Last Lantern. Not really something that made sense, even after all I had been through. How could I agree to the notion that I was some manner of fated savior of all mortals, when I spent half my time getting beaten up in fist fights with demons? If there was supposed to be some greater thread, or a more pious path I was meant to travel, I couldn’t see it. Not for all the corpses blocking my way.
I swirled around, absorbing a punch with my forearm, and lashed out with the severed appendage I held. It snapped further on collision with the thick shoulder of my opponent. Probably a faux pas on my part to assume the limb could be effective in battering those assailing me.
Through the melee, I could sense Wight. He was between floor four and three, on his way to retrieve the weapons that would make this a cake walk. I dropped the arm and stepped back, straight into a heavy elbow.
My vision whirled as I stumbled forward, spinning away from the demon in front of me as he tried to take advantage of the slight stun. I wouldn’t go down that easily. My fist flashed around as I turned, energy filling my hand before it struck the attacker in the face. Shattered his wide jaw, broke his nose, and probably fractured his eye sockets. He fell back, hands clutching at his injuries.
I turned to the one with the strong elbow. Jaghar. His eyes burned red, and they looked swollen, but he could see well enough to strike me. There were still eight opponents behind me eager to get a piece, and now the lion-demon and the last of his pride were after me. That was a pun, too.
//Watch your back, fifteen still there.
The novelty of empowering my fists and feet was wearing off. I wasn’t built for fisticuffs, even if I could break bones with my punches. It was just way too close for comfort. Currently, I had few options. The anger the drugs had flooded through me was tempered already. Just dealing enough damage to see blood had satiated it. My target still lived, so that should be priority.
Once Wight recovered our items, if Jaghar was dead, we could just go home. No need to ruin the rest of the club just because… just because… because I had to kill all demons.
He swung for me and I blocked it, arms up. Strong hands grappled me and he brought a knee up into my stomach. Nausea waved through my core. Turned out he was a little more experienced in melee combat than I was. A second knee came up, but I pushed him forward, causing him to stumble to maintain his footing.
Strong, though. The smash of a bottle to my left told me things were about to get a little less fun. He shuffled me around and I struggled to resist it, my energy not able to entangle my feet to the floor.
The jacket took the brunt of the attempted stabbing. A slight scratch through my sheen shirt was the only damage. Still, a small drop of my own crimson fell out, highlighted against the monochrome.
“Just who are you, Hunter?” He hissed at me, trying to manhandle me around as he gripped onto my forearms.
The truth was funnier left unsaid, but with my power going haywire… I wanted to play a little dangerously. Mostly to see what I was capable of. Make sure I wasn’t just delusional. See what rules I had to play by.
I pushed him away, slipping from his grip as demons approached from behind, the lioness to my left readying the broken bottle again.
“I’m the Last fuckin’ Lantern,” I growled, and dispersed the Balance within me.
The waves of divine and demonic energy crashed into each other. Empowering and fighting for control. I encouraged them to seek out every crack within me. The demons paused and looked at me with confusion on their faces.
Wings burst from my back, ruining another jacket. One bright white, the other pitch black. This was unstable, and I couldn’t let things go on too long. It wouldn’t take any time at all.
I raised my hand toward Jaghar.
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My head tilted as I regarded the rest of the demons in the room. “I suggest you leave if you value your existence.”
Turns out, all of them did. Pragmatic. If I had my revolver, then they wouldn’t have had that option. For demons, they were pretty blessed this day.
//Your energy is off the charts, Eric. Be careful.
I stepped over to the target and placed my hand on his fuzzy head.
“Yes.” No hesitation in his response. Not that I was expecting him to be my friend, or even a begrudging associate. It was enough for us both to know that we both wanted each other dead, and I was just stronger. Built for this.
Wight was on the second floor, almost at the first. I was annoyed I couldn’t click the trigger as soon as I got my answer—it was kind of a thing. With a sigh, I took his head and twisted it to the side with a loud crunch.
//Target neutralized.
“Is the other one still in the building?”
//Hold… confirmed. Target ground floor.
Wight would be there soon. Perhaps he could… no, I wanted the target for myself. Greedy.
