Who: Damien Thorn Where: Lawrence, Kansas When: Evening, around 11pm What: Demons! Rating: R (slight gore, blood) Status: Complete
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Damien was about to wish he had listened. Granted, he wasn't here when the 'class' had begun about the demon stuff. But being what he was, he didn't feel too threatened or afraid of what everyone was talking about. Why would those things even think of touching the son of Lucifer, their unholy lord? Who among them would make the mistake of threatening the antichrist? Well... he would find that out soon enough. It had started out innocently. He had made his way to a gas station, parking his newly bought motorbike on the side.
He was hungry. So he had come here to get a soda and some snacks. He was paying for it at the register, then asked how to get to the community college. The man had laughed. "It's two blocks east of here, everyone knows that."
Damien shrugged. "I didn't. Just got here some time ago, a little while back."
"You did?" The man smiled. "How you liking it so far? Here on vacation?"
"Not sure," Damien replied. "I looked into going back to Chicago. But it's not the same one I left." That had gotten him a funny look. "You might think I'm crazy.. but I don't belong here at all. I got a business to run. And apparently I'm not the only person here unexpectedly, and against our will too."
"Oh boy... this is just too easy." The man chuckled, as though he knew some big secret. "Looks like your time here just got more interesting." Then he waved.
Damien was about to wave back in greeting, but found himself flying back, as though some force had thrown him. He hit against one of the food shelves, knocking it over, and falling on it.. and the shelf itself fell on the floor. Great.. now he had powder donut stains on his back.
The man wasted no time, coming around the counter. He smirked and asked, "What's your name? I think she would like to know. We're going to learn it soon." He touched something in his pocket.
"Who the fuck are you?!" Damien yelled. He didn't have time for this. He wondered if it was one of those super-powered arrivals.
"You mean, what am I?" His eyes suddenly turned dark. Completely black, like total darkness.
"Demon.." Damien nodded. "But.. but I'm on your side! I was looking for you people. I want to join you. My name is Damien Thorn."
"We'll get to that." The man paused. "Not the first time a human wanted to help us.. but we may have other plans for you too." And then he made another gesture with his arm.
Damien was flung upwards. He hit the ceiling, making a little crack. Then he found himself getting knocked through yet another shelf. Dammit, this fucking hurt! "You can't do that!!"
"And why not?" The man waved again, knocking him against the counter next.
"Because.. well, have you forgotten who you serve?" Damien coughed, feeling a bruise on his shoulder. It would proobably be healed later. But it hurt now. "Do all demons have a habit of messing with the son of Satan? The child of Lucifer? I.. am.. the antichrist, you idiot!"
"Really.." The man looked serious for a moment. Almost like he suddenly believed it. But it was only for show, because then he was laughing. Like it was the best joke he heard. "That's pathetic, kid. Now you're going to get hurt just for telling stories. As if I'd believe it." He walked toward the boy and stood over him.
"If you look under my scalp.. you would see a cluster of three sixes. But there's another way." Damien wrapped a hand around the man's ankle and focused. He was using his power, his touch.. to instill pain and disease. Arthritis. Brittle bones. Leg tumor. He'd intend on spreading it to the rest of the body.
The man staggered, nearly buckling slightly. But there was one problem. The man's expression was the same. And he was smirking, but annoyed as he stepped back.
Damien glared. "Did that hurt? Tell me how bad it hurt.."
"Actually, not at all," the man laughed. "Not me. You only hurt the host.. but not me." The amusement was gone then. "My turn to bring the pain, fool."
"Not yet," Damien said in a pleading voice. As he spoke, he was sort of staring at something above them, above the man. "I'm sorry. You're right, I lied. I'm just one of the special people. A mutant." A part of the ceiling cracked. A part that held the fan. "I promise to behave, I swear to God-"
Suddenly, the fan unhinged. And fell right on the man's head, knocking him down, and pinned him. There was a bit of blood. "You little shit. You're a dead man!" Unfortunately he could still move. As he struggled, he waved his hand and pushed toward him.
