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Max Jagerman’s imminent descent started when he became the centrepiece of the Lakeside Mall, both fictionally and literally. He had fallen from the top banister after jumping in front of his then-side piece, Stephanie Lauter. Black Friday. November 26th 2018. The apocalyptic rise of Wiggog Y’Wrath within no time constraint aside from within the half hour spent searching for a doll. People went to the mall to get a doll for their children. People went to the mall to sell one off for a chance of fame or fortune. He ended up at the mall to try to take Stephanie Lauter to go and see the new Santa movie though, as Max was quick to learn, did not go according to plan. The moment Solomon Lauter appeared, demanding the doll from them, Max knew where his fate lay and that was in the hands of God, if God even existed.The bullet pierced through his skull, and Max began his descent. He toppled over the balcony like a ragdoll, reaching up to grab on to thin air which he soon learnt wouldn’t save him. Unable to even process the pain killing off his nerves, the spire of the Lakeside’s prized swan fountain was sticking through Max Jagerman’s chest, and his final breath exhaled in a cloud of ice. Dead. He was dead. There was no saving the bleeding man for if it had not been the gunshot to the head to claim his life, then it was certainly the fact that the spire had pierced the only organ he needed to continue pumping heart around his body. Dead. He was dead, and he was tainting the water red.Hazel eyes fluttered shut, rolling into the back of his head as he was greeted by darkness. Darkness, which he fell in to. Not even the swan fountain could prevent his descent to Hell. Down, down, down he fell until, like he had been on the mortal plane, he was greeted by the gentle splashing of water.The strong scent of copper filled his nose, blood seeping on to his tongue as his breathing quickened. He was desperate to figure out where he was. Hell? Limbo, perhaps? Nine rings of Hell and he was encountering the first? That would be the more credible explanation for what he was going through but nothing could truly prepare him for the truth. After all, there was no heaven. There wasn’t even a Hell. Unfortunately for Max, there was a black, much like there was a white, and in that sense, there was an incredibly hungry beast awaiting his arrival.Because, no, even though they’d been fighting and still hadn’t technically broken up, he had bitten the bullet quite literally and taken the risk as long as it meant she got to live guaranteed. So, no, he didn’t quite suffice, for he couldn’t predict Steph’s outcome but what he could determine was what he was doing, in the presence of that person, while on the floor of what he had called ‘The Black and White.’ There wasn’t a hole in his chest like where there should’ve been from where he’d been impaled by the swan fountain. There wasn’t a hole in his head where a bullet had passed through like a train through a tunnel. There wasn’t any sense of infliction of injury, but there was evidence by the way the floor ebbed and flowed. By the way it lapped at his feet, devouring his shoes but the thing at the table stood there, in all of her pink-clad glory, caressing a Venus flytrap as if it were her pet. There, he got the footnotes of what had happened to him.He had, in fact, died from the bullet wound to his head, and his soul had been forced away from his body the second he’d hit the spire. He was not, in fact, in heaven or hell but a realm simply known as ‘The Black.’ The person he was encountering was not a person at all but instead a deity by the name of Nibblenephim. Nibblenephim, or how he was asking to be called, Nibbly. Nibbly was a man made with nothing but a bright-pink, blood-tainted smile. His saliva was red, coated with the cells of a freshly dead victim. His eyes were gouged out from where he had become too hungry, and waiting another year for a new living sacrifice wasn’t an option. He gnawed at his glove covered hands as he did his best to bite through his own flesh and bone.But he could not continue to thrive while waiting for a new sacrifice at the beginning of August each year. A new Honey Queen each year was not enough to suffice his hunger. No. Pokotho got Peter Spankoffski at the beginning of the end, when he had chosen to go to Starbucks instead of Beanie’s, forcing him into the main eye of the narrative. Wiggog Y’Wrath had chosen Stephanie Lauter as his own, taking over her body to pursue his own adventures by causing manic and chaos, and T’Noy Karaxis had chosen Ted Spankoffski to torment for the rest of eternity but Nibblenephim, one of two Lords in Black without a saviour to continue his legacy, was becoming desperate.Luckily for him, a dead nighthawk had fallen directly into his lap, and Nibbly would be damned if he was to let this chance escape him.Like Eve to an apple, Max failed to hesitate when taking the red-inked fountain pen, signing his name on the dotted line, sealing his fate. Not only was he to gather food for his deity who he would remain devoted to until the end of time, but he was also to look for a deity for the fifth and final lord.Lord Bliklotep needed someone to represent his thousandth eye, it having been destroyed back in 2019. He needed someone to be his physical form of life. Favouring Lord Bliklotep, Max knew just the person he could rope into his plan, and there was not about to be about a way for there to be ‘no’ as an answer.Hatchetfield High, October 2020, around the time of the big game, and Max Jagerman, alongside his partner in romance and