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Deal With The Devil - Gildarts - 05-12-2016
Filtered light cascaded down on the shrouded shadows of the land. Empty, stale air would not be moved by any amount of wind that prompted it. Bushes rustled, ever so softly, stirred by the beasts within them. But high in the sky, above the dismally gray fog and past the swooping vulture and raven wings, the form of a person could be seen falling.
It was but a speck in the gray sky, and while the sun’s warmth could not bee seen nor felt on skin -at least, had there been any living creature around- they might have seen this dark splotch of black growing larger as the figure fell nearer and nearer to the land of the Pale Moors.
Soon enough, black fabric could be seen wrapped around the woman’s form, and then, with the inevitable snap of branch and bone, she collided with the ground. Her black hair fell atop moss, while her body sprawled out over the dank smelling forest ground. Some leaves and damp brown soil was unearthed by way of her impact, and after a moment, one of her fingers wiggled just slightly in the muddy earth. With a wiggle of her nose, the woman heaved her torso up, while it sounded like some of her bones snapped into place. The woman straightened her posture and looked around quizzically in light of the new land, while her hand still grasped at the soil. Her eyebrows lifted as she ponderously looked around, “Hello?” her weak voice called out, but there was no response from the hallowed forest in which she had landed.
“Can... Can somebody help me? I-I don’t know where I am?” her voice, so frail and feminine carried farther than a shout, almost beckoning the creatures within it, “Help,” her voice whispered, fear quaking as her eyes fixed on the rustling bushes but a few feet away from her toes.
A deep voice, manly and beast-like suddenly spoke to her, “Oh I’m afraid there will be no help for you miss. It seems, out of the worst of luck, that you’ve fallen into my territory, and it’s my job to make sure that you don’t make it out alive.”
A figure, tall and daunting, lunged at the woman who was still sitting idly on the ground. A snarl formed on her own lips as she saw the flashing pair of fangs gleam white from the parting of the vampire’s mouth. Immediately, there was an eruption of movement. And after a whirl of blended color, from both their bodies clashing together, the fall of one body softly hit the ground, as the victor straightened once more, and cracked her neck, basking in the triumph.
“Sorry, but I don’t have the time to deal with a pest like you,” her black irises had expanded so that now even the whites of her eyes had been covered in shadow. A smirk covered her full and red lips as she looked down at the body and felt the curve of her lips grow in her so obvious superiority, “Oh my, just look who’s fallen now.”
RE: Deal With The Devil - Gildarts - 05-12-2016
“Don’t worry,” she said with sass, “I don’t think you’d like the taste of my blood much anyway. Couldn’t you tell from a mile away? It’s black. That’ll teach you though.”
Snarling noises came from the sound of the vampire’s decapitated head. There had been a spray of blood everywhere, “Just look what you did to my shirt,” the mysterious woman said, looking at her dark blouse which was more or less in tatters, “Now I need a new one.”
As she sauntered over to the remains of the corpse, her eyes flickered from the head to the body, and the woman dipped down to inspect what the vampire she had slain was wearing, only to find that its pale head was still chomping from its very ‘disembodied’ form, at the dry air. Its deep voice growled as black blood spurted from its own gaping neck and drizzled from the tongue of its mouth, “It’ll take more than this to kill me... Female.”
“Tch. You’re a talker, aren’t you,” her head tilted, allowing the bob of her hair to flow with the movement, “But it’s strange, shouldn’t you be dead? I severed your cervical nerves... Tsk. Tisk.”
“Hahaha, you mortal creatures know nothing of our world, we are immortals, we have lived longer and more powerfully than primes for eons, and we are not about to stop now..” the voice gurgled, until the woman suddenly grew angry and flattened his wriggling head with the bottom of her foot. Then she raised her nose, aimed it at the sky despite the angle she would be talking to the vampire’s head from.
An angry roar came from the woman now, who was by no means playing games at this point, “Don’t you dare call me mortal, nor should you pretend to know anything about immortality... Pest. You’re scum, I’ll wipe you off of my foot the second I’m through with your body. So, why not make it easy on yourself and just tell me how to kill you, it’ll save me the effort of having to get...” Her voice lowered, but there was still the flash of a smile on her straight, pearly teeth, “Creative.”
“Where I may fall, an army greater than you will ever know will fill my shoes!” his voice was a little desperate, as though he were grasping at straws, the shoe in his mouth made it a little hard for him to speak, but somehow the supernatural creature managed.
“Oh, you think you have an army? You dare think you are better than me? Have you any idea what you’re even looking at?” she sneered now, and her eyes and body dipped lower, closer, as though to give the fool a good look at her once-smiling now-ferocious face. “You know the funny thing? If you’d have a soul I would’ve loved to hear the ending of your little ‘story’ but I just don’t have the time, gotta call the big boss, ask him what’s on my agenda for the day. Strange thing is, I don’t see any crossroads...”
