I was never truly sure which part of me decided that overconfidence was a natural extension of my ability. Could be any of the little Erics struggling to run the show, really. There was a base human version of me that was still stuck in the back, trying to recoil into the shadows and pretend that this was all perfectly fine. One long fever dream I’d hopefully wake from, if I was lucky enough. As of yet, I wasn’t.

I found myself seated on a stool in front of a table that was now lit up by swirling lights. Or maybe the lights were still, and it was just my vision swirling. Didn’t seem to matter either way. It drew my attention as Jaghar sat at the next stool and his retinue filled out the rest.

“Survive this, and we’ll get some of the better shit in,” he said with a wink. There was an element of mischief in his eyes. He knew I was possessed and was taking some delight in seeing how far he could push me. Leading me astray and straight into the ditch full of my own demise in the making.

I could play that game for a while, teeter on the edge to give off the illusion I was liable to fall. Then, pull the old switcheroo and show him the truth that he was the one being dragged into the inevitable instead. Although, I was also just as likely to empty my guts or pass out from whatever drug this was, so we’ll call it… fifty-fifty.

My fingers drummed on the table to the pounding tune reverberating around the room. Been a while since I heard something that seemed to click. Jaghar was getting the little cabled pipes set up, but I was just grooving. Not a bad soundtrack for the looming violence. I was quite pleased. Also quite lightheaded, but that just made it less effort to bob along.

[Stay alert, Eric. Once the fight starts…]

‘It won’t stop until we do.’

[Correct.]

Seemed a shame to ruin a good vibe with blood and body horror, but that was the story of my life, right? Spun into the profession after witnessing a demon kill my family. Broken myself over and over doing the Org’s bidding. Almost lost Rodney and he had lost his mother. Now I was host to a destiny that liked to test the limits of the human form. What I could endure. What I could enact.

“You look half gone already, Hunter. You sure you’re up for this?” His grin was nauseating. He held out a pipe toward me, gave it a little wiggle as if I was a fish waiting eagerly to bite the hook.

‘Chance of death from this?’

[Low but not zero.]

I’d survived worse odds. I took the cold metal tube from him, the cable from it leading up to the central pillar in the middle of the table. While I couldn’t drink alcohol due to the pact contract, not smoking was my own choice. Ironic, since it would suit both my noir outlook, gunslinger getup, and demonic regeneration should heal any damage it did.

I took the pipe into my mouth and drew the mist into my lungs. A medium amount. I didn’t want to overdo it or appear weak before them. After a couple of seconds to let it stew, I blew it back out into the open.

“Ay!” Jaghar banged on the table in jubilation. “Not bad, not bad. Assuming you don’t immediately lose cognitive function, perhaps you’d like to tell us why you’re here?”

The truth was, I didn’t want to tell him anything. I had expected the drug to make me feel woozy and further spaced out than I already was. It still burned in my lungs, weighing on my conscience. But instead of feeling happy, or a step closer to passing out, I didn’t feel any worse.

I just felt angrier.

“Why don’t you go first?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“Business,” he replied, slowly. The joy left his eyes for a second and he narrowed them at me, maybe expecting me to press further… or disapprove of the words written between the lines.

He reached out for the pipe. There were three connected to the table, and his posse had the other two. Did he expect us to share? Unacceptable. I drew it back closer to me and took another drag of it. Fucking demon.

“Oh? Eager, are we?” He grinned and tilted his dumbfuck head to the side. “Perhaps I underestimated you. We need to jump straight to the good stuff.” He raised an eyebrow as he turned his very breakable neck toward one of the back walls and gestured another potential victim over.

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I exhaled and let the smoke leave me. All the swirls had gone now. The music was less melodic now, as if someone had turned the bass way up and it just drowned out the rest of the tune. It shook and vibrated through my ears, cracking at my skull and bleeding into my brain. I bet Jaghar’s brain would look great all over the table. A bet I could easily win, I was sure of it.

Cold. The lights in the room seemed pale in comparison… other than the reds. They were bright, alluring. I was hitting peak noir as I scrabbled towards insanity. In slow motion, a figure walked over to the table. Left a little tray of gray and white. Specifically, lines of white powder on gray, reflective metal. Jaghar looked odd in monochrome, the lustre of his powerful eyes now lost amongst the drab tones that begged on raw knees for me to paint them in crimson. Please, his unbroken face said, do it.

