Writers: Rob
Characters: Eric, Vinnie, mentions Kel
When: Day 2 Midmorning
Location: Mortal Plane, The Gates of Purgatory
He’d been warned.
He knew all about the danger when he accepted the job: He could, at any time, be attacked, shot at, mangld or even worse. And some of it had happened. Some had not yet happened. And, Paulo had made sure that some of it *would not* happen.
~Amazing what the application of a slight amount of pressure can do.~ he thought to himself, sitting back in the seat of his employer’s car. Over the past seven months, there had been twelve attempts on her life, all of which were foiled by outmaneuvering, outsmarting or out-shooting the assailants as the capture/kill attempts occurred. Not to mention the pure, dumb luck factor that occasionally crept into the equation.
He inserted the key into the ignition, smiling at a job well done. ~It’s Miller time...~
The resounding ‘click’ from the ignition told him otherwise. In that split second, he knew that relaxing his guard, his assumption that he was safe, had killed him. His life flashed before his eyes, a rapid re-run of victories and mistakes.
The car bucked and roared, propelled by the bomb nestled in the undercarriage. The Mercedes sedan flipped into the air with a spectacular pirouette, to land on the roof of its neighbor. There was a moment of nauseating vertigo, a brief, searing pain before a bright orange flash yanked him from consciousness to darkness...
***********
Eric awoke with a cloud of smoke clawing at his lungs. We batted at the thick atmosphere around him, trying to clear enough away for a clean breath before coughing. His lungs racked his chest in heaving spasms they desperately attempted to exchange the sooty smoke for cleaner air.
“Well. That was an *interesting* entrance...”
Looking up from where he was sitting, Eric muttered something indecipherable. The small man leaning over the large desk was impeccably dressed in a black suit, a white shirt and neatly knotted black tie. He smirked at his newest arrival as the smoke rose and drifted away into the darkness.
Eric stood as gracefully as he could, given the situation, and brushed the non-existent dirt from his black slacks. “Vinnie. A pleasure to see you – assuming I’m dead, and not hallucinating.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.” Vinnie laid out paperwork, a small rectangular card, and gestured at the screen positioned on the desk. “If you’ll read these documents, and place your hand here acknowledging them, we can get you on your way...”
“Mmm.” Unwilling to comment further, Eric ignored the papers on the desk, instead placing his palm on the screen. It beeped at him, acknowledging his presence and registration. He nodded at Vinnie, gathering the small credit card and tapping it on the desk before striding towards the Gates of Purgatory.
As he watched the massive silver gates swing open, a line from Shakespeare rang through his mind. ~Once more into the gap, dear
friends...~
He strode into the massive hallway of flashing screens and milling souls that was the Depot with a small smile on his face. As he wove through the majority of lost, confused souls, he noticed a face that brought memories cascading down in an avalanche of emotion.
Kel.
Writers: Rob, Barb
Date: Day 2, afternoon
Characters: Eric, Kel
Location: The Depot
Kel left Gus in the park and started back toward the Council when his Guidewatch went off. He glanced at it, pressed a few buttons, and then used it to contact Lily and tell her he'd be late. Changing direction, he walked quickly to Turnkey Park and stepped inside one of the booths. "The Depot," he said, and the reality outside the booth faded and swirled in a thick white mist, reforming itself moments later into the congested Depot.
There were people everywhere - hundreds, thousands. Kel checked the watch again and looked around. It would lead him to the soul he was looking for; sort of like playing "hot and cold". He walked slowly through the crowd (you're getting warmer, warmer, nope, colder), changed direction, (warmer), and kept moving. For a moment he felt a prickling on the back of his neck and he stopped, looking around. People were walking back and forth, but for just a second they cleared and he thought he saw Eric.
Surely not.
The crowds closed in again and he lost him. Looking at the watch he consulted the files, the blood draining from his face as he scrolled through the list of recent arrivals. It had been Eric. Kel stood stock still, completely at a loss, his mind whirling. It certainly was old home week - first Theresa, and now Eric. The first was a welcome surprise, and Kel wasn't so naive as to think the second would be welcome. Surprise, yes, but welcome, hardly.
He stayed where he was; looking in the direction he'd seen his old friend. When the crowds parted again, Eric was still standing there. Kel kept his eyes on him and walked forward until they were standing only a few feet apart. The masses encircled them, giving them the privacy you can only get in a crowd. He struggled to keep his voice even. "Eric."
Eric acknowledged him with the slightest of nods. "Kel. How are you?"
The pleasant tone of Eric's voice belied the cold stillness of his face. Kel wasn't fooled - it was a face he knew as well as his own. What surprised him was the icy control his old friend had picked up. "I'm well."
The silence spun out between them until finally Eric said, "Is there something I can help you with?"
Kel realized he'd been staring and tried to shake it off. He was having a difficult time reconciling what he saw now with what existed in his memory. "No, I suppose not. It's been a long time, Eric."
"Yes, it has. Apparently, someone felt I needed the time – and that some lessons are harder to learn that others."
Kel winced slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm just surprised to see you." For just a second the rigid control on Eric's face slipped, showing Kel a menace that backed him up a step. The temperature seemed to drop around the pair, and the milling crowds gave them a wider berth, as if they knew something bad was happening.
Eric’s hands appeared out of his pockets. They flexed once, and then hung loosely at his side, ready for action. "So what are you saying, Kel? Did you expect me to show up here with a pair of bat wings and a pitchfork?"
"No, no, that's not what I meant..."
Drawing a deep breath, Eric’s face slid back into the smooth lines of a marble statue. “Look, Kel. You made your decision, regardless of the price it may have cost to others.”
The emphasis on ‘others’ was so slight that no one else would have noticed it - but Kel knew exactly what they were so carefully not talking about.
"You're right," was all Kel could say.
Eric gestured to the Guidewatch on Kel’s wrist. “Obviously, Grace approved of the decision – and you got what you wanted. But I didn’t, did I...” his voice trailed off to a whisper, and he swallowed.
"You know that's not how it works," Kel said. "But I'm sorry you feel that way. Trinity..."
There was no change on Eric’s face except a slight narrowing of the eyes. “I’ll thank you to not mention that name around me. Ever. Again.” The loose hands now clenched into fists.
Kel put his hand out, thinking to comfort Eric in some way, but Eric stuffed his hands into his trench coat pockets. He saw a shiver flowed through the other man, from head to foot, and Kel dropped his arm back to his side, saying nothing. He simply didn't have the words.
Eric looked down at the ground near Kel’s feet. “Why are you here, Kel?”
"Retrieval," Kel said, and then stepped closer to Eric in spite of the chill that seemed to surround him. "Look - you're here and I'm here, and there is nothing we can do about that. But I want you to know that Lily would want to see you. Knowing you're here will make her happy, and I won't let our differences influence that. I hope you'll do the same."
Eric’s head tilted slightly as he gazed at Kel. “Perhaps I’ll do that. If you’ll excuse me, then – I have some business I need to look after.”
Kel stepped back and bowed slightly, never taking his eyes from Eric's face. "Until we meet again," he said formally, then turned away and disappeared into the crowds moving toward the Depot.