Damien then flew straight through the glass of the door, landing on the pavement outside. He had shielded his face. But now he had some cuts on his arms. And his shirt and arm sleeves had tears in the fabric. "Son of a bitch!!"
The man crawled, and as he got closer to the broken door, was walking erect. The body seemed a bit fatigued, as well as blood dripping down the side of his face. The fan must have fallen harder than usual. "We're gonna have fun with you. And not just for telling lies.. but for fighting back. And sometime soon... ohhhh, the rack."
Damien had a feeling that that last word had little to do with a woman's looks. Probably some sort of torture thing. How medieval. Unfortunately, he used to know, in completely vivid detail, that history. Part of his connection to his father. But since that was gone here, all he had were the dreadful feelings from something he couldn't quite remember anymore.
The host pointed his hand down at Damien, glaring with his dark eyes. He smirked as the boy clutched at his throat. There, that's it.. that shut him up good. Though he wanted to hear him scream. He'd love to break that will. "Suffer."
Damien somehow couldn't breathe. He felt like an invisible hand was choking him. What he saw in that gesture, he knew it was intentional. He also found himself being lifted off his feet. He stared at the door. He saw that there was still a shard of glass on the top portion. He could feel a bit light, as though everything was going darker. He didn't want to pass out. That could not.. he didn't want that, not at ALL.
The glass piece trembled slightly. The host paid little attention to it. Victory was at hand. But speaking of which.. the shard came down. Right on the wrist. Cutting right down to the bone. The man's expression didn't change. Except for disbelief. And the hand trembled as the shard was embedded in the skin, stuck in the wristbone. It would seem that the tendons had been severed. "You little shit."
"Fuck..." Damien had thought it would cut the hand clean off. He also felt that the hand was shaking from any of the demon's pain, or lack thereof in this case. He thought of causing an explosion. Maybe cause the gas to overheat in the pumps. Or maybe cause a blood clot in the body's brain, killing it. But then the demon could just leave. And he did not want to be possessed.
The man snarled, "Ohh, can't wait to try you out. Think your body is much better. After I make you hurt." He stepped toward the boy, angrily pulling the glass from his wrist. Truth was, the body could die within fifteen minutes or less, from the blood loss on there alone.
Damien saw that his bike wasn't that far. He also noticed that he was lying on a piece of glass. Something long enough for him to use. "Okay.. okay. Fine.. I'm sorry, please allow me to repent of my mistake..." And next moment, he plunged the sharp piece upward, under the ribs. Then pulled it our and stabbed it on one of the legs next. He quickly got up and, though staggering, hopped on his bike.
The man pulled the glass out from above his knee, tossing the bloody makeshift weapon on the ground. He started to walk after Damien when he heard the bike start up. "That's it. Enough games, child."
Damien looked over his shoulder to those dark eyes. He had to go now. He didn't think about how this would look to the police if they came. There would be no evidence he was ever there, anyway. He was born without fingerprints. But he was more concerned with staying alive.. a notion that he never considered before. As he took off, speeding out of there like a bat our of Hell... figuratively speaking... he saw the body tumble over. And the faint trail of dark smoke leaving it. He kept speeding. Not stopping one bit.
***
A middle-aged woman had just pulled in with her beat-up blue Sedan, but was shocked when she saw the scene. The broken glass door. Some blood drops on the pavement. A bloodied glass shard, two of them, on the cement among the other pieces of glass. The broken fan inside the shop, on the floor. Some of the shelves were a mess too, as though something plowed into some of them. As well as crushed food on the floor, like donuts, moonpies, twinkies and such. Not to mention... the wounded and now-dead body of the gas attendant on the ground! Last thing she ever saw was a trail of black vapor rushing to her.. and then inside. There was no chance. After a moment, her eyes briefly turned black, an evil smile on her lips. "Mm.. much better. She's definitely going to hear about this."