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WP 075 - Demoic Mafia Mister Jones (Dark hero)

WP 075 - Demoic Mafia Mister Jones (Dark hero)

The blood-drenched the walls as I allowed the hallowed corpses to fall. Their heavy frames of bone and flesh simply fell with echoing thuds in the luxurious building.

I briefly pondered what the cleaning cost was going to be.

My body twitches as the lacerations I received began healing. The recovery was sped up by the pools of blood my bare feet stood in. My pores drank in the blood, filtering out the tainted blessings of Ishtar was deep.

The goddess gave the flesh a distinct smoky flavor that I had grown to enjoy.

I made my way forward as my body returned to its human form.

Say what you will of my descent into the bindings of Lilith, but her gifts were as great as a Goddess steeped in the excess of war.

The rich oak doors were unlocked, but I closed the door. Instead, I focused my innate magics and blew it open.

The exasperated face of Mister Jones stared back at me.

He was big, mean, and currently unhappy.

“You came,” the man said simply. His gravelly voice carried through the opulent room full of books, knickknacks, and a sky-high view of the city below.

“Well,” I began as I made my way in. “You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.”

Despite the fact that I had just walked through a pool of blood, my clean feet padded over the lush rugs in the room.

Mister Jones growled as he stood up. His seven and a half foot frame of muscle practically creaked as he strode over.

At nearly two feet shorter, I had to look up at him.

He threw the first punch.

Say what you will of Ishtar, but her blessings were amazing.

Ike Jones moved with the grace of a panther, the strength of a bear, and his muscles were like rubber. His skin was like the underbelly of a lobster. Strong and tough.

Against even heroes, he would have put up a decent fight.

Which meant that it was bad luck to have run into me.

My arms changed back to my blessed form. A demon that was half-human, half tentacle monster. A gift of one who worshiped the first woman.

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Against the physical body, I began to gouge out bits of the man. Little chunks took apart as one would dine at a steak house.

Thus it was to my surprise when Ike simply punched me hard enough to crash through the front wall and back into the bloody hallway.

I sat up, dazed, confused, and a little worried.

How many innocent people did Ike Jones kill to gain this much favor with the goddess of the mother goddess? A murderous mother goddess.

Well. If at first, you don’t succeed. Cheat.

I picked myself up, leaving a drier patch of carpet as my body happily drank in the cooling blood. It was sticky which made me shudder. Soon it would be fully cauterized and undrinkable to me.

I walked in, and Ike stood in the center of the room. His face was hideous as the warped face of one reveling in torture and murder stared at me.

Ishtar was someone I respected. Ultimately I denounced her, however.

Her power was great, but all I craved as communion and acceptance. Lilith offered that and my greatest regret was losing my family.

I raised my fists and Ike crossed his arms. The chunks he was missing were already healed. He was looking down on me.

I was definitely more of a lover, not really a fighter.

So I used the most ancient technique known to modern man.

One of my arm’s tentacles pulled out a gun I kept hidden behind my ribcage.

I wish I had a better magics, like spacial storage, but all I had was some neat body physics and a lot of zip-lock bags.

“Really!?” Ike asked as he sneered at my last attempt. He watched as I carefully unzipped and readied the gun.

I raised my snub-nosed revolver, clenched my teeth, and pulled the trigger.

BOOM!

I didn’t know what was louder. The gunfire, or the sudden fall of Ike Jones.

My skin ignited and I quickly smothered out the flames.

I looked over to see Ike breathing like a beached whale.

I moved over.

Ike was missing the top corner of his chest, and his severed left arm had crashed onto his desk.

The man was pale, shaking.

“Wha…?”

I nodded. I was incoherent the first time I got hit with a holy bullet as well. The triple blessed round was something that I would never forget for the rest of my life. Which made it an excellent double-edged sword for myself.

“Blessed rounds. Super deadly to our kind,” I said as I moved up and aimed at his head.

“Well, before you kill me…” Ike Jones said as he gave me a bloody smile. “Do you have any idea about the lengths that humans will go to in order to save a human life? Or avenge one?”

I stared at the man.

Ike Jones was mafia. A well-respected businessman in the middle class. He was known to be a good Samaritan and ran several well-loved businesses. Bars and restaurants across the city.

His philanthropy for the poor was also well regarded.

“The Allies of Justice already know about me,” I answered and Ike had a moment of confusion before I pulled the trigger and ended the conversation.

I absently patted out the rash of embers as the recoil of blessed lead touched me.

“They will most likely kill me one day, but hey, I am also a demon,” I finished as I pulled out the zip-lock and sealed away the gun.

I made my way over to the desk, where a tome of the dark arts was already opened. The various rituals of Ishtar were well recorded and I picked it up. The book was heavy as I made my way over to the large, tall windows to the city below.

This city of hope and dreams was already riddled with corruption and taint. Yet I smiled as I overlooked it.

I once despised the outside world… but my family healed me. Changed me.

I sighed as I watched the approaching shadows of the Allies of Justice.

They were going to yell at me again.