The woman’s black eyes pulled from him, looking distracted and a little disconcerted. Savagely the beast beneath her shoe lashed out, and with some force, considering he had no body. “Humans do not belong in the realm of my immortal people!” The vampire’s head said.
“Tch. Don’t you even have eyes? You disgust me. To think your eyes cannot see I only wear this mortal filth as a vessel. Don’t you know what I am?” she paused for dramatic effect, “I’m a demon, and I’ve just lost the last bit of patience that was keeping you alive.”
There was the snapping of a nearby branch. And, with a squish, she stabbed into his chest cavity of the body that was a few feet away from his head. The life drained from his golden eyes and death caused his skin to crumple into dust. The woman blinked away the black from her own eyes as they flickered down, “Tch, finally you shut up.” she gazed downward at the cloth she had skewered, and remained ruthlessly unfazed by his death as she spoke with a twinge of disappointment in her voice, “Pity about the shirt though.”
RE: Deal With The Devil - Gildarts - 10-07-2016
A human. She needed to find a human. ‘Cause she had to ring Daddy, King of Hell. There was no one who wanted to make a deal here, no one at all. So what the Hell was she doing here anyway? Killing parasites like that vampire over there gave her no pleasure. Not even taking souls gave her pleasure. But she always found it in herself to snicker when she was able to win. Win by persuading them to sell their souls for their desires, win by being their desires, and of course, win by killing what they want most.
Of course she enjoyed the devastation, it always tasted so sweet, compared to what she had endured in Hell. The fire. The agony. Oh how it forged her into what she now stood to be. As for her before life, it was a lost fragment to a meaningless puzzle. All that mattered now, was the pain. Her ruby red lips curled into a frown as she glanced down at her attire, and then at the dead carcass of mutilated flesh. “You didn’t have a soul left to sell, maybe you ran into some bad luck, worse than me, or maybe, you thought becoming a vampire would save you from your inevitable fate. I wouldn’t even give you ten years, I’d give you twenty good years, just so you can have all that time to know that when you die, I’m coming to make your life a living Hell. That’d be a promise.”
The demon snickered sadistically, and stepped over his carcass, which twitched at her movement. She could’ve spat, but thought that he wasn’t worth the effort. Disgusting how the vampire wanted to drink her up, now that would make an interesting crossbreed. She’d seen people get addicted to demon blood before, it granted them temporary abilities, if they were blessed, but really, she was stronger than all of those fakes. And she liked the sound of being called, eventually, Queen.
The night air was thick and cold, she drank it in while her predatory eyes flickered from side to side. Through the parting of the trees, she saw a path in the shadows, and heard the whisperings of two young voices on the wind. Her keen eyes sharpened on their direction, and in a whirl of immense movement, she was there, standing behind one little boy, while his father begged for his life. Mercifully, the demon covered his ears, “You have ten second before I snap his neck.”
“Please no,” he cried desperately, “I’ll do anything. Anything.”
“You should know not to go out after dark, there’s worse things than me in this forest. I just stumbled over a vampire. Hah, he tripped in the end though.” Horror grew on the man’s face, terror lining the wrinkles that were accented by the fire at his feet. She liked the game, the demon drank every moment of it up, a smirk grew on her face. “Seven...”
Immediately something clicked in the father, determination sparked like flint in his eyes, and a gun was drawn. “Now daddy, you wouldn’t want to hurt dear Marco here with that thing?”
The boy at this point, was tearing up, her hands had slipped just in time to hear about the vampire. “Dad, help me!”
“Don’t do it, Martin, I’ll snap his neck before you can even pull the trigger. It’ll be like snapping a twig. You saw how fast I had him in my hands. I’m not your average human, and you sure as Hell don’t want to play hero when your precious son’s life is on the line.” The demon thrived off of the tension in the air, the suspense, the adrenaline filled her veins, the moment was pure bliss, for it could turn out even worse than the fate she had chosen for them, if ‘daddy’ got on the wrong side of her. She liked this human’s body, and wanted to keep it for a while. It was always an inconvenience finding the perfect spare.
“Dad! Please!” Marco begged. The demon smiled sinisterly. It was in this moment that Martin saw the evil in her eyes, a woman, of all things, but that was only the mask she bore, below her skin, she was a monster, that needed to be taken off the face of this earth. Martin looked over at his son, sniveling and not understanding that he was a hostage, only that he wanted to be in his father’s arms once more. But no, he was in her or rather, its arms. He had no choice. Sometimes lambs should be sacrificed for the greatest cause, eliminating evil in all its forms.
There was only one drawback. The female was right. He didn’t know if a bullet would kill her, even if his were blessed with the greatest magic in the land, there were still dauntingly powerful demons that could overcome anything but the might of God himself. Martin looked at his son again. A pity. But it had to be done.