Writers: Rob
Characters: Eric
When: Day 2 Midafternoon
Location: The Street in Purgatory
He’d walked blindly away from Turnkey park almost blindly, not even bothering to avoid people. His steps were staggering, almost as if he were drunk, stoned or sick – which wasn’t far from the truth of what he felt inside.
He hadn’t hurt this bad since, since... that time. He couldn’t even think about it – Kel had unknowingly torn the bandage away from the gaping wound in his heart. A wound that, after nearly millennia in the Mortal plane, was still as fresh as that day.
Eric slowed to a halt, and half-fell onto a decorative bench near a small grove of trees. ~Control.~ He thought, breathing deeply in and out. Maintaining focus, being in command of his emotions was something he’d worked hard at over the ages, both in Purgatory and the brief stops in the Mortal Plane. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked well overall.
~I thought it would be gone by now. All the feelings, the pain, the anger, the damage... but it feels like standing in front of the Hunter’s Tribunal was only yesterday.~ Eric swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, and pushed himself back up to his feet. Drawing in one last, deep breath, he exhaled and relaxed his shoulders while tightening his mind’s grip on his emotions. He continued on down the street, finally at grips with his traitorous, emotional heart. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was that emotions were more often the fastest path to betrayal, loss and pain.
Eric relished the feeling of being in control of his body and mind, wielding them as a master swordsman would. Walking the last few blocks to the Hunter’s Portal, he paused before entering, denying the emotions he felt inside, the anger and pain invoked just by seeing the building. Seeing led to remembering, and those memories were not worth remembering. Reveling in the icy calm he’d established, Eric slipped through the doors and into the foyer of the building and made his way to the front desk.
He recognized the faces there, but couldn’t place the names to them. “Good morning. I’ve just returned from a reincarnation, and I need to be registered.”
“Congratulations.” The voice was flat, containing neither sarcasm nor pleasure. “Name, please?”
“Eric.”
The look on the woman’s face flashed by briefly, but it was there long enough for him to know that he was remembered. Not what he’d hoped for, but not unexpected, either. She handed him a bundle of forms inside a folder. “Proceed down the hallway to the third door. Sit at the scanner. When all forms are completed, return them to the front desk, and you will be directed from that point.”
Eric nodded, and took the forms to the indicated room. Sitting down, he carefully examined each form. As with any organization, the longer it’s existence, the more paperwork it seemed to generate. Each had it’s own official name, including the Acceptance of Duties Stipulation, the Corporeal Form Liability Waiver, Locker Assignments, Partner Matching Series, the Resuming Partnership Agreement, the Acknowledgement of Rules & Regulations for Hunters and, most importantly, the Re-Activation Contract with the accompanying Karma Exemption Rider, the Reincarnation Abdicating Authority, which allowed him to resume his duties as a Hunter. Eric recognized them all, and the derisive nickname for each one. Despite the familiarity, he carefully read each one before placing both the form and his palm on the karma scanner, signing it with his unique soul imprint.
Hours passed quickly as Eric worked his way through the re-admittance protocols, eating up the rest of the afternoon. The last form, titled “Re-Activation Addendum”, stated he must wait a minimum of a week before Hunting.
Reluctantly, Eric signed the Addendum. On one hand, he desired nothing more than to get back ‘into the groove’, so to speak. On the other hand, it would give him time to obtain a residence, clothing, furnishings, and even get reacquainted with Purgatory and it’s population.
Once finished, Eric dropped the stack of forms on the desk. The woman rifled through all the forms, and then eyed him suspiciously. “You realize that, due to your, ah... past, you may have to return to the Portal for additional review.” She steeled her expression, awaiting the blast of anger she was sure would be raining down.
“Certainly.” Eric commented quietly, tucking his hands into the pockets of the ankle length overcoat. “Will there be anything else for today?”
A negative shake of the head produced a slight smile from him. “Very well. Thank you, ma’am.” He turned and exited the building, back out onto the Street.
Pausing for a moment, Eric ran his hands through his hair, gathering it at the nape of the neck and securing it with a black band matching his hair color while he collected his train of thought. He regarded an empty spot of air, he announced, “Angel, I need help...”
Writers: Rob
Characters: Eric, Dannon
When: Day 2 Late afternoon to evening
Location: The Street in Purgatory
Despite the fact that it was a storage facility, Eternally Yours looked like
every other pawn shop he'd ever seen on the Mortal Plane. Not to mention
Alice, the owner, was like every other pawnbroker he'd ever known. Greedy,
lazy, suspicious of everything except money – only Grace knew why she hadn't
been shuffled off someplace warm...
Eric stopped in front of the barred glass windows. Merchandise displayed in
them was either pawned by unfortunate souls trying desperately to get
themselves out of trouble, or souls who had left items and had failed to
retrieve them in the specified amount of time. He'd been fortunate enough to
pay for an open contract - it meant that the few things he'd wanted to keep
would still be here, regardless of how much time may or may not have passed.
~At least, it'd *better* be there~ He growled in his mind.
Bells jangled harshly, chiming out the arrival of another patron, another
sucker down on his or her luck. Behind the glass-fronted counter, a heavyset
woman wearing garish makeup and a completely unformed dress that looked more
like a tent-sized beach towel dress sat, reading a paperback book. "Yeah?"
she grunted, not even bothering to look up from the page she was reading.
Eric laid his credits card down on the counter. "I'm here to collect some
items, please."
Alice glanced briefly at him, scowling. "You know where yer stuff is, Hunter
- gwan."
Eric blinked slowly at her, almost closing his eyes. "Alice. I'm here to
collect my sword. It's in the safe - right?"
"Yeah." She huffed, disgruntled at having to be removed from her perch. Eric
followed her as she waddled down the aisle and into a back room. There, set
in pure bedrock, was a bank vault that would've harkened from around the
1920's - cast iron steel with a rough finish and an old-fashioned spin
combination dial. The image was for show - the combination was keyed to
Alice’s essence only, thus guaranteeing she maintained power over its
contents. With a grunt, she tugged the massive door open.
Eric stepped inside the narrow hallway formed by locked drawers on either
side of the center aisle. As he neared the end, he stopped and studied the
drawers. Kneeling, Eric placed his fingers on the identification pad,
causing the drawer to click and open slightly. He pulled it open, and
withdrew a parcel wrapped in black satin. Gingerly, he unwrapped one end,
exposing the handle of a sword resting in its sheath. Eric slid the blade
slightly out of the scabbard, and ran a finger across the metal. He smiled,
looking nothing more than a father with a newborn child.
Satisfied, Eric re-wrapped the weapon. He picked up a box made of glossy,
golden wood, and then closed the drawer again. As he stepped out of the
vault, Alice regarded him disapprovingly. “Well? You got all the crap you
wanted?”
Eric regarded the heavyset woman for a moment before speaking. “Yes, Alice,
I have retrieved my possessions. You may close the door now.” He watched as
the door groaned shut, and locked itself with a series of clicks and whirs
before speaking again. “Alice, I am grateful for the degree in which you
have kept my possessions. I shall continue the contract between us for yet a
while longer.”
The woman spluttered as if he’d thrown a glass of water in her face. “B-but,
that costs me *money*!” She exclaimed, waving her hands in front of her.
