The Farmer and the Monster

by DragonOverlord2012

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Human, Applejack, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Other, Romance, Original Character, Sex
Length: 27702

The name's Greg. I'm what's called a "cambion". I've had a horrible life, and the only keeping me going is my quest for vengeance. Now that I've met a cowgirl named Applejack though, everything is about to change.

Well, my name is Greg, and my life just took a giant U-turn. Let's see, it started when I started letting a girl named "Applejack" (odd name btw) live in my house as a (reluctant) apology for...never mind the reason. Then we actually started becoming good friends, despite the fact that I'm complete social outcast by choice. Then after she starts badgering me about whatever it is I'm hiding she finds out I wound up a cambion as a child and became a lone wolf in a supernatural war. THEN she insists on fighting and get's me dragged into the group of supernatural hunters that I've been trying to avoid joining so that she can fight too. ALL IN ONE WEEK!

I'd say shoot me, but that would likely just piss me off.

Though I hate to admit it, I am making a lot of headway thanks to her butting into my life. Things are being revealed one by one. Secrets mostly. My enemy's secrets. My ally's secrets. Eventually even Applejack's secrets. Finally my own secrets, and more importantly, my family history...things that even I didn't know about.

I don't know what sort of twisted joke this is, but I intend to find out.

Edit (2:00 am 2/12/13) You know guys, if you don't like the story, don't read it. If the synopsis doesn't interest you, don't bother. I don't want a bunch of dislikes because some bronies don't like the idea of a pony turning human and falling for a "human" guy in a supernatural war. Okay? If you do read it, and you don't like it, leave a comment as to why.

Published 2013-02-11 10:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-26 00:09:46 UTC

Strong and Sturdy

Chapter 2

Strong and Sturdy

I couldn’t help but smirk as Applejack clung to me for dear life. The knowing that she was currently dependant upon me was exhilarating. It awoke a primal dominance in me. This woman would drive me wild, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. She was prey, and I was hungry.

Unfortunately that feeling had to end when we arrived at the mall, because we had to get off the bike. She was kinda pissed by the look of it, and I could tell it was because her hair was screwed up. I grabbed a hairbrush I kept handy out of the bike’s saddlebags and handed it to her.

“Next time ya might want to tie your hair up a bit better than just one band,” I suggested.

“Gee, thanks fer the tip,” she said with a glower. She grunted and growled trying to force the knots out of her hair.

“Let me.” I grabbed the brush from her hand. “Don’t start at the top of you’re just going to yank out half the hairs on your head,” I told her, “I had long hair a while back, but I got tired of it. Not to mention it just looked dumb on me.”

I could tell she was still getting hairs plucked out of her head, but at the same time I could tell it was far less than what she was doing herself. I finished and tied her band back up at the edge of her hair.

“Thanks,” she said begrudgingly, “Let’s get somethin’ to eat already. Ahm starvin’.” I could think of one thing to eat, but I don’t think that was the sort of “eating” she meant. Lord almighty my mind just would not stop with this cowgirl. I could already see all the nasty things I would do to her, and it was taking a lot of willpower not to try it in the middle of the damn parking lot.

I held fast though. I’d had to deal with overpowering temptation like that quite a few times before. It wasn’t like she was the first girl I wanted to fuck raw on sight. Despite all the problems this city had it still had quite a few good looking girls, although not many measured up to this “Applejack”.

Seriously I’m still not sold on the name.

“Is there someplace to eat in this place or what?”

“Yeah, but nothin’ good for breakfast,” I told her, “If you want something for breakfast that doesn’t amount to shit than wait ‘till we get home.”

I think she was about to complain, but she just gave up and decided to wait instead. We walked through the mall for a good while until I came across an old western clothing store. “Run in and grab whatever you need. I figured this is where you’d shop anyways.”

She didn’t bother responding and ran in while I waited at the register. She finally came up to the counter with three different bags. One tops, one pants, and one with a pair of boots and assorted undergarments. The total came up to be well over a hundred dollars, but it hardly mattered. I had cash to spare anyways.

After all that was said and done we headed down to the grocery store down the lot and picked up some necessities. For me that included prime cut steaks, pork chops, a few chicken breasts, potatoes, flour, bullion cubes, pancake mix, maple syrup, and a few pizzas. For Applejack that seemed to include mostly apples, and I mean a lot of apples. I was a little surprised that she could carry them all on her own.

Apart from that she also picked up a few piecrusts and other odds and ends. If I had to guess, and my mind wouldn’t wander elsewhere at the time, she had a few family recipes she intended to make during her stay.

We checked out and the total ended up around two hundred or so. A little more than what I normally spend on groceries, but whatever. After that I headed home. It was a little frustrating getting everything to fit in the bike’s saddles, but it fit…after I forced it to that is.

We wound up back home in no time and I just made some pancakes and heated up some syrup. When we sat down to eat Applejack still didn’t have much to say to me.

“Somethin’ seems different about these,” she said after some silence, “What ya do to ‘em?”

“I’ve always mixed a little cinnamon into the batter for a little extra flavor,” I explained, “I don’t do second rate. I refuse to settle.”

“Heck, nothin’ wrong with that.”

***

The rest of the day was pretty tame. At one point Applejack asked me if I had a job to get to.

I laughed. “Cowgirl I’m set for life. Did a few jobs back in the day, and I wound up with a retirement fund that even the guys in Hollywood wouldn’t sneeze at.”

She just nodded oddly. I assumed she’d somehow never heard of Hollywood. The evidence was really starting to pile up on her in just a day. To say she was strange would have been an understatement.

Well after a while I did go out to get some “business” done. A few alleyways, a motel, and the occasional bar where the fuckers tend to show up. These guys are easier to track than people half the time I tell ya.

Of course when I got back Applejack wanted to know where I went, of course I said it was none of her business, and that went on for a little while. Having her around that day was a little…what word am I looking for? “Mundane”? Yeah that sounds about right.

“Now where are ya headin’ off to?”

“The bar,” I snapped in annoyance, “Why? Ya wanna come with?”

She sighed in annoyance. “Fine.”

I pulled a double take. “What?”

“Ah said fine! Ah’m bored outta mah mind here dang it. Ah need to get outta the friggin’ house.”

“Alright then, but tie your hair up better this time.”

“Yeah, yeah, Ah’ll get the hair ties,” she mumbled.

I waited for her out front and I headed off as soon as she sat down. Of course she clung to me again, and of course I loved it. Soon as we got to the bar she ripped out almost all of her hair ties.

Anyways I figured I should try to be nice, so I drove off to a country-style bar. Before we even walked in the door we could here the music playing. I listen to rock and metal myself mostly, but I’ve always found country to be a nice change of pace now and then. I could tell Applejack liked it by the small lift in her step when she heard it.

We both sat down at the bar and I ordered us both a shot of southern comfort, an old favorite of mine. Strong and simple.

“So if you’re not working for someone where are you from?” I asked.

“None of yer business.”

“Alright then, I’ll go first,” I told her. She pulled a double take on me. I guess she wasn’t expecting that. “Don’t look so surprised. I don’t talk to many people, but for the time being I’ve gotta live with you. I don’t want things tense.”

“Oh, well alright then, talk away.”

“I had a shitty childhood,” I explained, “I was born in a small town, was raised by my parents until I was four, but I don’t like to talk about them. Not that they weren’t good people…it just hurts to remember.”

“Yer preaching to the choir sugarcube.”

“Sugarcube?” I parroted with a bit of humor, “Is that your pet name for me or is that just what you call your friends?”

“Mah friends,” she said with a playful glare before downing another shot, “Don’t get any bright ideas buster.”

“I make,” I stopped to take another shot myself, “No promises.” I ordered another round and stopped to regain my train of thought while I did. “Well…after the…accident…I was raised in an orphanage as you might imagine. My parents didn’t keep in contact with their respective families, so I didn’t have anywhere to go. I escaped plenty of times, but the damn police always dragged me back.

“I was a problem child. I drew the bad kind of attention, broke things, hurt people, though that was self defense…mostly.” I didn’t know where to go from there. There was so much to say, but so much I didn’t want to say—to anyone. Much less someone I’d just met.

“Well…” she took a deep breath, “Ah was raised on a farm as ya probably guessed. When mah parents, uh, left, Ah was raised by mah granny and big brother. Ah still work on the farm for a livin’, and the three of ‘em have gotta be worried sick.” She sank into her bar stool pretty deep.

“Barkeep, another round,” I called. She came around and just left the bottle. “That works too.” I poured us both another shot and rose mine. “A toast,” I suggested, “To us orphans feelin’ sorry for ourselves, no matter how different the reasons may be.”

“Here here,” she said as we clinked out shot glasses. We tilted our heads back and slammed down our liquor, and just shared a small laugh for the hell of it.

“Been a while since I met someone I could relate to,” I said, “Kinda nice, thanks.”

“Never you mind Greg. Ya’ll are crazier than mouse bull ridin’ a cat, but yer alright.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I laughed. I turned and yelled to the guy next to the record machine, “Hey! Hit ‘Cowboy Casanova’ will ya?” I turned to Applejack with a daring smile. “How about a drinking contest?”

She looked back with just as cocky a smile. “What ‘er the rules?”

“Keep going until ya drop or the song ends. You game?”

“Bring it on.”

***

“Twenty-three,” I said before we took the next shot, “And twenty-four.”

“Ah’m done.”

“Same here.”

“…How’re we gettin’ home?”

“Uh.” Never do think that part through. “Well either we walk ten miles or one of us sobers up first. Fuckin’ cabbies hate me.”

“Why?”

“Cause everyone hates him,” the barkeep said.

“Yeah well the feeling’s mutual, ya bitch.”

“Why do people hate you?”

“People hate what they fear and I give assholes a reason to fear me. Simple.”

“Well no offense, but ya’ll ain’t exactly the kind and benevolent king.”

“No I am not,” I laughed.

I’m wasn’t sure if it was just the alcohol at the time or not, but Applejack and I started getting along pretty well after that point. I’m not a bad guy really, I just don’t trust strangers, and in this city that’s what keeps me alive.

“Hey there cowgirl,” a guy said as he sat on the other side of Applejack, “You must be new, otherwise you wouldn’t be hanging out with that loser.”

“Ahm fine sittin’ here with Greg.”

“Fair warning pal, yer gonna get your ass whooped, and I’m not the one that’s gonna do it this time,” I told the guy. Honestly, that guy had an okay build on him, but Applejack worked on a farm all her life. It showed.

“Piss off freak. Come on cowgirl let’s get out of here and have some real fun.”

“Excuse me?!” she snapped.

“How drunk are you right now?” I asked.

“I told you to piss off!” he snapped at me. Then I saw him put his hand on Applejack’s lower back and start sliding down. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know where that was heading.

She turned and slugged him in the jaw so hard that I saw teeth hit the ground. He got up calling her a bitch and tried to swing at her. All at once she tried to get up too quickly and fell out of her chair, he swung too high and fell right for me, and I picked up the empty whiskey bottle and smashed it across his face. After that I kicked my stool out from under me, threw him back, and helped Applejack to her feet.

“Ah had ‘im!” she slurred.

“You’re so drunk you can barely stand, let alone fight,” I chided.

I looked at the asshole picking himself off the ground while the bouncer came over. As soon as he was standing he was thrown outside on his face. I think that cost him a couple more teeth.

“Y’know, Ah don’t really need yer help dealing with drunken jerks!” Applejack said as she shoved me, “Ahm tough enough. Heck I could arm wrestle you Ah bet!”

“Bet what?” I asked slyly.

“Uh, Ah don’t know? What d’ya want?”

“Alright…” I said while I tapped the bar in thought, “If I win you clean the blood out of my clothes. I’ve gotten in more than one bar fight you know.”

“Deal, and if Ah win Ah want a full body massage!” She slammed her fist down on the bar for emphasis.

“Lady knows what she wants, nice,” I laughed, “Alright, deal.”

We walked over to one of the tables in the middle of the bar and sat across from one another. I’d set my jacket on the back of the chair so I didn’t restrict my movement. I’d at least give her the respect to take her seriously. I was a head taller than her as it was, so I had an advantage. That and I could bench press her if I wanted to, then again so could she by the look of her. She had one unique physique.