The female had used her small form to hide behind his son. She could see the cold calculation in his eyes, the eulogy he was already writing for his deceased son, it was pathetic. But also, not what she had expected. She cocked her head, savoring the unexpected surprise as though it were gift wrap on Christmas morning. But the game wasn’t over yet. And the game was always the prize.
It looked like Martin too, liked to play the game, but he was gravely mistaken if he assumed he was the alpha predator in this situation. There wasn’t anything special about that gun, if there were, her eyes would’ve told her through the refined lens she always saw through.
“Okay, okay, you can have whatever you want, just give me my son back,” but the gun lowered slowly, insincerely. She was supposed to loosen, but real predators never take the bait.
“I changed my mind. I’m going to snap his neck, and then, I’m going to snap yours. Or maybe I should just watch you kill your son before I savor killing you. It takes a low man to slay his own blood. Do you think you’re righteous, old man? How many sons have you sacrificed before this. Marco,” she tilted her head, but not enough to give him a shot, at the sound of his name, the boy’s bones turned frigid, “Has daddy ever had a hunting accident with any of your other brothers?”
Marco gulped. The warm tears poured in streams, glistening bright from the orange rays of light from the fire, she nudged him again, asking for an answer. “Y-Yes... Bradley and Dad were hunting a bear, and Bradley never came back.”
“A... Bear? Is that what he told you?! In these woulds? Good ol’ jaws over there wouldn’t let even a mouse scamper past without sucking the life out of it. Poor Marco, daddy told you a lie. Now, he has to be punished. See, he’s still got the gun in his hand, he doesn’t love you. You’re just like poor old, forgotten Bradley. What do you have to say to daddy now?” her ruby lips firmed into a smile the color of blood.
Martin’s face flushed, she could feel the man’s shame steeping all the way over here. Polluting the air. Her air. It was fun, but she didn’t like the taste of shame. Maybe it was time to wrap this up. Humans were so predictable. The way the demon saw it, there were a few outcomes, given the human’s distinctive character traits.
Daddy: He’s got the personality of an old cowboy, too rich for her taste. He’s about fifty and his blood stinks of alcohol daily. He wears a whiskey tin in the pocket of his corduroy pants, held together around his waist by a worn belt of faded brown leather, it looks older than he is. His father used to beat him with that belt, she could taste the inflicted pain and emotion as she looked at it. And perhaps, his father before that. Daddy was a self-righteous little shit. Too full of drink and not enough common sense. He wore the shiny silver revolver on his belt to remind him that he is not only a man and a wife-beater, but also powerful. If he has his gun on him, he’s always right. Well, she’d take that idea away from him, respect is a privilege, just like smiling is. She didn’t like that Martin pretended to be a good man, a loving father, a wonderful and providing husband, and a well-adored townsman, ready to come to the aid of whatever form of government calling they might ask. Martin liked killing, whether it was his own son, or his father. Martin was a killer, and she saw through all his sins. She wanted to see Martin in pain, because those who inflict pain, deserve to get more than their dose back. Martin pretended he wasn’t a murderer, something she couldn’t stomach, perhaps because she did it too, but the main reason, was because she didn’t like to pity the competition.
Marco: Poor little Marco, born into a family that doesn’t love him. She could feel his heartbeat a mile away, pulsing with fear for his father before she even made her appearance. He’d just made a startling joke to the boy about killing one of their fellow townsman who had wronged him. But it was just between them. Marco had stared up in disbelief, denying it, and then asking if it was true. “I’ll tell you if you take a swig of this, son, but be careful, it’s strong. You’re coming of age soon, you’re almost twelve. You’ll need to man up if you’re going to survive in this world.” Marco shook his head, the little boy wanted to be a doctor, and he had seen how the mysterious potion called ‘whiskey’ had made his father beat his mother on the nights when they thought he was sound asleep. The horrors didn’t stop there. His memory goes further back than most his age, he was two, when his father broke the cat’s neck in front of him. Five, when blood splattered all over the boy’s clothes neither of theirs, but that of Sydney, his sister. He had been looking away, but it was labeled an ‘accident’ by the whole family. Marco had chosen to believe that, for the sake of his sanity, but deep down, he knew that his father had just had enough of her crying. Now it was Bradley, “But dad, why can’t I come?” Marco pleaded, “You said I was your favorite?” Daddy lied. Daddy lied. Daddy lied. No, of course he didn’t lie. He said he loved me. He also said that to Sydney. He said that about the cat. About mommy. I don’t like this family, they lie. Mommy said she was fine, even though I saw the bruises. I asked her to run away with me. “He lied,” I tell her. “Sometimes that’s what men do for the sake of their families,” she responds, another lie. Marco is sick of it. Marco thinks about taking daddy’s pistol tonight after he goes to sleep and ending him right there. To die asleep. That was never what he granted any of his other victims. No, Marco knew that his daddy liked to kill and make animals suffer. Marco knew that there would be no end to the killing, justified by the fact that enemies wore different faces, and the faces of those he once loved became useless to him. Daddy wouldn’t stop killing, just like he killed the monsters for the town. Daddy wouldn’t stop killing unless Marco took action.
