He breathes out and pulls the trigger. The bullet pierces the skull of the lycan on the right, dropping it. The 4 guards all raise their guns and start yelling. The sniper switches to the imp closest to the fallen lycan and sends another silver-tipped .308, this one piercing the imp's chest. Nickar and his client were already yelling orders and running back to their cars while the remaining 3 guards took cover behind the shipping containers.
Cleevus jumped up from his position with the ar-10 in hand, ran across the container he was on, and vaulted up onto the next highest one. He ran across another container, his boots thudding on the metal. He could now see Nickar and his client running to their vehicles to escape. He shouldered his rifle and scanned over the convoy of trucks. He could just make out 'm20 mortar' in demonic text on the crates in the back of a truck. He fired at one, the explosion shaking the container he was standing on 500m away.
Nickar, his client, and several guards by the trucks were all thrown back by the blast. Their cars and all but one cargo truck were left in smoldering ruins. The two stumbled to their feet, realized the one truck was their only escape, and began running toward it.
Bullets flying past Cleevus's head broke his focus on his target. The guards who had taken cover a moment ago had spotted him and were now sending a storm of bullets his way.
"Shit."
He jumped 20 feet off the container, bullets ricocheting behind him. Hitting the concrete shocked his legs. He ran through the maze of containers in the direction where the trucks were parked. Guards could be heard yelling across the yard. He rounded a corner and faced 2 imps and a lycan. Cleevus raised his rifle but the lycan had already pounced on him.
The lycan grabbed the gun and Cleevus fired it, the bullet tearing its jacket and grazing his arm. It yelped in pain and bit down on his forearm. Luckily it had bit down on the kevlar gauntlets in his jacket, but he still felt the crushing force of the lycan's bite.
One of the imps fired its handgun at him, but the round hit his shoulder armor, so the damage was minor. He dropped the rifle, butted the lycan with his horns and punched its snout with his steel-knuckle glove using his free arm. This was enough to get the lycan to release his arm. He quickly drew his .357 automag and shot the lycan in the chest. He grabbed the lycan by its neck and pulled it in front of him, the imps sending several rounds into its back. He quickly dispatched both imps with the automag by firing over the lycan's shoulder.
He dropped the lifeless bloody lycan, picked his rifle up, and slung it across his back. He took a breath and ran on, past the bodies of the imps.
He emerged into the open area where the convoy had been parked. He ducked back behind the corner he had come around when more bullets sprayed the ground in front of him. He leaned around the corner and scoped out the wreckage of the convoy. From about 300 meters away, Nickar was almost to the truck now, Cleevus could see his client and some other suit-wearing dealer personnel jumping into the back of the truck.
Cleevus carefully put the reticle on Nickar's leg and fired. He toppled to the ground and clutched the wound. The last truck sped off, leaving him behind. Even with the gunfire Cleevus could hear Nickar cursing them.
Cleevus switched the rifle to burst fire, turned around the corner from cover, and sprayed the first hostile he saw. The lycan fell to the ground. He switched to the other imp guard and sprayed him with lead and silver. While dropping another imp, he saw a piece of wreckage flying towards him in the corner of his eye. He dove to the side just in time to dodge it. The massive chunk of debris smashed into the container behind him, sending bits of metal flying everywhere.
Cleevus looked up from the ground and made eye contact with a massive foe. It was a hell behemoth with charred black armor over its chest and arms, and bull horns, probably from the volcanic tundra. It must have been hiding ready to fight in the case of an ambush. They were strong and tough as hell itself, but also stupid. It roared at him, its eyes full of fiery rage. Cleevus unloaded the rest of his rifle's mag into its chest, which hardly even phased it. It then raised its right arm, which had a .50 cal machine gun strapped to it, and open-fired on him. Cleevus jumped to his feet and ran to a destroyed truck, diving behind it.
He looked around for something to kill the beast with while it continued to pepper his cover with machine-gun fire. There was a heavy stainless steel case nearby that hadn't been damaged by the explosion. He opened it, it contained a grenade launcher and 5 incinerator grenades; experimental weapons using hell magic and human engineering. The behemoth was probably used to extreme heat, but the grenades could at least disable its gun.
