“Dammit, Drifter!” Dale called. “How did you get all the way out here so fast!?”
“I walked.” Drifter replied, loosening his tie and untucking his shirt like a true delinquent.
“Did we really have to leave, so soon!? We could have stayed! Reine wouldn’t have minded!”
“Can’t. I was fired.”
“She didn’t mean it. Come on, let’s go back.”
“No.”
“But… I liked her…”
“Then go back and stop following me.”
“Never! Someone’s gotta keep you in check.”
“Really? How?”
“With this!”
In a display of bravado, Dale unsheathed his arm-blade, whilst tearing through the sleeve of his expensive suit.
“Oh, fuck! Reine’s gonna kill me…”
Drifter chuckled under his breath. "Fucking mongoloid."
“Speaking of… are you really okay with leaving her with that demon?”
“He lived?”
“Of course. It was only one punch.”
“Huh, surely I crippled him a little.”
“He said he’d make a full recovery.”
“Ain't that lucky.”
“I'm getting the sneaking suspicion you let him live on purpose.”
“Hey, did Reine ever pay you?”
“Fuck me! I forgot!”
Drifter broke into a vigorous laughter.
“That’s not funny!” Dale cried.
“You’re such a fucking idiot…”
Continuing their journey, they crossed a bridge over a river, to the next town, but were suddenly stopped by a loud car horn, with two officers exiting their vehicle.
“Oh, what the hell?” Drifter sighed. His patience for law enforcement was nonexistent, as their vain attempts at intimidation and asserting their authority merely annoyed him.
“Stop right there!” The ginger officer ordered. “You, with the long hair. You’re under arrest.”
Drifter pointed to himself with a befuddled look.
“Yes, you. We need to bring you in for questioning.”
“Questioning?”
Drifter was shocked. Most officers tried to have him arrested out of desperate fear, however this ginger lad was surprisingly professional.
“There was a major incident last night, just near a restaurant in Marble Hill. Charred corpses discovered in a sea of white flames, with witnesses reporting of a man in a white coat at the scene.”
“So?”
“So!? You think I’m stupid, mate!? After seeing what you did in Twickenham, you’ve become my prime suspect, in a number of cases. I don’t know how you managed to evade the law for this long, but I’m bringing you down to the station for a bit of interrogation.”
“Okay.”
Drifter held out his wrists, accepting his arrest.
“Oh… well that was easy.” The cop replied, swiftly cuffing him. “You see, Michael. You never know what’ll happen unless you don’t give it a go.”
Drifter’s wrist became illuminated in a white glow, as he effortlessly snapped the cuff’s chain and ripped the cufflinks from his wrists, like flimsy paper.
“Oh, shite.”
Although his plans were foiled, the officer refused to let Drifter leave, just yet. He pulled out his gun as a final threat.
“Wait! You’re coming with me, or… I’ll shoot!”
Drifter merely pinched the barrel of the gun shut, with his fingers.
“What!? That comes out of the taxpayer’s money, you know!”
“Good thing I don’t pay taxes.”
The officer’s partner stepped out to calm his subordinate.
“I told you driving all the way out here would be a waste of time, Richard.”
“But, he’s a potential criminal and clearly linked to god knows how many unsolved incidents. We can’t stop when he’s right in front of us.”
“We can do this another time. He’s clearly not interested and I’ve got a whole stack of paperwork that needs dealing with. Let’s just go.”
Richard looked down at his now ruined gun, all it could do now was backfire in his face. In a world full of monsters even the humans were becoming impossible to arrest.
“This isn’t over, yet, you long haired, poofter!” Was all he could muster to save face.
Sadly, Drifter wasn’t around to receive such an eloquent insult, as he had already left. Realising the direction he was heading, Officer Richard called after him one last time.
“Oi! You can’t go that way!”
Drifter waved back, as he continued on his way.
“Stop him, Michael!”
The officer’s partner reluctantly stood up straight from leaning on his car. “You can’t cross the bridge, sir. The entirety of Donnington is a Quarantine Zone.”
Drifter stopped in his tracks. “A what now?”
“A Quarantine Zone. Only certified personnel are allowed entrance.”
“Oh… well, I’m certain I’ll be fine.”
Drifter didn’t care to stick around for the details, ignoring the officer’s warnings, with Dale awkwardly trailing behind.
“What was that all about?” Dale asked.
