There was some irony in becoming somewhat of a betrayer myself. Of course, the original ones were conspiring against the mortal plane to bring ruin to reality as we knew it. I was just intent on murdering a couple of assholes because a powerful demon wanted me to. Not exactly a just cause, but who was going to stop me?

We paused and crouched down beside another building. Despite not being affected by corruption down here anymore, I was sweating and my heart pounded in my chest. This was potentially deadlier than many of my other delves against demon-kind, and I wasn’t exactly a nimble assassin.

Grumblings about my age aside, I had always preferred to kick down doors and go in, guns blazing. It fit the cliche, and we liked that kind of thing here.

Now, almost within earshot of our targets, I wondered what we were up against.

//Four pigmen in adjacent building. Next ahead has the three targets.

That did little to calm my nerves. Should I even be nervous? It was unlike me at this stage of the game. The Lowers were my playground, after all. Plus, it was still my birthday.

We edged closer along the back wall, thankful that the pigmen didn’t have any outside patrols. Slower now as we reached the edge of the building, taking in the terrible smells that soaked through the wooden planks. Something was wrong, however.

My right eye twitched as I felt disjointed from my powers. Like I couldn’t just march forward and blow the building to smithereens and then mop up the whole pigman town for good measure.

[There is a nullification field, how interesting.]

‘What does that even mean?’

[A neutral ground where abilities cannot be used.]

‘What… why?’

That didn’t only seem unfair, but also didn’t make a lot of sense. The Hells were for fighting and killing. I could only think of one reason why that would need to be put in place, and that was-

[So that Hunters may have a meeting without blowing each other's brains out.]

-that. If there was one thing a Demon Hunter hated more than demons, it was other Demon Hunters. This was a safe way for the three of them to have a little chat without the inevitable petty name-calling devolving into literal violence.

If anything, though, it just brought up further questions.

What could they be meeting about? Why do it in the Lowers in the middle of a pigman town? If I burst in there and it was a weird sex thing, then I would probably quit my job. Go freelance. Hmm, that had a nice ring to it.

‘We could go back and just attack from outside the bubble?’

[We couldn’t guarantee their demise.]

‘Does it disable return artefacts?’

[Yes, Eric.]

Our telepathy seemed to work just fine, but I could see the writing on the walls here. As an old man, they expected me to stroll in and brawl them to death. Keep them within the bubble so they couldn’t escape, or if the bubble went down, then we’d need to potentially Domain to ensure they didn’t run. If were to be honest with myself—which I always was—I didn’t fancy my chances in a knife fight. Knowing Frank, these might all be melee-focused Hunters and I was about to get my head pulped in going solo.

Well, not solo. I turned my eyes toward Wight. A test for our partnership, at least. Or perhaps we needed to think outside the box. It wouldn’t be a good idea to bring in the gang for this. Redd Death had too obvious a tie to me - and I didn’t want to leave my fingerprints over this.

But there was more than one way to skin a Hunter.

I knew this, because Partridge had described about half a dozen ways. Even had some pictures, which seemed like a breach of something. I guess that kind of thing didn’t really matter when you dealt with literal demons in literal Hell. It was a wonder I wasn’t any more messed up than I was.

Still, though. The enemy of my enemy was a brutish tool I could kill once the bigger threat had been erased. I was pretty sure that’s the saying went. Before I went to move, a muffled voice came from the next building.

“-ucking thing. Disrupted, maybe? Is it from the aura?” A deep male voice, complaining about their connection with the Org being severed, maybe? Was the Organization in on this?

“We’re not dropping the aura, dipshit.” Second was female and sounded impatient, or at least tired of the first voice’s complaints.

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“Enough. Regardless,” the third voice was deeper, calmer, “we need to get back to…” The sound trailed off as they changed rooms again.

I shrugged. Nothing about that changed what my plan was. I turned back around and slowly walked toward the alley.

//One hostile ahead.

Around the corner where we had murdered the two pigmen, there was now a third. Either trying to resuscitate or fornicate with the bodies. The latter was more likely. Revolver went up toward him as his sweaty face paled.

“I have something to trade for your life,” I said, a wide grin painting my face.

----------------------------------------

I stumbled, the gun hanging limply from my hand. Blood soaked through my shirt, sticking it to my skin. Sweat and grime over my face, I took the final steps to meet my destination.

My left hand went up, and I banged on the rough wooden door.

“Org sent me. Open up!”

Quiet at first, then the murmur of voices and shuffling feet. The door cracked to show a man of dark skin and warm amber eyes.

“They said they couldn’t contact you,” I continued, “and things are fucked.”

His eyes went over my current condition before out past me toward the town. Most likely to the several dozen pigmen making their way over here, weapons held high.

“Fuck,” he seethed, opening the door. “Get the fuck in. Did you bring them this way?”