crime, looked to the state in front of him. Blood had stained the walls, floors and everything in between. It had coated his Gracie from head to toe, and it had coated him equally. A blanket of red displayed on Hatchetfield High’s football locker room, and not a janitor in sight.Covered in sweat and the stench of sex, Max Jagerman, the newly rebirthed version, grabbed his varsity jacket. A blood-soaked hand swept through blush pink curls as he slipped into his jacket. Nibblenephim, ever the fashionista, allowed Max the freedom of being detached from the art of the Hatchetfield high school drama. Instead of the navy and grey with the nighthawk on his back, he wore the colours of his god. Once navy now a purply-pink, and the grey a dripping red. Originally white, the blood took to it like moth to a flame, and Max did very little to protect his clothing. Much like how he was in a grey shirt, now splattered with blood and gore, with a hole in his middle from where he had fallen. And Max, still dressed in jeans (though a dark pink in colour,) and three inch platform sneakers with heart buckles keeping his laces in place, knew he had to do something about the mess.“Got a mop?” He asked Grace.“Why would I have a mop?” She asked him, pulling on her purple-coloured sweater vest, tucking her button up into her jeans. “I’m not a janitor, and I’m never going to bother being one.”“No. I know that. But you’re the hall monitor. If anyone was gonna know about where cleaning supplies were in this hell, it would surely be you.”In the middle of the floor, the decapitated figure of Kyle Clauger lay, head having rolled off somewhere while just a metre away, sat on the bench flopped over, was his girlfriend. Brenda Campbell had a habit of testing Max one too many times and though she was his favourite ex girlfriend, that could not save her. So, he relished when he got to bring the hatchet down, splitting her skull in two, listening to the shrill crimes emitting from her throat. Her skin had been ripped apart from left to right exposing nothing but her skull. If she wanted to be a lying bitch, then he would make her pay. And, that, fortunately, was not where Max had stopped because when Jason Jepsen had come in to find his friends, Max had wasted no time in chopping every limb away from his body. Head, arms, legs and abdomen sat in a pile on a bench in the corner, and now, Max was having to suffer from the consequences.“It needs to be cleaned. I figured there’d be a mop somewhere.”“We can clean off in the shower.”“Not after getting rid of some of this blood.”“Fine.” She crossed her arms, sitting herself down on the top of the wall dividing the bottom layer of the changing room from the top. It was the only place untouched from brain matter and gore. “What do you propose then?”“…I’ve got an idea,” Max said. “But I don’t think you’ll like it.”“I don’t like the majority of the things you’ve done, but since joining forces with Lord Bliklotep, I’ve had a change of heart and if it is anything to get Stephanie and Peter off our back, I’m all for it. Go on, Maxie. Show me what you can do.”At her beck and call, Max Jagerman sunk down to his knees on the floor directly beside Kyle Clauger.Maybe once a friend to him, he lifted the dead body of the footballer, staring down at him emotionlessly. He was another puzzle piece in his way, stopping him from getting exactly what he wanted and now, he was gone. He was gone, but the evidence supporting his murder was not.But hey. Max was dead too. Who was going to stop him from destroying himself?Nobody, a voice rang out inside the back of his head. You know what you have to do. You’re strong enough to do it and it’s why I chose you. You’re a strong little boy, Max. The bravest of all of the dead nighthawks. Give in to your urges. Make yourself useful. I know you can do it, Maxie. I know you can.The urges were impossible to ignore, and Max began to drool. The scent of blood had never been more appetising to him. Never before had he wanted something this badly. He thought the taste of Grace Chasity would be enough to satisfy him but that, apparently, was not enough. He had tasted her, licked at the entirety of her body as she squirmed and squealed out of pleasure beneath him and yet, his hunger remained insatiable. As his stomach growled, he feared he knew exactly where his senses were directing him.Yet if he was supposed to be scared of his fate, why did he feel no different?And, well, the blood in Hatchetfield High’s locker room would never be able to be cleaned up entirety by a man alone. They’d need bleach to sterilise the room and a full body bath to remove any evidence but that was just for the blood. The blood, that Max could get a head start on cleaning.Dipping Kyle Clauger down, Max Jagerman extended his tongue, placing it flat against the tiled flooring of the locker room, dragging it along the grit. Kyle Clauger’s blood pooled on to the muscle as he placed it back in his tongue. He drank it, the taste sweet on his tongue. Sweet? Wasn’t blood meant to be metallic? A spark lighting in his brain, Max lifted up Kyle Clauger’s body, licking at the open wound.“…what the heck are you doing?” Asked Grace.“…his blood tastes good.” “What?!”“Had to be fresh…it-it had to…how much more is left in ya, Kylie?! How much!?” He asked, smearing the blood around his mouth. Hazel eyes glowing a softer kind of grey-blue, Max Jagerman, unable to resist the primal urges that drove him, bit down around the bone of Kyle Clauger’s decapitated neck, growling as if he were a dog. As if he were hungry like the wolf, he gnawed down on the dead body, ripping away the flesh.