“Who cares.”
The quarantined village was on the other side of the bridge. As they approached, it became increasingly apparent as to why the entire area had been sealed off with police cars, jeeps and barricades.
A bizarre white mist covered the village like smog, unnaturally settling over the houses and streets, completely unaffected by the wind or weather. Drifter grew evermore suspicious as they came up close to the parked vehicles. Inside was a single officer, sleeping in the passenger seat.
“Hey! Wake up!” Dale demanded.
The officer flinched in irritation before eventually opening his eyes.
“What do you want?” He yawned, rolling down his window.
“What’s with the weird mist?”
“I don’t know, man. Demons, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“We’ve been here all day, but nothing of interest has been reported so far, other than that mist.”
“We’ve? So, you’re not alone?”
“The rest of the guys went in to evacuate some of the residents, but they haven’t been back in a while.”
“Well, maybe instead of sleeping you should do your job!? Make sure they’re not dead!?”
“Sure. Suppose I can check.”
The officer lazily pulled out his phone and called one of his allies, patiently waiting for an answer, only to receive a voicemail message.
“Yeah… they’re probably dead.”
Hopping into the driver’s seat, the officer started the engine.
“Wait!? You’re leaving!?”
“No point in sticking around here anymore. I’ve got to get some rest. Those online trolls aren’t gonna ban themselves. Then again, after this abortion of an operation, I’ll probably be swamped with fucking forms tomorrow instead.”
The officer drove away into the night.
“I can’t believe that guy!” Dale yelled. “It was like he didn’t even care! Why do they even bother coming out here, if that’s their attitude!?”
“Whatever.” Drifter replied. “Just means there’s less people to get in the way.”
The two infiltrated the foggy village, where the mist was so thick they couldn’t see anything that wasn’t immediately in front of them. They had about a few feet before everything became a white blur, but as long as they could still see the ground beneath them, they could keep moving.
“So… sensing any demons?” Dale asked.
“Possibly.” Drifter bluntly stated.
“What does that mean?”
“Normally I can just pinpoint a demon’s location like a radar, but this mist is masking their presence. Something’s definitely lurking out there, but I can’t figure out where it is.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
“Wait for them to come to us.”
As they wandered the foggy street, Dale was overcome by a sudden dizziness. He didn’t understand why, but he tried leaning against a car to get his bearings, but the dizziness persisted. Then, he coughed into his hand, disturbed by the blood he hacked up.
Drifter was caught off-guard as well, not by strange bodily behaviours, but from something latching onto his leg. A red haired woman, laying face down on the ground, just outside a garden gate, wearing a grey beanie, had reached out to him. She desperately wrapped her hand around his ankle in a final effort to seek help.
“…please…” She moaned.
“No thanks.”
Completely uninterested in rescuing someone who was already practically dead, Drifter tried shaking her off, but she refused.
“… before it comes back…”
“It?”
“… take me… inside…”
“Can’t you tell me what 'it' is, here?”
“Dude.” Dale moaned, hobbling over, light headed. “I think something fucked up is going on. I’m coughing up blood.”
A dying woman and bloody phlegm. If something serious was going on, then getting out of the mist was top priority.
“Fine…” Drifter sighed, throwing the woman over his shoulder. “This is your house, right?”
“… hurry…” She barely answered.
Following the path quickly led Drifter to an open house. Once the three were inside, they promptly closed the door, cutting off the fog inside from its supply, as it dissipated. Within mere moments, the dizziness that was plaguing Dale lifted, as his throat cleared. The woman soon regained her strength, allowing Drifter to put her back on her feet.
She was young and dark skinned, with a sweater and ripped jeans, a regular looking punk. Her hair was long and unnaturally scarlet, even her eyes were a striking crimson, but for Drifter, the only red he was seeing were from the flags being raised from her unusual appearance.
“Thanks…” The girl wheezed, still catching her breath. “But, we should keep quiet, in case that thing shows up again.”
“What thing?” Dale questioned. “Was it a demon?”
“I think…. It was a tall, lanky monster, exhaling mist from its large mouth and eye sockets.”
“Eye sockets?”
“It was obscured by the mist, but I don’t think it had any eyes at all, just two empty craters in its skull. It was wrinkled and decrepit. Just thinking about it…”
The girl teared up, unable to bear the mental trauma of recalling such a horrid creature.
“Whoa, you okay?”