“I’ll leave my other household furnishings with you until I have a more
permanent residence.” He opened the door, and then paused to look back at
the near-hysterical shopkeeper. “Good day, Alice.”
The screams of invective she hurled at him faded as the door closed behind
him. Eric hefted the sword and the box into a more comfortable carrying
position, and then strode down the street towards Turnkey Park.
A short walk later led him to his goal: Your Best Shot. As Eric approached,
he could see a young man pulling the door shut and locking it with an old
fashioned key. He cleared his throat, and asked, “I assume you are closing.
Correct?”
The man whirled around, one arm extended, the other one drawn back to his
chest. “Holy... Gods, you nearly scared me to death!” He paused, then
relaxed from his stance. “Yeah, we’re closed – not a whole lot of practice
going on tonight.” The young man held out a hand “I’m Dannon, by the way.”
“Eric.” He grasped the extended hand. Callused and slightly rough – not the
hands of a mere store clerk.
“Haven’t seen you before, Eric.”
The comment drew a small, wry grin. “Just got back from a rather long
journey, I’m afraid.”
“Ah. Well, I’m on my way to Jack’s, and I hate to eat alone; care to join
me?”
Eric started to turn the offer down, but then realized he hadn’t eaten all
day. Besides – his old ‘friend’ wasn’t, anymore, and he doubted he’d receive
as warm a welcome from other people he used to know. “Thank you, Dannon –
I’d be happy to eat dinner with you.”
*****
The two men sat in the booth against the wall, close enough to walk to the
bar, but far enough away to hear each other. “So – how long have you been
gone?” Dannon inquired, sipping at the mug of beer in front of him.
“A little over a thousand years.” Eric smirked as Dannon spluttered foam
onto the table.
“Bullshit!” He studied Eric’s face for a moment, and then asked “Really?
How’d *that* happen?”
The smirk fell from Eric’s face. “Long story.” Fortunately, Dannon caught
the hint, and said nothing. Both were appreciative for the interruption of a
waitress showing up to take their order. She set a large pint mug filled
with thick, black beer in front of Eric. “Compliments of the house, sir. May
I take your order?”
Eric turned to see Jack behind the oval bar. Jack waved at him, and he
raised the beer mug in acknowledgement. Dannon grinned as he watched the
whole ceremony. “Well. Being with you is proving interesting so far, Eric.”
Both men ordered their food, and returned to the conversation at hand.
Eric sipped at the glass. It was, true enough, Guinness ale – one of the few
worthwhile items of the Mortal Plane. Eric smiled ruefully at the glass; it
was both a ‘welcome home’ present and an acknowledgement of where Eric had
just arrived from.
“Do you mind if I ask another nosy question?”
Eric looked at his companion, and then waved a hand. “Go right ahead – but I
may not answer.”
Dannon grinned, and gestured to the package next to Eric. “Is that a sword
you have wrapped in there?”
Eric raised his brows in surprise. “Yeah, it is. How did you know?”
Dannon’s grin broke into an ear-to-ear smile. “Oh. Well, yeah, I guess you
wouldn’t know, would’ja. I’m the weapons expert for Your Best Shot – that’s
why I work there.”
“Ah-ha. Well, that would explain it.” Eric gently unwrapped the sword and
scabbard, then laid them on the table. “Go ahead.”
Dannon’s smile was that of a kid in a toy store. He began to draw the blade
from its scabbard, then frowned and dropped it on the table. “It shocked me!
There shouldn’t be any static electricity on that kind of scabbard.”
Eric frowned. “Hmmm. I don’t know why that would occur....” he lied, lifting
the sword and holding the blade up for him to see. Overall, it was as long
as a man's arm, with the shape of the blade was narrow at the hilt, and
widened slightly at the belly. The point was cut into a chiseled tip. There
was a second, smaller blade parallel to the first, seeming to flow out from
just before the middle of the larger blade with only a small space between
it and the larger blade. The guard was a single bar that swept from the hilt
down past the lengthy grip itself, forming a blocking basket to protect the
wielder’s hand and the grip, leather covering the tang, was wrapped in
silvery wire. Overall the weapon glinted a dark grey, producing a menacing
air to it.
“It’s a *very* interesting piece of work, Eric – where did you get it?”
Eric resheathed the blade carefully, and re-wrapped the scabbard and hilt in
the black satin. “Another long story – one which I will tell you, someday.”
Dannon leaned back in the booth as the food was placed in front of him. No
sooner than the waitress smiled and left than Dannon’s gaze shifted from the
sword to Eric. “You’re a Hunter, aren’t you?”
It was Eric’s turn to splutter in his beer while Dannon laughed. Cleaning
his chin with a napkin, Eric smirked at his laughing cohort. “It’s that
obvious, huh?”
Dannon wiped the tears from his eyes. “Ah, yeah – but do all Hunter’s snort
beer out their nose as well as you do?”
*****
The two men laughed and talked through the night, each telling tales and
stories of weapons, women, reincarnation, bar jokes and war stories. Even
though Dannon’s specialty was in projectile weapons, Eric felt him a kindred
spirit, a brother warrior, and was thankful to find a new friend in this
plane.
Dannon blearily eyed the bottom of his beer glass. “I thin’ I dran’ too
much. How many’ve I had, Eric?”
“F’rteen. F’fteen. Lost count.” Eric muttered around his last mouthful of
steak.
“Bullshit!”
“OK – Uh, you’ve had six. Don’t worry – I planned to walk you home after
number four.”
“Welllll, I guess’d better get goin’, y’know?”
Eric nodded, and helped Dannon to his feet. Though under the influence, both
men were steady on their feet. Eric paid the tab, and the pair headed out
the door.
“S’where you stayin’ Eric?”
Eric opened his mouth, then closed it with a ‘clop’. “Y’know, I hadn’t
really thought of it. It’s my first day back. I’ll find someplace to crash,
I’m sure.”
Dannon chuckled. “Naw –y’kin stay w’ me. I’ve got a decen’-sized place above
Molly’s, and an extra bed, too.”
Eric regarded Dannon’s frank, open friendliness suspiciously. Dannon
returned the semi-glare with a cheery smile. Finally, Eric nodded. “Thank
you. I appreciate it, Dannon.”
“N’problem, m’man. Glad to help. ‘Sides – there it is.”
Dannon led Eric around the back of the restaurant and up a set of steps to
the door of the apartment. Opening the door and turning on the lights
displayed a small kitchen with a peninsula separating a four chair dining
room. Ahead of the dining room, Eric could see what he assumed was a living
room, and a hallway that led off to the left. Dannon showed him the
bathroom, Eric’s room and his room, all of which were small but sufficient
for a bachelor. Dannon fussed a bit over the bed in the room until Eric
shooed him out. Minutes later, he could hear soft, rasping snoring from
Dannon’s room.
Eric shed his coat, shirt, shoes and socks, then knelt down on the floor. He
rubbed his hands on the wood, feeling the minute vibrations that moved
through them. Opening his mind, Eric began to meditate, listening to the
sounds of the restaurant, the street. He could feel souls moving around the
area – demons, Ascended, and people with karma leaning this way and that.