The demon liked the cleanliness of the boy’s soul. The youth always had that in them, but when she tasted a killers soul, and ripped it from his body with the hounds, well, she could feel how good it felt to them through their memories. She was a little conflicted about this, since she liked to be the one causing pain, but hey, what can you do? You can’t be everywhere at once, and there are billions of people on this planet. Marco’s soul on the other hand tasted very sweet. The hounds liked the young ones better, but some demons don’t like to tempt the kiddies into making deals. Others, like her, didn’t mind at all. Every soul had value to the King, you just had to watch out for angel’s catching on. They would do worse things than burn your eyes out if they caught you in the act of corrupting a child, telling them mommy would be okay, and then granting their wish with a gentle kiss.
Marco was useful, she didn’t want to see him die just yet. No, she decided, finally, that she wanted to see him kill his father. But the boy was riddled with fear now. Fear of her. If she gave him the gun, she’d be shot for sure. And she liked this body. Maybe if she took all the bullets, save one, the boy would kill himself, no, he wasn’t pessimistic enough for that. Still, she could outrun a bullet if she had to. Maybe she’d steal his body instead, he was a nice-looking boy, but she didn’t think she could deal with his sad, ever-pounding backstory bothering her when she’d made a kill. No, she didn’t want to take Marco’s body. The demon waited a moment.
No matter what happened, she wanted to see Martin collapse, dead, eyes stilled and glossy before rolling up. The moment would taste best if it was gift wrapped from the son, to the father, she decided, and finally concluded she’d give that outcome a go. It wasn’t every day she met a boy who wanted to kill his father with daddy’s own gun. See, as a crossroads demon, Alexandria would sign the deal, sealed with a kiss, and then, she would go out and do the dirty work. After ten years, the hounds would usually collect the soul and bring it straight down. She didn’t always see this part, but since it was her contract, she felt it move through her with a strange sensation. She called this, “cashing in.”
It was more fun and less profitable to see the humans, pure in their stupidity, kill themselves. Why else do you think war exists? Demons need a show sometimes, and well, the popcorn, salted with death, is always savored on her tongue. Yes, yes, she decided, I’ll let Marco kill his father. It’ll be less boring that way.
“Three...” she said, remembering her place. “Daddy, are you going to toss the gun into the fire to save precious Marco’s life? Or are you going to shoot through him, hoping that you graze me before I speed closer to you? I guess I can’t do both things at once. Charge at you, and snap his neck. That’s what you’re figuring, isn’t it?”
“You can never trust a demon, Marco,” persuaded, and then knew, that the demon would kill his son anyway. It didn’t occur to him, the chance to save his son’s life. He was a lost cause. He, standing there, crying and begging for his father’s protection, in the arms of a demon. He knew his son was already dead.
“I’ll toss the gun, just give me my son back, he’s my last boy, my wife is getting too old to have children now, and I love Marco.” he said persuasively, hoping to stir up pity, or feign that his son was worth something to him. The revolver in his hand stayed still at his side. Still, in his hand.
“The gun, then, if you please.” She was bored now, tired of his games, the reason Marco was his last son was because accidents happened and he used the rest as bait for his game. This game. To kill monsters. Why else would you go camping in these woods at night? The people in the nearest town pitied and praised his father all in one motion, saying things like “Oh Martin, he’s so brave, even after losing Bradley to that vampire, he still goes out there, fearless, and serves the town to keep us safe at night.”
No, Martin’s more sadistic than you think, lady, Alexandria felt like saying, but it was a wisp of a memory, gone now, from his eyes. She liked the chase the best. She enjoyed learning about their useless memories and manipulating their emotions with them. Martin’s eyes held a hatred for her, and his own son. Marco was never the son Martin wanted him to be, but the difference between Marco and his other children was that he always obeyed. So he was useful, even if he was a pansy and a cowering little shit. That was it, none of the ‘love’ daddy claimed to have. How very sad. Alex could’ve yawned.
“One.” Alex announced finally, her eyes now turned black, and Martin pulled up his gun, instead of tossing it into the fire. The silver bullet spiraled toward the boy, with immense velocity. She didn’t think she could outrun it with the boy still in her arms, but her form was smoke before she dodged the beam of light. Then the forest was silent, Martin blinked and the light of the fire had gone out from the wave of wind that had hit him before the bullet could even hit the bark of the tree behind the demon and the boy.