“Those arms, stretching all the way to the ground, and those terrifying claws. That thing was no demon, it was a monster! I never want to see it again!”
She leaned against the wall, shivering in fear, fighting to get a hold of herself. Dale didn’t know what to make of the situation. He never heard of a mist demon before, but he wasn’t an expert on the subject either.
“What do you think, Drifter?”
Drifter seemed distracted, but quickly responded with a question.
“What’s with your eyes?” He asked the girl.
“E-excuse me?” She replied.
“Why are they red?”
“B-because I’m crying, you idiot!”
“No, I mean your irises. They’re red.”
“You have a problem with red eyes!?” The girl seemed to have a short temper, but at least it stopped her sobbing.
“I’ve never met a human with red eyes before.”
“You obviously haven’t met many humans then, jerk.”
“You’re not hiding something, are you?”
“I’m not a demon!” She blurted out loud.
Drifter seemed to have accidentally touched a nerve.
“Just because I have some weird eye colour doesn’t mean I’m a monster!”
“We’ll see.” In the blink of an eye, Drifter swiped the beanie from the girl’s head. Expecting to rip away her disguise. However, what he found instead looked far more agonizing.
Underneath the hat, hid a spiral of bandages, covering the distressed young woman’s entire head. She held her arms up, to protect her fragile skull.
“No… stop…”
Drifter wasn’t sure what to make of them, but his suspicions wouldn’t let up until he knew exactly what the bandages were hiding.
“Take those off.” He slowly drew closer, convinced they were covering something.
“No! Don’t!” She cried. “I was in a car accident! You can’t take them off! Please!”
However, Drifter was unfazed and continued moving, until a sharp pain shot deep into his arm. Dale’s blade stabbed straight through him.
“Stop it, cunt!”
Though his guard was down, Drifter clutched Dale’s arm and yanked out his blade. It left a massive gash, but the white aura from his sword covered the wound, healing it fairly quickly.
“You seriously falling for this?”
“Just leave her alone.”
“What if she’s a demon?”
“What if she isn’t? What if you kill an innocent woman, for no reason?”
“Fine, geez… You talk to her then.”
Drifter threw the girl’s hat back, wandered into the living room and sat on the sofa. He couldn't be bothered with arguing. If she was a demon then Drifter would deal with her when the time came.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“What the fuck is his problem?” She asked, putting her hat back on.
“Still trying to figure that out.” Dale answered.
“Who are you weirdos, anyway?”
“I’m Dale, and Dickhead over there is Drifter.”
“At least you seem decent, name’s Catherine.”
“So, Catherine. Could you tell me more about this mist demon?”
Catherine hesitated, holding her arms close for comfort.
“I can’t…”
“How are we supposed to stop this thing if you won’t talk to us?”
“B-but… I-I…” She shivered again, the thought of the demon alone was enough to freeze her in place.
“O-okay, how about instead of talking about the demon, you can tell me how this all started?”
“H-how it started… right…”
This new line of questioning seemed effective, as Catherine finally divulged some information.
“It was about a week ago. That mist, it just appeared out of nowhere and the whole town went silent. I've been too scared to leave the house. I only went out today to try and get food, but I couldn’t even bring any of it back, I was too exhausted.
By the time I got to my front gate, I collapsed. I felt completely drained. If you two hadn’t shown up, I’d probably be dead. If that can happen to me, then I can’t even imagine what the death toll is, out there.”
“That mist is definitely deadly. Even I started feeling sick after a while. We should stay inside until we figure out a way to stop the demon producing it.”
“Are you seriously considering fighting that thing?”
“Of course. Someone’s gotta be the hero around here. I may be new to this whole demon slaying thing, but I’m no pushover. Check it!” Dale flashed his arm-blade, pridefully.
"Ouch, doesn't that hurt?"
"Not really. It does get itchy though…"
“And how is that thing going to protect you from the mist?”
“Easy, I’ll just kill the bastard before the mist kills me.”
“I see…” Catherine was unconvinced. “What about him?”
“Drifter? I have no idea. He probably has some bullshit immunity.”
“Hey, Catherine!” Drifter called. “Do you own this place or what?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Looks like someone’s Nan’s house.”
“Nan?”
“You know, a grandmother?”
“Oh… well that makes sense. This is my grandparents’ house.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, there’s a photo of us on the cabinet over there.”
“I didn’t ask, but okay.”