“Ready, start.” I slammed her hand down instantly.

“Uh, Ah wasn’t ready.”

I started a snort and burst out laughing. “I can tell. Alright let’s try that again drunky, but this time you say start.”

“Okay.” We got set up again and tensed up ready to go. “Ready, go.” She started off pretty strong and I went off a little bit. I caught myself quickly enough, but she’d had me half beat already.

“Ah told ya Ah worked on the farm,” she reminded me, “Ah ain’t some puny city filly.”

“That’s one way to put it I guess, and believe me I remember.” I started pushing back pretty hard and inching my way to victory, but she started pushing back harder. She wasn’t letting up very much, but I wasn’t even started. I started pushing harder and harder and she started getting mad at me. After about a minute I was done messing around and slammed her hand down within five seconds.

“Guess you’re playing housewife tonight,” I bragged.

***

“Ah still can’t believe you won,” she gripped as she stepped off the motorcycle.

We’d stayed there for the next couple of hours trying to sober up. I drank so much water it went without saying I needed to take a wicked piss by the time I left. Anyways I was able to drive my bike by the time we left (and we didn’t run into any cops miraculously enough).

“Believe it cowgirl.”

We walked in the house and I threw my jacket and shirt on the couch. I felt like I was sweating, but that was just the booze. I learned a while back is that alcohol thickens your blood and makes you feel hot. I didn’t mind it most of the time, but not tonight.

“Well, Ahm a girl of mah word.”

“About that,” I said, “Forget about it.”

“Ah made a bet and Ah lost. Ah’ll own up to it.”

“Listen Applejack, I actually have a rule about this,” I explained, “Any bet I make when I’m drunk, win or lose, is null and void immediately.”

She looked at me in utter disbelief. “Really?” she asked, “Yer serious? Yer just lettin’ me outta it no ifs and or buts?”

“Believe it AJ. You mind if I call you that?”

She phewed and smiled. “All mah friends do, so go right on ahead.”

I thought it over. We didn’t start off on good terms, and I was sure we’d have a few trust issues for a while. We both had secrets, and we both had our reasons for keeping them. I wasn’t going to pry if she didn’t.

“Sleep well cowgirl. I’ll be out back,” I told her. I wandered outside and sat down in an old wooden rocking chair. I got it years ago at the same bar I’d been at that night. The owner didn’t have any use for it anymore, so I took it of his hands.

The guitar sitting next to the chair however…that was personal. I picked it up and plucked a couple of strings, getting a feel for it again. The booze was still running wild through my system, and I needed something to calm my nerves. I always got antsy when I was drunk, and I couldn’t sleep unless I did something about it.

There were only a couple songs I knew how to play, and they were all by the same guy. I started plucking chords and running my hand up and down the neck of the old instrument. “Well I won’t back down. No I won’t back down. You can stand me up, at the gates of hell, but I won’t. Back. Down. Gonna stand my ground. Won’t be turned around. And I’ll keep this world from dragging me down, gonna stand my ground, and I won’t. Back. Down.”

I kept singing to calm my nerves, and the strings didn’t hurt my fingers anymore after I’d been playing for so long. For so many years I’d played this song just to keep my head together. “Well I know what’s right. I got just one life. In a world that keeps on pushin’ me around, but I stand my ground, and I won’t. Back. Down. Hey, baby. There ain’t no easy way out. Hey, I, will stand. My. Ground. And I won’t. Back. Down. No I won’t. Back. Down.”

After two minutes I was done. Short song really, but it was my favorite.

“That was great,” AJ said from behind me.

My head whirled around to see her standing in the doorway. “AJ…I thought you went to bed.”

“Ah could hear ya through the window,” she explained softly, “Ah came out to listen. Ya sound amazin’. Ah didn’t take ya fer a musician. What made ya’ll decide to play tonight?”

“I’m not a musician,” I told her, “Booze puts me on edge. I do this to calm my nerves.”

“Why’d ya learn to play, and how’d ya get the guitar?”

“It’s personal, both of them…I’ll tell you when you tell me about the hat.”

“That’s personal,” she sneered.

“Exactly.”

The crisp night air blew against my bare skin during the following silence. It was nice. Refreshing even. I normally despise the cold, but this time I made an exception.

I plucked a string again in boredom.

“What’s the song?” she asked.

“Johnny Cash, I won’t back down,” I told her, “Sort of sounds like my life to be honest. I’ve always thought that was weird.”

“…Is the song special too?” she asked so quietly I almost didn’t hear her at all.

“…Yeah…” I set the guitar back down next to the chair and walked back inside. “Goodnight cowgirl. See ya in the afternoon I guess.”

I laid down on the couch and closed my eyes. Applejack went back to bed herself. After playing that song and having a little chat I was a bit tired finally. Just enough to fall asleep…it didn’t help keep my personal demons buried in my mind though. I’d grown used to it over the years. What was one more restless sleep?

Author's Note

Yeah this chapter is mostly filler, especially in the beginning. There's a long story behind Greg, but it will be explained soon enough.

The Full Story

Chapter 4

The Full Story

“What do ya mean? He’s gotta be out cold after that, and why was he after you?”

“It’s a long story, and I won’t lie: I don’t intend to tell you. Now move!”

I heard the roar I was dreading to hear so soon. I threw off my jacket and shirt with a sigh, “Too late.” A long thick appendage landed behind me after I jumped forward and grabbed AJ. I looked back and saw it was clearly a fist, but far bigger than my head even.

Applejack wormed her way out of my grasp and slapped me. “Now what the hay was that for? I pointed at the man we’d supposedly knocked out. “What in tarnation is that?!”

“A cambion,” I answered in deadpan. “Long story short, he was human, but he sold his soul for power.” I heard him grunt and I grabbed Applejack again, pulling us both out of the way again. “You wanna help, don’t get hit or you’ll be dead. Apart from that, aim for whatever you get hit. Focus on breaking limbs and hitting his face when possible.”

I looked at the cambion rising from his previous beating like nothing happened, although he was backing away to give himself some time to plan his strategy again. He knew that I’d hit him fast and hard if I got the chance, so he wanted some distance between us. I just kept walking towards him cockily. The main problem was that he could back away again, despite the bit about me having broken his leg.

That was the problem with cambions: when they reveal their true forms a lot of things change. For example: he had the look of a normal (although large) human, and now he had green skin somewhere between a troll’s skin and a giant insect’s carapace. His arms grew nearly four as long and had something that was more like clubs than hands, not only that, they had two joints, as apposed to just the normal elbow. Swivel jointed too, bent every which way, like nunchucks. He’d grown himself too, about fourteen/fifteen feet tall, and that was where the major problem laid.

“Whatever part of his body has changed is partly healed,” I explained to Applejack as shortly as I could, “In a nutshell: he’s near good as new.”

She looked at me with her jaw dropped. “Wha? But! YA GOTTA BE KIDDIN ME!”

I waved her off. “There is one thing you’ll want to know though,” I said with a smile, “I’ve figured out whatever was damaged is still very fragile. Unlike when bones heal the right way, his broken bones are still brittle.” I took another look at him. “Though where those bones are now is a bit of a tossup.” I smirked. “Except for his face.”

That fucker wasn’t exactly good lookin’ to begin with, now he had a face not even a mother could love. Ugly bastard looked like a troll too, not just his skin. Extended lower jaw, giant lower canines, bizarre looking ears, the works.

“Man,” I taunted, “You. Are. One. UGLY mother fucker!” I smirked at him madly. “You’re a big one though. This is gonna be fun.”

He raised an arm and snapped it back down. He was aiming for AJ.

Oh, she can dodge that.

I looked over to see her still with her jaw dropped. You know that look in a deer’s eyes when there caught in the headlights? That’s the look I saw in her eyes, so no, that’s not a myth. People actually do that too.

Unless she turns into deer.

I panicked. I ran for her as fast as my legs would let me. I measured the speed of the club and I knew what I had to do. I wouldn’t be able to tackle her out of the way in time; we’d both be crushed. Drastic measures.

I stopped holding back and thrust myself forward with everything I had. Reality caught up with her and she fell back screaming. I skid to a halt in front of her with no time to spare. I put my claws up and stopped the blow with one hand, which dug into the hard flesh.

“How did ya get here so—“ She stopped mid sentence. “When did ya get wings?” she asked me.

I looked back at her for the briefest moment before focusing on my enemy again. “Suffice to say,” I growled as I lit up my claws in azure fire, “Fun’s over.”

I ran at the messenger roaring like an animal, ripping through his skin with ease. He roared in agony, sounding like what you’d imagine he’d sound like, lookin’ like that and all. Up close and personal he had little means to defend himself. He tried to kick at me with what was a pretty long leg—given his height and all. I jumped up, thrusting higher with my webbed wings, and grabbed his jaw.

“It burns!” he cried out in pain of my flaming talons.

“Good,” I growled.

I ripped his jaw right off his face. I was done wasting time. I was pissed. On the way down I shredded his chest with my claws. When I landed I spun and slashed open his belly with my razor edged wings—very useful by the way. I jumped up again and plunged both hand’s fingertips into his throat. “Time to die you son of a bitch.” I ripped open his neck without a second thought, causing blood to gush everywhere.

The cambion fell on his back and flopped around a bit like a fish out of water before the light left his eyes once and for all. Officially: he was dead, and I did not feel sorry for him.

I heard Applejack’s boot on the pavement a good ways behind me. I think she was just standing up again after recovering from the shock.

“What are you?” she asked me.

I looked back at her with a mean look, and she was scared. “Isn’t it obvious?” I asked, “I’m a cambion too.”

She took a step away from me. I couldn’t place why at the time, but that hurt. “Why?” she asked, “Was it for your parents?”

“They fit into the equation, but my soul is mine,” I told her, “I didn’t sell it like this sack of shit.”

“What happened?” she asked. She was walking towards me now. I guess she could trust me as long as I had a soul.

“…My mother came from a long line of priests and priestesses,” I explained as I looked at the twisted black, leathery skin that covered my hand and forearm, “We were taught things no one else knew. She even knew how to exorcize a demon from its host: the real way. She taught me a few things before she died, and I’m eternally grateful for that.

“A cambion came knocking one day. Hunter class as I’ve dubbed the fuckers. I watched from under the bed as my dad tried to hold it off so my mom could get rid of it. I watched his head roll off his shoulders, and I watched it rip my mothers heart out soon after. It wasn’t done though. I was next. It was hunting priests and I was good enough to kill at four fucking years old. I tried speaking the sealing incantation I was taught, but I said something wrong.”

I stopped there. I didn’t want to say the next part.

“What did it do?” she asked.

“It died by my tiny flaming hands I guess. I don’t know what happened, not really. All I know for sure is that whatever spell I ended up doing ripped the power out of him and put it in me. That’s what turned my hair black too.”

She said something in astonishment under her voice, but I couldn’t hear it over my own thoughts. It had been a long time since I’d told somebody the truth of what happened that day, and the first time I told the complete truth. Even when it happened I kept the part of stealing its power to myself.

“What’s goin’ on in this here city Greg?” she demanded. Not asked. Demanded. “Why are ya really here? Ya didn’t just ‘end up here’. You hunt ‘em or somethin’?”

“Or something,” I answered. I looked down the street and saw more movement in the shadows. “We should leave before the bureau gets here to clean up. I don’t like them.”

“The bureau?” she parroted, “What?”

I started walking off towards the house. “Get goin’ or I’m carrying you. I ain’t askin’ this time around.”

***

“Alright Greg. Ah want answers. No more secrets.”

“No secrets?” I parroted with a smirk, “What are you my girlfriend?”

“I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!”

“Okay, okay, humor gone, got it.” I leaned back into the couch and started again. “Well first you should know I never lied to you. Everything I ever said was true. I just stayed away from the big things.”

“Good, Ah can still trust ya,” she deadpanned.

“Anyways, the hunter that killed my parents ended up having a couple memories in his head that I got with his power,” I explained, “It mentioned a exceptionally powerful cambion just known as ‘The Holder’. No one knows his name anymore. Soon as I was able to I went looking for him. I wanted vengeance. I wanted my justice. I found out he’s the city’s kingpin of sorts. He sends out crossroad cambions to make deals, contract cambions finalize the deals and hold contracts, and he keeps all the souls.”