“M-Marco? Where are you?” the self-righteous man played back the memory in his head. He hadn’t heard a ‘snap’ but he had also fired his gun, the waves of sound were still a shockwave among the many trees of the forest. His pistol was shivering in his hand, but he enjoyed the fear as he swept in a fluid motion across the shadowy trees. The fire below was ashes now, cackling at his ignorance, much like he assumed the woman to be. They were still nowhere in sight.
Next comes the twist. “Marco.” her voice murmured, they were a long ways off from daddy, “That was a scary situation, Martin almost shot you. You would have died.”
“You almost killed me too,” he sniffled, but he seemed less afraid being in her presence, than down the nose of his father’s gun. He liked women. He liked her, despite the fact that she’d nearly killed him for fun. She sat upon a log, him directly across from her. She smiled, motherly, he was too young to seduce, but she slanted her chest low enough for him to see down her shirt. He took a glimpse, she looked innocently at his eyes. Curious boy. Easy.
“Yes, but I was just going to see if he really was going to shoot you. See, I’ve been suspicious of your father for some time, and after the death of Bradley, I wanted to see if your father would strike again. And so,” she played the role now, of authority, maybe she was hired by the town, or his own mother. What would make the best twist? Oh, oh, Bradley himself. Behind the sympathetic eyes, she could’ve burst with the amusement, this was enjoyable. “Bradley had hired me, remembering the tale of how Sydney died while he was out of the house. He had no way to prove it, but he knew something had happened that was a choice, not an accident. And then he went out in the woods one day and never came back. I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t save your brother. But you know, I could give you the means to kill your father. To end this once and for all, he would’ve killed you, and now that you’ve disappeared, he’ll hit your mother again. She won’t ever run, because she thinks she’s still in love with him. She thinks she deserves it for being a bad wife. She thinks she has to stay in order to feed your sister, Brianna, who’s just two years old.”
Persuasive. True. Demons liked to use the truth to their advantage. Mixing in just a little bit of lies to sweeten the pot, icing on the cake. “Demons lie, my dad taught me that at a young age. You didn’t kill me because you think you can get me to kill my dad. Well, I’m going to tell you I won’t kill him.”
He had taken his stand. So naive. She could see his desire as sin in his heart, though it was mostly pure. It was growing, simmering there, ever since he was a little boy. The trick was always getting the humans to admit that the monsters were inside them. There were numerous tactics. Some work better than others, mostly, you just have to make the sin sound noble, “Well, if you don’t, who will? You see, he will go home in the morning, and you’ll be forced to go home too. Whether you run away from home or not, he will have failed in killing me, and you know who takes the blame for it? You know who gets bruises as consequences, where screaming is the only thing she can do to release the pain. But she can’t because she’ll wake the baby. Brianna might cry, and then, your father will get annoyed, pestered, because he doesn’t want to hear it. And your mother will jump in front of the baby, but she’ll be cast aside. His sights are on your sister now, and they’ll never leave. He lets your mom live because she makes his meals, does his dishes, cleans the house. Your sister does not of that, in fact, she takes away more of your mothers time to get the chores finished. You know Brianna is next on his list, and he’ll always continue torturing your family. And when it isn’t your family, its someone else in the town he doesn’t like and they get partnered up on a transport trip and the man is killed by the monster that they were sent out there to destroy. The killing will never stop. Not unless you stop it.”
It was in his hands, the ball in his court, so-to-speak. She could see it in his eyes. She had confirmed everything, every fear, that lay dormant in the backspaces of his mind. Confirmed the truth, the reason he has lived in fear all these years.
I’m good, aren’t I? I can’t even read minds and this boy is eating what I say right up. Years of practice, knowing the intricacies of what it takes in a person to kill someone. To envy. To fear. To want to wipe them off the face of the earth, or whip them into submission. You get all sorts of ‘wishes’ when you’re a genie, but your favorite to grant, are the kind that cause the most hurt.
Alex looked at him as he suggested exactly what she knew what was coming, “Why can’t you kill him? You’re a monster too. And Bradley hired you? I don’t believe it, still, you’re right about my family, I need to take my sister and run far away from here...”
“Or, you could save your mom the heartbreak, since all your other siblings have died, and grant her freedom too. She loves you very much, despite your father’s abuse. And Bradley did hire me, he summoned me to grant his wish, I’m a crossroads demon, I do that. I grant wishes. I can take the pain away. It was unfortunate what happened to Bradley, I couldn’t save him.” Mix a little sugar in there with the truth and eat it up, little boy.
“How’d he do that?” Marco asked, getting away from the point, but that was okay, she was a patient predator, closing in.
“You can summon demons like me when you collect a few herbs and sacred items, and then put a portrait of yourself in the box, bury it in the crossroads. I get summoned then and there, and have to listen to what you say.” She said matter-of-factly.
“Like... a genie? Then why did you want to kill me?” She sighed at his question.