“You wanted proof I wasn’t a demon? Well, there it is.”
“Alright, quit your bitching.”
On the other side of the room was a tall cabinet full of nicknacks and a photograph. Drifter examined the photo, shocked to see that Catherine was indeed in it. Different clothes, but same beanie. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, her grandparents looked like typical old folks. If this really was a demon trap, it was the most elaborate trap he’d ever seen.
“They still here?” He asked.
“No… not anymore…”
“Oh god, don’t start crying again…”
“S-sorry…”
“What happened to them?”
“Car crash…”
“I see… wait.” It took a second, but Drifter quickly put two and two together. “You mean?”
“It was about a week ago… we were driving… then the mist suddenly appeared… and then I woke up… and they were gone… this house is all I have left…”
Recounting such painful memories made it impossible for Catherine to hold her tears back.
“For fuck’s sake, Drifter.” Dale criticised. “Could you at least try to consider someone’s else’s feelings for once? She’s trapped in this house, terrified of the demon lurking out there and she’s still grieving the loss of her family. The last thing she needs is some arsehole throwing accusations around and scaring her.”
“Alright!” Drifter yelled. “I’ll shut up about the demon thing!”
Catherine’s story sounded legit, but Drifter remained skeptical. “There’s usually two types of demon traps. They either assume humans are stupid and lay obvious ambushes out of sheer arrogance, or on the opposite end of the spectrum, perfectly hide themselves like professional assassins. But, this situation’s unique. I can’t say for certain if it’s one or the other.”
He looked back at the photo and on closer inspection there was one small, noticeable detail. A tiny white cloth, just barely poking out of her hat. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he took note of it, just in case.
“I’ll be okay.” Catherine assured. “I’m just… gonna go make something to eat. A nice meal will help take my mind off things.”
She headed into the kitchen.
Drifter followed after. “Think I’ll help.”
“You fucking serious?”
“I’m just keeping an eye on her.”
Dale snickered. “Alright, but keep it in your pants.” His laughter was immediately cut short, via a cushion flung directly at his face.
“Faggot.”
Drifter found Catherine opening her microwave, about to shove in her premade dinner.
“I thought you said you couldn’t bring any of the food back?” He scoffed.
“Yeah… I’m starting to scrape the bottom of the freezer…”
“What even is that crap?”
“It’s… er….” Catherine wiped the frost from the container, revealing the name underneath. “Mac an’ Me, Cheese in Me? What the fuck, Grandpa…? Why do you keep buying this?”
“You didn’t know what it was?”
“What!? Does that make me a demon now!? Because I couldn’t remember the name of the mac and cheese!?”
“It’s a little suspicious.”
“Oh, fuck off.” She slammed her dinner into the microwave and angrily set the timer.
“You gotta poke holes in the film first, so it doesn’t explode when cooking.”
“I knew that!” She cried, opening the door, stabbing the film and shoving it back in. “If you and Dale are hungry, there’s some other shit in there too.”
“It’s not poisoned, is it?”
“What the fuck? It’s frozen! How could I poison it!?”
“I’m sure you used some bullshit demon magic on it.”
“What? The magic to lace microwave dinners?”
“I’ve seen weirder.”
“Are you dumb?”
“No, just cautious.”
“Well, maybe you should loosen up!?”
“That sounds like something a demon would say.”
“What!?”
At this point, Drifter didn’t even care if she was a demon, teasing Catherine was a reward of its own. She was like an adamant child, mindlessly arguing with the older kids, too stubborn to know when to walk away.
“Are you laughing at me!?” She accused.
“N-no.”
“Yes you are! I can see your dumb grin through your dumb hair.”
“You’re the one who told me to loosen up.”
“Have you been making fun of me this whole time?”
“I have no further comments at this time.”
“First you scare the shit out of me and now you’re mocking me!?” The microwave dinged and Catherine immediately grabbed her food and stormed out of the kitchen. “You’re an asshole, Drifter.”
The three soon gathered in the living room with their meals. It may have been cheap microwave dinners, but food was food. Still annoyed by Drifter’s immature behaviour, Catherine turned to Dale for conversation instead.
“So, Dale. You’ve been outside the town, has the mist spread very far?” She asked.
“Uhh… I don’t think so… We did see a whole bunch of police barricades, though.”
“Fat lot of good that’ll do. Why did you come here in the first place?”
