I was warned. The warning was internalized and understood. Yet… I persisted down the darker path. It twisted and curled away from the light like a horn atop a demon's head. Pretty apt, if you could believe I was layering the obvious insinuation thickly with the intent that I might actual learn from my own words. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
Flares of red light lit up the faux office floor, punching holes through devils, broken technology, and office dividers alike. We were being swarmed. I felt like a bad guy, untouchable. Like it hit too close to home in my corruption influence memories from my previous life. Didn’t stop me.
A blast echoed from the corner of the room out of view.
//Known hostile: Seth’a approaching.
Then a second blast blew a ruddy devil through the obscuring diving panel, his body splayed open to show me his ribs and organs. Great show.
As I raised my revolver up, the familiar lithe figure of the female devil stepped through the gap, racking the pump of a shotgun.
“Always fucking Eric Redd, isn’t it?” She spat and shook her head. “Been planning this for ages, then you come along and ruin it.”
I lowered my gun and tilted my head. “You killing all demons?”
“I’m killing all devils.” She grinned.
//Mass hostiles approaching. Four cardinal staircases, twenty in each direction.
“Twenty each staircase,” I relayed the information to her. “Want to keep score?”
She spun her gun around into a ready position, and then turned so that the three of us were near back to back. “You’re on, Hunter.”
Wight didn’t look too pleased. His crimson eyes almost narrowed at the devil. In fairness, it had been a tough few days - and if the Org wanted me to be more diplomatic with demons then yada yada. Bring on the-
The bodies burst forth - even from the stairwells we couldn’t see due to the furniture layouts - we could hear and feel their presence. A few score red office workers looking to get clocked out early. I was more than happy to oblige.
Only… now there was actual music.
Inside my head still, I was sure of it. This time not pounding drum and bass or heavy guitar, but something more upbeat. It paired well with the mania. My shots matched the beat, like we were in a dance. As the devils from the south weaved their way through the office, I smiled. It was like a shooting gallery, and I hardly ever missed my shots. The crimson fireworks of every hit showered the room with all the points I was eager to make. Top prize was an overstuffed facsimile of my ego, grinning widely with unflinching eyes.
Three down and then a group rushed us from the west. I knee capped the first and Wight finished him, then rolled to the side as Seth’a blasted into the group, dropping a pair. I picked the remainder off with the rest of the cylinder as she swung her gun over, moving back to back to fire into enemies from the east.
Wight stabbed one of the downed devils to remove them from the picture, then turned to me to flood my arm with cool feathered energy.
“Show off,” Seth’a grumbled. She blew the leg off a demon almost in melee range, kicking them in the head as they dropped. Spun to the side to avoid the swing of a second, which Wight jumped in to stab, and then spun her gun forward into the chest of a third - painting the drab office with their innards.
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It was getting more hectic now. Perhaps standing in the middle of the floor wasn’t the best tactical option. Currently, it was taking all I had to not just True Hell Cannon directly downward into the floor and dive into whatever depths lay below. Good thing the music was too loud to think straight.
I blocked the swing of a knife, then pooled my demonic energy into my left hand and punched the devil, sending them clattering back through some tables. Still hurt like Hell, though. Every other block, a deflection that Wight took advantage of, or shot of my own weapon, was echoed by the loud crack of Seth’a’s shotgun.
Although her weapon had great spread, the slow reload time put her at a disadvantage against the horde. When she began to falter, I took over the direction to fire off more shots and she would circle behind me to the side that was more sparse of targets. Might end up with tinnitus from being in proximity in an enclosed space… but then again, demonic regeneration could probably heal it.
//Thirty-eight forces neutralized, tide is quietening.
So boring. That meant half the workforce intending to rush us was already spent. It almost made me feel lethargic at the ride nearly being over. I had waited so long for… oh, but Rodney had said two-hundred or more in the whole building? Plenty of devils left to kill.
“What even brings you here?” The devil yelled out at me, blocking a sword, then breaking a jaw with a punch from the grip.
“Assassination Quest from the Org.” Sparks rang from my revolver as I stopped an overhead swing, Wight darting beneath me to disembowel the suited devil, his entrails dropping from the body.
“Oh, anybody I would know?”
“Forgot the name, killed him already.” Wight continued knifing the gentleman to death as I turned to
“…just sticking around for fun, then?”
“Yup.” I rolled my shoulders out. They were thinning out now - both due to reduced numbers, but also it was more difficult for them to move over the amount of corpses. “What about you?”
“Corporate espionage.” Her shotgun blew the brains out of a devil. “Or, whatever you call it when you kill everyone to take the valuables.”
“Tuesday.” I grinned, emptying the whole cylinder into the nearest enemy, the revolver spinning in my hand as it reloaded.
“Hah!”
//Fifty-two neutralized.
The music was hitting a crescendo now, as I moved forward to kick one of the wide desks - crushing a devil against the wall. I shot him in the head and leaped atop it. Perhaps I would have been impressed at the dexterity if there wasn’t just a warm hum numbing my brain. Both the other two moved up in front of it, and we had our last stand here.
From the vantage-point I could see both the terrible damage we had wrought, along with the scant few seemingly convinced they could just run up and stab us despite the broken attempts soaking the floor with blood. Other than the perimeters, most of the desks had collapsed alongside the dividers, and any other furniture that had gotten in the way. The whole floor was scarred by our gunshots, everything painted in charred black or wet crimson.
A picture I continued to paint from my high-ground. An artist weaving his brush to find the errant spots missed. The smell of death was almost tangible. I was blind to it. My head bobbed to the music as I picked out devils struggling to find cover. Bad news - my shots could penetrate everything in this room. No cover. No salvation. No end to the violence, please - I begged.
There was an alarm bell ringing, but it wasn’t a sign of the underground office-block in a state of panic. It was something internal, a warning sigh that should be obvious - but with the music taking me, I was just oblivious. Leave a message for later. I’m sure it can’t be that important. Nothing more important than creating my masterpiece.
Anything that I didn’t pick off from my stage was blasted by the female devil, or assailed by my patron. He had been remarkably silent for a change. Was he annoyed that our third was previously one of our most wanted villains? Did he just want to focus on the actual fighting going on? More likely was that he could sense the alarm and what it meant. I knew what it meant too, but I was busy killing all demons.
Three more shots and there was a silence that fell over the room. Sure, there were some gurgles and other death noises that I tried to ignore because it was easier to dissociate and glaze over mortality… but there were no uninjured devils moving toward us. Still, I didn’t believe my lying eyes, and I waited for Rodney for confirmation. Seth’a and my patron were both scouring the area, too.
//All targets this floor neutralized. Next floor is veiled, will update ASAP.
I jumped off the table and allowed my obsidian mask to fade away. Out of breath, and I hadn’t realized it, but my cheeks ached from constantly smiling. The volume of the music rescinded as I looked at Seth’a.
She was panting too, overheated and sweaty. Flush in the face. “You’re quite the fighter. It’s no wonder you survive down here.” She glanced me up and down.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard music. You did well yourself.” I adored the song, the corruption resistance had healed that part of my madness away, but with this devil I could hear it again. Feel alive again.
She smiled. Close to me, I could feel her warmth radiating off her red skin, watch her take in breaths. Her eyes searched me, before slowly closing - her lips moving toward mine.
I pressed the cold barrel of the revolver to her chin and pulled the trigger.