He pulled the launcher out and loaded the grenades into the cylinder. He snapped it closed and rolled out of the cover, then aimed the launcher at the behemoth and sent 3 of the grenades at it. The beast roared in pain as the massive fiery blasts engulfed it. Cleevus felt the intense heat waves from 50m away. When the flames died down some it was on its knees, its shirt was mostly ashes now and its uncovered hide was burnt and singed. But it was still breathing, and it was pissed. It looked up at him and raised its machine gun, only to find that the weapon was smoking and no longer functioning. In frustration it tore the gun off, threw it to the side, and began to charge at him.
Cleevus launched the last two grenades at the charging behemoth, but it only staggered a little. He tossed the launcher to the side and dove out of the way just in time for its horns to miss him and slam into the wrecked luxury sedan behind him. It turned around and moved towards him while he pulled out his automag and shot it in the face, not seeming to have much effect. It picked him up from off the ground with one arm, which gave him the opportunity to pull out his sheath knife, with a demon slayer's crest engraved in the blade by Lucifer himself. He stabbed it into the behemoth's shoulder, which caused it to throw him into a container about 100m away.
His back slammed into the side of the container, leaving a large dent. While on the ground in pain from the impact, he looked up at the behemoth. The area around the knife on its shoulder was smoking; the monster's life force was being drained slowly, but it was still in the fight. It began charging towards him again and Cleevus desperately looked around for something to finish it off with. He saw another prototype weapon case and ran towards it. He popped it open and inside was a belt-fed ectoplasm firing variant of an m60 machine-gun. He pulled it out and attached the belt of glowing ectoplasm cartridges, with the behemoth's heavy stomps getting closer. He racked a cartridge and raised the gun as it plowed through some truck wreckage.
He squeezed the trigger and the gun let loose a hell storm of bright white charged ectoplasm. The projectiles impacted the behemoth's chest, melted through its thick armor and began to sear its flesh underneath. It kept running at him. He clenched his teeth and squeezed the trigger harder, feeling the intense heat the weapon was generating as it spit out smoking cases. Cleevus yelled in pure fury and the behemoth began to slow. The beast stopped only 30 feet in front of him and fell to its knees. He stopped yelling when the belt was spent and stood there, breathing heavily, with sweat trickling down his forehead. The ectoplasm had melted a large singed crater in the behemoth's chest, exposing its entrails. It fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
He stood there breathing heavily for a few moments holding the smoking gun. He dropped it, slowly walked over to the fallen behemoth and stood over it. It was making pained breaths as it looked up at him with half-open eyes. Cleevus drew his automag and leveled it with one of the beast's small eyes. He fired, sending a bullet straight through its brain; a mercy kill. It ceased breathing and lied still. He stepped onto its chest, pulled his knife out, and sheathed it. He began walking in the direction of where he had last seen Nickar, picking up his rifle where he had dropped it along the way.
Nickar was lying leaned up against a container when he found him, his pant leg was soaked in blackish colored blood. He was still clutching the gunshot wound. He looked up as Cleevus walked up to him. Nickar's yellow eyes filled with hate when he recognized him.
"You son of a… gah!" Cleevus stepped on his leg near the wound.
He picked Nickar up by his shirt and pushed him up against the container. He pulled open his suit jacket and grabbed a heavy silk pouch out of his pocket.
"Those aren't yours you thieving bastard!" Nickar growled.
Cleevus opened the pouch and dumped the contents onto his hand. They were crimson-red blood diamonds. He put them back in the pouch and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.
"Consider it part of your penance for working behind Satan's back. I have a message from him for you.", Cleevus said.
Nickar smiled, showing his pointed teeth.
"So you're still his bitch huh?", he said.
Cleevus grabbed him by his collar and dragged him through the yard to the edge of the dock. He pushed the smaller demon to the very edge and held him over the orange-red sulfuric water below.
"You're done gun-running for anyone he doesn't approve of first. You disobey again; I'll be taking you to him." Cleavus said.
Nickar scowled. "Ah screw you and that prick!"
Cleevus pushed him and grabbed his tie just before he fell over the edge. He drew his automag with his free hand and put it right in front of Nickar's face.
"Or I can just kill you here, drop you into the harbor," Cleevus said.
Nickar thought for a few seconds, while struggling to maintain his balance.
"Alright, alright!" He stammered. "I'm done dealing for them. OK?"