“Drifter got curious and sensed a demon was here, so we came to beat it up.”
“O-oh… okay…”
A surprisingly straightforward answer, as if the two of them weren’t strange enough already. Catherine had never heard of vigilantes going around hunting demons, especially ones with odd powers themselves. She was starting to question their sanity.
“Sounds a little reckless.”
“Heroes have gotta be a little reckless, sometimes.”
“Heroes?”
“Well, I’m still new, but it’s better than my last occupation.”
“What was that?”
“Being homeless.”
“Homeless…!? With demons running around? How did you survive?”
“In small hotel-like rooms, squashed together with other families. Emergency Accommodation, I think they called it. It was cramped, loud and everyone was always fighting over what little resources we could spare. It got so bad I just ran away from it all. I’d rather risk living on the streets than put up with another second of that constant stress and noise.”
“What about your family?”
“Don’t have one. I spent most of my life being tossed around different care homes. You know, until I eventually left.”
“I see. Guess that makes two of us now.”
“Your grandparents were your only family?”
“Pretty much…” She mindlessly stirred the remainder of her dinner around on her plate, as a veil of depression fell over her. “They took me in when no one else could… and now they’re gone… what am I supposed to do now?”
“You’ll be fine.” Drifter suddenly interjected. “You’ll survive on their inheritance alone.”
“That’s not the point! What am I supposed to do, now that they’re gone!?”
“Well, if you don’t think of something, you’ll end up like me.”
“God forbid that ever happens.”
“Exactly. If you don’t get over this, you’ll be trapped in your depressing little world forever. Never making any progress, aimlessly whiling away your precious time, until you wake up one day and realise it’s too late to turn back. The world’s moved on and doesn’t need you anymore.”
“That… sounded a little personal… Did you lose someone?”
“I've lost lots of things.”
“Is that why you use that fake name?”
“Who knows?”
“Wait, Drifter is just an alias, right?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I don’t know.”
“A straight answer would be really nice right about now.”
"I don’t remember anything from before the past few years.”
“So, it’s amnesia?”
“I don’t know, I don’t remember. Sometimes, I can recall some faint memories, but it’s like a subconscious reaction I can’t control, but when it comes to friends, family, names and faces, that shit’s been completely wiped. Now, I just spend my days wandering the country killing demons. I don’t really have a true identity.”
“That’s… so sad… amnesia sounds awful…”
“I’m not so sure it’s amnesia. Maybe it’s just my paranoia, but my gut’s telling me someone has actively fucked with my head.”
“Is that gut feeling what’s kept you going?”
“Nah, I’m just stubborn. Life keeps shitting on me and I refuse to clean up the mess. I’ll just keep wading through it all until I find something worth living for, like a purpose.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that your memories are so screwed up?” Dale asked.
“Not really. Less emotional baggage weighing me down.”
Catherine looked into her empty plate. She found it difficult to express her feelings towards the strange company she found herself in. Loneliness, misery, a lack of purpose. She suddenly found herself relating to these people.
“An amnesiac asshole, a homeless hero and a lost orphan… we’re just a trio of fuck ups, aren’t we?”
In a brief moment of levity, Dale and Catherine awkwardly chuckled to themselves, finding humour in the absurdity of their shared misfortune. Even Drifter smiled a little, until he abruptly became fixated on the window.
With its face pressed against the glass, there stood a tall, skeletal, wrinkled creature, hunched over, peering through into the window. Its large head with two gaping craters for eyes immediately put Drifter on edge, even to an experienced demon slayer like him, it was beyond unsettling.
Before he had a chance to warn the others of the demon’s presence, the window suddenly shattered, as a stream of fog seeped into the room, enveloping it.
“What the fuck was that!?” Dale cried.
“Don’t do anything stupid!” Drifter ordered. He ran outside to confront the demon, still staring inside the house.
“Finally showed yourself, cunt?” Drifter berated, but to no response. “Your fart gas might work on most humans, but those cheap gimmicks won’t work on me.”
The demon continued to pay Drifter no mind, leaving him puzzled. Every demon he ever encountered either gained a sadistic pleasure from torturing humans, or were easily flustered by his insults. Regardless, it always ended the same way, their grandiose delusions always lead them to their own demise, but this demon was an alarming exception.
“What’s this thing’s deal?” He questioned.