“Bradley’s wish was very... Complex. He wanted me to prove his father was a killer. Not me, his father. So I had to do his bidding. The day he died, the camera I used was smashed and before I could conjure another one, he was dead, by the fangs of a Vampire, not the bullet of his father. I have to complete his wish in order to be set free.” Oh lying, humans are so easy, sometimes I believe half the stuff that comes out of my mouth.
“So you... Were never going to kill me?” Marco put together.
“If I wanted to, you’d already be dead. Couldn’t you feel how fast I can move?” And that was it, the ‘proof’ and evidence. Non-negotiable, and it clicked in his head.
It only made sense. Monsters only want to kill people, she didn’t look like a vampire, but Marco has seen some pretty convincing disguises before. He didn’t know what kind of monster she was, but like she had just explained, she was actually a genie. It only made sense she wasn’t going to kill him. It only made... “Oh my god.. Bradley knew he was going to die all along! Wow.. Are, are you a Prime, miss?”
“A... Prime?” she asked.
“A Prime, like, you uh, can summon people back to life and uh, conjure things out of thin air. Omni chose you personally, y’know? Have you ever met him before? Gosh, I hear the tales! And! Someone as powerful as you, must have met Omni. Or maybe you haven’t since you still have to serve people, and grant wishes. Primes are immortal, you didn’t look like you wanted to get shot...” He was a smart kid.
“I am immortal, I’m a demon, wish granting, it’s actually kind of hilarious,” she played along too, changing her disguise like a chameleon, to meet his expectations. “But no, I’ve never met this... Omni, will you tell me more, Marco?”
“Well for all Primes, you meet him when you’re summoned to the Omniverse. That’s where we are now. He’s bald and said to have no eyes. He’s very pale. He’s the ruler of this universe.” Marco explained. She gasped, exasperated, she couldn’t hold it back, if only the King were hearing this! He kept going, “If you’re a Prime, you can do all sorts of things, but if you’re summoned hear as a secondary, or born here, you’re not immortal, you can die, and your powers are usually limited. If you are a Prime, you come back to life even if you die. Y’see?”
“I sure do, wow, so even if someone wishes me away, I can come back?” she played dumb now, her voice was lighter and now girlish. She played him well.
“Sure, that’s what they say at least. I’m a secondary, I can die, and I think so are you, even if you’re strong, everything has a weakness. We shoot the beastly wolves here with silver bullets, that takes them down, for the most part. But if you want to be immortal, I heard a story about this one lady who lives in our town. Her name is Christa, she was serving on the guard for a while, but she’s not in this verse, she’s in the Vastly Deeps, so I hear, looking for her sister. Anyway,- oh! Verses are like, separate places, divided by portals that transport you so you can get to where you need to go- so, though, she was a secondary, her sister got shot, and she didn’t like that. She went up to the Oververse, where Omni is said to live, and uh, she came back immortal. See, I wouldn’t have believed it either, but you know, there’s this viral video of her coming back to life in front of the fountain. See, she died in this other verse, it was broadcast on TV too. Anyway, here’s the video.”
My, this boy is proving quite useful! I’m glad I spared him, for now. HA! In his hands he fumbled for a cell phone, its screen was bright in the night. On it, he searched something under the ‘Dataverse’ and it popped up, a second later. The girl wasn’t there, Alex thought maybe the human was trying to trick her, but his intentions stayed passive and she based too much on instinct to doubt it now. Still, the reality she was not on Earth sunk in for a moment, the reality that she was in some unknown place also sunk in. It seems however, that secondaries only get secondary information, like this boy, from his phone, she knew she must ask a Prime for more important knowledge. That would make everything clear.
His screen still showed a white room with a fountain, but suddenly, this blonde female blipped into existence, screaming. She saw death. She saw it clutching her throat, but now, she looked around, her skin spotless, she caused a bit of a fuss, and the camera shuffled before going blank. “She just appeared there! But that wasn’t even the best part! See, look at this!”
And she saw.
Intrigued, Alex asked, “How does one get to Omni? I want to meet him.”
“Hah, you sound like you want him to grant your wish.” he chuckled. But those terms reminded her of the final chapter in sealing the deal with this boy.
“I do indeed, I long to be free of this curse, granting people’s wishes, killing people they’re angry at, I wish people would just leave me alone, or Omni can take away my gift. You.. You could take it away, I can’t kill your father, since I am bound by a promise from Bradley that I would prove him a killer, but you can. You can end his killings, and that’ll prove everything!” she simplified it, and sounded excited. She now played the damsel, lost genie, servile genie. Done with granting people’s wishes and being caught in the deaths of everyone.
“How do you expect me to do that?” Marco asked. See, that’s how the demon knows she’s got him. It’s no longer a conflict to kill his dad, but now, he’s certain he’s doing the right thing. Asking her how to kill him, not claiming he won’t. It is at this point, she know’s he’s won.