“Now this is the real stuff. Completely melts weaker demons.” His voice was a faint echo against the thundering bass threatening to split me in half. “Up for this, Hunter?”

I nodded, although my emotions were locking themselves up in the bank vault somewhere inside me. Could hear the little clicks of the large handle spinning around as they were safely secure from what was about to happen. I was aware I was staring at him impassively, so to make a show that I wasn’t melting my own brain out, I put the pipe in my mouth again.

“Ready as fuck,” I said from the side of my mouth, my clenched jaw making it difficult to get a good draw on the foggy murder juice.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” He laughed, although I could barely hear the low tones. Sharp fangs in that maw.

I blew the smoke from my mouth. My finger was itchy, but the revolver was five floors down. My feet were itchy, but I didn’t want to run. My soul was itchy, and the only way to sate it was with bloodshed.

The demon leaned forward to the tray to take a little sniff. I couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore. Of any of them. Kill all demons.

Tiny granules of whatever corrupted material started entering his nasal passage as I stood to my feet. Energy rocketed down into my hands as I grabbed hold of his mane. As he went to lift his head in surprise, I pulled down, slamming his face into the tray. Drugs in his eyes, and powdered dust through his thick hair.

Thump, thump, the music said. I agreed wholeheartedly. Jaghar sunk back, pawing at his eyes as they burned and melted away. His group was standing and moving toward me, but I was ready.

[I will assist with energy management.]

Perfect. Using the power to increase my physical capability had been somewhat untapped up to this point, other than used to hold me together. But with the amount I now held within me, I could be superhuman, to a degree.

The lioness to my right threw out a sloppy punch, and I caught her fist from the air. Twisted it away to the side, and as she paled away, I lunged in with a headbutt. Not as squishy and breakable as a human face, but the damage was disorientating. Energy transferred to my foot as my boot broke her knee. As she dropped, I grabbed her pained face and twisted her neck with a snap.

Second one was already leaping over the table at me, but I spun away from the intended kick. As the demon slid to the floor, I trapped her arm on the corner of the table, snapping it. Blow to the stomach, and then another neck-snap.

//Three behind.

I ducked as a chair flew overhead, turned to see the offending demons. Not part of Jaghar’s crew, but now I had stepped on one toe, the whole building was my enemy. Fine. I wanted them dead anyway.

Before the other two lioness demons could circle around the table, the last protecting Jaghar, I grabbed the pipe and pulled the cable from the central point. I hated whips, but I was willing to believe the demons would like it worse. Behind me, a bulbous demon was looking to slam another chair down on me.

I dove to the side, his attack cracking against the table and sending the remnants across the floor. Chair leg fell into my hand as if it was naturally meant to be there. A pipe at the end of a cable and a stick of wood weren’t my weapons of choice, but I was spoiled for choice at potential prey.

//Target moving to your left.

‘Drop and grab a weapon.’

Wight didn’t acknowledge or argue, he just popped out from me and reformed nearby to pick up a chair leg for himself. As soon as he left, my sanity level took a plunge. Not that it was doing fine before, but I was tempted to do things I shouldn’t now.

Having failed his chair attack, the demon lifted a stool from the floor, as two other demons were approaching me from the right. I whipped the pipe around, catching one in the wrist and waylaying his attack. Didn’t even try to block the second. I just blazed the wooden leg around straight into his skull, the red I craved bursting into bloom.

Beautiful.

I dodged the larger demon with the stool, putting some distance between me and them.

//Twenty hostiles moving toward you, the rest are evacuating.

Smart, for demons. Ducked a swing of the stool and then popped up to jam the leg into the side of his arm. Burst straight through, causing him to drop the furniture. Wight did the same into the side of his knee, and as he buckled, I punched two fingers through his eye into the back of his eye socket. Gross. Deserved.

“Wight, go get our things?”

He nodded and ran toward the exit. Being without my pact demon would be a disadvantage, but he would be able to sneak away and retrieve our actual weapons—which would make that a piece of-

I raised my arms across my face to block a punch. Ducked and twisted away from the follow-up, moving to the side, I powered up my own jab to the back of their extended elbow. Snapped. They recoiled, and I grabbed the inert limb, kicking out with my boot and tearing it from his body.

With a flourish of the bloodied arm, I glared out at the eyes in the monochrome world moving toward me.

A wide grin cracked my face. “Come closer, and you will either die by my hand… or his.”