I open my eyes slowly, and as I shift slightly on the sofa I hear the scraping and scratching of metal rubbing up against metal. I grimace, and then look around me silently. I'm in the grimy, dark-coloured, window-less workshop, and Fallon seems extremely alert as he flits around the large space, moving things around as he goes. Monicka continues sanding down some silver daggers she's been working on for a while, and then throws one swiftly at the wall, with just a slight jerk of her wrist. It slides through the rock-hard concrete like a hot knife through butter, and then starts to fizz and hiss near the metal tip. Monicka looks suddenly triumphant - she must have been working on that blade for a while, and it obviously had the desired effect if she looks so pleased with herself - and I silently sit up, looking down and registering the white material wrapped around my torso. My chest is bandaged, yet there is no pain. Monicka is well-known for over-reacting when it comes to injuries, as minor as they may be.
"Darius. You awake?" Fallon stops and looks over at me expectantly.
"Uh, no." I cock an eyebrow. "Of course I am, jackass. Why am I in the workshop and not at home?" Not that I'm ever at home, but still.
Monicka yanks the dagger from the wall, tossing it across the room to me. I catch it just above my head quickly with my right hand.
"Your brother is back from Hell. Or prison, rather, if you come more up to date." Monicka says, rather absent-minded.
"Back?" I ask in confusion; Uriel looks briefly at me, ignoring his food for several seconds. He's hunched over a small bowl of noodles, hazel eyes glinting fiercely. He's very possessive over his food, and he's as obsessed with noodles as I am with pizza and gambling. His mouth is full of noodles, his voice deep and slightly muffled because of this as he speaks.
"Yeah, didn't you know? He was in Hell for a while, came back to Earth, thought he could literally get away with murder - genocide, for that matter - got taken to prison, and there's word going about in the nightwoods that he escaped and he's gone all crazy-ass avenging angel."
"But he's half-demon-" Fallon muses.
"That's not good." I say, suddenly alert. "Right enough, I wasn't even aware he'd left."
"Wait, it's not good?" Fallon asks, and I sigh.
"Let's just say someone's gonna get their ass kicked, and on matter of experience it won't be me. Probably the fangs here."
Fallon scowls, snarling softly. "Oh, lest we forget how I had to jump in when demons were kicking your ass-"
"They were not. I believe I made my strengths very clear. I wasn't the one screaming like a complete idiot-"
"In a battle cry! And at least I didn't think they were starting a zoo or a museum-" Fallon protests, and then I cut him off.
"It's a perfectly good assumption! Ten dollars says the next guy that walks through that door will think it's a perfectly good conjecture, right?"
Fallon nods defiantly, and then we both fall silent as we hear someone clearing their throat. Everyone looks around to the door, and I raise my eyebrows as I see the blue aura-like glow of demonic power surrounding a young boy, his eyes a light blue like my own, his hair short and a silver-white, barely lighter than my own silver hair.
Who is this guy...?
"Who are you?" I ask, tilting my head slightly to the side and narrowing my eyes, studying him.
"That's not important. I...heard you guys hunt and kill demons, right? I'm looking for Nero Darke."
How has this kid heard of me- Oh, yeah. Anybody that has knowledge of demons knows about me. Hell yes.
"I'm right here, kid. What're you after?" I lean back nonchalantly, resting my arms on the back of the sofa. The pain is gone, thanks to my healing abilities, and I continue to study the boy, my silver hair falling thickly over my face.
"Well, it seems there's a dispute...of sorts...in different places around Italy. Quite ancient-looking things, you'd think they were starting a zoo. Or a museum, more than likely, judging by their ages and stuff."
I look pointedly to Fallon, flashing him a grin of triumph. "Pay up."
Fallon sighs. "You owe me too much as it is, you don't deserve this..." He hands me a crumpled ten-dollar note from his back pocket, and I grin, slipping it into my pocket. The kid looks suddenly confused, standing in the doorway as his face screws up just briefly with demoralisation.
"So, kid, you came all this way to tell us demons are parading around Italy? That's it?"
"No, it's much more complex than that-"
"Hey, kid, I know an easy mission when I see it, or just hear it, as the case may be. This'll be a piece of cake."
"I'm coming too, then, Darius. I ain't missing this-"
The kid cuts in. "Wait, your name isn't Nero-?"
I cut him off as I address Uriel again. "Yeah, whatever. I wouldn't even bother taking weapons with you this time-"
"Listen to me, you ignorant piece of utter crap!" Everyone looks around in unexpectedness at the kid, and Monicka whistles. "Listen! It's not as simple as that! They've got humans held hostage, sacrifice sights at every turn! The streets are on fire, citizens are rampaging, demons are killing everything in their path, and no one is safe! I came from freaking Italy to tell you myself!"
