No matter what happened, days would pass as long as you continued existing. Bad ones, good ones. Didn’t matter. You could stick to the track, or go off the rails—but you’d be going downhill either way. And what was at the end? I kept my eyes closed, ignoring the answer, even if it illuminated me from afar.

A wide grin spread across my face as I watched the demons enter. They had stubby snouts and dark horns that flowed backward across their scaled heads. A mixture of greens and reds, they looked part dragon. I wondered if they could breathe fire. My smiling muscles ached.

Points to the current patrons of the saloon for playing their parts. They kept to themselves and gave the impression that things were normal. The lead handful of targets made it up to the barkeep.

//Engage at will.

The three little words every Hunter loved to hear. Those that had Blanks helping them, and the introspective inclination… and weak grip on their sanity. Don’t ruin the mood now, Eric.

I gave a brief whistle to draw the attention of, hopefully, whichever one was the leader.

They turned toward me as the rest of their group finished filtering in from the amber light outside. All the rats in the trap. Although they each held a rasping disdain for my presence, one of them pushed forward to be their mouth. Slightly bulkier, he had patches of yellow scales across his otherwise ruddy hued skin.

“What do you want, Hunter?” He hissed, a forked tongue lapping into the air as he scowled at me.

“I’m just here sight-seeing. You’re blocking the nice view.” Hands under the table, I wiped the sweat off my palms along my slacks.

He tutted and, with a brief gesture, four lackeys accompanied him to approach our table.

“Perhaps you’d be more content if we took your eyes out?” He placed his hands on the table to lean toward us, his slit-pupils eyeing between me and Wight. The four behind him withdrew sharp knives.

I shrugged. He was probably the leader and had the most information. My eyebrow briefly raised toward my patron, and I could sense he understood. We’d have to leave him alive to extract what we needed. The rest? Expendable, if not purely here for my personal enjoyment. Selfish.

They didn’t seem to be able to sense the danger in the same way the rest of the demons here could. Shame. Almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

“Can’t stand this tension,” I said with a smile. “I apologize for being premature. It’s been a while since I’ve done this and I’m a little too excited.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you-“

Two shots underneath the table. I blew holes through his knees with my revolver. The beat had dropped, and it was now time to dance. I stood straight away and flipped the table, kicking it toward the four goons intending to move on me. Spun the revolver and pointed it toward the exit.

A glowing orb of white and red energy lobbed through the room before hitting the woodwork. Flash of light and explosion. Wood clattered down from the ruined wall, now painted with whatever internal parts those closest had in them up until that point.

Wight leaped over the prone leader to stab into the first stunned demon, his blade burying deep into their gut. As they lashed out in reflex, I blew their shoulder out with a shot. Sizzling flesh cratered out in a wide circle where I hit. That was new.

Now it was chaos once more. Third time was the charm, and the saloon became the host of the crimson frenzy that was an all out Eric the Brawler show. Every demon present now either wanted to escape, wanted a piece of me, or became content with beating the snot out of whoever was closest. Some days, I could understand that kind of rage.

As the rest of the targets turned to draw their various weapons against me, I railed a bright red beam straight through three of them—along with a couple of extras in the background. The light held in the air while they grunted and dodged away. One of them had caught it with his forehead.

The gun spun in the air as I filled it with energy before slipping it straight into my grip again. I understood it now. It wasn’t just demonic energy I was filling my death-dealer with, but a mix of that and the newly minted divine side of me. Destroy and scour the demons. Kill all demons.

Shot the next in the arm, then backed away to dodge the swing of an axe. Blew away their hand, bullet to the forearm, then to the head. Pearl’s dagger spun out from its sheath into my left hand to block a sword. Shot them in the gut and then slashed across their neck as they recoiled.

I felt calm. Some manner of practiced movements taking over. While I wasn’t especially proficient in melee combat, my revolver didn’t have much of a minimum engagement distance. The pigmen beside me wanted a slice of the action, pushing their own table away and turning to face me. I hated pigmen.

A foot-wide beam of crimson light illuminated the conflict as it cored a hole straight through the pair, along with a dozen other demons behind them. I was pretty sure Rodney had said that collateral was fine. It was a bit late to walk it back now.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

I blocked a punch with my forearm and Wight came in to stab the assailant in the side of the knee. My left slashed across their chest and then I shoulder barged them to the floor. My patron leaped atop him and finished him off.

With more athleticism than I was used to showing, I hopped onto a chair and then onto the bar counter itself.

//Eleven targets remaining.

Such a shame it had to end so early. I grinned. A cold feeling circled down my right arm as I flicked the revolver up. Black feathers fluttered along with the energy as Wight lent me additional power.

Ten beams of red light pulsed through the air, scouring holes through all the remaining demons, aside from the leader. Striking simultaneously, they each paused before the realization they were dead hit them, and they dropped to the floor.

“Alright!” I yelled out. “I’m done now. Everyone calm down.”

The revolver spun in my hand. Any demon not dead in the collateral paused their escape or current brawl. I could kill all demons, and part of me knew I wanted to. I’d rather just complete the Quest and get home, actually.

I hopped down from the counter, glad my ageing knees didn’t blow out and I’d die of embarrassment. Wight had his arms hooped under the shoulders of the leader demon as he dragged him from the debris toward me.

“That wasn’t too bad, huh?” I smiled.

