m taking a trip to Silent Hill.�

The next
day, Leon moved from Wolverine to Silent Hill. The city was bustling,
prosperous, and the people seemed friendly enough. He checked into a hotel,
unpacked, and then made his way to the local police department.

---

Silent Hill
Police Department was large, accommodating to the city�s size. Leon bypassed
the lobby entirely. He knew where he was going, and every police department was
like the one he�d been in before, throughout the country, however many hundreds
or thousands he�d gone into. He�d lost count.
There was a
guard in front of the CSI unit. He stopped Leon. �Only officers and CSI beyond
here, mate.�
Leon
flashed his ID. �Secret Service. I�m with the President.�
The guard
looked stunned. �No way. You�re Leon Kennedy? You rescued the President�s
daughter!�
Leon
sighed. �Tell me something I don�t know.� He made his way past the guard into
the CSI unit.
The pesky
guard followed. His name tag called him Max. Max said, �Man, I followed the
whole thing on TV. You�re a hero, man! You�re gonna go down in history
alongside Lincoln, and Reagan, and Columbus, and��
�I get the
point,� Leon snapped.
�Seriously,
man,� Max said, �You�re a hero. Your name�s a household item!�
The deeper
into the CSI unit they went, the greener the walls became. When they reached
the core of the unit, the walls were the color of grass, with white streaks
where white light shone from tiny bulbs. There was an automatic door ahead, and
through it Leon could see a red book, clearly visible against the green walls.
Max poked
him in the ribs and said, �So, uh...I�ve seen pictures of Ashley, and I was
thinkin�...is she as hot in real life as she is in the pictures?�
Leon passed
through the door, turned to face Max, and said, �My relationship with her was
strictly as guardian. There was no romance between us, and there never will be.
If you tell anyone about this, you�ll have the FBI breathing down your back for
the rest of your life.�
The door
closed, leaving a horrified Max on the other side. Leon turned and went towards
his goal, the red journal. It was nice to be intimidating sometimes.
The journal
sat on a pedestal in the center of the room. There was no one around, so Leon
approached it carefully, opened it, and began to read.
He didn�t
know how much time passed while he was reading. It could have been minutes or
hours. The journal trapped him within itself, as page after page gave its story
and told him about the degrading sanity of Henry Townshend.
It had been
a normal day when Henry found he could not leave his apartment. It had been
chained shut from the inside. There was a hole in his bathroom. Leon noted with
horror that the apartment it described matched the one he had woken up in on
the new year. Each time Henry went through the hole, new worlds appeared, each
filled with monsters. Eventually he met a girl who had been attacked by a
mysterious killer. Her name was Eileen Galvin, and she was the twentieth
murder. Even with Eileen by his side, Henry slowly slipped into insanity, and
even facing against the head monster itself did no good. The journal ended on
November 28, 2004, with an ominous note talking about the Mother of Hell.
Leon felt
sick. The first date of the journal was on the same day as when he�d arrived at
the community in the middle of nowhere, Spain. The last date was on the same
day as when he�d been picked up by a Spanish fishing boat and escorted to the
U.S. Embassy in Spain, where he and the President�s daughter were flown home.
Henry had died that day. The greatest day of Leon�s young life, the hero�s
welcome home, had been the end of Henry�s life.
Their
greatest adventures had taken place at the same time, down to the hour.
Leon didn�t
believe in fate or demons or heaven, but this was scary.
�What are
you doing here?�
The voice
made Leon jump. He turned to address it, but there was no one there. Leon
could�ve sworn he heard a man�s voice talking to him.
The journal
jerked in his hands. The voice said, �Why are you holding this?�
Leon was
the only one in the room. The air in the room was heavy, and he couldn�t find
his voice.
The
disembodied voice continued, �You were reading this! This is mine!�
There was a
sucking noise and the automatic door was vacuumed shut. Leon ran to it, tried
to pry the doors apart, but it was no use. A gust of wind suddenly knocked him
back, and when the stars vanished from his vision he felt ice on his hair and
eyelashes.
The wind,
having nowhere to go, spun in circles, going faster and faster. As it began to
pick up objects and swing them around, Leon could barely see what appeared to
be an invisible creature sitting on top of the pedestal, clutching the red
journal to its chest.
�You have
no idea what you are doing, mortal,� the thing screeched, �No one can know what
this says! You cannot leave here with the knowledge of what He has done.�
Just as the
thing erupted into color, a heavy beaker impacted with Leon�s skull and the
world went dark before he hit the ground.