“No?” I stumbled and holstered my gun. “They were already organizing. If anything, I did you a favor by killing some.” I raised an eyebrow at the other two.

Between the three of them, they looked quite the threat. The door-opener was clearly some manner of fantasy barbarian cliche, his muscled physique and rough leathers pairing with the axe strapped to his back. The woman had a long blonde ponytail, twin slim swords at her sides, and was wearing some kind of latex suit which looked like it would get uncomfortable and sweaty after three seconds in Hell.

The third was the man with a calm voice. “Who are you, and why are you here?” He wore a smart suit, had his hair trimmed to perfection, and sunglasses donned his tan face. On his right hand was a golden knuckle-duster engraved with the usual runes that would signify it was his pact weapon.

Three melee Hunters, as expected. A brawl in the house would leave me pretty dead.

“Eric,” I said, panting. “I was in the Org for other bullshit, and they said they had three goofballs in danger.”

“Danger?” The woman grimaced. “It looks like you’re the one who is in trouble.”

She meant my bloodied appearance rather than as a threat. It was mostly pigman blood, liberally applied - but I had cut myself a little to make it more believable.

“About twenty seconds before our location is compromised,” the axe-wielding Hunter said, “are we fighting or leaving?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m not going back to get chewed out by Partridge. Can you fight, Mr. Eric?”

“Boy howdy, can I.” My grin didn’t seem to worry them.

//Axe artefact is in right hip pouch. Swords a pin at the base of her ponytail. Knuckles is his sunglasses.

Looks like they were doing things the old-fashioned way. Rather nice that it was something Rodney could detect now. His growth with Passage was not to be discounted, even if it wasn’t so overtly explosive as my own power. Not only the detection, but being able to gain and speak true names. In some ways more powerful than what I could do, and a necessity as we went forward toward the Mids.

I wondered if the Org knew what he was capable of.

//I can… disable one of the artefacts. Your choice.

Wonders never ceased to amaze. I didn’t question it. Not enough time and we already had enough unexplained power in our little group. Reality was smoothing our path to the destined end. I'd need to sit him down once this was over and make sure he wasn't cheating somehow.

[In position.]

“Shame this place doesn’t have windows.” I shrugged apologetically as they drew their weapons.

“Nah, fuck this. I’m out when you drop the aura.” The barbarian shook his head. “Call me when you’re done dealing with pig shit.”

The woman scowled at him. “Fine. If you’re willing to get an earful for ditching us.”

“Partridge doesn’t scare me,” he grunted in return. While his right hand held his weapon, his left went to dig around in a pouch on his hip.

“Axe,” I began, gesturing toward him with my hand. “Sorry, I didn’t pick up your names. You can call me cowboy if you like. Org just said I was to help you, so I’ll defer to whether you want to fight or leave.”

I hoped Rodney got the hint, as clear as day as the correct option would be. The sound of pigmen feet across stone was close now. So was death, for at least one of us here.

Knuckles clicked his fingers. “Alright, Cowboy. Help us two finish off the pigs and then you can fuck off and tell the Org we’re fine.”

“Roger that.” I nodded and smiled.

Swords put her hand up to her head. “Aura going down in three.”

Axe stepped back away, so that Knuckles could stand nearer the door, ready to burst forth into the pigmen army I had gathered. Seemed all too easy. No, that wasn’t it.

It seemed all too enjoyable.

A simple plan that they had bought with little argument. The corners rounded off with all of our powers combined. We were a force so beyond them that they couldn’t understand us. I felt calm but fevered. Not corrupt, but my demonic energy was bubbling inside me. It craved the deception, the desire to kill these Hunters. Time to make an omelet.

They were a focused force once they had demons to contend with. As much as they needed the bubble to keep them from going at each other, the greater threat now took their focus over any violent squabble they could work up into.

“Down,” the woman said, lowering her hands.

In my head, a line went across the name on the list. Slowly and purposefully. A life gone, and for what? For two more to follow.

Axe hadn’t taken long to clock my deception, despite the brief confusion over not returning home. He was the first to act, while Knuckles looked back over his shoulder in shock. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes widened and then sprayed out across the inside of the building. Most of his brain and skull followed suit, as Wight had dropped down from the roof in front of him and pumped the shotgun.

The barbarian, however, had rushed me at a surprising speed. A glow of red following him like an afterimage as he slammed into me. His weapon came down, and I blocked it with the silver revolver, the force of his rushing attack pushing me out and through the wall of the building, into the alleyway.

As I regained my footing, he had followed me out, another attack behind his blazing eyes. Too fast for me to raise my weapon to fire, I settled for barely blocking it again, his strength still almost pinning my arm to the wall. Pigmen started clambering through the original house, some seeing us in the alleyway.

Fury in his eyes, he activated his patron's Domain.