“Any way out of a deal?” she asked.

“Just a couple,” I told her, “See all these powers need to have something to feed off of in order to work. Ya follow?”

“Yeah I think so.”

“Now normally with supernatural powers it feeds off of something your soul cooks up,” I continued, “I know there’s a technical name for it, but all it really amounts to is magic.”

“Magic Ah understand—sorta.”

“Anyways, without a soul all that power wouldn’t work,” I told her, “Oh, and you’d be dead. So when you sell your soul and get these dark powers they put a spell seal on ya. It binds the power to the seal and your body, giving you free access to it. It also acts like an artificial soul. Get rid of the seal and the powers gone too. Contract null and void.”

“But then yer dead,” she finished.

“Correct, and when you die your soul looses power, so the Holder throws it into the afterlife. There’s another way though.” There was so much to this I was racking my brain for the bits I’d learned over the years. “If you find the cambion that holds your contract you can make another deal. Get two more people to make deals and you’re free to go. Two souls for the price of one you see.”

“That Holder is a greedy son bitch in’t he?”

“You have no idea,” I scowled, “An artificial soul and a real soul can’t exist in the same body either, so when you get your soul back you can kiss that power goodbye too. Hell, if someone deals good enough the Holder will give their soul back and make them a new crossroad cambion. The last option is what I’m trying to do: kill the demon or cambion holding the souls and they all go back where they came from.”

“So the Holder…he’s in this here city ain’t he?”

“Yep, and I’m hunting him.”

The room fell silent after that. I don’t know what she wanted to say. It stayed that way for a minute. I thought over my life. Everything that went my way and everything that didn’t. The monsters I’ve killed, the people I’d met, and the bureau.

“Ah wanna help,” she told me unsurprisingly.

“I know,” I told her, “I may have only known you for a week, but I’ve learned enough about you…you can’t just walk away until it’s done you know.”

“The Holder has to die,” she said firmly, “Ya said it yerself: stand fer what ya believe in, and fight for what’s right. Ah ain’t sat idly by once in mah life, and Ah ain’t gonna start now.”

I got a knock at the door. I didn’t bother with the bat this time. I knew who it was. I opened the door and saw what about amounted to a ninja standing in front of me. “Let me guess—“

“Same offer Greg,” he told me, “The bureau needs someone like you. You have unrestrained power and unrivaled potential.”

“Who’re you?” Applejack asked.

“He’s part of the bureau’s clean up crew,” I explained, “He helps clean up the mess the cambions leave behind. Why do ya think this ain’t international news?”

“I was wonderin’ ‘bout that.”

I looked between her and the janitor for a moment and finally conceded. “The bureau fights the Holder in this quadrant,” I explained, “I don’t work with them, but we have the same goal. They keep offerin’ to join…so fine. Count me in.”

“What?!” he said in shock.

“On one condition,” I interjected.

“Name it!” he said quickly.

“The girl joins too,” I said, “She wants to fight and I can’t train her. When the Holder’s dead we’re gone.”

“Deal. Just follow me to the base of operations whenever you’re ready,” he told us, “Oh, and pack light. We’ll provide the necessities.” He ran off to tell his buddies the good news.

“Ya have a lot more to explain than ya already did don’t ya?”

“Yep, but that’s for later.” I walked off to grab a few clothes from my room. I packed them in a duffel bag I had for whatever reason.

“Not that Ah’m happy that ya volunteered me fer somethin’, but what should we bring?” she asked me as she gathered up a few of her own clothes.

“Clothes for starters,” I answered, “Shampoo, body wash, favorite accessories, and personal items. They’ll provide food, rooms, shower, and most importantly for you: training. I don’t like working in a team AJ. I’m only doin’ this so ya don’t get yourself killed.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said sarcastically, “Yer confidence in me is just overwhelming.”

“You’re only human,” I told her solemnly, “You’re stronger than most, but you are still human. No matter what you are, bones break, you bleed, you die. Everything dies eventually.”

“Yeah, well then so will you ‘eventually’!” she shot at me like a venom spitting cobra.

“I know,” I said softly. I think that surprised her. “But I can’t die yet. Not until I avenge my parents. After that, I can die with a smile. Hell, I’ll be able to smile.”

I think she was looking at me, but my back was turned. I’d sat on the bed to think for a moment. “Ya smiled in the bar today,” she reminded me, “Shoot, ya were even laughin’!” She gave a small nervous chuckle. I kept silent.

“My life is a wreck,” I told her, “I know this lust for revenge has kept me from living a full life, but I never cared. I lost my full life when I lost my family. Now all I have are the broken pieces to pick up and put back together.”

I heard her sniff. She was actually crying for me. “Greg…” She sounded like she was going to say something to try and cheer me up, but she veered off for some reason I couldn’t figure out at the moment. “Mah parents died when mah little sister was just a baby,” she told me without warning, “Ya know those mechanized harvestin’ machines?”

“Yeah.”

“Mah daddy got one to help make harvestin’ the wheat faster. Something got jammed in there one day, and they thought it was a rock. They both went in there to figure out what happened.” She started balling her eyes out.

“That’s enough!” I yelled without looking at her. Hell I even clamped my eyes shut. “You don’t have to tell me this just because I told you what happened to my parents. There’s no reason for you to tell me. There’s no reason for you to relive that memory!”

“Ah know that!” she yelled back still crying, still with her voice cracking madly. “Ah just…misery loves company right?” she asked meekly.

“Don’t…don’t hurt yourself just to try and lessen my pain,” I begged, “I don’t want anyone innocent to get hurt because of me, by any means, for any reason.”

“How noble,” she joked, probably hoping to lighten the mood.

“I’m not in the mood.”

I got up and started grabbing the rest of what I needed. I walked out to the back porch and grabbed my guitar. As I was about to leave I stopped. I leaned up against the door frame for a moment and just plucked a string. I didn’t feel like playing the whole song, but that at least calmed by nerves a bit.

I took a deep breath and went out to the foyer where Applejack was waiting. She’d washed her face so she didn’t look like she’d been crying. “I never have since that day,” I told her. She looked at me in confusion. “Since they died,” I specified, “I haven’t cried since that day. I just can’t.”

I walked past her and got on my bike. “We’ll provide a vehicle for you,” the janitor told me.

Applejack got on the back saying, “Trust me, ya don’t wanna screw around with his bike.”

He looked at her, looked at the bike, looked at me and said, “Okay. Just follow us then.” He walked off and got in a black impala. He drove off with a bunch of other black cars of varying models and years. I followed close behind. I knew I felt a storm coming, and now I was riding right into it.

Author's Note

Just a quick disclaimer: there will not be many religious bases in this story just because I’ve introduced demons. There will be a few of the basic things, but it’s not as though you need to read the fucking book of revelations or the holy bible to get any of what’s to come. Now that that’s cleared up, enjoy the story.

A Half Life

Chapter 5

A Half Life

I couldn’t place my finger on why, but I was pissed. Not like that wasn’t normal. Sixteen years I’d been pissed off, why should that change just cause I moved? Oh yeah, that’s right, I just moved into the city of my sworn prey. Man it was a long story.

To make it short, my mother was a priestess. A cambion came hunting people with her skill and tried to kill her and me. Killed her and my dad, but I tried a spell to seal it away. Fucked it up and stole its power and a couple of its memories.

Since that day I swore to hunt down what amounted to a demon kingpin known only as “The Holder”. He’s the one who sent that cambion to kill me, and took my only family from me. I finally tracked him down to a place the residents call “The City of Lost Souls”. People come here to sell their souls, both figuratively and literally.

I pulled up to the bar in my old 84 Trans Am. The music was blaring inside, playing old songs out of the 80’s and a couple of the better songs from today. Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Metallica, anything that could be considered good music by a hardcore rocker. I’d had a long day as it was. Tracked down a bunch of crossroad cambions, wiped ‘em off the map along with a few contract cambions, and I was about to finish it off with a night of fun.

A girl came up behind me and sat down in the seat next to me. “Ain’t you a tad young to be in a bar with this sort of music?”

“Ain’t you a tad young to be in a bar?” I asked coyly.

“Maybe,” she said in a childish manner. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothin’. I like my girls young and wild.”

“Whoa pal, I ain’t your girl.”

“No you ain’t. I don’t think you’re wild enough to handle me,” I challenged.

“Oh really? I can drink you under the table buddy.”

“Care to put your mouth where the booze is to prove it?” I said with a challenging smirk.

“Oh, you are on!”

***

Half a bottle each later…

“Still goin’ strong baby doll,” I taunted, “What you’re not done already are ya?”

“No woo.” She stumbled just talking. “…I’m done.”

“The king wins again!” I announced.

“Okay, so you can drink, and you’re hot,” she slurred, “What else ya got?”

“I got a mint condition 84 Trans Am sittin’ out front for me and whatever women are lucky enough to come home with me,” I bragged, “Not only that, but I have about a thousand bucks in my wallet alone.”

“Ooh, big shot.”

“I wouldn’t say big shot,” I said casually, “I just don’t do half-assed. No matter what I do, or who I do.” I gave her a predatory grin.

“Don’t get too full of yourself.”

***

I have a right to be full of myself when I take home a nineteen-year-old skinny blonde. Ya ever pick up a girl in a bar for a one night stand you know how it goes: buy her a few drinks, brag about yourself a little, flirt a bit—making her feel good about her insecurities is a golden move, and always bring her home in a good car, to a well kept and decorated home. It’s a system, and I’ve mastered it.

I heard a pounding on my front door again. “Don’t move baby, I’ll handle it.” She drifted off to sleep as I left the room. I was in a good mood—obviously—so I just grabbed the aluminum bat.

I opened the front door and swung it to find no one to hit.

Odd. Normally there’s some one—

Then I got punched in the face by an angry jackass—almost. I gave a small sidestep to the left, grabbed his fist and held his arm behind his back.

“You don’t look or act much like a priest, so I can safely assume you’re the angry boyfriend of the blonde in my bedroom.”

“Damn straight.”

He swung his head back and bashed my in the nose. I shoved him off me and pulled my combat knife off its holster on my belt. He froze instantly.

“I’ll bet this isn’t the first time you’ve done this,” I said casually.

“Nope. You two I bet?”

“You bet right.” I stared him down for a moment and placed my gun back in my pocket. “How about instead of killing each other you stop this from happening again?”

“What?” he said stupidly.

“Look, I know how women work, that’s why your women is here.” I kept my hand on my knife to keep him from doing something stupid. “Obviously she’s not getting something from you that she wants. Now I don’t want to have to kill you, so just do me a favor and sort it out with your girl tomorrow, kay?”

“That why you’re hiding behind a knife?” he challenged.

Obviously he wanted me to ditch the knife so he’d have a chance, so I did. I tossed the knife over my shoulder and it landed in the table. “Listen pal, I don’t need a weapon to kick your ass. Look, I just don’t want to have to beat your face in to the point where it becomes necessary to bury you six feet under in my back yard.”

“Like you have a chance against me!” he all but yelled.

“Really,” I asked coyly, “I beg to differ.”

I just walked past him—ignoring his insults about “running away”. I stopped in front of my car, lifted the front end, and tossed it up so I was holding it up, balancing it with my hands by the back bumper. After a moment of stunned silence I gently let it back down. I set the thing on top of me and rolled out from under it.

I just looked at the guy with a cocky smile. “Ain’t braggin’ mother fucker if ya back it up,” I told him in just as cocky a tone.

He just said a few lines of gibberish.

“I’m not gonna say it again,” I warned him, “I ain’t no relationship counselor, now beat it.”

“I can’t have this keep happening!”

“Well whose fault is that? Oh yeah, yours.”

“How is this my fault exactly?!”

“People cheat on each other because there’s something they want that they’re not getting, or because they’re assholes. I’m pretty sure this is the first.”

“So what, I’m just not giving her what she wants is that what you're saying?” he snapped.

“Yep,” I said simply, “Look, here’s what you’re gonna do: go home.”

“Not without my girl.”

“Let me finish ass-wipe,” I growled. “In the morning I’m throwing her out and telling her to go home. No love can be lost believe me, so I’ll be as big an ass as I can.”