Leon woke
up in a bed with an ice pack tied to his head. The room spun for a moment
before his brain and ear made peace and brought everything to a stop. He
moaned, sitting up, and found himself fully dressed, sitting in what appeared
to be a hospital bed.
The curtain
beside him opened, and he gasped. There was a monster waiting behind the
screen. It wore something like a nurse�s costume, but the putrid gray skin and
hair was anything but human. It had no eyes or mouth, but a nose that oozed
with something foul. Leon tried to scramble away, but movement sent the room
haywire again and he found himself paralyzed with both fear and pain.
The monster
nurse reached out and placed a hand on his chest. The touch felt like a bullet
and Leon bucked and cried out in agony. The monster nurse proceeded to push him
back into the mattress, revealing no response to his torture, until Leon was
sure that this was the end. The end wasn�t peacefully passing away in bed, as
he hoped he would. The end would come from a monster.
�Mister
Kennedy!�
Leon opened
his eyes and looked up into a pair of brown irises. It was a nurse. She was
human, brown hair, looked Hispanic. She also looked panicked.
He winced
as something was injected into his arm. There was a doctor standing beside him,
carefully removing the syringe.
The doctor
said, �I�m sorry, mister Kennedy, but you were thrashing around in bed. We
thought you were having a seizure.�
Leon�s
throat felt dry. �Wha...what did you��
�It�s okay.
Don�t worry. You�ll just go back to sleep now.�
Leon didn�t
want to go back to sleep. He gently moved the nurse off of him, and sat up, the
icepack tugging on his head. He looked at his arm, which was bleeding from the
hole the syringe made, and held his face in his hands.
The doctor
asked, �Mister Kennedy, have you ever experienced seizures before?�
�Nightmare,�
Leon replied, �Just a dumb nightmare.�
�You�ll
feel drowsy in a few moments, mister Kennedy. Lie back and try to relax.�
Leon waited
until the doctor left the room, sat up, and got out of bed. The room didn�t
spin, but he felt his vision deteriorate as the drug they gave him took effect.
Dazed, Leon managed to stumble out of the hospital, icepack still hanging onto
his head, and trudge down the street. His legs gave out just before a bus stop,
where he sat and tried to shake it off. It overpowered him, however, and he
fell asleep, falling over into the street.
A blaring
horn brought him back to his senses. Leon looked up into the bumper of a bus
that had stopped just inches from his body. The bus driver got out of the bus
and Leon could see a little old lady glancing over the steering wheel from the
inside.
The driver
cried, �What�s the matter with you? Are you fucking suicidal?�
Leon chose
to flee instead of answering.