Cleevus pulled him away from the edge and threw him on the ground.
"Don't forget what's happened here." He said, holstering his handgun.
Nickar muttered something under his breath as Cleevus walked away.
He walked through the wreckage, grabbing a case of undamaged high-explosive charges he noticed while walking by. He walked through more stacked shipping containers to the gates of the yard where his car was parked.
His ride was a black, raked-out 68' Dodge charger. It sat on 31" drag tires on the rear, it had a blower and dual out-the-side exhausts. The sound of the car alone struck fear into conspirators of hell's rulers. When they heard it, the hell slayer was close. It had been his father's car, passed on to him when he died. Satan had it brought from the living world and given to him as a gift for his service to him.
He opened the trunk and put the ar-10 in its case, and stowed the case of explosives. He closed the trunk and stepped into the driver's seat. His forearm and back were bruised and sore from being bit by the hound and being thrown into the container by the behemoth. He felt a stinging pain on his upper chest. The light kevlar plating on his leather jacket had only slowed the bullet that the imp had hit him with. He took off his jacket and pulled out a med-kit from the glove box. It was only bleeding a little, and he was able to pull the bullet out of the shallow wound fairly easily. He wet a piece of cloth with alcohol and rubbed it on the wound. One of his legs had also been grazed by a bullet, but the pain was minimal. He rubbed it with the alcohol as well.
He stretched his sore arms and back, wiped the sweat off his forehead and turned the key to start the car. It rumbled to life. He put his aviators on to shield his eyes from the bright sun of the Wrath realm. He shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the lot, onto the weathered road leading back to Wrath's Iargest city; Carvinoff.
Massive thunder clouds began rolling in over the desert road as he drove, turning the sky from light red to gray. He enjoyed the storms, it was the only time the air was cool in this area of Wrath. Of course, he had become used to the burning sun in Wrath. The rain was somewhat acidic, but it didn't bother him much. He passed by an old trailer park where an imp gang war was taking place, but he paid it no mind; normal Wrath business. Red lightning cracked across the sky above the rocky desert mountains.
After about an hour of driving he could see the maroon towers of Carvinoff appearing over the horizon. The diameter of the circular city was about 30 miles wide, it was surrounded by 80 ft-tall concrete walls to keep out packs of massive desert curs or behemoths like the one Cleevus fought earlier. They were always guarded. Due to the amount of violence the city was never that crowded. There was law enforcement, but they could do little more than keep the business areas clear of gangs and drug addicts. The massive towers in the center housed Wrath's higher-ups; Satan's advisors and military brass.
The rain was coming down hard when he rolled up to the gate, which was the southern entrance of the city. Bones of hell beasts and ravagers that had tried to breach the walls littered the sides of the road. There were Sinner guards in long black raincoats standing at the machine gun turrets on top of the wall above the entrance. Inside the entrance tunnel were many skulls of demons mounted in cutouts lining the walls. He parked the car in front of the gate and stepped out, sheltered from the rain under the tunnel. He walked up to the wall alongside the iron gate and pushed his hand against a humanoid skull mounted in a cutout. The skull retracted into the cutout it was in, and its eyes began to glow green. A ghostly breathing was heard, then the eyes on all of the skulls along the sides lit up, and the gate screeched as it began to rise. Only a few had been granted the power to open the gates of Wrath's cities at will.
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He got back in his car and pulled under the heavy gate as it rose. He cleared it and drove through the tunnel dimly-lit with a few lights on each side. The car's big-block engine echoed off the walls. When he exited the tunnel he was in the outer ring of the city just inside the walls. It was mainly industrial buildings here, but there were plenty of homeless camps in the drainages and better sheltered areas. A few rough looking imps were warming themselves over a barrel fire under an overpass, they looked up at him as he drove by. He drove on with the rain showering the car.
After some time he came into the middle ring of the city. The working class lived in the tall brick apartment complexes here. Most of the male demons were workers in the fuel plants just outside the city that powered it. The rest were mostly gangbangers and drug dealers. Some female demons were lucky enough to get an office job, but most had to work in the armaments factories or resort to prostitution. The streets were mostly deserted from the stinging rain falling tonight, but there were a few demons walking on the sidewalk with their hoods up, along with some hookers standing on the corners, sheltered from the rain. An e-train rattled along the rails overhead.