“I’m sure you have practice with that,” he mocked.

“Right,” I growled, “Then around noon you go to her house, and scream at her for cheating on you.”

“Now what good will that do?”

“I’m not finished,” I deadpanned. “When you do, angrily ask if she thinks you’re not ‘man enough’ and say you’ll prove just how much of a man you are. Give her what she wants, and at the same time you assert dominance. That will make sure she doesn’t bar hop for guys anymore. Win-win. Get it?”

“Think it’ll work?” he asked seriously.

“Unfortunately for me: yes. It seems to have worked in the past with girls like her,” I explained, “She wanted to be dominated, keep that in mind.”

“Dominated?” he parroted. He suddenly sighed heavily with his arms crossed, “That explains it.”

“My advice: go buy a riding crop to surprise her with.”

“You’re sick you know that?”

“I am the king,” I said cockily.

“Whatever, and this had better fucking work,” he said as he walked off.

“Yeah, like you’re gonna come find me if it doesn’t.”

***

“GET OUT YOU WORTHLESS WHORE!” I screamed as I threw the woman out the front door and slammed it behind her.

Oh did that get a reaction. She was screaming at the top of her lungs. At one point she even said she had a boyfriend like that was a victory over me. Said he was better than me too; that was rich. After she finally left about twenty minutes later, and I shot at her for going near my car, she left.

Never heard from her, or her boyfriend again.

***

I mostly slept during the day; in fact I’d been up all night while that blonde was sleeping. After I threw her out (and she’d finally left) I passed out on the couch watching “Queen of the Damned”. Odd movie.

Finally the sun was setting and it was time to hunt again. I grabbed an old orange Harley Davidson shirt and threw my jacket on over it. I grabbed my Smith & Wesson .44 caliber magnum (oh hell yes), pried my knife out of the table, and took off out the driveway on my wide-glide.

The magnum was something else. Everyone knew it since Clint Eastwood used it in the “Dirty Harry” movie. “Most powerful handgun in the world”…kinda. Okay I’m not a gun nut, but I did my research when I chose my weapon. It’s the most powerful revolver in the world, not the most powerful handgun necessarily. I did my research, like I said, made my choice, and I stand by it. Of course I had my own special modifications added to it.

I went down to the shipping district of the city and slowed down. I had to go slow so I didn’t miss anything. Cambions do their best to look human in human form, but they have tells just like every idiot that tries playing poker for the first time. Little things that real humans miss, but a real hunter knows how to diverse camouflaged prey from his environment.

It’s in the way they walk, the way they sit, the way the talk, and the way they move.

A human’s walk is careless, slightly klutzy, and either hurried or lazy. Cambions are focused. A cambion’s walk is professional. Each stride is even and measured. Often they walk at a set pace. A human doesn’t control the speed of their strut as well as they think they do.

When humans sit they slouch, without any regard for their backs. Cambions sit up straight, almost seeming attentive at all times as though they were soldiers. That one’s simple really.

Organized crime is organized crime, no exceptions, even with cambions. That’s the thing with all monsters, but cambions under the Holder tend to talk in code. They do share some of the mob code-words that human mobsters use, so you need to watch for the cambion exclusive ones before making a move. You’ll know one when you hear one.

Finally the way they move. This one’s the least subtle, but they can’t help it. Cambions, even in human form, make things look easy. Their minds work in different ways than humans. One example is gambling. Never gamble against a cambion, because it ain’t a gamble for them more often than not.

To identify a cambion by sight though, you need to watch its movements. Lifting crates like in this district is effortless. Their strength is always a lot more than what you’d think just by looking at them. I found out the reason for that is that they have “exceptionally dense muscle mass”.

In a nutshell it means they can look like they’re the same size as another guy, but can probably lift about ten times more than the human, easily.

You might be wondering why cambions would need to move crates. Well it’s a city; there’s a mafia in it. Mobsters sell their souls for the skills to rise through the ranks. One guy does it, another guy notices something’s up, figures it out, and does the same god damn fucking thing.

Dumbasses.

“I’m impressed over here with that guy over there. Look at that. How’s he that strong?”

Effortlessly lifting a crate twice his size, perfect stride, perfect form: cambion. This is why I have a system.

“See, this is why he’s an underboss.”

Crap. Monster boy’s already an underboss, which means he’s the one in charge here. Unless of course the don himself decided to pay a visit—doubt it.

I ducked in the warehouse lot barely avoiding the attention of the guards at the front gate. Sorta hard to miss a guy jumping up a wall like that. I fell on my stomach and watched the underboss from around a corner, just the top of the stairs.

I could see him heading in the warehouse from where I was at. After a moment I saw a lot of people, mobster and workers alike, leaving the warehouse. He’d ordered them to leave obviously, probably to call his dealer, or something along those lines.

Perfect.

I jumped up to the top of the warehouse, and BEHOLD: an open skylight. Man, I didn’t even half to break in. I looked down from above trying to keep myself hidden from view. You know, trying to keep from casting a visual shadow.

“I can’t see you, but I know you’re up there,” he called up to me.

Well…shit. “How’d ya know?” I asked as I perched myself to jump down.

“Instinct,” he answered simply, “Masters right? Greg Masters?” I nodded. “Heard about you. Cambion killing cambions. Aren’t you just the worst kind of hypocrite?”

“I guess that depends on how ya look at it,” I said as I finally jumped down to speak to him face to face, “How many humans did you kill when you were a human?”

He almost laughed, but he held it down, choosing to light up a cigar instead. “Good point I suppose,” he said after he took a couple puffs, “I prefer to think of it this way: how bad am I really?”

I shrugged with my hands in my pockets. “I guess that depends on how ya look at it,” I said again, no different a tone than the first time I said it, “Humans ain’t exactly angels is they?”

“No. No they’re not.” He took a big inhalation of smoke and tossed me one. “You smoke?” he asked me like we were just meeting in a bar.

I caught it in my mouth and pulled out a zippo lighter with the Harley Davidson insignia. “Occasionally,” I told him, “When a guy offers me one in a bar I’ll take it. Don’t always smoke it there though. Sometimes I save it for later y’know?”

“Yeah,” he said in nostalgia, “Nothing quite like lighting one up after sex eh?”

I actually chuckled and nodded. I took out my knife and cut the end off the cigar as I leaned up against a random crate. I held it up like I was gonna toss it to him. He held his hand out to catch it and I did. Just did the same thing I did with it and tossed it back.

I sighed heavily. “Look, ya don’t seem like a bad guy really,” I told him, “Ya just got mixed up in somethin’ you don’t get, and I don’t mean the mafia. I don’t really want to kill ya, so I’ll make ya a deal. I’m sure ya know a good deal when ya see one.”

He took another big puff with me and decided to look around, checking for anyone from the “workplace” I’m sure. “I’m no stranger to deals,” he said simply, “So let’s here it. I’m all ears.” He adjusted the plain black tie on his spiffy black suit and scratched at his five o’clock shadow.

“All I want it to know the way to the Holder,” I said flatly.

He scoffed. “Oh, is that all?” he asked, “Maybe you’d like to torture Lucifer too eh? Or, or, maybe you’d like an angel to rape instead?”

I laughed sarcastically. “Believe me it ain’t that tall an order.”

“How’s about this?” he continued his mocking, “How about, I get god’s sperm donation, put it in Marylyn Monroe’s cooch, and give you the daughter of god to fuck when it comes out?”

“ENOUGH!” I roared, and I do mean roared, “I offer you a deal and this is how you act?!”

“Alright, alright, I’m done. Cool?”

I sucked down the rest of the cigar like it was nothing and spit the stub that was left on the ground. “No. Not ‘cool’,” I spat with smoke on my breath, “Now I’m pissed off, and I just might kick your ass for the fun of it. That what you want big shot? Huh?!”

“Okay, look, I’m sorry,” he insisted begrudgingly, “Listen, I’ve heard enough about you to know you probably can kill me. I don’t know what you want with the Holder, but—“

“I’m going to kill him,” I growled.

He stared at me dumbfounded. He even let his cigar fall out of his mouth in ignorance. “…Wow…just wow.” He picked his cigar back up after a moment of recuperation.

I tossed him my knife again so he could cut it again. He tossed it back after he did. “Well, that is a tall order you’re asking of me,” he said with a notable amount of surprise, “What’s the story? Give ya a bad deal?”

“Unlike you, I didn’t deal,” I told him to his confusion, “I stole my power from someone who did.”

“Ooooooh,” he mumbled in realization, “They said you were different, but I never would have guessed.” He took his last puff and tossed the stub out. “Down to business, what’ve you got to offer?”

I exhaled through a small parting in my lips and looked around. “What’dya want?” I asked him, “Huh? I can get guns, I can make weapons, I can make weapons better depending on what ya can do, and I know how to get motor vehicles. Apart from that…” I shrugged, “All I can do is give ya some cash. That’s all I got.”

“That’s it?” he asked mockingly, “You come in here to kill me, offer me a deal to sell out the guy who made my life paradise, and that’s all you got? The best you got is improving a weapon ‘based on what I can do’, and I don’t even get what that means! You know what?” He just pointed a finger at me. “You got nothing. Piss off.”

I exhaled heavily and nearly growled as I did. “Don’t make this mistake,” I warned him, “Ya don’t wanna fuck with the king.”

“Oh?! So know you’re the king?!” he mocked. He pulled out a pistol. “I said piss off.”

Author's Note

...I hate this chapter.

The whole thing just feels phoned in to me until after Greg goes out hunting for demons. Everything up to that point is just painful to me. The problem is I have no idea how to write a player, so if anyone has any advice on that, I'd greatly appreciate it.

This chapter and the next should have been one, but that added up to about 7000 words. A little too lengthy for my liking, especially since this is more of an expositional side story.

Hunting Bigger Prey

Chapter 6

Hunting Bigger Prey

I pulled my magnum and pointed it at his chest. “I told you not to fuck with the king.” I pulled the trigger and he tried to dodge. The bullet ripped through his stomach and he cried out in pain.

One out of five.

I hold my gun in my left hand, so ya’d think I have a bit of a problem aiming that way. Fact is that’s how I learned to shoot, so I’m actually a better shot with my left hand than my right. That frees up my right hand to knock out assholes that get too close.

Of course that one shot got the attention of everyone outside, so the warehouse doors flew open and everyone poured in shooting at me. I barely avoided getting nicked before I took cover.

That complicated things. My only target was the cambion underboss, not the humans, so this meant I had to get to him without making a mess of things. By “things” I mean A) the warehouse, and B) my criminal record. As of yet I only had a few assault charges riddled with DUI’s and whatever they charge you with for giving the cops a hard time. No murder charges yet, and that was because I never killed a human.

I checked the convex mirror thankfully located in the upper corner of the room and looked for my target. I spotted him and flew up the stairs to the catwalk. I shot at him again and missed.

Two out of five. Don’t miss you dumbass.

Thankfully I didn’t hit a human either, just concrete. He escaped out to the lot and I jumped out the window after him. A bullet nicked my ear as I did though; that hurt like hell.

When I landed there was no one between me and him, so I ran him down with my knife in hand. He turned and threw me over himself just in time. I flipped through the air and shot at him again when he was in my sights. The bullet passed clean through his gut. I could guess that I only narrowly missed his spine.

Three out of five. So far so good.

I landed and he groaned in pain. He pointed at me as his subordinates ran out after me. “All of you back off! He’s mi-ine!” he yelled, barely able to speak through the pain.

I pointed the gun at him again. “You sure that’s a good idea bub?” I asked him cockily.

“No guns, just fists and knifes,” he wheezed.

I tilted my head to the side as a bullet whizzed by my ear. “Not exactly a great idea dumb-fuck,” I remarked.

The underboss turned around and everybody pointed at the same guy. “Another associate too eager to get through the ranks,” he spat at him before shooting him right between the eyes. “Anyone else want to try and get promoted?!” They stayed silent and shook their head collectively.

He was regaining his vigor quickly. That would end up being a problem. Cambions heal quickly. Bones are still brittle for some time after they do, but flesh wounds are hardly anything to them. Sure the flesh takes time to properly heal, but it closes fast. Still, all it takes to reopen one is all it takes to pull out someone’s stitches fresh after surgery.

