Fitzie (Fitzgerald) Starburst

BACKSTORY

Fitzie was born near Düsseldorf in 1967, the child of a professional classical musician and a lawyer. His parents put a great deal of weight on his mental growth and education as a child, and he was found to be a gifted child from a young age. The constant praise and rewards that came with learning new things propelled Fitzie through the education system, and by the end of high school he had high enough grades and an impressive enough resume to be accepted into a prestigious medical school in West Berlin. It was at 18 that he moved away from his parents with the hopes of becoming a doctor- while it was not necessarily his dream that he was pursuing he had no better idea of what he wanted to do with his life. Still, he went through university with enthusiasm, enjoying the process of learning about the machinations of the human body and studying hard in order to maintain high grades. However, life in Berlin was vastly different to his home town- much more colourful and lively and something that he had only ever really seen on tv. His natural curiosity made him quite interested in exploring the nightlife and culture of the city but not knowing where to start and being entirely invested in school, he believed that would never really happen. 

This all changed, however, on November 9th 1989- the night the Berlin Wall came down. Taking off a night of his usual studies to bear witness to what would undoubtedly be a historical night, Fitzie found himself wandering home long past midnight. It was while taking a shortcut down an alley between housing blocks that he stumbled upon two ravers and their wounded friend, who was badly wounded and bleeding enough that they would certainly die without medical attention. Unable to simply ignore them, Fitzie explained his education and was brought to the collective home of the ravers where he barely managed to save the wounded person’s life with meagre household supplies. The ravers, however, were entirely impressed, and as the night progressed it became clear that occurrences like this were fairly common within their group- they were all heavy drug users and adrenaline junkies and more often than not someone would get stabbed or injure themselves out of delirium. By the time the sun had risen on a now united Berlin, Fitzie had come to an arrangement with the ravers that he would be called upon whenever another injury was sustained within the group, and in return he would be paid for his time and supplies. It wasn’t particularly the money that attracted the medical student to this deal, rather the rush he had experienced from that one night had been like nothing else, and he desperately wanted to work his way into their way of life. From then on he would crave the excitement and the stimulation and the violence, sitting by the phone in his flat every night and hoping someone had been hurt or needed a bone set. 

Little by little, his priorities slipped from his education to his informal occupation as a private, illegal doctor, and though he barely managed to graduate by that point he could care less whether he did or not. After a year of simply playing medic, he had grown less passionate about the actual work of mending people and more everything that surrounded it. After a couple of years he was indistinguishable from who he had been when Berlin had been divided- his path to becoming a doctor abandoned. Now his only dream was to party harder than the night before- the drugs and sex and music all getting more unusual, more hyperactive. Eventually he was sure he was at the peak of it all, that he could go no higher, and that most likely would have been true if it had not been for the single mistake of a humble, earth-bound demon.

The demon named Beelzebub, during a routine contractual visit to Berlin, happened to misplace a techno record purchased in Hell that they had become particularly fond of. The human to discover this misplaced artifact of the underworld was Fitzie, who had no idea what he had come across when he found the record placed neatly on the back most seat of a bus going from town back to the home of the rave group he was now firmly a part of. Intrigued, he brought the record back with him, finding that it not only contained the vinyl itself but also some strange diagram scrawled on a scrap piece of paper tucked neatly in the sleeve. This discovery only heightened his curiosity, and that night he listened to it for the first time at the height of a particularly intense, solo LSD trip. Somehow, the combination of the drugs and demonic music gave Fitzie what could only be explained as vivid, telepathic visions. He saw a utopian society full of brightly coloured humanoids, many with unusual animalistic features- all looking so different but somehow united in some way or another. He hadn’t realised the place that he’d seen was Hell, but from then on he became obsessed with witnessing this place again, or visiting it, somehow. He introduced others to the experience and though they did not hallucinate as vividly as him, they were all equally enraptured by the record and the higher kind of experience it brought, and soon their group became obsessed with achieving more extreme and even spiritual experiences. Fitzie found himself as the head of what was more accurately a cult than a rave group now, and somehow he was convinced the secret to their progression was hidden within the strange symbol that had come attached to the record. With one, final trip, something at last clicked in his head, and from then Fitzie knew what to do. 

Somehow, the human sacrifice was the easy part. It wasn’t too difficult to convince one of them to die for the cause when they already had a half-dozen different chemicals coursing through their blood. The swords and the silk and the fucking bones, those were a little more difficult to obtain. Together, however, they managed it, and in the midst of what was arguably one of their greatest parties to date Fitzie successfully summoned a demon named Bellisario. Together, they made a deal- the demon would help the cult to attain the very peak of human hedonism and pleasure, and in exchange, when the time came, they would be given the souls of seven of the groups members as well as Fitzie’s own. The arrangements were perfectly agreeable, after all, what was the point of still going after he had experienced the best life had to offer?

Over the next six months, Bellisario guided the cult through rituals and parties of increasing intensity- undoubtedly they were the best days of Fitzie’s life. And when the time came for him and his friends to die, they hosted the rave to end all raves- a complete orgy of sex, drugs, and violence- a celebration of his final night on Earth.

Unfortunately for Bellisario, when their contract was complete, they returned to Hell with seven souls, not eight. Fitzie, for his actions in summoning the demon and his telepathic interactions with Hell, was reborn as a demon, finally a part of the world he had once viewed in his drug-addled dreams.

LIFE IN HELL 

What better way to start his new life than to pick up exactly where he left off? With so many new experiences out there to chase, Fitze immediately began to work his way into the club scene of Hell, finding himself fairly at home. Soon enough he became fairly renowned amongst demons as a guy who could make or break a night out- not famous enough to be a household name but certainly earning a small following amongst those who proudly called themselves ravers or clubbers.

Recently, he has even managed to make a decent living as a club promoter, using his renown and energetic charisma to recruit other famous names for parties and generally hype up any event that pays enough to hire him. He has even formed the beginnings of what could be considered an underground nightclub suitable only for those looking for the most intense, extreme parties Hell has to offer. Of course, this is only the beginning for Fitzie’s life in Hell, there is a lot more to see and do, but it sure is a damn good start.