I was never intended to be much of a beater. There were younger Hunters that could run rings around me in combat. Some with martial combat experience that was enhanced by their patron. Some with military or private security experience that gave them strategic knowledge. Someone, however, decided it was a good idea to give a salaryman a revolver rail gun and set him loose in Hell. Doggedness you could find anywhere, and why I seemed to be the teacher’s favorite was beyond me. Maybe I just happened to be cut the right shape, even if I didn’t match the picture of the puzzle, I fit just where I was needed.
A barely visible wave passed around us and dissipated through the building.
[What does it do?]
“Stops Org spying in.” I gave him a brief bow. I had started to subconsciously pick up on the times I had fuzzed up Rodney or the Org from watching me. The sort of energy, the wave and thread of it that I could almost reach out and snip. I would have loved to stop and go over the intricacies of it - but I wasn’t sure how long it would last and our prey was just before us.
To his credit, Wight just nodded and asked nothing further. We began back up the stairs. Past floor thirteen, and then thirteen. It wouldn’t do for the Org to watch us appear and put a hole through the other Hunter. Even if we were in the right, it wasn’t a good look. An even worse look would be us getting beaten by them instead. I didn’t want to be a warning video for prospective newbies.
The sound of combat ceased, and we made it up to floor thirteen. I slid across the landing into the hallway proper. A corridor lined with rooms, most of them open or blocked by dead devils. Blood painted the walls. Down the other end of the hall, a figure in a slick black bodysuit stood up straight and turned to meet our glares.
A muscular man, the skin on his exposed face gray despite his otherwise youthful appearance. Cold eyes narrowed at us. The cylindrical tanks on his back, the harpoon in his right hand, and the snorkeling goggles atop his head told me more than I needed to know. Like, excessively so. I wondered if I was so easy to read.
“Who are you?” His deep voice carried down the hall to us. It was a good… fifty or sixty feet. Maybe a bad hundred. My eyes weren’t exactly playing the same game as me today.
“A messenger…” I grinned through my mask. “With some questions.”
“Which is it?” He folded his arms. “A messenger doesn’t make inquiries.”
“A Hunter doesn’t plot against their own.” I was totally doing that, but hoped that guilt would cloud his senses.
“I repeat,” he tensed up and brought his harpoon back up, ready. “Who are you?”
I looked down at Wight, who was standing ready with his blade up and other hand in a balled fist. Sure, this Hunter might be a couple levels higher than us, but look at us. The perfect little criminals ready to shake all the loose change from Hell and look good doing it. They should make a movie about us, or at least a three-part novel.
“I am Eric Redd,” I eventually came clean. “Killer of Joxx’un and pooper of your little portal party.”
Claude immediately tensed up further, his stern demeanor turning more feral as he clenched his teeth and seethed.
“Oh,” I continued, “and if you think you can run, I have a man at the Org already spilling the beans.” A partial lie. Rodney had no beans, but I didn’t hold that against him. They didn’t go well with pancakes.
“You’re mad,” he growled. Astute.
“Are we going to do this the hard way or the harder way, Claude?” I licked my lips. Salt and ash. The revolver spun and my breathing calmed. I wasn’t sure I even cared for the interrogation part of our ploy anymore. Destroying those who plotted against the mortal realm was reward enough. Blood for the justice vampire.
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“You will die here amongst the filth!” He swung the harpoon in an arc in front of him, a small amount of water falling from the jagged tip.
[Duck.]
I rolled to the floor as something burst through the wall to my side, snaking straight through to the room opposite. I glanced up as I regained my footing - a long, finned body slick and green snaked across the hallway. Some kind of eel, I supposed. As I tensed to expect the reemerging head, I hadn’t heard the Hunter getting closer.
Revolver up, I fired off three shots at the man who appeared to be skating across small waves towards me. As my demonic ammunition flew toward him, he circled the hallway, sloshing up the wall and over the ceiling to avoid the attack.
A crack at the side of the wall to my left as the pointed face of the eel burst through, its maw full of razor-sharp teeth. Just before it got to me, it stopped and screeched out in pain - Wight having stabbed it in the body with his blade. Any time to wonder if this was the patron was cut short as Claude had made it within harpoon range.
I blocked the thrust as the silver edge glowed blue, deflecting it from impaling me but still taking a cut along the side of my arm. I was probably single-handedly keeping some leatherworker in business with how many jackets I got through. It was about time I updated my look with some more-
Sparks rang out as I tried to backtrack from his assault. He was fast and clearly more suited to melee fighting than I was. Wight had kept the eel pinned, the creature unable to move without slicing itself open on his blade.
“Cowboy, huh? Real cliche.” He reared up on a wave of water and a shadow loomed from within it.
“More of a gunslinger,” I murmured. “There’s some nuance to it.”
A large shark burst out of the wave toward me.
[The eel is gone. Something comes from behind.]
Any hilarious quip fell from my lips. He wasn’t beckoning, just casting an ability. I needed cool hand signals for that. I risked a glance behind to see that the end of the hall was now a pulsing wall of water. Choppy. A fish shot out of it, and Wight jumped into the air to skewer it out with his blade. Looked like a piranha - small but colorful with lots of teeth.
Still, a single fish was-
Before my thought could finish, dozens of the dangerous fish burst forth in waves. Too many to block or dodge. I shot five from the air, knocked two away, sidestepped another three - and then one bit me on my left hand. It was painful and distracting.
Another latched onto my leg, and then one to my right arm - even biting through the leather of my jacket. Each shock of pain gave me pause, which stopped me from avoiding another. Claude was stuck in place while he was channeling this, otherwise I would have had the harpoon pop out from my chest by now.
I raised my left arm to protect my face and was rewarded by two more snapping onto it. I saw the blood on my hand, my gloves faded away as though I knew what I needed to see. No avoiding it. My blood. My blood. Teeth marks that stole my crimson energy.
Hmm. The fishes hadn’t ceased, but now, with the crackling power coursing through my veins and slowing my perception down, it was a little easier. Five down as the gun span. I punched them out of the air with the empty revolver. There must be a limit. Maybe not. This could be his ultimate ability, just drown any opponent in constant little maws. Seemed inefficient and beneath me. My melting mind jumped around in the puddles of solution.
I could blow the wall out. Perhaps the skill would falter. If his patron energy was being drained by upholding the attack, I could hold out longer to tire him. I could also just turn around and True Hell Cannon him. That sounded kind of underwhelming. If I could just erase all my problems like that, then what was the point? Plus, despite my waning grip on what was sensible, I did want to get some answers from him.
Debilitation then. Cooling power followed black feathers that flowed down my arm, as I turned around to the diver. Before I could finish the ability, he had dropped the pirana wall as soon as he saw me begin to turn. His eyes turned pitch black, and then I fell. Not to the floor, but through it. I sank into a sudden infinite ocean. No floor above or below. By instinct I had held my breath, but already the ache of my wounds made me more uncomfortable than the almost chilly water surrounding me. Claude came down into my view, a decent distance away. With his scuba gear on, he had no issue with moving or breathing. [This is a Domain, rather impressive for one his level.] I turned my glare to Wight, who was standing in the water as if it was still just solid ground. He was observing it like it was a piece of art, his arms crossed and judgemental air to him. [Not as impressive as mine, though. Wouldn’t you agree?] He turned to me and then looked out to the void behind us, the diver still moving closer. [I forget you cannot breathe here. Demons can.] Despite his nonchalant attitude, I could read between the lines. It was bullshit, and I hated it, but it was perfectly legible. I did my best to circulate my demonic energy into my lungs, somehow hoping it would do the job. I took my first gasp, and my lungs immediately filled with water.