One by one, he shut them out, as if closing the windows that let them in,
until all was quiet.
Drawing in a deep breath, Eric let it escape his lips in a deep sigh.
Already, He’d seen the man who he called brother, the man who betrayed him,
and a man to whom he may even be able to stand close to in days to come. He
had his sword, his mind, and soon, his life, back in place.
And all in one day.
Writers: Rob, Barb
Characters: Eric, Theresa, Lily, Molly
When: Day 3, early morning
Location: Molly's Tavern
Eric arose from his bed later than he’d wanted to – apparently, he was more
tired than he thought. Dannon was still snoring slightly, one arm flung over
his eyes against the infiltrating morning light. Since Dannon been kind
enough to offer him a room, Eric decided to get breakfast ready for the both
of them.
He began his morning routine of stretching and calisthenics quietly,
followed by a brief hot shower. He tugged on the black slacks, T-shirt and
shoes he’d worn yesterday, and headed down the stairs to begin his mealtime
scavenger hunt.
The morning crowd was fairly quiet – mostly murmured conversations here and
there. As he approached the counter, he nodded to Molly, the owner. The
squeal of delight caught him off-guard, and Eric nearly dropped the woman
who launched herself in his arms, laughing and crying at the same time.
"Eric! Oh thank Grace!"
“Lily?” Eric held the woman at arm’s length. “By all that’s Holy! Am I
*ever* glad to see your face.” Eric seized her into a bear hug, squeezing
her against his chest.
"Not nearly as happy as I am to see you," Lily said, her smile blinding and
her eyes bright with unshed tears. "When did you get here? Do you have a
place to stay?"
“Yesterday. I was fortunate enough to meet a someone who was a Samaritan –
and his apartment is above Molly’s restaurant.”
"Lucky you," she said, hooking her arm through his and leading him through
the tables to the counter. She stopped halfway there to hug him again. "I
just can't believe you're finally here!" she laughed, then tugged him to the
counter. "Molly, Theresa, look who's here!" She kept an arm wrapped around
his waist, beaming at her two closest friends.
Eric smiled warmly at Molly. “Hi, Molly."
Molly floated through the counter and hovered in front of Eric. Her comely
face was a wreath of smiles as she looked at him. "As I live and
breathe...well, not really." Her laughter boomed out across the room. She
went solid for a moment and hugged him to her considerable bosom. "It's
good to see you again, darlin'."
"How’s business?”
"Fine and well, my lad, fine and well," she said, going transparent again
and floating back behind the bar. "I've missed seeing your face in my
tavern these many years, luv, and here you are, turned up like a bad penny
and still handsome as ever. If I wasn't a ghost I'd..."
Eric’s grin turned sly, and he winked at Molly. “Hell, Mol, if *you* weren’t
a ghost, we just might.” Both laughed at the old joke between them.
Theresa watched the warm camaraderie with thinly veiled disgust. She knew
him, just as she knew she was the only person at this impromptu welcoming
party who wasn't happy to see him. When he finally turned to her, she
didn't try to hide it. Her eyes were glittering coldness as she looked at
him.
Eric nodded at Theresa, still in her seat. “Theresa.”
She knew he was feigning politeness for Lily's sake, and that infuriated
her. "What the Hell do you think you're doing here, you worthless piece
of...?"
"Theresa!" Lily said, appalled. Molly saw which way the wind was blowing
and took the opportunity to evaporate completely. She had a strict policy
of non-interference.
Eric gave Lily another hug around the shoulders. “It’s OK, Lily. Theresa
feels she has a reason to speak to me so.”
While Lily cast around for a diplomatic way to save the rapidly
deteriorating situation, Theresa rounded on her. "I can't believe you'd
welcome him back like nothing happened, Lily. As if anything about him is
the same as before."
"Everyone has their own path to follow, Theresa," Lily said finally, "and
some are harder than most."
Theresa turned back to Eric. "And was it hard? Do you even remember what
you did? What nearly happened?"
Eric’s smile fell, as did the temperature around the group. His face,
frozen, displayed absolutely no emotion. “Yes. But my loyalties are still
intact, Theresa.”
"And which of those would that be, Eric? Your loyalty to the forked tongue
crowd? Because I seem to remember that's what almost got my brother
killed," she said, sliding off the stool and moving to stand toe to toe with
him. While Lily was over a foot shorter than Eric, he had only a few inches
on Theresa. "Don't you dare lecture me about loyalty. You don't even know
the meaning of the word."
Eric merely studied the woman. Even in the midst of a fuming rage, she was
still an absolute knockout. He breathed deeply, then sighed, letting the
pain of her verbal assault flow off of him as water on the cliffs. “Theresa.
While I will admit to mistakes, Grace has been true to her name – she has
given me a second chance. And believe me – there will be *no* room allowed
for *any* mistake.” Even though his voice was soft, the tone mock pleasant,
there was a steel in its background, one ground from purified discipline and
focus.
"Then Grace has given you more than I'm willing to. Lucky you," she said,
mimicking Lily. She turned and grabbed her jacket off the stool. "I'm
sorry, Lily, but if I stay here one more moment I'm going to lose Molly's
fabulous pancakes right here on the bar. Stay away from me, Eric," she
warned, "for I'm nowhere near as forgiving as my brother."
“We all have Vices to work through, don’t we?” Eric watched her spin on a
heel, throwing the jacket over a shoulder. He sighed, and closed his eyes,
refusing to feel the pain that welled up deep inside.
Lily turned to Eric as Theresa stalked out of the tavern, her eyes full of
sympathy for the both of them. She laid a hand on Eric's arm. "Give her
some time, she'll come around. You just have to understand that her anger
comes from a place of hurt, not hate. But I'm sorry if she upset you. Come
sit with me while I finish my breakfast and Molly will get you whatever you
need." She ran her hand along the hair on his forehead, brushing it back
gently. "I'm so glad you're here."
Eric sat in the still-warm chair where Theresa had been sitting. “Thanks. I
originally came down to get a take –out breakfast for Dannon and myself, but
since he’s still asleep, I’ll just take something up to him later.”
Lily smiled at him, and this time it was genuine. "Dannon. He's a
character. Last year he accidentally shot someone. You remember how there
used to be windows on the front of Your Best Shot? He was showing a new
hunter how to load a repeating crossbow at the counter and it got away from
him. The bolt went right through the plate glass and embedded itself in the
rear end of some poor soul walking by." She laughed merrily, her mood
lighter now that the level of animosity in the room was lowered. "It wasn't
the first time either - but it was the last. After that they took all the
glass out."
Eric chuckled. “Wise choice, I’m sure.” He looked about the restaurant, eyes
searching. “Do you know where Molly is?”
Molly reappeared behind the counter, and Lily glared at her. "Scardy-cat."
"Smarty pants." The spectre looked at Eric. "What can I get you, luv?"
Eric turned to Molly. “Two pancakes, two eggs over medium, two sausage, two
bacon. And a *very* large cup of orange juice. And I will adore you for the
rest of my days if you could also lay your hands on a double bag, large cup
of Irish Breakfast Tea, m’love.”
"You'll adore me anyway," Molly said with a wink, "but you should know there
is nothing I can't get my hands on."