Drifter looked inside the house to see what the beast was so preoccupied with, but all he saw were Dale and Catherine suffocating inside. They didn’t even have the energy to escape through all the coughing.
The fog in the house seemed much thicker than outside, which clued Drifter in to the monster’s true intent. The demon wasn’t interested in him or his sword. Instead, it seemed to have a sick fascination with watching its victims struggle with the fumes it exhumed, like it was experimenting on how long it would take for the fog to strangle the life out of them.
Drifter jammed a super powered fist straight into the beast’s gut, to try and grab its attention. However, the monster didn’t even notice. Drifter’s fist slipped into its body like it was made of gooey tar. With his fist stuck inside, Drifter quickly flared up his aura to burn the tar off, freeing his hand. The creature’s body reformed with a disgusting, slimy shlick.
“What in the holy hell is this thing?” He thought to himself, having never encountered a being like it in his life.
The beast turned to face Drifter, standing upright to reveal its true, terrifying height, reaching the second storey window of the house. Drifter watched closely, preparing himself for whatever it was trying to pull. Without breaking its glare, the beast stretched its long arm through the broken window, grabbing the defenseless Catherine by the head. It retracted its arm, dragging her outside and chucked her across the street. Even though Drifter couldn’t see, he heard a loud crash and crumbling debris, she clearly collided with a wall.
Before he could retaliate, the creature disappeared into the mist. With its presence masked by the fog, even Drifter had a hard time figuring out where it was hiding, however he spotted a faint shadow moving away from the house. He ran into the street, assuming it was going to finish Catherine off, but once he reached the middle of the road, he could no longer hear the beast's movements. It was silent. All Drifter could do was rely on his hearing.
Suddenly, without warning, the beast latched onto Drifter’s shoulder from behind and with its gaping jaw, bit down like a vice. Luckily, Drifter’s aura always protected him from sneak attacks. The beast tried shaking its head violently to tear off Drifter’s flesh and bone, but accomplished nothing through its struggle.
“Ravenous little shit, aren’t you?” Drifter chided, as the beast continued to rip into him.
“Alright, fuck off!” Irritated by the beast’s persistence, Drifter unleashed a burst of white flame from his body. The blast not only threw the beast off his person, but also left half its body a melted mass of tar, leaving it horribly disfigured.
As Drifter was about to deal the finishing blow, the beast hid in the mist once again, forcing him to follow its movements with his ears. It was still hard to envision which direction the beast was scurrying in, he almost lost it completely. Just when he thought the street had gone silent, Drifter heard an oozing, slithering sound. He immediately realised what it was doing and swiftly pulled his blade, turned a complete 180 and threw the sword into the fog.
There was a loud, wet thud, confirming he hit his target. Drifter followed the direction of the sound to find the beast with the sword jammed into its back, its spine snapped, bent over backwards, facing Drifter from behind. Its cold, empty expression made it impossible to tell if the beast was even in any pain.
“Following your movements was pretty tough, luckily it seems you were more concerned with regenerating your body than actually attacking me. If you had just kept moving, you could have got the jump on me, but I guess you were too dumb to think that far ahead.” Drifter explained.
The beast simply stood in silence, paralysed by the sword in its spine. “I don’t know what the fuck kind of monster you are, but you’re dangerous, even by demon standards. You need to die.”
The sword embedded in its back released a surge of power, setting the beast ablaze from the inside. As it burned, the beast’s body melted, falling to pieces, but never dropping eye contact from Drifter. Soon, it was nothing more than a puddle of black sludge that was quickly absorbed into the earth and disappeared.
Drifter wasn’t sure the creature was dead, but as its cursed fog began to lift and the light of the moon illuminated the street, the battle was obviously over. Dale stumbled out of the house as Drifter continued gazing at the ground, still puzzled by what he just fought.
“Holy shit, dude… is it over?” Dale asked, still recovering from the mist’s assault on his body.
“Yeah.” Drifter looked over at Catherine, stumbling over herself, using the rubble of the wall she crashed into as a crutch to slowly lift herself up. She faced the others, still dazed from her own injuries.
“Is the demon… dead?”
“Nope.” Drifter answered, pointing his sword at Catherine. “There’s still one left.”
“W-what are you talking about?”
“Your bandages are slipping.”
Catherine's hat was buried in the rubble and her bandages unwound, revealing her small, but very noticeable devil horns protruding from her head. Her jeans fell slightly, releasing her long, thin, black horned tail, disguised as a belt. She was the most classic depiction of a devil you could get.
