Quantum Dissolve: Chapter Thirteen. (Jade Shade vs Mark Augustine: Hadesburster)

Mark Augustine studied the latest file across his desk.
It chronicled the boogedy tale of "The Green Monster".
It stretched back 16 years, and centered around the city with many names, but Mark got a kick out of "Lentilville".

In 1997, on the outskirts of Lentilville, The Green Monster popped up in people's windows, scaring the shit out of some redneck farmers, and little old ladies.

A year later, Lentilville experienced one of the worst school shootings in national history.
It was pinned on one of the kids, one Dustin Martin Irwin.
He was later absolved, but the kid was clearly fucked up for life.

Was The Green Monster responsible?
Who could say?

January 15th, 2013, "The Green Monster", resurfaces, calling itself "The Jade Shade".

And from there, it got a lot more interesting, and definately a whole lot of strange.

This was right up Mark Augustine's alley.
"Time for Hadesburster to pay a little visit to Lentilville", Mark said with an enthused grin as he lit up a cigarette.


Mark Augustine, Hadesburster, arrived in Lentilville in disguise.
He'd dyed his hair brown from the usual blonde, and taken to speaking with an American accent to hide his British one.

Also, he'd switched his usual brown trench-coat for a black duster.

If anyone who knew him had seen him, they'd be offended by the very implication that it was supposed to be him.
"No way that's fuckin' Hadesburster! Hadesburster looks like fuckin' Sting, you asshole!".
They would say.
That's how good this disguise was.

After asking around in the usual places one found underworld scum, Augustine quickly found victims of The Jade-Shade, and culled together a rough map of his patrol area.

By midnight, he stumbled onto him.
A truly ghastly creature, clad in black, with a green skull for a face.
Some sort of Dryad, perhaps.
Whatever the fuck that was.

He set up a containment spell, and then fired a ball of blue magic at him.

Jade-Shade stared in confusion, as a blue sparkler bounced off his chest.
"Seriously?", he remarked.

"Demon of the underworld, know that I am Mark Augustine! A name you have no doubt heard! You know that I'm no one to be trifled with!", Augustine bellowed theatrically.

"Wait...Augustine? Aren't you that guy on the news who's been charged with blowing up that church full of people? And...aren't you supposed to look like Sting? What's with the dye job, and the bad surfer dude accent?", JS replied casually.

"I...regret that that had to be done. The Earth would have been ruled by Hell if not for those necessary actions", Augustine said sadly, while badly sneaking another sparkler towards his lighter.

JS stayed calm, and in the conversation "no, see, there's no Hell to conquer the Earth, and there's no Heaven that those people went to. You're just a boring ordinary murderer. Those people are dead, and they're not coming back. They died for absolutely nothing. You're a fucking wacko. Exactly like the wackos on 9/11".

"Silence, Mergal! You're trying to confuse me with your treacherous demon ways!!", Augustine barked as he hurled another sparkler, and mumbled some guttural gibberish.

"Okay, that's enough of you", JS said, boredom in this voice, as he fired a bolt from his (recently repainted) wrist crossbow into Augustine's leg.

Augustine plopped to the ground, and then immediately entered a trance, and (convinced himself that) he entered an astral projection state.


JS stood at his meditation spot on the roof of the town hall building again.
Pondering, that among the various "spiritualitys", he had yet to see one that didn't eventually go all authoritarian and wacky.
It was all the same, just like the political extremes.

"There's no magic in this world, never was", he grumbled, as he flashed back to not just Mark Augustine's crimes, but the heap of human wreckage the world used to know as The Prodigious Mass.
"Flim-flam, and tricks, just like in my old childhood magic book. All those years ago, I learned it", he thought.

"Well, at least this duster fits well on me", JS observed, as he admired the figure he cut in Augustine's stolen coat.
"He won't be needing it where he is, don't think he'll mind".

And, he didn't.
He had a nice new coat with long sleeves.


Months later, in the padded cell of the Lentilville mental hospital, Augustine's "projection", had, and has, yet to return to this plane.