"And she means that in the worst possible way," Lily said. "Holy cow, Eric,
all that food? When was the last time you ate?"
Eric chuckled. “It was called a ‘Grand Slam’ on the Mortal Plane, if I
recall correctly.”
Lily burst out laughing. "And when you eat it, will it break your nose?"
Eric started. “Excuse me? I don’t follow.” It was a weird question – and it
caused an extreme discomfort in the back of his mind, almost as if bugs were
skittering across his cortex. He had the strangest sense of déjà vu, but
couldn’t remember where or why.
"It's nothing, I'm just babbling," Lily said slowly.
As the food appeared, Eric suddenly lost his appetite. “Looks great, Mol,
but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll be heading out.”
Molly looked at him suspiciously. "Aye, it's been a thousand years, give or
take, but I've never known you to turn down a meal, darlin'. What's wrong?"
Eric flashed a smile meant to comfort. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in
Purgatory – I’m feeling strange, like I’m pushing too hard. I imagine a
little more rest will set me right.”
"Well, alright," Molly said. "I'll put this up for you and I've Dannon's
standard order waiting for him anyway." She removed the food and
disappeared, only to reappear seconds later with it neatly bundled and
bagged.
“Thank you, Madam.” He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across Lily’s brow.
“Thank you for the warm welcome, Lily. I’d thought, for a moment, that
*everyone* would feel like Theresa.”
"Well, you know how..." Lily trailed off. No, he probably didn't know how
Theresa was. Not yet anyway. "It'll be fine, sweetie." She laid a
comforting hand on his cheek. "These things have a way of working out."
Eric smiled and winked at her. “I’ll see you sooner or later – bye!”
He disappeared out the door, bag in hand.
Writers: Rob, Barb
Characters: Eric, Lily, Molly
When: Day 3, morning
Location: Outside Molly McGuire's
Eric stepped out of Molly's into the early morning fog and swayed on his
feet. The street lanterns were still glowing, their three-globed forms
marching down the Street in a way that was making him dizzy. Like a
stalking beast the rumble grew in his head, until it burst before his eyes
in a cascade of color. The mist surrounding the lantern globes wavered and
blurred, and he stumbled against the side of the building, gasping for
breath, trying to get a grip on his thoughts.
Pushing himself forward, he managed two steps before he staggered. His body
refused to do what he told it to and he fell, coming down squarely on his
knees he heard a faint cracking sound as the pain exploded up his legs.
Through it, realization dawned and for the first time since the Tribunal had
passed judgement, he felt abject terror. His vision blurred and wavered,
places overlaying places, people, and things he'd been and things he'd
known. An avalanche of memories rolled over him, through him, passing with
lightning speed before his eyes. ~Of course,~ he thought, ~of course. The
millienia of lives lived couldn't just be the end of the punishment, could
it? There was one thing left to do, wasn't there? How stupid of me to have
forgotten...~ The ball of pain and nausea inside him grew, pressing at his
skin as if trying to tear its way out. He opened his mouth to scream but
nothing came out, and then he was gone. His last coherent thought was that
he'd prefer the broken knees to what was coming.
**************************
Lily sat at the bar after Eric departed, looking at her hand. She'd laid it
on his cheek, but the gesture was more than just comfort from a friend. As
she sat there, she was thinking about baseball - line drives and grand
slams, strikes and walks. Her face was troubled.
"What is it?" Molly asked.
"He didn't remember the baseball," she said, rubbing her hand on her jeans
to stop the tingling.
"And why should he? You've never hit a ball in your life."
"But I did, once." Lily smiled. "Just once. Eric was pitching and I hit a
line drive - right into his face. It broke his nose. We called it a grand
slam for centuries after, even though I was the only one on the bases.
After that, when I came up to bat he made Kel trade places with him and
pitch to me. Kel was the catcher."
"So what?"
"So he should remember that - I mean, he ribbed me about it forever." She
paused, thinking. "As a matter of fact, it was the last thing he said to me
after the Tribunal gave their verdict. 'At least I don't have to worry
about your swing'. He smiled at me as he said it, and I never saw him again
until now."
"So what?"
"Jeez, Molly, how long has it been since you had a mortal life?"
"Longer than you need to know, Missy," she said haughtily.
"He's in trouble," Lily said, sliding off the stool. "And it's not the kind
of trouble you want to have out in public where any old demon could just
come up on you."
Molly cleared Theresa and Lily's plates off the bar. "Then you'd best go
help him. You know how I feel about that boy."
Lily laughed at her friend, shrugging into her jacket. "Yes, I do... and if
you had any karma at all you'd go to Hell for those thoughts."
Molly shooed her away and she walked to the tavern entrance. Pushing open
the doors, she stepped out onto the sidewalk and turned right, deep in
thought about Eric. Three steps later, she tripped over him and screamed,
her hands flying out to stop her fall. She clipped her temple on the
decorative brick outcropping on the Tavern's outer wall on her way to the
ground, and stars swam before her eyes.
Shaking her head to clear it, she saw Eric crumpled against the brick, the
bags of breakfast strewn along the sidewalk. Shoving herself upright her
visioned wavered, but she grabbed him by the shoulders. "Oh, Grace... Eric!
Eric, can you hear me?" she shouted, shaking him. "Eric!"
The panic came on wings and threatened to choke her. She looked around
wildly for help, but there wasn't a lot of foot traffic on the Street at
this hour. Blood was dripping down the side of her face and onto Eric's as
she held him in her lap. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been
this scared. "Eric, dammit!" she shouted again, looking down at him. His
face was chalk-white, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he was trembling
like mad. As she watched, a fountain of blood sprayed from his eyes and
nose, splattering the front of her clothes.
That helped. She finally caught a glimpse of her wits and made a grab before
they could desert her again. "Angel, I need help!"
A pleasant female voice said, "Help is here."
"Infirmary T-turnkey Request, for t-two," she said, her breath hitching.
"Scanning," the voice said, and Lily felt the soft breeze of the Infirmary
scanners tracing over both of them to determine the extent of their
injuries. "Request Approved." A turnkey appeared next to Lily. It might
as well have been a mile away.
"Angel, I need... can't you... directly over us, I can't... I can't move
him," Lily said, crying now, her fear overtaking her.
"Step into the turnkey. The other soul will be transported with you."
"Oh," she said, and reluctantly laid Eric back on the sidewalk and stood,
wiping the blood from her tear-streaked face. She stepped into the turnkey,
and a split second later, with dizzying speed, she found herself laying on
an Infirmary bed. She sat up so quickly her head swam, and strong arms came
around her.
"There now, settle down," a soothing male voice said.
"Eric... where's Eric?"
"He's being seen to, Lily, don't worry," the man said. "Now just lie still
while I fix you up. You've got a concussion."
"Call Kel," she said, and laid back down on the bed.
Writers: Rob, Barb
Characters: Eric, Lily, Kel
When: Day 3, Mid-morning
Location: The Infirmary, The Hunter's Portal
Kel stepped out of the turnkey and into the Infirmary waiting area. One
look at him had the nurse scuttling behind the desk and pointing down the
corridor without a word. He moved quickly, his boots clocking on the tile
floor, his face a study in fury. When he arrived at Lily's door he
carefully schooled his features and then stepped inside. The effort was
wasted - the second she saw him she said, "You can't blame Eric."