---

By this
time night had fallen. Leon had no appetite, but needed something to set his
mind on until the fog cleared. He found a lowlife bar and sat at it, downing
several drinks. While he drank until he found some clarity, other people began
to fill the bar. Music began to play and several couples started to dance. More
people filed in. This bar was more popular than he expected.
He didn�t
care, however. He was on his fifth something when a man sat beside him. He wore
a heavy, navy blue trench coat, the hood up over his face. Leon could see heavy
brown bangs hang down past his face.
�Surprise
me,� he said to the bartender.
He looked
at Leon, who was holding his head in his hands. He nudged him. �I think you�ve
had enough, pal.�
Leon
grunted. �What gives you the authority to tell me that?�
�Nothing.
Never mind.�
The two men
fell into silence. The bartender gave the man a liquid the color of fire. The
man sipped at it gingerly, then turned back to Leon.
�Seriously.
You don�t look too hot.�
Leon didn�t
feel like lying. �I saw a monster today.�
�Me too. In
fact, he�s sitting right next to me.�
�Fuck off.�
The man
suddenly grasped Leon�s shoulder. Leon caught a glimpse of a bright brown eye.
He hissed, �Don�t speak of things you know nothing about!�
He let go,
leaving Leon in shock. The man sighed and said, �Monsters are real, pal. As
real as you and me. Well...maybe just you.�
Leon looked
at him, hoping for another chance at a glimpse. �What about you?�
The man
ignored him. �What did it look like?�
�A nurse
from hell.�
�You�re
right.�
�I�m right?
What are you talking about?�
�The thing
you saw was a minion of the Devil.�
�The Devil?
As in Satan?�
�The head
honcho Himself.�
Leon shot
another glass and ordered a sixth drink. �I don�t believe in the Devil.�
�What about
ghosts?�
�Nope.�
�Angels?�
�Nope. We
live, we die, we return to the earth whence we came.�
�Ah. You�re
one of those evolution junkies.�
�What?
Look, I don�t care. I don�t care about evolution and I don�t believe in the
supernatural. I believe in here and now, nothing else.�
Leon
thought he heard him chuckle. �Caring and believing are two separate things,
pal. Caring means you have emotions for someone or something, including
yourself. Believing goes far beyond caring. If you believe in something, by the
grace of God Almighty it will come true.�
Leon found
no words to reply, so he said nothing.
The man
continued, �If you only care about Henry, you�ll never find him.�
That caught
his attention. Leon said, �How�d you know I was looking for��
�You have
to believe that he�s here,� the man said, �Believe in what you want, and it
will happen.�
The man
finished his drink, exhaling deeply. �Back of the bar, fourth table.�
Leon looked
where the man told him to. Amidst the flowing bodies, he saw a sight that shot
ice down his spine.
Staring at
the tabletop was Henry Townshend. The young man looked the same as when Leon
had last seen him. He looked up, and their eyes locked. Then he bolted onto his
feet and took off into the crowd.
Leon took
off after him, pushing past the crowds. Henry, on the other hand, didn�t seem
to be in any trouble, gliding through the people like a bird in the air. He
fled out the back door before Leon could it.
He barged
through. The door lead him to a back alley. It was dark, lit only by a bright
light bulb above several garbage cans. He remained still, and tried to
concentrate. If he believed Henry was still here, in the alley, just a few feet
away from his right hand....
He made a
grab and his hand found Henry�s throat. By some inexplicable reason, Henry had
somehow become invisible, but with his hand closing his windpipe he slowly
regained his color.
Henry
gasped, �How�d you know I was here?�
Leon stared
into his eyes. �I�ve dealt with the invisible before.�
Henry
struggled against Leon�s hand, but he held firm. �I remember you! You tried to
read my journal!�
�I did read
it. You intervened before I could take it back to my hotel room. Thanks to you,
I was almost hit by a bus!�
Much to his
surprise, Henry began to laugh. �So now what? Are you going to kill me?�
The lids of
the garbage cans lifted into the air, each on either side of Leon�s head. Henry
continued, �You can�t kill me. I�m already dead.�
The lids
crashed together, but Leon�s head was not between them. He had ducked beneath
them, but in doing so was forced to let go of Henry. The other man fled down
the alley. Leon gave chase.
The
nightlife of Silent Hill was beginning to emerge from the shadows. Henry seemed
to have no problem dodging past people, but Leon was caught up in the crowds
and fell behind. Still, he tried to keep Henry in his sights, and he stayed on
his trail.
Henry fled
into a multistoried building. When Leon burst inside, he was nowhere to be
found, but Leon had a hunch as to where he went.
Up a flight
of stairs and down a hallway to room 203.
He kicked
the door in and charged inside. The door flung itself closed and the sound of
the lock shutting echoed through the room. The room was no different than when
he�d last seen it. A small kitchen, a living room in the center, complete with
couches and a television, and the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom.
There was a door to his right, he assumed it was the laundry room.
Henry
gently pounded the door with his fist. His face was obscured by the dark light
in the apartment. �O Lord, what fools these mortals be.�
Leon turned
to see him. He had no idea how he missed Henry in the first place. �What?�
Henry
glared at him, outraged and using his height to his advantage. �Do you have any
idea what you just did?� He held his face in his hands. �He�s going to look for
you too. Oh, lord, oh, no.�
�Who?�
Henry
exploded at him again. �You read my journal, you should know!� He shoved past
Leon into the living room, plopping down on the couch and hiding his face in
his hands. For a moment Leon thought he was crying.
Leon slowly
sat next to him. �Okay. It was wrong of me to read your journal without your
permission. I just didn�t know that you were alive. I mean, the newspaper said
you were dead.�
�I�m not
alive,� Henry said, face still hidden, �I�m dead.�
�How can
you be dead? You�re sitting right next to me.�
�Can the
living become invisible?�
�Yes, in
fact, but I don�t like to talk about it.�
Henry
glanced at him through his hands. �Who are you?�
Leon
offered his hand. �Leon Kennedy, Secret Service.�
Henry
hesitated, then finally shook Leon�s hand. �Not much of a secret if that�s how
you introduce yourself.�
�I�m a bit
of a celebrity.�
�Don�t let
your fifteen minutes go to your head.�
This took
Leon by surprise. �You haven�t heard of me? I rescued the President�s
daughter!�
Henry shook
his head. �When did this happen?�
�Three
years ago.�
Henry was
horribly reminded of what had happened to him three years ago, and he held his
face in his hands again. �I�m afraid I was in no condition to listen to the
news back then, Leon Kennedy.�
Leon placed
an arm over Henry�s shoulders comfortingly. �Tell me in your own words what
happened back then, Henry.�
Henry
thought for a moment, then stood. He leaned against the wall above a chest by
the television. �I was your standard American boy. I was born in Michigan, grew
up in large spaces, went to school, became infatuated with photography. My
photos have been in several art books. Three years ago I wanted a change, so I
packed up and headed to Silent Hill. I rented out the apartment where we are
now.
�I stayed
here for a while...then I found I couldn�t leave. The front door was chained
shut; I think it still has a grudge against me.�
Leon
pondered how a door could hold a grudge, but Henry continued.
�There was
a hole in my bathroom. Not just any hole. A big hole. Big enough for me to
crawl through. So...I did. The first time I went there I ended up in Silent
Hill�s subway system.
�This
wasn�t right, though. The light was different. Not technically different...just
different. The walls, the light, everything had an aura, and everything was
pushing down on me. I could feel my soul sinking. Because of these auras I went
insane.�
Leon
shivered with fear, but he tried to hide it.
�During
these adventures I saw things no one should see,� Henry said, �Demons.
Monsters. Demonic monsters. I didn�t know what they were, but now I do. They
really were demons, sent from the Devil to stop me. These worlds were His, and
I was trespassing. As I continued deeper into the worlds, I met the Devil�s
familiars. A woman, and three other men. Each of them were killed, but that�s
what I assumed, knowing nothing about demons.
�Then I met
Eileen. Eileen was my neighbor, but I didn�t know her very well. Only by face
and name. Eileen was the twentieth murder, as you probably read in the
newspaper. Eileen came with me into those strange worlds. By then...the Devil
had stopped sending His subordinates and came after us Himself.�
He paused
to collect himself, sobbing dryly. �I will never forget the sheer terror that
coursed through my veins when I looked upon His face. Goddammit, Leon, I looked
upon the face of the Devil!�
In a fit of
rage, he spun and planted his fist into the bookshelf on the other wall.
Nothing happened to the furniture. He broke down then and sobbed loudly. Leon
got up and went to his side, patting his back.
�Easy,�
Leon cooed, trying to comfort him, �Easy. It�s over.�
Henry
sniffed. He hadn�t shed any tears. �Eileen ended up getting sacrificed to one
of the Devil�s monsters, the Mother of Hell. I managed to stop it, but the
Devil Himself did me in. I am the twenty-first murder.�
He stared
Leon in the face. �Leon Kennedy, I�m a ghost.�
Leon tried
to bring back some humor into the situation. �Yeah, and I�m the queen of
England.�
Something
told Leon that Henry was being serious. He reached out and touched Henry�s
shoulder, taking hold and squeezing gently. �You feel solid.�
�Ghosts
aren�t always transparent,� Henry said, �I can choose whether I can be touched
or not. I can also be invisible, which is how you saw me in the police
department.�
Henry
noticed Leon had trouble understanding him, and he knew why. Ghosts were hit or
miss. Some people believed in them. Others didn�t. Henry heard Leon�s stance on
it in the bar, so he understood why Leon didn�t quite get it.
�Sit down,
Leon,� Henry said, �This might take a while.�
Leon sat on
the couch again. Henry remained standing. He said, �Okay. Think of Earth as
three squares on top of one another. The middle square is us. The mortals like
you, the ghosts like me, and Death. Death leads the ghosts, but no one really
listens to Him. Death, of course, is the one who takes souls from people when
they die and decide where they go afterward.
�The top
square is Heaven. Angels reside there, as well as God. Angels have a code they
must follow, or else get kicked out. Think of Heaven as an exclusive club. Very
exclusive. There�s also a hierarchy of angels, but I�m not familiar with it.
�The bottom
square is where I went through the hole. I went to Hell. Hell is, as you
might�ve guessed, home to demons and the Devil. Their code is no code. Demons
run freely, occasionally coming up to Earth to wreck havoc. The Devil has his
subordinates and they have their own theme: Chaos, Source, Temptation, and
Watchfulness. I�ve met with each of them, and each I have brought down. Or so I
hope.�
Leon took a
moment to digest all of this. This was all new to him. To hear from a ghost
that there were such things as angels and demons...it was mind-boggling! He
didn�t know what to consider truth, and what to consider a lie. Maybe none of
it was true, maybe none of it was false. In the end, he only had one question.
�Was the
culprit of the murders ever caught?�
Henry
actually snickered. �Caught? He can�t be caught.�
�Someone
was arrested, then he died. Who was he?�
Henry�s
snickering turned into full-blown laughter. �The one they arrested, the one who
killed himself, he was no mortal man. Leon Kennedy, the Devil committed those
murders. He killed each one by hand. However, the name the Devil took as he
ascended from Hell to Earth...was Walter Sullivan.�
- 1
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Warriors of the Fourth Soul

Warriors of the Fourth Soul