He turned into a dark alley and parked in front of a steel door with text printed on it. It read "Lamashtu, Healing Practitioner". Cleevus had found her services to be satisfactory at a reasonable cost. He stepped out of the car into the damp air. He walked up to the door and pounded on it. After a minute, the door cracked open, and a raspy voice spoke from inside.
"Who is it?"
"It's me, I need your service," Cleevus said.
The person behind the door unhooked the chain and opened it fully, revealing an old imp woman dressed in red robes with coarse black hair and snake-like eyes.
"Slayer… welcome back. Please, come in," she said. The woman walked back into the darkness and Cleevus followed, shutting the door behind him.
She snapped her fingers and at least 50 candles surrounding the room lit up, revealing the interior. It was a reception-type area, with a desk and leather chairs, the furniture was all draped in red silk cloth. A raven was perched on a stand on the desk. He thought it was a taxidermy until it turned its head at him and cawed. There were all kinds of strange relics set everywhere, skeletons of small animals, large chunks of crystal, and other things. She walked to a doorway covered by red cloth and turned to him.
"In here," she said. She went through and Cleevus followed, ducking his head so his horns wouldn't hit the doorway.
The next room he entered was akin to an operating room. There was a leather-wrapped table in the center, with a shelf with books and materials for rituals on it. She walked over to a bronze dish and washed her hands in it.
"So what are you in for tonight?," she asked.
Cleevus took off his jacket and pulled down his shirt collar to reveal the bullet wounds that were seeping some blood. She instructed him to take off his shirt, and he did so. He lied down on the table while she gathered some things. From what he could tell, she crushed some small bones into a dish and poured wax from a tall red candle into it, then some clear liquid from a liquor bottle. She mixed it together, grabbed a book, and walked over to him. She carefully poured the liquid over the wound on his chest, and Cleevus felt the pain of the hot liquid on his flesh. She then spread some onto the wound on his shoulder.
She opened the book and found the page she needed, and began reciting the ritual. She was speaking in a demonic tongue that he didn't recognize. She pressed her hand down on the wounds as the candles around the room began to flare, and the whispering of demonic spirits was heard. She raised her voice, and the room intensified as he felt the area around the wounds pulsating; healing themselves.
The voices silenced and the room grew still. She peeled the dry wax off the chest wounds, where only a scars were left underneath. He had many of the white scars over his arms and chest; it wasn't his first time here. She put the book back on the shelf. Cleevus sat up and started pulling his shirt back on.
"See me at my desk when you're ready." She walked out through the curtains.
He put his shirt back on, then his jacket, and walked back into the reception room. She was standing behind her desk, which the raven was still perched on. She stroked its head and it ruffled its feathers.
"So how will you be paying tonight?" she asked.
Cleevus took out the pouch he had taken from Nickar and dropped 3 of the small red gems onto the desk.
"Will these work?"
She picked one up and studied it while making the candle on the desk burn brighter to see better.
"Hmm… yes these will do." She picked them up and put them in a small safe behind the desk. She turned back to him.
"Till next time then, slayer. Good luck with your ordeals." She smiled a little, showing some fangs.
Cleevus turned and opened the door, it was still raining outside. He heard her snap her fingers and the room went black behind him. He walked out and shut the door, then walked over to his car, when his cell rang. He pulled it out, it was from a hidden caller. He picked up the call.
"Yeah."
"Cleevus, it's Marchocias. I have a business proposition for you."
Cleevus took a breath. "Well you caught me at a good time, I'm in Carvinoff," he said.
"Then you should come by my office. I have something you'd probably be interested in," Marchocias said.
"I'll be there in a minute."
"Good." Marchocias hung up.
After dropping his jacket off at an armory shop to have the damaged plates replaced, he drove to the inside edge of the middle ring to an underpass. He drove down into the tunnel and later emerged into a cleaner area. Tall concrete and stone buildings stretched up to the sky along the street, and the maroon towers loomed overhead. This was the city center, where business and politics took place. He drove past the courthouse of Wrath, with its reddish-black marble pillars lined along the massive building. In front of it was the illuminated, 10-foot-tall statue of Satan. He was in his humanoid form wearing his usual military dictator uniform, holding a sword with a long, fiery blade in his hand. He was stepping on the head of a dead hog-like demon, with a steely look on his face. Below it on a bronze plate read: 'Satan, Prince of Wrath'. A few lycan motorcycle cops in leather jackets were standing by their bikes smoking nearby.