He threw his gun on the ground and I placed mine in my jacket. I pulled out and readied my knife and my body for the fight. Cambions, no matter what their true form or power, are incredibly weak in human form. I’m no different.

I saw him get a fucking sword from one of his men. Cheating bastard, didn’t matter. He groaned in pain as he steadied himself. He was in pain as it was, which meant he was weak. I was going to take full advantage of that.

He came at me swinging like a novice. Sure swords have long reach and could butcher a man, but if you have no form than it’s like giving a steak knife to an infant. He swung the damn thing like a madman and I practically danced around it.

Finally I just blocked a strike with my knife and bashed him in the gut with my left fist. The freshly healed wound reopened and blood gushed out of it. He staggered and lowered the sword to his side, lacking the strength to even hold it up.

“Remember when you said ‘no guns’?” I asked angrily.

“Yeah,” he said as he picked his sword back up.

He raised it above his head and almost brought it down on my head.

I yanked my magnum out from its holster and pressed the barrel against his jugular vein before he could react. He instantly froze in fear and realization of what my last question actually meant.

“No deal.” I pulled the trigger and heard the bang come from the chamber.

Four out of five.

He stumbled back and dropped the sword in agony before he dropped to the ground. Blood poured from the open wound like a waterfall. He desperately tried to close the wound with his hands and sheer force of will to no avail.

“Now you and I both know that there’s only one way you’re gonna live through that.”

He glared at me with a fury I’d seen in every cambion prior to him. He wasn’t anything special, just another chump too stupid to know when to quit, so what he did next didn’t surprise me at all.

His skin started turning blacker than my hair. I intended to kill him before he changed completely, so I put my final bullet right between his eyes.

Five out of five. Empty.

Well…I tried to kill him anyways, but the growing carapace formed over his head before the bullet hit. His head flew back so fast though that it should have broken his neck though, but y’know…fucking cambions.

His body enlarged to the point where he grew right out of his suit. His enlarged head got more angular, like an arrowhead with three points at the back. His mouth grew into a razor sharp ear-to-ear smile with mandibles coming out of it every time it opened.

His body turned more insect-like with every moment, even growing a thorax to complete the ensemble. Four additional arms grew out of his abdomen, each with razor sharp tips rather than claws. Finally he grew large wings out of his back. All around, he stood at about twelve feet tall.

“Let’s see, arrowhead head, insect body, razor teeth in giant mouth, six legs, six arms—only difference is in the use though, wings, and big green eyes,” I summarized as I paced back and forth with my hands behind my back, “My professional diagnosis is that you are one butt ugly piece of shit mother fucker that’s about to get his head ripped off. I’d say you have a minute to live—use it well.”

He jabbed at me with his spiked limbs, making me do back-flips to avoid getting skewered. When all six missed I saw that they were retracting. Expandable limbs=not good.

“What are you all waiting for?!” he roared at everyone as he pointed at me, “Kill him! Kill him now!”

A flurry of bullets and spikes were launched at me. I barely managed to get into cover behind a crate before I got turned into swiss cheese. I took a moment to breath and make a plan of attack, but it was short lived as the underboss’ spikes started ripping through the crate I was hidden behind.

I dashed out of cover as quickly as I could and ran for the security gate at the front of the lot, switching cover as often as I could to avoid—y’know what I said it once, you get the picture.

Finally I got there and I took cover again. Without any shots in my magnum I didn’t have any long-range attacks, and with as many mobsters that were shooting at me I didn’t have much of a chance. I had to give the mobsters credit; even in the confusion they knew where their loyalties lay.

Fortunately for them I don’t kill humans, fortunately for me: cut the head off the snake and the body dies. All I had to do was kill the giant bug and I was home free, for the most part anyways. Luck had nothing to do with the next part.

I discarded my jacket and shirt, grew my wings and lit up my claws as I came back around the corner. The mobsters were a bit shocked, but didn’t pay much attention to it other than a couple surprised comments. I held the magnum in my left hand and aimed for the giant bug.

“Don’t fuck with the king,” I told him as I pulled the trigger. An explosion of azure fire erupted from the barrel of the gun as the markings on it radiated black with demonic power.

What? You didn’t think I’d use a gun against a cambion without having a couple tricks up my sleeve did you?

I pulled the trigger three times and the ethereal blazing bullets blasted through his carapace. Green blood oozed out the gargantuan bullet holes on his abdomen.

He launched a giant spiked limb at me again, but by this time the flying bullets had stopped in fear. They knew I wasn’t going to run out of ammo, and they thought better of getting their heads blown the fuck up.

I caught the spike in my free hand as it reached its full length and yanked him towards me. He jerked forwards through the air and landed in a heap twenty feet from me. I quickly closed the distance and put the barrel of the gun to his head as he looked up.

“What I tell you?” I asked him as I pulled the trigger, “Don’t fuck with the king.”

His blood sprayed everywhere. He wasn’t quite dead, so I quickly found his heart—in his thorax by the way—and yanked it out. Now he was dead, which left me to wonder why his heart was in his ass.

Cambions are weird.

I looked around at all the stunned and fearful faces. “What did you see?” I asked them. Obviously they all said “nothing” (don’t pull that joke with me asshole). “Good. Now why are you still here?!”

They all ran off with their tails between their legs like a bunch of pansies. I sat on the giant head of the deceased bug and said to him, “Y’know, I was on the fence about whether or not I liked you, but your friends could at least try to have a backbone.”

I spied his cigar case lying on the ground a few feet away. I took a quick look around to see if anyone was still looking to shoot me. “Well,” I said to myself as I got up, “No need to let fine Cuban cigars go to waste.” As I picked it up and set it in my back pocket I smelled something.

Let’s see…fresh blood, riddled with sulfur, which means it’s cambion. Seems reptilian based—no…amphibian? Wait, that’s mammal. What the fuck? Where’s all this coming from? Wait a moment…that’s human?

I stood up slowly and made my way to the security gate to get my shirt and jacket, watching and listening for whatever I could. I smelt a lot of cambion blood of all sorts of bases, not to mention the distinct traces of human blood throughout. It was uncanny, and I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It was everywhere at once! It was…

Oh shit. I’m being surrounded.

I dashed to the security booth for cover just before the bullets started flying. When transformed my skin could take a few bullets, but hit me with a machine gun and it’s like getting the piss beat out of you by Mike Tyson. Don’t get me started on the one guy who thought it would be fun to shoot me in the balls. There’s not even a bloody scrap left of him.

They were coming from on top of the building, inside the building, around the building, every end of the lot, and from the end of the street. I was actually boxed in with nowhere to go! I had no idea how many cambions had surrounded me, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.

I came out to shoot one when a bullet grazed my other ear. I ducked back into cover in shock. It barely hit me, but I was bleeding. That shouldn’t have been possible. I touched my ear lightly and felt a liquid on it. It burnt to the touch, but it smelled like nothing. Against any sort of logic my brain ever had I tasted it.

Water? Wait…it’s not the water that burns, it’s the enchantments!

“Holy water?! You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!”

Honestly I didn’t even know that worked. Didn’t matter. Since it apparently did work that meant I wasn’t dealing with cambions. Cambions can’t use those kinds of enchantments. Believe me I tried; nothing happened.

If I ain’t dealin’ with cambions, then they’re demon hunters! …

“Haha! Okay you boys are obviously aimin’ for bigger prey, but you’re about to learn you’ve bitten off more than you can chew!”

I spied one aiming for me, clad in full black fabric, sporting all sorts of gadgets and communication devices. I wasn’t aiming to kill of course, but I needed them scared stiff so I could at least get away.

I aimed at him and pulled the trigger on my magnum again. The concrete he was sitting on blew up underneath him and he fell to the ground below. The bullets stopped for just a moment and I took my chance. I grabbed my stuff and took off to the skies. Pretty ballsy given that I was in a busy district, even if it was still night there was more than enough illumination to spot me.

Suddenly I felt something trying to break the skin on my shoulder. I looked and saw a grappling hook—a fucking grappling hook! What did these guys plan on raiding Camelot or something—what the hell?!

I felt another one dig into my other shoulder and I couldn’t fly any farther. My fiery claws ripped through the chains with ease, but they kept coming faster than I could break them. After a long effort, which was more than just a little embarrassing on my part, I was eventually pulled to the ground.

***

Bound and grounded I looked at my borderline ninja looking captors with a fire in my eyes that made my claws jealous. One of them—who I assumed to be their leader—circled me like he was a cop and I was a prisoner. I didn’t like that.

“Who are you working for?” he demanded in an obviously fake deep voice.

“Don’t insult me,” I warned.

He kicked me square in the jaw. “What is your purpose?”

“Well after that it’s to kick your sorry ass when I get outta this.” He punched me in the nose. “Scratch that, I meant bury you.”

He went to hit me again when another of my captors stopped him and took his place. “Who are you working for?”

Oh for fuck’s sake. That’s it now I’m just gonna piss them off.

“Who are you working for?” I countered sounding like a hippy after smoking a joint.

“What is your purpose?”

“What is your purpose?”

“What do you want?”

“What do you want?”

“I demand you answer my questions!”

“I demand you—“

“SHUT UP!” He breathed heavily and some of the other guys were laughing at him. “What’s so funny?!”

“Honestly, it’s the fact that we’ve seen the episode of ‘That’s 70’s Show’ he’s referencing.”

Now a third guy walked up to interrogate me.

“Hey, don’t I get a phone call or something?”

“Where is he?” he demanded.

I looked at him dumbly. “Uh, you’re gonna need to be a little more specific.”

He pulled out a gun and pressed it to my forehead. “Don’t play with me you soulless piece of trash! Where. Is. The Holder?!”

“OOOOH! You want to find the Holder,” I said in fake astonishment and realization, “Okay I’ll tell you. Come close.” Like a moron he stuck his ear up to my mouth. “The location of the Holder is…” I whispered before I took a very deep breath and roared, “EXACTLY WHAT THE FUCK I’D LIKE TO KNOW!!!”

He stumbled off in shock. “Oh god I think I’m deaf!”

“What kind of morons are you?! If I knew where that bastard was he"d be dead already! What, do you think I'm some random jackass that was too dumb to spy a bad dead?! I actually have my own soul!”

“Yeah right,” the first one said, “I’ll be the judge of that.” He muttered some incantation that I recognized as being used to search a person’s soul. “No. Way,” he mumbled in amazement.

I was done fucking around, since it was clear they wanted me alive for information I didn’t have. My wings were as sharp as my claws, and could also burn brighter than the idiots I was dealing with as well. I stood up and melted through the chains before they knew what was going on.

Several of them moved to suppress me, but the one who scanned me stopped them. When questioned he answered, “He’s telling the truth. I can see it in his soul. He never lost it. He always had it, and it hasn’t even been stained with human blood. I don’t know how, but the power is etched into his soul more securely than anything I’ve seen done before. It looks like it’s been there for a couple decades.”

I gave a sarcastic clap. “Bravo dumb fuck,” I commended sarcastically, “But are you smarter than a fifth grader? I think not. I could have told you all that myself. Oh, and nice second rate spell ya idiot. My mother taught me a better one when I was two.”

“Was your mother a priestess?” he asked.

“That’s none of your fucking business,” I sneered, “Now if you’ll excuse me I have hunting to do. Tonight hasn’t exactly productive, thanks to you dumbasses.”

“Hunting what?” he asked curiously.

“Oh! So you’re done demanding answers? Ain’t ya afraid I’ll kill ya?”

“There’s no human blood on your soul. If you were going to kill a human like me you’d have done it by now.”

I glared at him furiously. “You smell as much human as that giant carcass over there.” I pointed at the dead underboss. “Maybe I’ll make a mistake,” I threatened.

That got a few guns pointed my way. The man I was talking to ordered them to lower them. “That cambion…are you the one that killed it?” he asked me.

“No, it was the tooth fairy,” I said sarcastically.

“The tooth fairy? Really?” He was not amused.

“Oh yeah. What you didn’t know? Dwayne Johnson quit the WWE and started demon hunting too! Oh it was all over CNN last week, too bad ya missed it.” I madly smirked mockingly. “Really who the fuck do you think could do that to a cambion? Who the fuck are you anyways?”