Oh yes I can, he thought, as he stepped to her bedside and gingerly touched
the smears of blood still staining the side of her face. "Why haven't they
fixed you up yet?"
"I made them wait until you got here." She gripped his hand in hers and
made him meet her eyes. "I know what's between you, but you can't
blame him for this, Kel. It wasn't his fault. He'd started a karmic
hangover right there on the Street. I tripped over him when I came out of
Molly's."
Kel just looked at her, then laid a gentle kiss on her brow. "Let them fix
you up, and I'll be back for you in a bit."
"But..."
"Don't worry. I'll see that he's taken care of. I promise."
Kel turned and left the room before Lily could speak again, then leaned on
the wall outside and shuddered with relief. His head knew that she couldn't
really be hurt, but all his heart saw was the dried blood dried on her face.
Maybe it wasn't Eric's fault, but that didn't stop the anger that roiled
through him. He'd just gotten here, and already someone was bleeding.
When he'd seen Eric yesterday at the Depot the surprise had kept him off
balance for the entire encounter. But he'd had a day to think about what
happened, a day to remember what they'd once been to eachother. They'd been
like family - closer than brothers. They'd been like two halves of the same
whole.
They'd been Hunter partners.
Hunters worked in pairs, and were assigned in Quads - two primaries and two
back-ups. The pairs were permanent, or at least until one of them ascended,
and then a new primary was assigned. But that didn't happen often; most of
the time Hunter pairs ascended together, or so close that it wasn't an
issue. At that point the back-ups became primaries and as a working pair
were assigned their own back-ups.
The situation now facing Kel didn't fall into any of the usual categories
covered under the Hunter Laws. But that was alright with him; he'd been
doing his homework and had been prepared for this day for eight centuries.
There really was only one choice, and no matter how furious he was, he'd see
it done.
He tried to stifle the anger he felt and pushed away from the wall, then
strode into the next room where Eric was being kept.
Eric was lying on a wide, flat platform. He looked horrible - worse than
Kel had thought possible - and obscenely, the thought cheered him. The
technicians were preparing to heal his form, but there was nothing they
could do until the hangover was finished so they hung back. "If you don't
mind," Kel said, more pleasantly than he felt, "I'll need some time alone
with him."
"Alright. Nothing we can do until it's run its course," one nurse said.
"Call us the minute it's over. This form has been in storage for too long.
He should have came here right off and had it tended to. Too late now, and
those knees are going to hurt once he can feel them."
"I bet," Kel said, looking at the shattered mess between shin and thigh.
After the last technician filed out Kel went to the door and locked it from
the inside. "I just bet. I hope it hurts like a son of a bitch." He turned
and faced Eric's pale and shuddering form. He walked to the bedside and
poked Eric in the ribs with a finger. "Wake up. We've things to do."
Eric drew in a sharp breath, which caused a racking cough. He turned his
head away, ashamed of the weakness of his form. Rather than continuing to
hack and cough, he forced the reflex down long enough to croak out, "Lily
OK?"
"She'll be fine. She's Ascended now, she can't be physically hurt. Not by
you, anyway." Kel began pressing buttons on his Guidewatch.
Eric wanted to tell Kel that he'd *never* hurt Lily, but was only able to
settle for a feeble nod before resting his head back onto the table. He was
so caught up in watching Kel operate the Guidewatch that he flinched when a
third body appeared in front of them.
Thanatos appeared in front of them. "So it is done," he said.
"Not quite," Kel said, the anger unmistakable in his tone. "Let's get it
over with."
Confused, Eric glanced from Kel to Thanatos and back. "What are you talking
about?"
Thanatos stared at him, and then nodded. "Take his arm," he told Kel, then
moved to Eric's other side and grasped his other arm. When the three of them
were linked, Thanatos waved a hand and suddenly they were at the Portal, in
the Tribunal.
The room was cavernous, the walls solid steel. In the center of the room
was a short-walled metal platform, and Eric was inside it. Thanatos took
one last look at Eric and Kel. "I'll summon them." Then he was gone.
Eric pulled himself up into a sitting position, despite the lancing pain
driving into his brain. "What in the name of Grace is going on here?" he
demanded.
"Did you think you could just waltz back into Purgatory? Do you remember
nothing of the Hunter Laws?"
Eric snorted. "Whatever. Like you're one to talk. You're Ascended - you're
not even a Hunter anymore..."
"What does that have to do with it? Things change. But you know the one
thing that doesn't change is the Law. And until I formally abdicate, I'm
still your partner."
Eric's sarcasm fell off into coldness. "*You* are not my partner. Partners
watch each other's back, Kel. Not screw each other over."
"So this is my fault? You're the one who set that thing loose in the
Portal, who gave it the chance to practically eviscerate me."
Eric glared at him. "The situation was under control. *I* was doing just
fine - until *you* tried to take on responsibility for things you know
*nothing* about!"
"You're right. I remember the situation being completely under control,"
Kel said sarcastically, "I must have imagined all that blood."
Eric turned his head, refusing to look at the man anymore. "I have nothing
more to say to you, Kel."
"Good, maybe you'll shut up then, while I rid myself of you once and for
all." He turned away and took his place on the raised platform next to the
stand where Eric sat.
The statement flung from Kel's lips lanced deep into Eric's heart. He
squeezed his eyes closed, fighting to control tears that had more to do with
inner pain than outer. Despite how he felt, despite what he'd done, He still
felt a closeness with Kel that had come from seeming aeons together. The
fact that Kel wanted to be rid of him hurt - more than he cared to admit.
Eric waited quietly, breathing through the pain in his body. He peered into
the darkness, waiting for what was coming next...
Writer: Rob
Characters: Eric, Paul
When: Day 3, Mid-Afternoon
Location: The Infirmary
The pleasant darkness was interrupted by a keening wail. The infernal noise
vibrated every sore, tired and aching bone in Eric’s body, causing brilliant
blue sparks of pain to dance across his vision.
With a groan, Eric opened his eyes. His body *was* vibrating – he could feel
the tickling sensation pushing his upwards. He struggled up onto his elbows,
and gasped at the sight in front of him
A number of chrome-plated arms, which had descended from the ceiling. They
were embedded in his knees. He could see flashes diving in and out of the
joints; feel them pushing him upwards ever so slightly.
But there was no pain.
“Hey!”
Eric turned to look towards the voice that called out. A figure,
indiscriminate in mint green surgical scrubs, complete with a hood that
covered everything but the eyes, approached him. With harried hand gestures,
the male voice insisted “You gotta lay down, pal! You shift the axis of
application, and I’ve got to regen the bone and start all over again!”
Disoriented, Eric obeyed, lying back on the table. The man appeared next to
him, sticking fingers and a metallic probe into his joints. “Whew!
Everything looks okay. You just relax.” He paused for a moment, reading
information from an instrument in his hand, before peering back at his
patient.
“Eric, right?”
“Yeah.”
Another pause. Then, “You’re a Hunter, aren’t you?”
A nod. “How’dja know?”