Funny, kid, your accent is American. Italy, my ass... "Why not just go grab some local guys?" I sit up, intrigued by this kid's behaviour.
"I was told you're the best guys for the job."
"Why, I'm flattered." I turn to Uriel and Fallon; Monicka is already pulling out unseen-before weapons from the ammo room - not that my guns need ammo at all, because demon magic is simply that epic. My guns never need to be reloaded, although I don't really know why, and Monicka is too stubborn and secretive to tell me how it happens.
"Boys, get your stuff ready, we're going to Italy." I turn to look at the kid. "You got a name, kid? You know mine, it's only fair."
"Evander." He replies simply.
"Evander...?" I try to get him to continue, but he shakes his head. "Just Evander. Nice, I'm just Darius." I grin, and he frowns. "You're here by yourself? What are you, a freaking steak on a platter for these demons? Aren't you a little young, kid?" I'm not concerned, just curious. I don't know why, but this kid intrigues me. His behaviour is startlingly unique.
"No. I'm sixteen. Old enough to fight demons, at any rate, which is why I'm going to do part of this by myself."
"Nuh-uh, kid, I don't think so-"
"I'm not a kid-"
"You are on my account. Now, you are not slaying demons or whatever. That's our job. You just...sit on the sidelines and look pretty, as impossible as that may sound for you."
Evander scowls. "I have enough experience, you know. I've dealt with plenty of demons and zombies by myself-"
"Don't be stupid, kid, zombies don't exist. I should know-"
"Well, if angels, demons, lycans and vampires exist, who's to say zombies don't either? Who's that superior?"
I pause for a moment, and the others seem to know what my answer will be in advance, because they all groan.
"Me." I say simply. "Who else?" I flash Evander an authoritative grin, and he frowns deeply.
"Well, can I help, at least? I know how to fight, promise, so you don't have to teach me a thing. I also tend to work by myself, so you won't have to worry about me getting in the way or bothering you. And I-"
"Forget it, kid, don't get ahead of yourself. Men - and Monicka - let's pack up and roll out."
Uriel swings a huge black metal case around and slams it down against the counter, breathing heavily with the effort. He wipes the dust away, muttering something to himself, and then drags it over to me. He's out of breath and grunting with overdone effort by the time I take it from him. I swing the case around, thumping it on the greasy floor, and crouch down as I open it, grinning wildly.
"This is just the kind of weapon I need. This is the best battle companion a swordsman could wish for."
Evander's voice is low. "Uh...a sword?"
I sigh, quickly assembling the heap of metal.
"It's just...a lump of metal." Fallon mutters.
I shake my head, smiling slightly to myself. "Correction: a forty-two-inch lump of silver and stainless steel. Thirty-one-and-three-quarter-inches of silver and stainless steel for the blade alone, the handle's a genuine leather-wrapped grip surrounded by solid metal handle parts. If I rev the throttle, it blasts flames of exhaust. It requires two hands, of course, because of the size and weight, but it's all worth it, really."
"Explain that again, please?" Uriel grins. I open my mouth to reply, but Evander begins to speak.
"It's equipped with a super-charged power trigger that activates a fuel-injected system which covered the blade in a flammable propellant, allowing it to ignite for a brief period of time. It's the same sword created by Italy's Damnata and High Guard as part of a plan to battle and defeat more powerful demons. There were stories going around that this sword - and three other similar swords but with different properties and powers - were gifted to powerful demonic warriors. When the demon in possession of the sword bred young - a son, in particular - the oldest male in the family, after the father, was given the sword. Who's sword is this?"
"Mine." I say. "It's a pain in the ass, having the devil himself as my father, but the weapons are epic, and the groupies aren't so bad either, I must say." I grin, winking over at Monicka, and she rolls her eyes.
"Impressive. It's said that whoever possesses the Red Reaper has latent fire abilities, and is usually quite rebellious, but that's down to possession of the sword. You hunt your own kind, right?" I nod.
"What can I say, they piss me off." Evander doesn't look amused, not even the slightest bit. "What are you saying, it's like the sword is destined to be mine? But I...I have an older twin, by two minutes or something. A brother."
"Then the sword is meant to be his, until his death, and only then will it become yours-"
"Wait, what are you, a living, breathing Wikipedia? You make my sword sound like something Dante would possess-"
"Nero, actually." Fallon grins. "Nero, from Devil-"
"Stop making geeky references to Devil May Cry, dammit! Stop babbling." Uriel growls. "Come on, we've got to go. Evander, forget what Darius says, you're coming with us."
Gender:
Points: 1082
Reviews: 11