“I think, in order to do that, I’ll need to grant one more wish...” she said with an innocent smile that she let leak into her big brown eyes. They shared a moment in the dark. She told him what he would need to do, young, gullible, brave little boy, that it was the only way to save them all, his mother, his sister, himself, and now even her.
And then, she sealed his soul away.
All with a kiss...
RE: Deal With The Devil - Gildarts - 10-07-2016
The fire was started again, Martin was warming his hands a few feet over the flames, feeling the warmth radiate off of the crisping wood by way of immense light. He had lit little lanterns, for fear that the demon woman would return with his son’s head in her hands. His hair, clumped in her fingers while she told him, “You didn’t listen to me, Martin, and now, just look, both of you have to die now.”
Her voice was playful, catlike, and it was almost real in his head. His eyes search the darkness once more. It’s almost dawn, thank goodness, most monsters don’t like the sunlight. His free hand, the one not grasping the revolver, shakes open the twist-cap of the whiskey tin. He’s jittery. He’s intoxicated. He won’t fall asleep though, since the fear is keeping him awake. She likes this, seeing the life in his eyes, she likes the justice, tangible in the air. Martin has inflicted so much fear in others, he deserves so much more. It almost seems right, that he should be killed by his son, using the man’s own revolver, the one he used to shoot Bradley’s leg to slow him down so that he couldn’t run away, to draw more vamps in. To slay them too, all together. Martin has been a very bad boy. Luckily, there’s some good in the world yet. Alex’s eyes look to the boy.
He has his father’s blood in him, he’s excited. Jittering in the same demeanor as his father, but in anticipation. This is the day he’s been waiting for. The day his father dies. He wished he didn’t have to end it with his own hands, but Alex said she couldn’t kill him, since she was bound by Bradley’s promise, even after his death. It was simple, she’d get the gun, and he’d cock it and pull the trigger. That was the plan, right? She’d make him a murderer. She made it clear that Marco had to sacrifice something very precious. That murder weighs down the soul. Very clear. It didn’t feel wrong, no, killing him would feel very right. He’d be freeing all of them, liberating his family of fear. Liberating... It was justice, it was karma, it was... Righteous to kill this man. His father, who he let beat his mother for too long. He watched Bradley go into the woods with him, along with a few townsmen, and never come back. So yes, he had to sacrifice a piece of himself in order to get what he wanted. And Bradley had wanted it too, they were going to the same place in the end. He wanted to see Bradley soon, and the demon promised him a good ten years of life. She promised, and she can’t break a deal. She told him so, just like she told him he was right to want to kill his father. That there was no other way...
Martin took a swig, and then another, then he screwed the cap back on, his fingers wobbling as he did so with only one hand. He’d mastered this, since the tin was almost always in his left hand anyway, he was a pro. He was good at it. A chill crawled down his spine, fear rattled his ribcage with shaking and ragged breath. Something was watching him. Something was going to kill him. His senses told him, prickling against the back of his neck, that it was behind him, whoever or whatever it was. Her. It had to be her. He spun around, pistol in hand, and shot the spiraling bullet through the dark.
He couldn’t see far past ten feet away, and his set torches actually blinded his visibility rather than granting it. “Dad?” his son’s voice called.
“Shit, sorry son, I thought you were that demon, I didn’t getcha, did I, son?” he asked, his voice slurring with warm intoxication. Had he forgotten about shooting through his son to get to the demon, or at least, that had been the plan, before the little bitch ran away. Or maybe he hadn’t. It was all water under the bridge now though. “Did you see her? Where is she?”
“She’s behind you, dad.” WHAM! Something hit his head, but only enough to disorient him. His pistol fired again, into the air this time, and she was able to snatch it away. His son drew closer, his eyes were full of anger and fear. The demon had said something to him, and ow, the back of his neck stung. It didn’t stay, the pain, since he was full of enough booze to keep all his memories away.
“Son, son! Where are you?” he was swaying back and forth on his feet now. She’d hit him right where it mattered. She knew anatomy very well. She’d stolen his sight by hitting a certain part of his head, one little pinpoint. The old man, would be blind before he was dead. Symbolic, she thought, since he was once so sure of his righteousness and it was tasteful to the history they were writing for Marco’s future generations.
“Dad, I’m right here, she’s not behind you anymore, she stole your gun.” It was true. That’s what made the moment the best. The woman handed off the gun to him, knowing he wouldn’t turn it on her. They were bound, see, by the contract. Sure, he could attempt to kill her afterwards, but she’d be too quick for a cowering little boy who wasn’t sure who was on his side. He was sure, for one thing, that his daddy wasn’t.