Eric could see the grin forming behind the man’s mask. “You folks *always*
come in with the most torn-up corp’s that we see.”
Eric nearly sat up, but for a restraining hand holding him back. “Whaddaya
mean, corpse?” he demanded.
The comment won a chuckle. “No, no. Not ‘corpse’, like dead bodies. ‘Corp’s’
is our lingo for corporeal bodies – what your soul wears when you’re here in
Purgatory. Sorry ‘bout that.” He ducked his vision again to the handheld
unit, then back to Eric. “Finished. Lie still, and let the synthetic skin
grow. You’re *awful* hard on your corp, Eric. You’ve got a lot of scars.
And,” the technician punched a couple of buttons on his unit “it says you
refuse to have them removed.”
Eric nodded again. “They’re all reminders of where I’ve been – and why I
went.”
The technician shook his head. “You Hunters... Well, you up for a visit from
one of your fellow psychotics?”
Eric chuckled. “Yeah. Send ‘em in.”
After a brief pause, Paul’s face appeared over Eric. “Hey, old man. How'ya
feelin'?”
Eric grinned. “Actually, pretty well, considering all the body work the
Infirmary’s had to do.”
Paul winked. “Well, I’m here to collect you and deposit you in your bed. You
live above Molly’s, right? With that Best Shot guy?”
“His name’s Dannon. And yes, he’s letting me stay there.”
“Riiiight. Dannon. Well, the Great Masked One has pronounced his blessing
over your battered ugliness. So, whenever you are ready, we can go.”
Eric sat up gingerly in the bed. He expected soreness and pain, but only
noticed a very mild stiffness in his joints. Happy with the results, he slid
off the table and grabbed the leather pea coat Paul held out to him. It was
the one Eric had been wearing when the hangover had started it's roller
coaster ride. The thick leather was scratched, and had enough blood on it to
make him look like he’d been slaughtering cattle in the coat. He nodded his
thanks to Paul, and shrugged into the coat. The two men exited the building,
and began to walkdown the street towards Molly McGuire's.
Following Eric in through the back entrance of the apartment Dannon and Eric
shared; Paul studied the small, neat home. It was totally unlike his; no
dishes piled in the sink, not an article of clothing strewn on any
furniture. Neat and clean. He nearly ran into his partner’s back, not paying
attention to his Eric’s stop.
Rubbing his shoulder where he'd clipped it into the wall, Paul grumbled
“Dude! What is it?”
Eric frowned. “That *bitch*!”
“Any bitch in particular? Or just *that* one?” Paul chuckled at his own
joke, but Eric merely narrowed his eyes at him. He reached out and snatched
a black-sheathed sword, and started back out the door.
“Whoa, whoa! Hey – what the Hell do you think you’re doin', Eric? You’re
*supposed* to be lying in bed!”
“I’m going to get what belongs to me!”
Paul stared at Eric’s back as the stairs jolted from staccato steps.
“What-*ever*...” he sighed, following after a minute. He trotted a few steps
to catch up with his partner, and shook his head.
~The man is becoming nuttier by the minute...~ Paul grumbled to himself.
Writer: Rob, Barb
Characters: Paul, Eric, Trey
When: Day 3, Evening
Location: The Strip
The pair of Hunters walked silently along the sidewalk of the Strip. Eric
had bundled his long pea coat around his sword, effectively hiding it from
the public, and Paul was relieved that he at least remembered that much.
Hunters were forbidden to carry their weapons around Purgatory unless
transporting them to the Portal - and carrying them in open display was a
good way to meet a Watcher.
If he'd known that Eric had done it without even thinking about it, that his
new partner wasn't even aware that he was hiding it, he'd have been more
troubled than he already was. Eric had been almost normal when Paul picked
him up from the Infirmary, but once he'd walked back into Dannon's and saw
his sword, he'd changed. Stiff and tense, obviously angry but in a coldly
unemotional way that gave Paul the creeps.
He eyed the doorway to Jack's Bar and Grill as they crossed 200 Strip.
Laughter, music and enthusiastic conversation floated out along the
sidewalk, and the place was rapidly filling. Stepping around a boisterous
group of technicians from the Archives, Paul looked inside as they opened
the doors and saw some rather luscious feminine types sitting alone at the
bar. After the day he'd had, a few pints and some mindless flirting ranked
right up there with Ascension as far as his heart's desires went. He elbowed
his new partner, jerking his head at the large window where Jack's "Open 24
Hours" sign hummed. "Hey - want to stop off and have a couple? You look like
you could use one or two."
"No."
Paul frowned and gave the bar one last longing look, then mentally shrugged
and turned back to continue on. Eric's steps hadn't even slowed and Paul had
to speed up a bit to catch up. Coming to the end of the 300 block they both
ignored the Corruption Intelligence Agency entrance on the left. It was a
well known fact that this was where Luci kept track of the possible damned.
It still amazed Paul that she didn't even try to hide it. But then again,
they'd drilled it into him at the Portal for hundreds of years: No one could
make you do anything. It was always a choice.
Besides, Hunters had never had any business there and avoided the place like
the plague. ~Some of us, anyway,~ Paul thought, glancing sideways at Eric.
"Shit!" The expletive flew from Eric's mouth with more honest emotion than
Paul had heard from him thus far. It might have been venom and disgust, but
it was honest emotion nonetheless. He'd been starting to think the guy was a
robot.
"What, man?" Paul looked around the sidewalk, and then up and across the
street.
Kitty's Den of Iniquity sat in the middle of the block. The front was done
in black brick, and there was a large overhang above. Across this overhang
neon lamps displayed women walking back and forth, wearing horns and forked
tails - very reminiscent of Playboy bunnies. They held trays of drinks and
winked at passersby. Under this elaborate sign the usual couple dozen
demons and wannabe-demons milled around the black glass doors like sheep.
The doors were chocked open, and a heavy bass beat pounded out along the
sidewalk along with catcalls and laughter. But the laughter here wasn't
like at Jack's; here it had a faintly desperate quality that Paul didn't
like. He'd never been inside, but he didn't have to go in to recognize that
sound. It was the sound of damnation.
He remembered Theresa saying that historically, Eric didn't have issues with
Kitty's. That's Eric's issues stemmed from a little further up the Strip at
Fire and Brimstone. "It's only Kitty's, Eric - what's the problem?"
Through gritted teeth Eric said, "Trey."
"Trey? What about him?" Paul had heard of the demon, of course, and knew he
was Enoch's right hand man. But as far as he knew Trey never went down to
the Mortal Plane. As a matter of fact, his information was that Trey rarely
ventured beyond Kitty's or the Casino. A nasty one and powerful with it, no
doubt about that, but he'd never heard of Trey having a run-in with any
Hunter. Then again, his short acquaintance with Eric was making him doubt
all his information.
Eric drew up short of crossing 400 Strip, nearly causing Paul to run into
him. "I just don't feel like putting up with his verbal diarrhea right now,
that's all."
Paul shrugged and sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Eric's weird tension was getting to him. "So ignore the little sod. An
insult is like poison; it only affects you if it is taken."
Eric peered at him, an expression of mild surprise on his face. "That was...
poignant. And unexpected."