He took a moment to present himself and finally dropped the fake voice. Sounded younger than me. “We…are the bureau!” he announced.

I looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “The fuck does that mean?” I asked rudely, “What is that supposed to mean something to me? You guys are about as clear as the butt of my gun, which is gonna break your jaw in about a minute if you don’t start makin’ sense.”

He groaned in annoyance, apparently I was finally starting to piss him off. I had to give him credit; he had more patients than most humans I’d ever met. “The bureau is an organization dedicated to the extermination of all dark creatures. In this city particularly though, we focus on eradicating the cambion infestation,” he explained, “Occasionally through the centuries there have been dark creatures—cambion or otherwise—that kill other dark creatures. Those we leave alone, since their activities benefit our purposes.”

“So I’m exemplified. Big fucking deal, I’ve dealt with bigger threats than you. Let’s see, you’re dressed like a mix of a ninja and the G.I.Joes, you use fucking grappling hooks like it’s medieval times, you can’t interrogate for fuck, you use god damn holy water—which is hilarious to me, and none of you can shoot for shit. Oh yeah you’re great at what you do.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” he snapped at me.

“Oh please, I know that in order to be an effective demon hunter you need to either be a monster or a priest trained to do as such.”

“I am a trained priest!”

“Out of how many of you?” I asked mockingly.

He got real quiet, real fast. “There’s one for maybe every hundred of us, probably less,” he admitted.

“Mm-hm, that’s what I thought,” I said in finality, “Yeah I’m the one that killed that cambion, and I did it without getting a scratch on me. He’d have killed half of you, and that’s optimistically thinking.”

“Your ears have scars on them,” he pointed out.

“What’s your point?”

“Well one was here when we arrived, the other wasn’t.”

“Oh my god, my ears, aaaaaah,” I “yelled” sarcastically. If I could have been any more of an ass I really didn’t know how to at this point. “So you grazed my ear, and yeah holy water works. Is that really what you call a fucking victory? Cause if it is you and I have very different ideas of what it takes to win a fight.”

“Then join us if you think you’re so much better than us!” he demanded. I looked at him dumbfounded. “Don’t give me that look! You’re wrong about us but you’re right about you! A cambion is the best cambion killer there is, and we need any help we can get to take down the Holder!”

I just looked at him as I felt the spite well up within me. “You attack me, you chain me, you interrogate me, you insult me, you lecture me, and you have the balls to ask me to join you?!” I fumed, steadily rising in speed and volume the whole way, “Go fuck your sister ya piece of trash.”

I took off without another word to be spoken. That wasn’t the last time I’d meet the bureau, and they’d always give me the same offer. Sometimes I’d find them during a raid. Sometimes they’d join me in a fight. Sometimes we’d find one another after a fight, sometimes before. No matter what I always turned them down and left.

Eventually they figured out where I lived and started making house calls to get me to join. That was when I started using a baseball bat whenever I opened the door. They were the only ones that it didn’t knock out, but it hurt like a son of a bitch I could tell. Heh, I still remember that one guy that went soprano. That was funny.

I’d wake up, kick a girl out, go hunting, sometimes meet the bureau, go to the bar, pick up another girl, two, or sometimes even three, go home, fuck their collective brains out, watch a movie, pass out, and start all over again the next day. What a half-life.

Adjustments

Chapter 7

Adjustments

Well I never thought I’d be here. The bureau center of command in the City of Lost Souls…which was apparently a hotel in the middle of the city.

“You see, this is the other reason I didn’t join these jokers,” I complained, “There about as organized as a hive of ants without a queen.”

“It’s not exactly accurate to say we’re an organization even. More we represent an ideal: a world free of oppressive demons.”

“One: well that takes me off that list, I’m not oppressive; I’m just an ass,” I joked, “Two: oh that makes me much more confident in this decision.”

“Can ya’ll stop bein’ cynical for two seconds? And Ah mean both of ya.”

“Well excuse me, but I like to exercise my right to bitch,” I sneered back at her, “I wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t want to make sure you don’t commit suicide via impalement by a cambion.”

Of course I don’t mind if you get impaled by this cambion.

Shut up brain.

Piss off. I was here first!

Oh please the only way you could be any more annoying right now is if you actually manifested as a little cliché demon on my shoulder, and don’t say the angel me got stuck in traffic! I don’t have an angel!

Haw haw!

What’s so fuckin’ funny?!

You’re arguing with your own brain!

…So I am.

“I should mention now that you’ll realize I need extreme psychiatric help and that you’ll want me to see a professional,” I told the janitor, “I’m bringing this up so you don’t waste your time, or more importantly mine. I’m not going to do that.”

“Dearly noted.”

Applejack rubbed her temples in annoyance. “Fer Pete’s sake mah little sister is brighter than you.”

I wanted to say something cynical, but… “Yeah, probably,” I admitted, “I’m a fighter, not a thinker.”

A man approached the three of us and took off his mask. I instantly noted the small golden cross he pulled out from under his garbs. “Greg Masters,” he said in a familiar voice, “So we meet again. How many times is this?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck.”

“Aight, stop,” Applejack demanded, “Now how do ya’ll know each other? Don’t say angry boyfriend either.”

I snorted a laugh. “Uh, no. Actually, y’know that story I was telling you on the way here and while we were waiting?”

“Yeah.”

“This is the priest I met the first time I encountered the bureau,” I explained, “First time I’ve actually seen your face though.” Short brown hair and brown eyes, not much to look at really.

“Most of us have families,” he reminded me, “It wouldn’t be that hard for an escaped cambion to track them down if it saw one of our faces. As a result we do not remove out masks unless we are in the base.”

“Whoopdee fucking doo,” I deadpanned, getting an elbow in the stomach as a result.

“Greg!” Applejack snapped at me, “That’s his family he’s talkin’ about! He wants to keep ‘em safe. I’m terribly sorry, I—“

“I wouldn’t know what that’s like,” I reminded her. Applejack looked at me again and figured out from my expression that she shouldn’t twist the knife in the wound.

“Sorry Greg.”

I inhaled deeply, and exhaled. “Whatever.” I knew she could hear the small twinge of pain in my voice, even if the others couldn’t.

“So then,” the priest asked, “Who’s the cowgirl?”

“Don’t call me cowgirl,” she warned him.

Odd. She let me call her cowgirl.

That’s because you’re friends you dumbass.

No, before we were friends too.

She was too tired to deal with you anymore that night!

That wasn’t the last time I called her that before we became friends though. She still never said anything about it.

Oh for whatever’s sake what’s your point?

Another brilliant example of my sanity and intelligence. You’re me; you should know what my point is!

Oh yeah, I do.

“This is Applejack—yes that is her real name,” I told the priest, “She’s a friend of mine who found out about the cambion problem in the city. Now she wants to fight them too, and I can’t train her. You can.”

“You know we don’t just take every person that walks in the door right?”

“Actually, that’s where Greg comes in,” the janitor piped up again, “You see sir, Greg struck a deal with us.”

“Oh?”

“He joins if she joins.”

“OH!” He smiled at me.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and rub it in ya bastard,” I sneered nastily at him.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing that,” he said innocently.

“Ah believe that tone from you about as much as Ah believe it from him,” AJ said as she pointed to him, then me. A shot at me too, yeah, but it was just as much of a shot at him so I snickered anyways.

“Well if you’re joining our cause I’ll have to introduce myself,” the priest said, “My name is Michael.”

I laughed out loud on that one. “Seriously? Michael? The fucking archangel?! What is wrong with you?” My laughter devolved into a small series of snorts and snickers.

“I’ll have you know my mother named me.”

“Her name is unique yeah, but this one is just stupid!”

Applejack elbowed me in the ribs again. “Will ya stop it?!” she snapped at me.

Finally after a moment I did manage to catch my breath and start acting like a civilized human being. Seriously; Michael! How fucking cliché can ya get?

“Anyways, Greg, I’ll show you to your room so you can get situated,” Michael told me, “There’s a fridge, a bathroom, a small kitchen, everything you’ll need. Come down to the basement sublevel four via the elevator when you’re ready. We’ll prepare a room for your…plus one.”

Well at least he didn’t say girlfriend. That would have been a bit embarrassing. Oh for fucks sake I’m turning into Inuyasha.

“Hold up,” I said suddenly, “Just so we’re clear, there’s nothing in the water right?”

Michael looked back in me in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“So you’re not smart enough to enchant the buildings water supply to avoid demon infiltration?” I asked.

He got real quiet suddenly. “I’ll…order a separate water supply for your room.”

“If you wanted me to join so badly it would have made sense to have a room already prepared for me special.”

“We did.”

“That makes you an even bigger moron considering.”

***

“Well here’s your room Greg.”

“I’m gonna go get my car tomorrow,” I told him, “A lot of stuff I couldn’t take on the bike y’know? Important stuff. I got a system y’see?”

He sighed in annoyance. “Yeah, sure.” He turned to Applejack. “I’m sorry, but until we have your room prepared you’ll need to stay here.”

“What?!” she said indignantly, “Ahm not sleepin’ in the same bed as him! Ahm not sleepin’ in the same room!”

I chuckled darkly as I walked to the balcony, “Don’t worry cowgirl. I don’t bite…much.”

“Now see, that’s what Ahm talkin’ about.”

Michael waved her off. “One of the many things I’ve learned about Greg is that he’s all talk when it comes to that stuff. He’s not going to do something you don’t want him to.”

“Spoil sport,” I grumbled.

“Have a nice night, if you need anything call the lobby,” he said as he left.

I was a bit thirsty, and the water might as well have been laced with cobra venom. I looked at the nightstand and smiled.

“Hey cowgirl,” I said as I picked up the two 750 ml bottles, “Need a drink?”

She kinda looked like she was gonna scold me for drinking at a time like this, but instead she said, “Ya know what? Yeah, Ah do.”

***

We sat out on the balcony having finished our respective bottles of Southern Comfort and Jack Daniels. I may be a demon, but certain factors still applied. For example: how much alcohol it takes to make someone legally drunk is directly dependant upon how much the person’s body weighs.

I was around two twenty honestly, but that was all muscle. Applejack I estimated to be around one fifty, again, muscle, but I could tell that rack of hers added to it. Needless to say she was more drunk than I was.

“Ya know Greg, Ah know Ah didn’t like ya the day—night—we met, but yer a cool guy,” she slurred as I got another bottle. “Wus that?”

“Honey Jack,” I told her flawlessly, “I wanna be slurring my words by the time the fuckin’ sun comes up.”

“That Jack Daniels stuff?” she asked, “Bleck. Keep that away from me. Ah don’t like the taste of it.”

“No, no, it’s a different kind, same brand, but different kind,” I told her, “They mix honey in the whiskey to give it a more pleasing flavor, and fuck does it work.”

I took a swig out of the bottle and handed it to her. She was hesitant, but she took it anyways. She grimaced when she smelled it.

“It’s whiskey cowgirl,” I reminded her, “Ya don’t smell it, ya drink it.”

“Ah know how to drink,” she lazily snapped at me before taking a much bigger swig than I did. “Woo! That does taste kinda nice.”

“Whoever came up with honey whiskey was a fucking genius.”

I picked up the empty bottle of Jack and dangled it over the ledge for a moment. I almost wonder if that was in bad taste, then I remembered that I don’t care. Applejack watched me dropped it and a few moments later we heard it smash against the sidewalk below.

“What the fuck?!” we heard from below.

“Greg,” she groaned at me, “If ya really wanna screw with ‘em ya gotta give it some oomph.”

She grabbed the empty southern comfort and whipped it down onto the sidewalk.

“It’s raining glass! Run for your lives!”

We both started laughing hysterically.

“Hoo boy,” she muttered, “Ya know…Ah think it’s a pretty nice night. Clear, calm skies, a gentle breeze, maybe a little chilly, but it’s kinda refreshing too. Don’tcha think?”

“I hate this weather,” I muttered, before taking about five more shots straight out of the bottle.

“Why?”

“It’s boring and I hate the cold.”

“Aight, what kinda night do ya like?”

