Who: Damien Thorn, purifier agents Where: London streets When: Night What: Kidnapping, death Rating: R Status: Complete
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Damien had been thinking for quite a while, alone in his London manor. He had been pondering what to do. He could stay and wait it out, until this was over.. assuming it would be. He could wait for them to invade his home and take him. He could go out and actively fight them his way.. such as multiple deaths, unexplained suicides, or even converting some of them to his ways. Or he could go to Eden, to the villa and casino where Crowley had invited him for sanctuary. All of those were intriguing to him, some more than others. But he had to make a choice.
The more he thought about the nature of these people, the more he was reminded of the fanatics back home, the holy ones who had attempted his destruction time and time again. Okay, so he had issues with religious people. This was just one more form of it. But the more he obsessed over the subject, the more pissed off he was getting inside. So, he thought it best to get to Eden and wait there until he came up with a plan to utterly destroy these fools.
He had managed to walk a few blocks until there were about four men who were now walking beside him on the sidewalk. "Well, well, look here? Planning to defile anyone at this party of yours?"
Damien turned, looking at him with a smirk. "Why, are you offering?" Something about them turned him serious then. He shook his head. "You really have no idea who you're about to fuck with, do you.."
The second guy laughed. "We're about to find out soon. We know you're something unusual. Not certain exactly what, but we'll see. Take him."
The third and forth guy began to walk toward him, while the first man grabbed his arm. "Let go of me right now!" Damien yelled, looking upward. A bulb in the overhead streetlamp suddenly burst.
The second man then punched him on the jaw, knocking him on his back. He punched him again as he looked him right in the eye. "That it?! Huh, freak?!!" He punched him again. And yet again. But as he was about to strike the fifth time, his fist slowed.. and then did not hit. He seemed to be in a trance.
Damien smirked then, tasting blood in his mouth, but not caring about it. "No.. that's not it. You know what to do." He continued to stare into the bigot's eyes.
The man slowly rose to his feet. "Yes.. I do." Ignoring the confused glances from his partners, he took a few steps back. "Damien! Watch this now.. I do this for you!!" Then he turned around and ran straight into traffic, a few cars swerved to miss, but a bus had hit him dead-on.
"You.. you bastard! You killed him!" The others were shocked. Then they were angry.
Damien started to get up. "Technically, he killed himself. Good luck proving I caused it." But then they grabbed him again, holding him to the fence. One of them pressed a needle to his neck and pushed the button.
One bystander who was walking their dog had passed them, and was continuing on, not wanting any trouble. But as the young man gasped and stared pleadingly at the dog.. the owner barely had a grip on the leash a few minutes later.
Damien struggled to stay on his feet, feeling weak all of a sudden. No.. not now. He watched as the docile canine seemed to turn rabid and barked, snarling angrily as it ran toward the racist men. It had bit one of them fiercely on the ankle.. that is, until one of them pulled a tranq gun and shot it, causing it to release it's maw and fall over unconscious.
The other two men shook their heads, dragging the unusual man toward the end of the block. "You are some nasty piece of work! You're going to regret this. You just wait.."
"No.." Damien felt as if he could not walk. He stared at the man, looking at him. But when the man started to shiver from some sudden pain in his head, Damien got a quick strike to the head once more. Okay, so he wasn't having a good time.
He was eventually dragged into a dark van, where his ankles were shackled to the floor. The vehicle had soon taken off. It was about fifteen minutes of silence, when the driver seemed agitated. "Guys! The brakes.. the brakes are out. No, no, the wheel! Can't control it-"
The men in the back were angry about that, so they each threw punches at their prisoner, hitting him in the chest, stomach, and face. "Son of a.. that stuff should have put you out!!" It would seem that his immune system was a lot more resistant than most people.
Damien was not happy. Not having fun. He was bound, getting hit on all sides, and the van was swerving in traffic, narrowly missing collisions.. which naturally raised some fear levels in that driver's mind. Okay, so that last one was because of him. But he could not let them take him. And now one punk was grabbing him by the hair while the others were punching him.
Strangely, the driver had been able to gain control now. The brakes were working. But the one who had a fistful of hair in his hands looked surprised. "Whoa, whoa! Guys.. never gonna believe this." As they stopped their attack, his captor added, "I think I see something weird. Look. Come, look at this.. on the scalp here. Please tell me that ain't what I think it is."
One of them punched Damien in the groin, then peered closer where he was told to. He looked shocked now. "What.. ohh, I don't believe this. Three sixes?? Better not mean what I think it does.. ohh, but it does! Right, boys?" He had a black bag in his hand. "No, no, don't look into his eyes! Here... this will work." And so he put it over the boy's head. Maybe now he'd have a harder time getting one of them to off themselves in his name.
His vision turned black now, and gasped as he felt another needle being pressed to his neck. This wasn't good in the slightest. He winced, eyes shutting briefly. He overheard one of them say, "We better increase the dose. His system keeps fighting it off. But no matter, we'll just keep giving it to him.. more than the others."
Damien wanted to protest, as a second needle of drugs were given to him, and then a third. This should be easy. He should have been able to stop this, make them pay. But he was outnumbered. And these drugs weren't like anything he felt before.. which was odd, since he was immune to just about any poisonous toxins.
The last thing he felt was yet another fist colliding with his face, before he slumped down. Sleep was coming, and the last thing he remembered before he lost control was one of them talking about putting him in a jail cell, and how they'd get a ton of brownie points from their superiors for bagging the antichrist..