I leaped into the air with a flap of my wings. My energy was starting to drain quickly now. I had to be careful I didn’t go too far or let one override the other. Putting energy into my feet, I dropped from the air and slammed into the floor, bursting through down to the next level.
It was a simple process to repeat the action again and again, my power draining in large chunks, and a couple of demons getting crushed from the falling Hunter and assorted debris.
Wight got to the clerk and retrieved our weaponry just as I landed on the first floor. The lights were now a pale white. Some kind of emergency alarm had been screeching in the background, but I had tuned it out. He stepped out through the curtain to see me and lobbed the weapon through the air for me to catch.
//Target to your back left, caution he has-
A shot rang out through the room, audible over the throbbing bass that continued in my head. That must be the target. Warmth pulsed through my chest, as I turned and slammed
//Target neutralized.
The light of the attack faded away as Wight’s cooling energy fell from my arm. Time to stabilize. Balance back up like a wall down my middle. Some of the energies had mixed, but by focusing, I filtered them back to their proper sides. The wings fell from my back and disintegrated. Lethargy sunk through my body as I became balanced once more.
[Here’s the knives. We need to get you back, Eric.]
“Why?” I asked, pain radiating through my chest as I spoke. More aches as I breathed. I holstered the revolver as the remaining panicked demons filtered out of the club. Stowed two knives, and then returned home.
I stepped through the portal back into the basement. Mission pretty successful, I’d say.
Rodney grimaced and was pale. “Are you okay, Eric? You’re shot. Plus the whole wings thing…”
I lifted my arm, which was unusually painful, as Wight pooled in beside me. The portal powered down, but I could see some of the light through my chest, which wasn’t usual.
[You are run through. Narrowly missed your heart.]
“Psh.” I stumbled slowly toward the recliner. “I’ve healed off worse, right?”
[Your form was imperfect. You need my help otherwise it is only temporary, and damaging.]
He crossed his feathered arms as I sat down, wincing and trying not to bleed on the chair. I wasn’t sure if he was admonishing me, or was perhaps jealous that I had all the fun while he was running errands.
“I apologize. It did feel… off.” I gave him a nod to let him know he was right.
[A shot through the heart might have killed you.]
Seemed reasonable. Heart and brain seemed like two things that I immediately used for my continued existence. Wight had stopped my head being opened previously, and this time I had let myself get shot, because… hubris? Was this the near-miss I needed to take things a little more seriously? Perhaps I had gotten away too easily.
Rodney rubbed his face, not wanting to look at the hole through my torso that was slowly healing. “Well, you hit two high-value targets, so not the worst overtime exercise.”
“Give me ten minutes and then we’ll go out somewhere else, right?” I furrowed my brow. It wasn’t warm down here, but I was unusually sweaty.
“Noooo.” The Blank shook his head. “I think that’s you done for the day. Right, Wight?”
[I agree with the Rodney. You need to purge the corruption smoke from your system before even thinking about going back to Hell.]
I slowly turned toward the closed door. “Do I need to go in the Time Out room?”
[Do you?]
My lips puckered as I considered the question. I had overexerted myself even if keeping my energy in check. Suffered near-fatal damage. Imbibed corruption-based drugs intentionally. Oh shit.
“Promise me you won’t tell Pearl about the whole drug thing,” I pleaded.
They exchanged glances.
“Okay, sure.”
[I can make no promises.]
Betrayal by my best friend. “Don’t make me fight you, Wight.” I narrowed my eyes and flexed my fingers. They ached, my knuckles bruised and grazed.
[You would lose.]
“Incorrect. You’re just scared.”
Wight stared at me impassively, and I glared right back at him. Perhaps I did need the Time Out room, if I was threatening my own pact demon. Maybe this was what I needed to squash my overconfidence. I relented to common sense, which apparently took longer to come back from Hell than the rest of me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it.”
Rodney awkwardly shuffled from his chair. “How about I go order us some food? You must be hungry?”
I nodded and turned back to my patron, who hadn’t budged. He waited until Rodney had moved up the stairs and into the main house before responding.
[One day I will be free of this pact, Eric. Think on that.]