- Age: Unknown
- Species: Human(ish)
- Weapons: Sorcery, boundless malicious intent
- Special Attack: Being someone you never expected
- Can (and often does) appear as many different people
- Possesses a variety of magical powers
- Is unimaginably devious
- Extreme arrogance
- Age: 30s
- Species: Martian
- Weapons: Martian Marine-issue sidearms and armor
- Special Attack: Hand-to-hand combat
- Extreme discipline and fitness
- Elite weapons and combat training
- An imposing physique
- Works better as part of a squad
- No supernatural abilities
By Dave Bara
Randall Flagg floated silently down the stairwell of the Rocinante, deep into the hold of the ship, his feet not moving nor ever touching the stairs. Behind him, the door to the hold closed and locked by the power of his will. No one would disturb them now, that was certain.
He’d waited for his chance, until she was alone. She being his target in this unholy cage match: Bobbie Draper, a marine special forces operative. He floated in the lotus position, watching her going through her workout like a ninja, completely unnoticed by her. She was impressive, one of the best, they said. But to Flagg, she was merely an obstacle to be overcome.
The reduced gravity of space aided her in her endeavors as she ran up walls, twisting and turning, spinning in the air and landing in strategic positions. Flagg watched her in admiration. She was good, if only for a puny human. But he was growing bored. She made the wall-flip move again, landing on her feet with a soft thump.
“Nice one, Bobbie,” Flagg said, applauding. “But I’ve seen it 3 times now.” She looked up, startled.
“Who the fuck are you?” she yelled at him, then instantly moved to a defensive position facing him. Flagg floated a bit closer, just to freak her out. It worked.
“Stop right there!” she demanded.
“As you wish Bobbie,” Flagg said, then dropped out of the floating lotus and actually stood on the metal mesh deck.
“How did you get on this ship, and what the hell are you doing watching me like that?” Bobbie said. Flagg shook his head and smiled.
“You really don’t know, do you? I’m Randall Flagg, which I’m sure means nothing to you. But to make things easier for you to understand, I guess you could say I’m the fucking antichrist.”
Draper took a step closer. “Bullshit. No such thing,” she said, getting braver. “If you don’t leave right now, Randall, I’m going to have to mop this floor with your head.” Flagg laughed.
“I’m sorry Bobbie, I really am. This isn’t personal, it’s just business. But you see we’ve been matched in this unholy cage match, and unfortunately it’s to the death. Your death, I’m afraid,” he said.
“Fuck you,” she replied, and then she attacked. She hit Flagg with blows that would break bones on a normal man, smothering him in a flurry of her best moves. But she couldn’t move him off his spot, couldn’t affect him with a single blow. With a howl of frustration she hammered his face from side to side with her interlocked hands, sledgehammer blows that would have broken any man. But Randall Flagg wasn’t a man, not at all.
She finally stopped her assault, exhausted. He just looked at her and smiled again. “I’m sorry, Bobbie, but I have things to do. I apologize for what’s coming next, but it’s those damn people at Unbound Worlds that made me do this to you.”
“What the-” Flagg brought his hands together, as if in prayer, then thrust them into her midsection where they easily pierced her flesh.
“Goodbye Bobbie,” he said, then he parted his hands in one sudden motion, splitting her wide open from stem to stern. She fell to the deck in two halves. He looked down at her with pity, and sighed.
She was a good one, for a human. But I’m the fucking antichrist, he thought. And with that he floated out of the Rocinante.
God, I hate space, he thought. So much colder than home.