He came to the office of Marchocias; the head arms dealer in wrath. It was a very tall, light red stone building with thick tinted glass windows, and gargoyles perched on the corners. He pulled in front of the entry-gate to the parking garage.
Someone spoke to him from a speaker on the black box mounted on a post to the side of the car.
"State your business," it said.
"I'm here to speak with Marchocias." Cleevus lifted up his forearm and showed the Slayer crest burned into his skin to the camera.
The garage gate opened. He pulled the car inside the structure as the gate closed behind him. There were black security suvs and luxury cars parked inside. He parked the car, the air was damp outside when he stepped out. He put on a hoodie he had in the trunk. Two large sinner guards in gray suits at the doors eyed him as he walked in. He heard one say something quietly to the other about him being Satan's enforcer after he walked past.
He walked up to the desk in the luxuriously trimmed reception area, where a pretty sinner woman was sitting, filing her nails. She looked up at him, somewhat intimidated.
"I'll let Marchocias know you're coming up," she said. Cleevus nodded.
He took the elevator to the top floor of the building, where Marchocias's personal office was. The door opened when he reached the 40th floor of the building. He walked through the hall adorned with fine red and gray marble to the double doors at the end. He pulled on the gold handles and walked in. Marchocias was standing by the window in the large office, talking with another higher-up demon. He turned to Cleevus.
"Ah, my favorite handyman," he said, smiling. He turned back to the other demon. "We'll continue this later, friend."
The other suit-wearing demon looked at Cleevus with annoyance and walked past him out the room. Cleevus shut the doors and walked up to the mahogany desk. Marchocias still had a smile on his face.
He was wearing a black pinstripe suit with a gold patterned tie, and had his black hair slicked back with gel. He wore several gold rings on his hands, and a gold watch. He had been a black market arms dealer in his past life, who had sold weapons to any terrorists or warlord who had money. Naturally he was in hell, and he was good at his business.
"Please sit down." Cleevus took a seat on a leather chair. Marchocias sat down at his desk, pulled open a drawer and took out a wood case. "Cigar?" He asked. Cleevus shook his head. He pulled one out and lit it, then took a puff of the cigar, and breathed out some misty green smoke. "I heard about what happened in the shipping yard by the Morgonic sea today. Until now I was unaware that these weapons using black magic and soul energy were even on the market. If I'm to stay on top of my competition, I need to find out who's supplying the materials and making these weapons functional." He took another puff of his cigar. "Which is why I need you. You can travel between realms easily, and from everything I understand these weapons would need resources that only soul harvesters and high sorcerers have access to. So they're most likely not being made in Wrath. Also if things go south, I'll need someone who can take care of the opposition."
"So I would be scaring the suppliers into a deal?" Cleevus asked.
"Yes, but cautiously. I want them to join my business. If they won't oblige; I want them dead," Marchocias said.
Cleevus thought for a second. "I can probably get that done. But what are you offering me as payment? This doesn't sound like a simple job."
Marchocias stood up. "Of course." He walked over to a polished steel vault in the wall. He punched a code into a keypad and leaned in for a camera to scan one of his eyes. The door opened automatically and he walked in. Cleevus got up and walked to the door. The vault was about the size of a large closet, it had all kinds of precious metals and valuable artifacts in it. Marchocias grabbed a finely-made wood case with goetic symbols on it off of an illuminated shelf. He walked in front of Cleevus and opened it, showing 7 silver cartridges inside.
"Take care of this, and these are yours," Marchocias said.
Cleevus took one out and looked at it closely. It was a .308 cartridge with demon-slayer etchings on the case, and had an obsidian-tipped bullet. He touched the tip, and a flash of red covered his vision for a moment. They were cursed; no doubt able to kill archfiends, and they were priceless.
Cleevus put it back in the case. "It's a deal."
Marchocias smiled. "Good." He closed the case and walked back in, placing the case back on the shelf. He walked out and hit a button, which closed the heavy door. He held out his hand and Cleevus shook it firmly. "I'll update you when my reconnaissance finds a lead. It shouldn't be long."