Paul grinned. "Not what'cha expect from the 'Surfer Boy', eh?"
"Quite." Eric chuckled lightly then stepped off the curb, and for the first
time Paul caught a glimpse of something beyond the coldness and tension that
had enveloped Eric since he'd stepped into Dannon's. Something more personal
than the light banter they'd momentarily shared at the Infirmary - before
Eric seemingly remembered who he was. Maybe there was hope after all, Paul
thought.
When they drew abreast of Kitty's, a voice came out of the shadows in front
of the bar. "Well, if it isn't my favorite Hunter." Trey stepped out from
the crowd of demons milling around in front of Kitty's and onto the
sidewalk. Perfectly turned out in a grey silk suit, his wheat colored hair
held neatly back in a low ponytail with a strip of leather, Trey moved
directly into Eric's path. "Justice Blade. I didn't think they'd let you
back so soon."
The last was said with a biting sarcasm that made the hair on Paul's neck
stand up. ~Justice Blade?~ he thought. But he just elbowed his partner and
said, under his breath, "Ignore it, man. Keep walking." But Eric walked
right up to the demon then stopped just short of body-blocking Trey into the
ground. Paul watched as rather than speak, Eric simply stared at the demon.
Any emotion, and hint of personality that Paul might have seen only seconds
ago was completely gone. Mr. Robot was back.
"Tell me, what did you have to do to be allowed back into Purgatory? Did it
involve groveling? Self-flagellation? Did it hurt?"
"More than you'll ever know, spawn." Eric's mouth twitched up at one corner
as Paul watched, but his eyes were dead.
"We've taken a vote a decided that when we visit the Mortal Plane, from now
on we'll wear targets on our backs to make sure you get the right demon next
time. How big do you think it should be?" He clapped his hands together, and
when he held them out about 6 inches apart, there was a red bull's-eye
between them. The wider he moved his hands the bigger the bull's-eye got.
"Is this big enough? Can you see that? Need it a little bigger?" The group
gathered outside Kitty's burst into raucous laughter.
Paul twitched, growing irritated himself. The demon's voice was smooth and
melodious, but it grated on his Hunter senses like nails on a chalkboard. He
glanced at Eric; the man was perfectly still as if he didn't feel it. For a
moment he envied Eric the control.
"You want to wear a target, you go right ahead, Trey," Eric said in a
curiously pleasant voice, made even more incongruous by his blank face. At
the sound of it, Paul noticed the spectators starting to back away. "It's
not like Luci doesn't already have one on you."
"Maybe we could have Thanatos let us know when you'll be hunting, and we'll
wear a red carnation to help you out."
Trey was seriously getting on his nerves now. "Sod off!" Paul said, and
turned to Eric but Trey was there before he could speak again.
The demon leaned into Eric, and Paul was close enough to hear the whisper.
His skin crawled at the sound. "Of course, we could all just take Trinity
with us when we..."
What happened next was so quick Paul barely had time to jump back. Eric's
fist shot out, connecting just below Trey's ribcage. The air rushed out of
the demon's lungs with a whoosh and he staggered backward. Eric followed
him and plowed his fist into Trey's jaw with enough force for Paul to hear
the demon's teeth collide together with an audible snap.
Trey's head swiveled from the force of it, but at the same time he raised a
hand in a slashing motion. The arm of Eric's coat opened from the wrist to
the collar, the shirt with it. Angry red welts appeared on his chest. The
spectators were now a good fifteen feet back, forming a cautious circle
around the three of them. Their faces had the blank fascination of people
watching a car crash.
Eric gasped at the searing pain of the burns, looked down at them, then
jerked his head up. His eyes locked with the demon's. That was all Trey
needed.
"Like to use those hands, don't you?" Trey hissed, advancing on Eric. His
eyes narrowed and slits opened on Eric's hands and forearms like razor
slices, quickly and almost painlessly. Blood began running down Eric's
wrists and forearms in rivulets from ten cuts, then twenty, then thirty.
"For Grace's sake, don't look him in the eye! What're you thinking?" Paul
shouted, jumping forward and shoving Trey hard. The demon flew sideways into
the crowd. It was crude but effective - it broke Trey's eye contact with
Eric. The sliced skin on his hands and arms began to knit itself together.
But Eric moved sideways with demon as though he hadn't even heard Paul's
warning. He snapped out with a kick to Trey's shoulder, and tried to follow
it with a left hook; but unbelievably quick, Trey caught the hand in his
own. Eric screamed. The flesh on the hand Trey gripped started to bubble
and smoke, and Paul was shocked to see a brilliant red flower of blood bloom
across the back of what was left of Eric's shirt. The demon pulled him
close as if they were dancing. "A thousand years ago you'd never have let me
get this close. You're more fun now," he breathed into Eric's face.
Paul looked around wildly for something to break the contact. If he touched
Trey now, he'd be flash-burned. The energy the demon was putting out was
tremendous, energy that fed off the sensation of touching a Hunter. The
demon's eyes were almost blind with the ecstasy of it. But before Paul could
find anything to grab, the unthinkable happened.
He watched with horror as Eric shrugged out of what was left of his pea coat
and grabbed his sword with his free hand. His eyes were now so black with
uncontrollable hatred they were nearly as blind as Trey's. Ramming the
butt-end of the sword's hilt forward, Eric forced the demon back enough to
allow him to pull the sword loose of it's scabbard. Gripped underhanded,
Eric angled the blade upward, catching Trey at the hip.
The sword bit deeply; it went as smoothly as a hot knife through butter. But
almost at once it began to glow red and vibrate violently - enough so that
Eric had to muscle the keen edge upward one-handed to complete the cut to
the opposite shoulder. Trey screamed, releasing him, and Eric reversed the
sword in an overhand arc, cutting him again down his cheek, opening a deep
incision from under the eye to jaw line.
Paul gasped at the result in front of him. Only a few seconds had passed;
one moment, Eric was pinned screaming against Trey, and the next Trey had
fallen to his knees, chest and face opened wide. Beneath the human
appearance an oily black hide began to show through and the instant that
happened, Trey vanished in a cloud of black smoke. Paul had never seen
anything like it. He turned to look at his partner, trying to make sense of
the situation. Eric was standing quiet, a grim smile of satisfaction on his
face, weight slightly back on one foot, the sword gripped in both hands.
The moment the sword had come out, the demons around them had fled. The
crowd now consisted only of wannabe's.
The sword...
"Ah, dammit! What the *hell* do you think you're doing?" Paul raced forward,
snatching the remains of the pea coat from the ground and tossing it over
the weapon. As Paul shielded the sword from view, Eric casually re-sheathed
it, never taking his eyes from the spot where Trey had been. That
casualness, more than anything else, infuriated Paul.
Grabbing a double-handful of cloth, he snarled up into Eric's face. "You
can't do that cowboy shit out on the Strip, Eric! *Especially* not with a
Hunter weapon!" The crowd around them milled uncertainly, some leaving
after the vision of violence, others peering in to see what happened. Paul
scanned the area, trying to find a place for he and his partner to disappear
into.
What he saw was Kate.
Posted by Barb/Rob. Copyright © 2003.
Purgatory RPG - http://www.afterhourspub.com/purgatory.htm