I took another couple of shots out of the bottle and smiled darkly. “Dark, humid, stormy nights,” I answered, “The flash and bang of lightning and thunder is music to my ears. The rain pelting the roof and my windows is the melody to my brooding lullaby.”

“That’s just grim, but Ah do like the sound of rain.”

“I’m a monster,” I reminded her without thinking, “What do you expect?”

She looked at me in discontent. “Ah wanted to talk to ya about that,” she told simply, “Don’t be hidin’ behind that ‘Ah’m a monster’ crap.”

“What?” I looked at her in a bit of shock while she just short of glared at me.

“Listen here buster. Ah know ya were born human, so ya have human instincts, not demon instincts. Magic is magic, it don’t care what it’s used fer, so no power ain’t gonna change who ya are.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” I grumbled as I took another shot.

“Then tell me ah’m wrong.”

I looked off in the direction of my house. “You’re wrong,” I said simply.

“Look me in the eye and say that,” she demanded.

I stayed quiet a moment. “No,” I mumbled like a disobedient child.

“Greg.”

“I said no!”

“Now yer actin’ like a foal!”

“I don’t care!” I shouted before mumbling, “If anyone’s earned the right it’s me.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked apathetically.

I sighed heavily and sadly. “Honestly…you’re right,” I admitted, “I don’t blame my nature on what I am…I blame it on the assholes I had to deal with growing up. Always giving me hateful glares, constantly calling me a freak, having to fight them off and getting blamed for starting the fight cause I didn’t have a scratch on me.

“What’s the point of being superior when all it does is get me in trouble? Why should I follow the rules when all I ever get for it is the short end of the stick? That’s what I always asked myself when I was growing up, and the answer was always the same thing. If doing right got me in trouble then I wouldn’t do right. Never got me in any more trouble. I think I got in less trouble honestly.”

“I guess that would hurt,” she said softly, “…Wait a minute…why were they callin’ ya a freak anyways? Did they know ya were a cambion?”

“No,” I growled, “They didn’t call me a hell spawn freak…they called me a motherless freak. Kept reminding me that ‘god didn’t save mommy after all’. Jackasses. At least my mother had faith in something, and it’s not like she didn’t get anything for it. If she wanted she could have used her talents to save or destroy the world. Instead she chose a life with me and my father…and look what she got for it.”

Applejack got ghostly quiet for a minute before saying anything. “Ah guess…she’d be proud of ya,” she said finally.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean,” I grumbled angrily.

“Now Ah ain’t gonna say ya turned out like she thought ya would,” she admitted.

“No shit.”

“But Ah am gonna say that Ah think she’d be happy that ya turned a bad situation into something better,” she said in an attempt to comfort me, “Ah mean, after what happened to ya as a kid, then growing up…at least ya kept yer virtues. Ah guess that’s all a person really needs is their virtues. Makes ‘em good on the inside y’know?”

“Maybe,” I said softly, “I always thought my soul was just a black pit…thanks. That does make me feel a bit better.”

“Fer the record ya really confuse me,” she said flatly.

“Now why’s that?” I asked curiously.

“Well…why is it that yer one of the nicest guys Ahv ever know and at the same time yer probably the meanest guy Ah ever met?”

“Oh. That.” I thought that one over for a moment. “Well…I guess it’s because I have virtues.”

“We just went over that,” she deadpanned with a wry smile.

“No, I mean…think about it,” I said simply, “When a person walks in the light they never see the darkness. The good and the evil can be pretty hard to diverse in that case. People don’t realize how rude they can be, or how wrong something is until it’s too late.

“Not to mention that so-called children of god can be self righteous. They’re the only ones that are ever right, so they have no sense of humility. I mean, I’m arrogant as Satan and don’t like to admit I’m wrong, but I still know when I’m wrong y’know?

“Why do ya think convicts stick together? They understand and empathize with one another. Yeah, a lot of them go too far, but they understand what they do. The light only understands one thing, but the darkness understands everything else. I guess that’s why a bastard like me can be better to hang with than a damn priest.”

“Ah never really thought of it that way,” she admitted thoughtfully, “Ah always figured convicts stick together cause they like each other’s sick twisted minds.”

I laughed. “Well that can play a part in it too y’know.”

She laughed too after a moment. After that it was a pretty calm quiet. She leaned cutely over the railing and looked out over the city. It was that way girls lean over all innocent-like so their butt sticks out. Of course I couldn’t help but look at her ass again, even if it was still covered by denim. I couldn’t stop from looking when I was sober, now I was having a hard time not grabbing it. I mean it was just sticking out there.

Man I just wanna grab that thing and ride it till the sun—

“Will ya stop starin’ at mah behind?”

I was taking a shot and the moment and pulled a spit take when she said that. “Fuck! It went up my nose!” Now that hurts. After I managed to dull the pain I addressed the statement. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.” No I was not sorry, that was a lie.

“Ya do it all the time,” she pointed out, “Ah can’t think of a day when ya weren’t starin’ at mah hindquarters.”

“Oh…how’dya know?”

“You kiddin’?” she practically scoffed, “I see it the reflection of the glass or whatever. Sometimes even an actual mirror.”

“Oh…well can ya blame me?” I asked, “Really that’s sorta a compliment to you. I can’t help it if you’re smokin’ hot.”

“Smokin’—“ She cut herself off and blushed furiously. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“For once when I tell a woman that I’m not trying to sleep with her, and I get that as a response,” I pointed out ironically, “Better looking than any woman in this city I can tell ya that, and that ain’t easy.”

“Knock it off,” she half begged, but something in her voice and shy smile told me she wanted to hear more. I got a mean idea in my head.

“Okay.”

“What?!” She sat up and looked at me like I took away her favorite toy.

“Well you said stop, and I’m not stupid,” I reminded her, “No means no, right?” I smiled meanly at her

“Ah…Ah guess, yeah,” she said sadly as she slumped down to the floor.

“…Then again you’re eyes are like emeralds and that accent is sexy as hell,” I told her.

She smiled again and gave me a small shove. I tried a small shove but I knocked her over instead. I went to help her up, but I tried too hard again and fell back myself with her on top of me. I forgot what she said exactly, but…we both took another shot and things get a little fuzzy after that…

Okay, a lot fuzzy.

***

I groaned awake and rubbed my head.

That’s just great. Fucking hangover.

I looked about the room and what happened the previous night started coming back to me. The bar, the argument, the cambion, the explanation, and finally that we joined the bureau.

Great…I must have been blackout drunk cause I don’t get a hangover otherwise. Of course I’d like some water, but of course it’s tainted with fucking holy magic. Oh life here is gonna be wonderful. More like getting a root canal from Edward Scissorhands.

I remembered that Applejack was drinking with me and spotted her with her head hanging over the edge of the bed. I lifted her head and opened her eyelid. Out cold.

Well the fact that the things that happened last night were a little blurry became a short-lived realization, because I suddenly needed to throw up.

I dashed into the bathroom and vomited up whatever I might have eaten the previous night. I think it was an apple pie (no, not that).

Y’know how sometimes it takes certain things to wake up certain people? Things that remind them of something, sometimes work. And y’know how sometimes certain things only work under certain conditions in that situation?

Apparently being blackout drunk the previous night and hearing someone throw up can do the trick.

Applejack suddenly shoved me to the side and threw up herself. I was going to say something to her, but I figured I’d let her get her head in order before I did

“…Aight the last thing Ah remember is the bureau,” she whispered to me, “Then…getting drunk and throwing bottles at the sidewalk.”

Alright, no chitchat, straight to the point. What happened last night that is. “Then we had a little…uhg…heart to heart, and I think…uh…”

“Ah think ya started flattering me,” she whispered with her head still in the crapper, “After that Ah think ya held out on me a little to tease me.”

“Right, and then I did it again…you gave me a playful shove…I did it back but you fell over…I helped up and we both fell over…and…uh…”

“Well we kept our pants on, so that didn’t happen,” she pointed out logically, “Ah think…” Her head shot up again and she was scarlet.

That’s when I remembered. “Who kissed who again?” I asked.

“Ahm not sure.”

“…”

“…”

“So…drunken rule?” I suggested.

“Drunken rule.”

Thank I don’t care who for the drunken rule.

It's a Trap! (Go Ahead; Sue Me)

Chapter 8

It’s a Trap! (Go Ahead; Sue Me)

Most.

Awkward.

Morning.

Ever.

Elaboration? Applejack and I got blackout drunk last night and we just realized that we kissed. So now we’re experiencing that feeling college kids get when they realize that they kissed their best friend at the party last night. Same thing really, except that this isn’t going to end in us “experimenting” to see if the relationship will work, and eventually realizing that it won’t. After which we never want to speak to each other again.

This is one of the oh so many reasons why I avoid talking to people. Too complicated.

“BLEAH!” That one was her.

Oh yeah, we were still taking turns puking in the same toilet too.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Applejack? It’s Michael. We prepared your room for you finally. Greg, we have a raid scheduled in about an hour. I need you in the basement for debriefing then.”

“Got it.”

“Got it.”

“BLEAH!” That one was me.

“How much did you drink last night?”

“I don’t get hangovers, and I have a hangover,” I answered, “That’s how drunk we were last night.”

“Oh for the love of god,” I heard him mumble.

“Hey cowgirl?” I said hesitantly, and quietly to Michael wouldn’t hear us.

“Why’re ya whispering?” she whispered back.

“Listen…about last night—“

“Drunken rule.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know,” I said dismissively, “Fact is…look, I want to stay friends, but that did happen. I can’t just bury that in the back of my mind.”

“Why not, and so what?”

“Look, I know I probably did it because you had a small blush, and to be honest it was kinda cute.”

She gave a small blush.

“Yeah, like that.”

“Well…Ah think it was because…Ah don’t know…Ah guess Ah was feeling adventurous.”

“So…because I’m a cambion?”

“Yeah,” she admitted somewhat remorsefully.

“I’m strangely okay with that,” I told her with a small smile. “So…we’re cool?”

“Yeah, we’re cool.”

Well I felt better at least, and by the sound of her voice she did too.

***

Well she left with Michael—after we were finished puking—and said she was gonna get started on training when she was done getting situated.

Personally, despite the fact that it was the middle of the day, I took off from my room balcony and started flying towards a storage garage. The thing is that after I moved in and got everything unpacked, I realized just how often the bigger cambions liked to throw motorized vehicles. For my car’s safety I put it in a storage garage.

I had the key on me of course, and it was on the same ring that started the car too. When I threw the door open I took a good look inside. It had been a long time since I’d been in there. A couple years actually. I only saw the tarp covering the car of course, so I threw it off and took a good look at it. The old Trans Am.

Pristine condition. Still. The thing was pitch black, because that’s sorta my color. Cliché yeah, but also harder to spot at night.

I started it up and was pleased to hear the motor start up again after so long. I rolled on out of the lot and off to my house.

My drive was uneventful for a city like this, but when I rolled up to the house I saw cops all along the street. Obviously what happened was very loud, and the police were called.

“Excuse me sir.”

I kept walking.

He grabbed my shoulder.

“I said excuse me!”

I punched him in the jaw. “Piss off!”

He staggered and pulled a gun on me.

“Go ahead, make my day,” I dared, “All it’s gonna do is give me a reason to kick your ass, so bring it mother fucker.” He pulled the pin back as a threat. “Oh, come on,” I complained. “You pulled the pin back too soon!” I scolded.

“I…what?” He gave me a confused look.

“You pulled the pin back way too soon,” I explained, “You want to interrogate someone on the spot, get ‘em a little scared, pistol whip ‘em a couple times, then you pull the pin back to send them over the edge. You can’t just threaten to shoot someone and expect it to work on everyone.”

He figured out the gun wasn’t gonna do anything and holstered it.

“Yeah ya don’t have the balls to shoot me anyways,” I mocked.

“I just have a couple questions, and I’m just doing my job.”

I decided I didn’t have time for that crap and just cut to the chase. “Yes, this is my home. Yes, I was here last night. Yes, I heard the commotion. Yes, I was a part of it. No, I’m not sure what it was about. A man was waiting for me when I got home and he tried to kill me. No, he is not dead. A friend or something of his got him away in a car after I whooped his ass. After which I went after him, but I lost him. I was out all night looking for him and I just got back. Any more question?”