“Where’d she go, damn, I can’t see son, we’ll have to go back to camp in the morning. Ouch, ouch! My foot!” he’d stepped in the fire. Now his shoe was ablaze. Alex watched with a straight face. She’d seen him as a competitor? This was pathetic. She wished the little brat would just pull the trigger already. But of course, both the good guys and the bad guys want their enemies to know how they died.
“Dad, you always... Beat mom, and you killed little Sydney the second my back was turned... And you killed Bradley, and Pastor Thompson-”
“Now now son, Pastor Thompson had it coming, he was telling your mother that she should run away from me, and I couldn’t have her believe she’d get away, now could I?” Perhaps normally, the man wouldn’t have confessed such truth, but well, he was intoxicated, and blind. Maybe he sensed his death coming. The fire grew on his pants. How suspenseful.
“That doesn’t mean you should go and kill him dad, he’s a person! You’re supposed to only kill the monsters out here!” Marco protested, but the gun was firmly pointed at his father. Firmly. How ironic, compared to the words he now said.
“People can be monsters too,” Martin said, Alex thoughtOh isn’t that the truth, what was it they said about blind men becoming prophets in olden literature? Oh I don’t remember, oh well. Doesn’t matter now, he’s going to die. Unfortunately, he may not see it coming, I wanted him to know fear, but, making his son into a murderer was just too good to pass up. “Thompson was a bad influence on the town, he said since our numbers were getting low in the guard, that we should send less people out into the forest to eliminate them, well, I told him he was wrong, and he told me at the next meeting, he was going to have the town take me off of the guard. Well, I couldn’t have that, I’m the best shot! How else can you kill monsters if you’re busy pitying your own.”
Yeah, how else, daddy? she snickered under her breath. Marco was standing firmly, his two feet planted to the ground, “Dad, you tortured me for years with the very belt you’re wearing, you wear it every day, as though you’re brandishing the triumph of my pain, and I curse you for it! I damn you to Hell!”
Pow.
Pow.
Pow.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. It’s out of bullets, but he’s still clicking. He’s still just a boy, but now, he’s a murderer too. All it took were the right words. That was all it took to make anyone into a monster after all. Marco’s aim is square in the chest. His father gurgles air and blood through his throat, and falls back into the fire following the force of the bullets in his chest.
He burns, his flesh sizzles, but his blood is probably so full of whiskey, he won’t actually put the fire out, but feed it. She snickers at the thought of him burning alive here, and then in Hell too. Next she turns to the boy. She’s met hundreds like him. All around his age, that she has ‘helped’ and he is no different. Except, she now notices he is teetering side to side. She now notices the pool of blood below his feet. She now tastes the iron in the air, and looks at the warm bullet hole in the stomach of his shirt. A pity, when deals come back to haunt you.
“He hit you with the first shot, didn’t he?” Sometimes that was fate. Funnily enough, that’s probably where Martin would’ve hit him with the first bullet.
“Y-yup...” Marco fell over, and into the cold ground. The pistol was tossed aside, his hands now, awash with blood. That was symbolic too, Macbeth would’ve approved. He was a funny guy, she was glad she was able to kiss him too, and make his dreams come true.
“Please, help me, you’re a genie, you promised me, ten years of life?” Marco, a stupid, naive little boy. Even if she could help him, she had nothing to gain. He had no soul left to take.
“Ten years of unheeded life, from us, the demons. There’s nothing you have that I want, now that you’ve given me your soul. You’ll die now, Marco, after killing the same father that killed your brother and sister. But you’ve freed your mother and other sister. They will only ever guess just what monster you both were eaten by. You’ll die martyrs, for the very cause your father killed for.” she explained coldly. She now looked down at the dying boy. Her emotions were stripped, since, she -a demon- only ever felt emotion delivered by the suffering of others.
“But-but...” Sorrow. Denial. Betrayal. It all rolled out in one fluid expression of pain. She was numb to it. Numb to the bone. Not all monsters are sociopathic, but the kind that act the way she does, are. “I helped you..”
“I will thank you though, Marco, for you’ve given me valuable information, which I can contact the King of Hell with. You’ll never get to meet him, though, not if we are where you say we are. He’s worshiped by even humans these days, maybe I’ll give him your regards if I see him soon. Anyway, as for an explanation, though I owe you nothing, I am no longer bound by Bradley’s promise, since the man who it was about, is now dead.” Another lie, but well, she had all the control over the situation now. She had everything she wanted. So why did she lie, to make him, or herself feel better? It didn’t matter. She had to be going. She had places to be, and eyeless faces to meet. Yes, today was the day she bridged the gap between worlds. Something new, something fun.
“Thanks for you soul. I’m sure the hounds will think its juicy.” she smiled leaned over in such a way that made him believe she would grant him healing after all, but really, her hands went into his back pocket, where his phone lay dormant, without bullet wound. Contented, she stepped over him, and then, stepped over his father, as though they were just twigs below her feet, waiting to be snapped as they were walked on.