[Are you talking to me, or the target?]

Although I didn’t think the dragonkin particularly enjoyed my warm-up, I was still open to hearing his thoughts on the display.

“Just kill me already, sick fuckin’ human.”

Not a fan, I guess. I pressed the barrel of the revolver under his chin. “I need answers and have no other commitments today. You want to save us both some time?”

“You’ll just kill me, whatever I do.” He snarled and tried to writhe away from Wight’s grip.

[Perhaps he is too smart.]

That was the worse kind of demon. I could only extract one answer from him and had no idea what the brief was anymore. Kill all demons and then… blah, blah. Perhaps the Org was right, and I was better for nothing but hammering in nails. My soft skills were… hmm.

“Can you give us a reason that I should let you live?”

He gnashed his jaws together. “I don’t trust you to uphold any bargain, Hunter.”

Pragmatic and valid. I had certainly gone back on a fair few brief deals with demons in my time in the Lowers. Seemed a bit mean of me, now that I thought about it. My eyes lifted to look around the saloon. They had gone back to ignoring me. As absurd as that was with the destroyed building around us, I still didn’t like being in such a place.

“Hey, Wight. I have an idea.”

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

The door closed, and the crocodile-demon put a bar across to secure it.

“Thanks… Grak’huk, was it?” I tipped my hat at my gang member.

“Yes, boss. Happy to help.” The wide grin across his face certainly gave credence to his statement.

“Anything we can do to help, boss?” The second demon cracked her knuckles and ran her tongue across her teeth.

They were both wearing loose approximations of my own garb. Redd Death, the gang I had somehow overtaken and renamed in a state of egotistical mania. Still pretty funny, though, even in the cold light of day. Or the lukewarm heat of Hell.

“You’re good, thanks Yerb’a.” I gave her a nod. While the Org had a dim view of Hunters consorting with demons, they could fuck right off. Oh, that came out of nowhere. I limbered out my shoulders. Just teething pains of getting back into it, I assured myself. Not the two powers within me lapping against the thin wall keeping them separated and me in once piece.

I turned my gaze to the dragonkin now tied to the chair. I had shot a small hole in the roof so that the overbearing amber light pooled down like a spotlight, perfect for interrogation. Each croc stood by one of the two doors leading out of this room in the small house we had acquired through emptying the brains of the previous occupant. Don’t worry, they were pretty evil. Probably.

“You know that torture-“ he began.

“Shh. I know.” I grunted and waved my hand. “This isn’t our first rodeo. If you wear out my patience, then…”

Adrenaline had worn off now, and I felt more tired than I should be. I had come out of the fight unscathed, aside from a scratch along my leather jacket. It’d buff out, maybe. Pearl had already filled out a closet with spares, given how often I went through them. It wasn’t corruption wearing on me, though. I didn’t feel warm or crazy, as such.

If anything, I felt cold. Bored.

Wight sat on a chair over at the side and swung his little legs back and forward. Dagger in his hands, his impassive glare at the offending demon didn’t give much away with how he felt. I could always ask… but I was on the clock.

“Rods, what info did we need?”

I held my hand to my ear as if I was on a call—as if that would make more sense to the demons that me just talking to the air.

//Investigate cargo. Then where it’s going, and why.

It must be something interesting enough for the Org to intervene—but then again—if they didn’t know what, where, and why, then I was slightly confused as to why this was even a target. They knew the who and how.

“Alright, uh… what’s your name, bud?” I grabbed another chair and pulled it across the floor to sit in front of him, holstering my revolver along the way.

“Rot in-“

“I’m giving you a chance, numb-nuts. I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”

He worked his jaw, eyes darting between each of the occupants. Unsure of the process. “Not going to good-cop, bad-cop me either?”

I raised an eyebrow to Wight, and he shook his head in return.

“Not today,” I said with a smile. “That’s a little too cliche.”

“Hoff. That’s my name.” He lowered his eyes to the floor.

“Hoff,” I repeated. “I’m going to be honest with you. It's fifty-fifty that I'll kill you. I do have a reputation to uphold…” my hand tapped against my pact weapon. “But I am also not without mercy.” I then gestured to my two gang members.

“I’m just a convoy lead. Logistics.” He continued to look at the floor.

Logistics were good, but the question was what for? “I have a skill that can extract the truth, but using it makes building trust difficult.” Not half because I pulled the trigger straight afterwards on reflex.

No response. There was someone in his mind holding his mouth closed.

Wight said nothing. Happy for me to take the lead and see where I was going with this. Possibly about to make a mistake, but I had the ego to believe I was capable of anything now. After breaking myself following the rules for so long, it was time to write my own.

“Hoff, I’m offering you a place under the protection of Redd Death. You may join them if you offer up the truth without holding anything back.” All or nothing. Pay the piper.

The demon looked up between me and the two crocs.

“Could use a good driver,” Yerb’a murmured to herself.

I raised an eyebrow as the weight of the choice sunk into him. “I just need to know what, where, and why.”

Hoff’s jaw was clenched tightly as he stared me down. Demons barely trusted each other down in the Lowers. A Demon Hunter was way off the chart. Wight hopped off of his chair and padded over beside him. I watched as my patron whispered something into his ear.

He moved back away and crossed his arms. Hoff exhaled and closed his eyes.

“They are corruption bombs, being prepared to be taken to the mortal plane.”