That’s it, Maxie. You know what’s good for you. You know what’s the best thing possible.
“What are you doing?!” Grace cried out.“Doing what must be done! We must rid this place of evidence! We must destroy!” Again, Max’s teeth sank down into the flesh, ripping it apart as his tongue swirled around it. The taste was nothing like he’d ever tasted before. The skin and muscle melted on his tongue. The fragments of bone added a nice bit of texture he hadn’t been expecting. The blood, minimal in quantity but still leaking free, dripped down his throat like a sweet sauce, complimenting the entire thing. Beautiful. This was the most beautiful meal he had ever had, and he was not going to deny himself pleasure.He went for another bite, chomping deeper into the skin. The texture was thick and tender, juices spurting on to the floor beside Max. Hungry. He was hungry, and he was starving for more. He needed this. He needed this. He needed to eat. He needed a feast, and feasts did not include one drink and a starter. No. No. He needed more.
And more you shall have.
The lights in the room began to flicker as Max dipped back down, licking up whatever juices spurted from Kyle’s dead body. Blood and sweat that had once belonged to Clauger melting into his tongue. Over and over and over again, Max groaned in delight as the tastes saved him. He needed this. He needed this. He needed to feast. Ravenous, he stood, approaching the body of Brenda Campbell. He knew exactly how she tasted, when they got down to the sex element, but now he’d tasted blood, he was never going back. He needed to know of her insides. He needed to know of her…So he bit directly into her stomach.She never had been the meatiest of people, with very little fat on her body. She always blamed it on her expert work-out routine, but Max knew it to be of a high metabolism. That meant that if he was to get a good taste of something, he’d need to delve in a little deeper.His hand plunged in to the hole his teeth had created, grasping her intestines between the both of his hands. Like he had done with her skull, he split the organ in half as his incisors, much like mini scissors, cut her in half. Bile and whatever internal fluids left within the girl leaked out, devoured instantly by the freshly claimed cannibal. There was very little that could be done that could stop him form going down this path. He’d already tasted blood when he licked the blade of his axe clean. After all, what was the purpose of being the Axe Man if not to have a little fun with it? Nothing tasted nicer than the deception of the loss of a life. Fuck the families of the three victims tonight. Did they not know that the corpses there tonight were feeding the most powerful deities in the world?After all, Jason did go to church at easter and Christmas. His parents should be thrilled at the aspect of him saving God!As Max chowed down, Nibblenephim cackled in his ear and, if he focused hard enough, he could feel the ball of his deity’s white cane pressing into his back, keeping him on his knees.
Feed me, Max. You know what’s good for you. You know what’s the best for you.
And that, he did.Once the taste of Brenda Campbell became sour instead of sweet, which was not a surprise considering Brenda’s gossiping habits, he stood. With a growl and blood-stained teeth, Max Jagerman bounded down the stairs, lifting up one of Jason Jepsen’s arms, which he promptly bit in to as if it were a chicken wing.“Find a mop, Gracie. I can’t clean all this blood myself…even if I wanted to…” he moaned then, pleased as the skin dissolved. He took another bite, juices squirting to the back of his throat, causing him to cough.“I don’t come in the boys locker room!”“You did a minute ago. I know, cuz I made ya.” He smirked. “There’s a mop in the storage closet. I know, cuz Callahan was too much of a pussy once and couldn’t hold his hangover so Mr Houston just…kept it in there. I don’t know why. Guessing he didn’t trust Callahan to hold his liquor so, he didn’t!”Grace tutted, but stared at him. A tingling sensation filled her eyes, vision tainted yellow, but she did very little to resist the urges of her lord. He had promised, under Lord Bliklotep’s law, that she would get everything she had ever wanted but even she supposed that promises couldn’t all be kept. So, with that knowledge fresh in her mind, she could play maid for just a little but after that, they had more places to be in.Stephanie Lauter and Peter Spankoffski had told Miss Holliday too much, and for that, they needed to die. They could not rest until Stephanie, Peter, Ruth and Richie were dead. If they thought it was fine to feign grieving her Maxie, then she would teach them the truth. After all, she’d seen what they did and she was seeing what would eventually become of them.For now, she’d eradicate any trace of what her boyfriend had done and hey. She’d tasted word. How bad could blood possibly be? Maybe, if Max would allow her, she’d have a taste of their blood as well. Maybe, if all went according to plan, she’d be her own saviour able to take her own path.In that present moment, though, she’d watch with yellow irises as Max Jagerman devoured the three corpses of Kyle Clauger, Brenda Campbell and Jason Jepsen. Hey. What could be done? They were already dead and they weren’t getting much deader. Might as well make do with what they had to keep themselves alive in their honour.