"I have to answer to Satan first, but I'll get to it when I can," Cleevus said.
Marchosias took another puff of smoke. "I'm a patient man, I don't want to waste time putting anyone less competent on this." He walked over to the large windows, looking out at the falling rain. "Till next time then, Cleevus."
Cleevus turned and walked to the door. He pulled it open when Marchocias spoke.
"It's funny." Cleevus turned back to him, and Marchocias looked over his shoulder at him. "Most wouldn't dare call him by his name; but you say it casually."
Cleevus paused for a moment. "I'm not afraid of him."
Marchocius chuckled a little. "I bet."
Cleevus turned and walked out.
Cleevus's place was just a few miles West of Carvinoff. The rain had stopped, and gusts of wind were blowing over the desert plains. He pulled up to the 30,000 volt electric perimeter fence, and hit the button clipped to the driver's visor, which deactivated the space between the posts on either side of the dirt road. He pulled through and drove up to his house. His house was a 3 bed ranch-style house, with a large garage beside it. It wasn't luxurious by any means, but it was much nicer than the vast majority of those in hell had.
He parked the car inside the garage next to the old lifted WMC pickup truck, which he had been working on. There was also a red and black 65' triumph chopper parked in the back of the garage. He had various steel posters and banners of performance auto brands hung around the garage. There were several clean tool carts and a workbench. Wrenching on his vehicles and racing were some of the few things he enjoyed outside of his job. He also had a gym setup in the back of the garage. He stepped out of the car and walked around to the trunk, but just as he opened it, his hellhound, Dreyus, ran into the garage and jumped on him.
Dreyus was an animal, not a humanoid like the dog-like lycans that made up a good portion of Hell's populations. He was a wolf-like dog that was native to the northern lands of the Wrath realm. He had dark gray fur with orange highlights, and red eyes that glowed a little. He wore a collar that vibrates when he's close to the perimeter fence; which Cleevus had trained him on. He was a good guard dog, and Cleevus would sometimes take him to help in fights, as he had proved to handle hostiles well in his 2nd form. Cleevus petted his head and rubbed his neck while he wagged his tail and panted.
"Hey bud." Cleevus patted Dreyus's back and he jumped down.
Cleevus grabbed the ar case and the explosives case he took from the shipping yard out of the trunk. He closed the garage and walked up to the house with Dreyus following him, and unlocked the front door with a key.
Dreyus ran in and Cleevus walked past his living room, which had a couch, a flatscreen tv, a guitar with an amp, and head mounts of hell beasts he had hunted on the wall. He went to the steel armory door and punched a code in. He opened the door and the inside lit up with white leds, showing a wall with rifles, shotguns, smgs, and handguns mounted on it. There were shelves in the corner with stacks of magazines and ammo boxes on them. He set the rifle case down on the workbench and put the case of explosives on a shelf with ammo crates on it. He took his knife off his belt and set it on the bench, then walked out, locking the door behind him.
He took off his boots and went to the kitchen. He grilled a steak on his back porch, and ate it with some greens and a baked potato-like root that was grown in Wrath for dinner. He put a chunk of the large steak in Dreyus's bowl outside and the hound scarfed it down. Due to where Wrath was in Hell's system, the nights were never that dark, and they lasted about 14 hours, so he would usually kill time for the first few hours of the night. He sat on his couch with his feet up, playing some Metallica on his guitar while sipping a glass of whiskey while Dreyus lay on the floor near him. When the tiredness began to set in; he turned the Amp off, put the guitar in its case, then headed to his bedroom.
He locked the pouch of blood diamonds in a safe against the wall, then took a cool shower. He put on some sweats and a clean shirt, and tossed his battle-worn jeans with armored knees in the laundry. He tossed the bloodstained shirt with bullet holes in it in the trash.
He set his phone and his automag on the nightstand next to the bed, which had a framed picture of a young woman in graduation robes on it. Dreyus settled into his bed in the corner of the room, and Cleevus climbed into the stiff bed and pulled the covers over himself. He looked out the window at the vast desert plains and the gray sky, with red lightning cracking in the sky in the distance.
The alcohol sped up him drifting off, and he fell asleep listening to the wind blowing outside.