“Oh man…” Dale had a strange feeling of disappointment.
Catherine was completely exposed, left in a state of shock. “Please don’t look…”
“So, was it all a lie?” Drifter asked. ”An elaborate ambush? How much rehearsal time did you need to get your character down? Please, I’d like to know for future reference.”
Catherine said nothing, she felt naked and scared, she never wanted anyone to see this.
“What are you going to do to her?” Dale asked.
“Don’t know. How the fuck does a demon end up living with human grandparents? Unless that didn’t happen at all, and this was all just a ruse.”
As Drifter approached her, Catherine frantically looked for a way to defend herself and took a risk with a severed limb from the garden she crashed through.
“Stop! Don’t make me use this!”
“Where did you-?”
The limb melted, bone and all, merging with Catherine’s own skin, to create a large, deadly claw, ready to rip apart anything that dared approach her.
“I-I won’t hesitate to use this, I swear!” She was clearly anxious, lacking any sort of confidence in her abilities.
Drifter was more concerned over where she even found the severed limb to begin with. That’s when it hit him, like a bad smell. A horrible smell. A disgusting, wretched, rotting smell.
“Oh my god…” Dale exclaimed, horrified, as he and Drifter took a good, hard look at their surroundings.
Corpses littered the streets. They were mutilated, vandalised by some sick force of nature. Ripped apart like sacks of meat, with blood, viscera, bones and other parts left lying on the ground like trash. The sheer carnage gave Drifter flashbacks to his own nightmares. The sight of such blatant disregard for human life was soul shattering.
It didn’t even matter whether Drifter swore to protect people or not. That monster’s mere presence was enough to rob the lives of hundreds before the fight had even begun. The mist had not only hidden the slaughter from their eyes, but also the stench of death from the countless carcasses.
“What the fuck is this…?” Drifter muttered, completely overwhelmed.
“I didn’t kill them!” Catherine answered.
“You used that corpse as a weapon? Was that your plan!? It’s not enough to kill them, you have to defile their bodies, too!? This is disgusting!!”
“I can explain!”
“Shut up!” Drifter took a moment to compose himself. “I’m tired of you monsters making excuses! You treat human lives like they’re garbage to be thrown away, but then beg like cowards when it’s your own life on the line! You’re pathetic!!”
Suddenly, a bright light appeared before Drifter, tearing through reality and shielding Catherine. The light dimmed, revealing a bizarre figure. A being wrapped entirely in chains and demonic padlocks, with not a shred of their body visible underneath all the darkness and metal, save for a single piercing blue eye, peering through an opening on their left side.
“I see… so, this is where CORE ended up?”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I am Locke.”
“Fitting.”
“The irony is not lost on me.”
“I hear you’re after my sword, Locke.”
“You’ve heard of me?”
“The Tower of Heylel. They name dropped you.”
“Those fools. I tell them the Demon Sword is in the human world and they all rushed to find it. Why must my own people continue to throw their lives away, just to satiate their own lust for power?”
“Oh? And you’re somehow different?”
“I do not fight to satisfy my own ego, but for a greater purpose.”
“And, that purpose is…?”
“None of your concern.”
“Oh, fuck off!” Drifter fired a blast from his sword, but the attack didn’t even singe Locke’s chains.
“I’m afraid this portable prison is impenetrable.”
“Why are you showing up now?”
Locke looked over at Catherine. “I’m sorry I was late.”
“Did you find him?” She asked, still shaken.
“I have a lead, but I need to investigate further. If Zaphon is still under his control, then we may have a problem.”
“Sorry I can’t help.”
“After what’s happened here, I can’t leave you in the human world any longer. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a while.”
“Thanks for looking out for me…”
“Drifter!” Locked exclaimed. “Hang on to that sword, I’ll need it soon.”
“Running away?”
“No. Just biding my time. I’ve waited five years, what’s a few more days?”
A blinding light suddenly flashed and in seconds Locke and Catherine disappeared. Refusing to let them escape, Drifter slashed his sword at the air, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing came of it.
“He closed the portal already? The bastard's no slouch.”
“What the hell just happened?” Dale asked, still processing everything.
“Shit happened.”
“Man, you sound pretty pissed off.”
“I just… a part of me wanted her to be different, you know?”