|When Ash's eyes were destroyed, the remaining damned shared her one way ticket to Hell. These are the stories of the...|
|Titus Buckley (1434 – 1478)|
|Written by Greg Lemieux|
|Many knights in 15th century England lived by a code of honor, but not Sir Titus Buckley. He was a knight in name only, having stolen a suit of armor from a real knight who’d made the mistake of having one too many drinks in a local tavern.
Titus had no use for ladies or maidens. The women he knew as a youth never liked him, and he had little patience with ridiculous courtship rituals anyway. He could get what he wanted from the whores and the wenches – all he needed was money. So he hired himself out as the Medieval equivalent of a hired gun. Many of his clients were spurned lovers who wanted the maiden who had dumped him, or her new beau, to be murdered. He was delighted to do it, as the sight of young lovers made him sick anyway. Titus would attack his victims while he was wearing a suit of armor and they were not. He was virtually invincible that way – until he made the fatal mistake of attacking one such man on a bridge. His victim had managed to get one lucky shove against him, which made him fall against a rail that then gave way. He plunged into the river below, where his suit of armor weighted him down and caused him to drown.
After his escape from Hell, Titus traveled the country killing lovers wherever he found them and stealing their money. He spent it on hookers, of which the modern world had a great variety. His travels eventually took him to Los Angeles, where now in a park he observed from a distance a young couple – uncertain of whether they were lovers or not. The young lady had hair a bizarre shade of pink, with white streaks. The young man had long, dark hair and wore an earring.
“Please, Amie,” the young man begged, “I’ve told you a thousand times how sorry I am.” “You dumped me,” she declared, “not for another girl, but just so you could be free to cavort with roadies and babes.”
“But I didn’t cavort with them – honest. All I ever did with any of them was fool around a little. We didn’t have sex or anything. I swear. The more time I spent with them, the more I realized how much I missed you.”
“We had plans, Alex. We were going to get married – before THE LOST SOULS took off. Then you became a hot guy on the concert circuit, and I was just expendable.”
“I got cold feet. It seemed like my life was just starting, and I didn’t want to be tied down to one girl. But I was wrong. I know now that you’re the girl for me and I just want you back!”
It seemed like she wanted to believe his words. “You sound so sincere, I could almost believe you,” she said. “But-” she started to say that, but never got the chance. The next moment, a man in a suit of armor, carrying an axe on his belt and mace in his hand stepped out of the bushes toward them.
“Allow me to join thee, young lovers,” he announced.
The couple looked at him, first bewildered and then frightened. “Run, Amie,” the boy said. They both turned and fled, thinking they could outrun him. But a damned soul is fleet of foot. In seconds, he caught up to them. He knocked Alexander aside with one swipe of his arm. Then he grabbed Amie and pitched her down onto her back. He stood over her body and raised his mace. “Allow me to break thy heart,” he sneered. He swung his mace down toward her chest, but at the last second Alex dove on top of her. Two spikes from the ball-like mace struck him in the back. Blood began to ooze from the wounds as Buckley pulled his mace free. Titus was furious. He kicked Alex in the stomach causing him to roll forward several feet, landing on his back. The faux knight stepped up to him, mace in hand again. “Thou wouldst be a martyr for the lady,” he proclaimed. “So be it. I delight in accommodating thee.”
Amie was frantic. She grabbed her cell phone and hurled it at the Medieval killer. It struck him on the right side of his visor, making a rusty bolt within strike him in the right eye. It didn’t destroy the eye, but it did cause him pain in the one spot where a mortal could inflict it. In his fury, he ignored Alex and turned toward Amie.
The pain in Alexander’s back was excruciating, but somehow his adrenaline kept him going. He lunged forward and grabbed the knight by his right leg, causing him to fall forward. He thought that an armor-plated man would take a while to get back up. Maybe they had time to run. But he was wrong. The iron man was up on his feet within seconds, tossing the mace away and pulling out his axe instead. “I’ll split thy head like a melon,” he raged. Amie screamed as she saw him raise his axe skyward. But the next second, Titus Buckley felt his eyes explode. As he screamed in torment, he, his armor and his axe were sucked down through the Earth and back to Hell.
Amie frantically ran to Alex. She used his cell phone to call 911. Then she wrapped her arm around his back to try and stop the bleeding. “Don’t you die on me,” she pleaded, “Don’t you dare die on me. You hang on!”
He weakly put his arm around her waist, “I will,” he murmured, “and I’ll never let you go again.”
The paramedics arrived swiftly. Alex was saved, and his injuries weren’t crippling. He and Amie were married four months later, with her best friend Samantha as her Maid of Honor. As his last act on Earth, Titus had done the one thing he despised most – he had united two young lovers.