Who: Justice and NPC's (two Daemonem and a Demon) What: The Hunter's ready to make her presence known, and make a dent in the problem. Where: The lot behind The Experience When: Wednesday, the hour before dawn. Rating: R for violence, language, and death Status: Closed/Narrative
Progress had been slow, but it was necessary. It was always necessary; the logistics, the planning, the waiting... Justice Cooper had been in this town for almost two years, keeping herself under the radar as much as possible, while she worked herself into the cracks of Babylon's underbelly. She kept lists; lists of places, of numbers, and most importantly - of names. Dad had been sending emails, usually once a week, reminding her not to stick her head out until he got back, but tides were turning. She was getting close to being on the radar, if she wasn't already. The Ugly sonovabitch that ambushed her had been a tipping point, though. Justice had to strike before she was hit with more surprises she couldn't plan.
She'd been preparing this trap for a week: and it had only one specific target. A demon: the big Fucker who was the head of security at Experience. The little one - the DJ with the baby-face who'd been pissing in her territory for the last week and a half was definitely on her list, but Justice trusted her instincts - that one would come later. For now, Justice wanted to cement the rumor buzzing around the tiny community that a hunter was indeed in their midst.
Justice had been sitting behind the souped up classic Mustang in the employee parking lot, listening to the muffled thump of bass come from the glorified aircraft hanger. It was cold as the devil's balls, but the chemical hand and feet warmers in her gloves and socks kept her relatively comfortable. Plus, extreme temperature didn't get too far under her skin - not like it did with normal people. Around three in the morning, the crowd at the party let out the front in a wave. Just as she'd calculated by stalks over the last two weeks, an hour later, most of the employees filed out the back. She listened to them chat, slide in cars, rev engines and drive off. Big Fucker was always the last to leave. That's why she'd drawn a nice, thick circle of salt around his ride, save for five inches right next to her, which she would close off once he got in the car.
The only problem was, the familiar footsteps she listened to in approach weren't alone. There were two others with him.
Fuck.
"--I heard the lot of them skipped town," she heard one voice say.
"After last month, that is. They lost more, didn't they?"
She heard a snort, and the Mustang rocked when someone opened the driver's side door.
"Hell of a lot more," the Big Fucker said. Justice knew his voice. "But don't get too fuckin' cocky - they're still around. They just like to hide a lot more. Less 'temptation', y'know." His voice oozed with contempt and sharp humor. It turned her insides, and steeled her reserve.
"So what is it you need us to do?" came the third voice. All of them, male.
The Big Fucker snickered, cold and scathing. "Recruit, my dear imps. The more you bring in, the better off Everyone is, don't you think?"
"Well--maybe not everyone."
The two unknowns snickered together, but the demon was quiet. Justice felt him settle into the front seat. She silently closed the salt-circle, then held her breath, peeling her gloves off in order to grip the pistol in her coat a little better. The demon, she knew, would immediately notice he was suddenly trapped... so she moved quickly. Justice popped up on the other side of the car, gun instantly trained on the face of the half-breed who she guessed was close enough to the line to break it.
She pulled the trigger without hesitating; the silencer screwed on the end of the barrel muffled all but a high-pitched whirr in the air. The daemonem flew back to the ground, arms and legs spread-eagle on the frozen pavement, a small bloom of red just above his right eyebrow. Big Fucker was already seething and spitting curses at her. She answered by plugging the other when he turned to bolt - the momentum of the bullet tearing through his brain sent him to the ground ten feet from what Justice assumed (for her own peace of mind) was his demonic brother.
"Fucking cunt--!" the demon snarled and snapped. He couldn't touch the salt, he couldn't cover it or shove it away, but he sure as hell paced like a starving lion behind bars, pointing a thick finger at her and slinging more curses. "Who the fuck do you think you are? The fuck do you think you're doing?!"
"Hold tight," Justice muttered tightly, her nerves filtered through a defense mechanism of smarmy coldness. She pushed the pistol back in the holster under her coat, and replaced it with a newly sharpened machete. "Be with you in a sec."
Carefully avoiding the salt-line, Justice sided up to the first body, then gave a good swing to separate it from it's head at the neck. The tip of her boot nudged it away like a flat soccer ball. The trapped demon went wild.
"I will tear your organs out with my teeth! Insolent bitch--I smell Hell on you!"
Justice didn't even look at him. She rolled the other body to it's back with her heel, then hacked off the melon with a good, practiced swing. A spray of still-warm blood jutted up from the momentum, adding a few more freckles to the constellation already spread across her cheeks and nose.
"Now," she breathed in an annoyed huff, wiping the blade on the second body's coat, then turned to face her original target. Justice's brows shot up into her hair at the sight. He'd shifted to his true form. "Oh, good - I'm glad we're droppin' the ac---"
She hit the deck, biting ice and road dust a split second before a flying Ford would've taken her head off. It landed behind her with a sickening crash of glass and twisting metal. And even with her heart suddenly in her throat, she was surprised how her first thought was how Gus would find that such a tragedy. She pushed it out of her mind.
"Nice try," she managed to push out, forcing her heart back into her chest. The gargantuan red and black Abomination in the center of his salt-prison bellowed at her with the mouth of a hellish bull, a minotaur, or close enough. This minotaur had fangs and charred, leathery wings, spread from his back and arched in livid ferocity.
"Come closer, Hunter - let's see how good you are against me with that fucking pea-shooter and that butter-knife," it hissed, growled, garbled... the sound of it's voice turned Justice's blood a little colder. Probably because she knew where the threat was; to finish the job, she would have to get closer. But then again - that was her favorite part.
"Fuck, you're impatient," she returned dryly, dipping her free hand into her coat to retrieve the bone-dagger hidden inside. When he saw it, another sick-sounding, curdling bray steamed up the air around them both.
"Traitor!" it snarled, cloven feet breaking up the pavement. "Whore of Heaven! I'll use my cock to tear you in hal---"
"EXORCIZO te, immundíssime spíritus, omnis incúrsio adversárii, omne phantasma," Justice's purposeful recitation of the Rite cut the demon's words off with another horrid roar. He writhed and screamed. She pressed on, repeating the torturous words over and over, until the demon belched out his true name on his greasy knees, and her voice was hoarse and strained, and a dangerous tousle with him in the salt-circle ended with the sharpened relic plunged through his back and into his heart.
When it was over, Justice ignored the hole punched through her shoulder with the bastard's horn as best she could, though it was a little more difficult dragging the daemonem's bodies into the half-crushed Mustang. Leaving it ablaze and the pile of ash and salt-circle for the firemen and cops (and Gus) to find, Justice headed back to where she left the truck at a gas-station through the woods.
By morning, the forces of Hell in Babylon would finally know there was something opposing them besides the hosts of Heaven. Justice Cooper was ready for a fight.