He looked at me in surprise and I could tell he was actually impressed. “Nope. That covers it. I’d like you to come and describe the man you saw.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t deal with cops outside of telling them to piss off. Not to mention you’re fucking useless because you’re too restrained by your own system. You mind, or did you want to keep all your teeth?”

He looked ready to start yelling at me, but he thought better of it. I’ve seen cops get fired because I pissed them off and they did something they really shouldn’t have done. “Do whatever you want. I did my job.”

I shook my head in annoyance and walked into my house through the garage door. I headed into my room and grabbed a few more duffel bags. I had a lot of stuff that I used for…I’ll just say preparation and leave it at that. Demon hunting isn’t all hack and slash. I have a system.

My system required supplies though. Designs, notes, materials, tools, artifacts, and old texts that I copied a while back. Not to mention I had a few more guns that I didn’t have reason to use very often. It’s not easy being this badass you know.

I had about four extra bags by the time I was done. Also I remembered to pick up my magnum and combat knife before I left this time. I threw everything in the backseat of my Trans Am and pulled out of the driveway, heading off back towards the bureau.

***

“Hello Greg,” Michael said as I entered the room, “Glad you decided to join us.”

“Oh yeah, double meaning. Aren’t you just the smartest little apple?” I smirked mockingly.

“I don’t suppose if I ask nicely you’ll at least act like you want to be here?”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” he grunted.

He turned to a table that had a map of the city on it. “Here’s the situation,” he said as he pointed to a warehouse on the map, “We have pin-pointed a soul trade off location. Greg that’s—“

“When a cambion wants out of their deal and gets out by trading two souls for their own. I’ve been doing this longer than you have ya dolt. I ain’t stupid.”

“Quite.”

“Quite?” I parroted with a lot of snark, “What are you, british?”

"That...doens't make any sense."

"Not everything I say makes sense damn it."

“Moving on,” he said quickly in annoyance. I rolled my eyes. “The transaction is taking place at nine o’clock. Our objective is to stop the deal, kill the crossroad cambion, and capture the contract cambion alive. I’d personally prefer to keep the civilians alive if possible. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir!” said the five other members around the table.

“Whatever you say dumbass.”

“Disregarding the insult,” he mumbled, “I want you two to guard the back. Grab the humans when they likely try to escape the battle. I want you two to cover us from the skylights. You, Greg, and I will come sneak in the front.”

“You don’t sneak in the front you sneak in the back!” I snapped at him, “Then ya keep going! Eventually she’ll learn to like it!” It took a moment for everyone to get that, when they did I burst out laughing looking at their faces.

“Oh, working with you is going to be a dream come true, I can already tell.”

“You wanted me here,” I reminded him, “Deal with it.”

***

We walked into the warehouse before the deal was supposed to go down. We’d left the cars about six city blocks back to avoid suspicion, while I had taken a ride with Michael instead (I didn’t want my car totaled by an ass of a cambion okay?). The two circled around back, and the other two used those grappling hooks to climb up onto the roof.

Oh so that’s why they have those.

“Too bad you can’t fly,” I said half seriously.

“Well not all of us were lucky enough to get demonized with no strings attached,” Michael said with disdain.

I looked at him curiously as a thought crossed my mind. “What if you had that chance?” I asked, completely serious this time,

“What if that opportunity presented itself to a man of god like you? Would you do it?”

I couldn’t see his face under his mask, but he glanced at me for just a moment. “I don’t ask myself questions like that. It’s sacrilegious.”

“Well I’m asking you now.” I looked at him sternly. “You wanted me here, so now you get to deal with me.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to answer your questions,” he snapped, “You’re only an initiate. I’m a priest, so I am your superior.”

“So what are you going to do if I misbehave?” I challenged.

He didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought, and I’m not letting that little question go. You harassed me since I moved to this damn city. As far as I’m concerned, I owe you. A lot.”

The warehouse was full of different sorts of crates. Most of it was produce for a nearby grocery store. Some of it was spare machinery, like forklifts (ironically enough) and cash registers.

Michael got into position with the other guy that was with us, while I snuck off. I heard him say “god damn it” when he realized I was gone. I didn’t want to be in the bureau to begin with, so I was gonna do one of the things I did best: give ‘em hell.

I had my own way of busting these little deals up. First I sneak off into the office, then I turn on the computer, then I prepare the intercom for my little surprise.

This is gonna be fun.

***

Well they were late. Can’t say I was surprised. After about a minute, when they started the transaction, which I’ve never actually seen done, I hit play.

“ALL ABORD! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The laughed echoed as I laughed.

Man I love this song!

The guitar started playing as I came out of the office and into their fields of view. “Hey there dumb fucks!” I yelled cockily, “Let the humans go and I’ll kill you quickly.”

The humans started running when they realized what was about to happen, and as expected they ran out the back. The two cambions didn’t waste any time getting to change into their true forms, but I quickly realized something.

“This is a set up for the bureau isn’t it?” I asked knowingly, “I know how this goes. A crossroad cambion, a contract cambion, a deal cambion, and two humans. That’s how it works, but there’s only the two of you…you’re hunters aren’t you?”

“Greg Master…and they said you were all brawn and no brain. I’ll give you this, you actually have common sense.”

The music picked up and they transformed. The one turned into a seven-foot tall rat beast without a tail. It looked more man than rat, but it had sharper claws, and teeth more like a bear. The other one turned into some sort of eagle looking thing. His mouth extended into a beak, grew white feathers on his head, brown feathers on his body, and his forearms and legs mimicked the talons of a bird of prey. Of course he also grew large brown, white tipped feathered wings out of his back.

I ran at them without a second thought while the bullets started flying. The eagle one jumped and flew for the wall. I figured the bureau could distract him, so I decided I’d deal with him second.

I swung at the rat, but unfortunately for me he sidestepped and punched me in the chest. I felt a rib break as I flew into a crate. I started pulling down the zipper for my jacket so I could change myself, but by the time it was down the rat was already on my ass like stink on shit. He pounded me in the face hard enough for my head to break through the box. Just short of broke my nose on that one.

I managed to head-butt him in the nose once. That disoriented him just long enough for me to duck down and slide between his legs as I threw my jacket off. I took on my true form and jabbed a clawed hand into his lower back. I grabbed hold of something and ripped it out. I think it was his kidney, but I’m not sure…I kill things; I’m not a doctor.

He did blurt something in pain, but it wasn’t really a roar, in fact I laughed because it sounded more like a loud squeak. It was hilarious, but that worked in his advantage because it distracted me long enough for him to bash me in the side of the head.

I basically cartwheeled to my feet as he followed up, charging at me; trying to bring his fist down on my head. I managed to catch his fist in one hand and slash at his belly with the other. While he squeaked (still funny) in pain I ducked and spun to slash his chest with my wings, completing the spin with a rising slash of my claws up from his belly to his chest.

“I’ve been doing this too long to be killed by someone as pathetic as you!” I roared in a fury.

I punched him in the chest and grabbed his arm with both hands, whipping him in circle like super Mario and throwing him hard into a metal scaffold. First level of the scaffold: empty, everything above: fell down on top of him.

He was momentarily crushed under all the weight, but he ripped through it with ease. He ran over all of it and tried to maul me, but I dodged his strike and socked him in the side of the head. He staggered and I grabbed his leg, whipping him around again. This time I jumped up using my wings, slammed his head in the ground with a mid-air spin and threw him as hard as I could. He was fucking heavy ya know!

I landed and he struggled to stand. I rushed him with my claws ablaze and plunged my hand into his chest. The first blow to his chest was just to weaken the ribs surrounding his heart, so I could rip through them and tear his heart out. I may be a high school drop out, but I know how to kill a cambion right the first time.

I looked off and saw the eagle about to tear apart one of the bureau guys in mid-flight. I dulled my claws fire and pulled out my magnum. I shot once on both wings and he dropped like a stone. Might not have broken the skin, but it did clip his wings.

I took to the air myself and dove on him. I hit him in a tackle and we tore away at each other in a mess of blue fire and feathers. I managed to break a couple ribs and burn a few claw marks into his shoulders, but he also managed a gash across my chest and few talon marks on my right side of my face.

I landed on my back and launched him off me with my legs. He still managed to use his wings to correct himself in mid-air while I spun to my feet. We both charged and didn’t manage to land a single swipe at one another for a few seconds. I just grabbed the top of his head finally and slammed his face into my knee. Cracked his beak on that one.

His head flew back in pain. I rushed him and blasted into his chest with my shoulder. He flew back a few feet and staggered. I rushed him again and ducked under his retaliation swipe. I grabbed his leg and whipped him around so his face slammed into the side of a nearby crate. He slumped down and barely managed to pick his head up.

I grabbed the back of his head and bashed it into the box he was slumped over three times before he got his bearings back and tried to back-claw me. The edges of his talons grazed my nose, but it didn’t hurt that much. I dodged a few more swiped from him, but he surprised me with a straight punch to my face. He jumped up to try and—I think—roundhouse kick me in the face with his leg talons, but I quickly grabbed my magnum, emptied the chambers while it left the holster—trick is to jerk it up just enough so the shells fly out of it without slowing my draw speed much, flicked it back into place as I aimed it, filled it with fire and tried to shoot him.

Too bad for me he was actually taking to the air again. Apparently his wings had already fixed themselves. I tried shooting at him three times while he flew along the warehouse wall, but I couldn’t get a hit. He was flying too fast for me to get a fix on him. The guys from the bureau didn’t have any better luck shooting him than I did, but not for lack of trying…or bullets for that matter.

I holstered my magnum since I’d figured out he was way to fast to use it on him. At the same time I took to the air myself and flew after him. I lashed out at the eagle but he flew under my swipe. We flew around each other madly trying to land a claw or talon on the other without getting hit ourselves. Finally I let him get another swipe at my right shoulder, but only so I could grab onto his shoulders. I latched onto him and overpowered his own wings.

I flew through the air and grinded his back against a few crates as we flew forward. I brought us back up and bashed him in the face a few times with head-butts, while at the same time he ripped at my back with his talons. Finally he got the idea to tear one of my wings, basically clipping them like I did to him. As we were about to land I brought my legs up to shove him off and into the ground forcefully. While I did he latched onto my legs and left a shallow gash on both my legs. Granted my armored skin provided a small amount of protection, but not much.

I did launch off him and into the air slightly, but I was in horrible pain and dropped to one of my knees when I landed. I wasn’t able to stand with part of my leg muscles torn apart. I could have managed it for a few minutes, but that would have torn them further.

”You know Greg,” the eagle said as he got up to his lower talons, “I never thought I’d see the day that you of all people joined the bureau. We were planning on just tricking and killing a few of them, but the Holder’s own self declared future murderer? That’s just too perfect.” He walked towards me with his talons raised for the kill. “Any last words?”

“Just two,” I said as I subtly pulled the uzi submachine gun off the back of my belt. “Actually, make that four.” I pointed it at him at his eyes widened in shock. “Eat lead mother fucker.”

I unloaded the clip into his chest before he could react, and he couldn’t take to the air again while being bombarded like that. Simple bullets can’t break the skin on most true form cambions, but like I said: you’re gonna feel that next month. I probably broke most of his ribs on that strike, and he was feeling it too.

“You…you sneaky fucker,” he groaned.

“Any last words?” I asked mockingly, and cockily given my handicap.

He gathered his strength for a moment and screeched like a bird of prey as he tried to finish me off again.

I dropped the uzi and grabbed my magnum again. I saw his eyes widen as he realized he was finished. I finished it by putting a blast into his weakened chest: straight through his heart.

“Guess not.”

He hit the ground like the sack of shit he was. I looked at the dead hunter while the music reached the last minute of the song.

“Heirs of the cold war,” Ozzy sang, “That’s what we’ve become.”

I looked up to see the members of the bureau I came with, all six of them, coming to try and help me. Two of them were quick to help me to my feet, then the one went to check the hunter; making sure he was dead.

One of the bureau members looked at me and said, “You look like shit.” I could tell from the voice that it was Michael.

I shoved the guy helping me stand away, tore Michael’s mask off and grabbed him by the color of his uniform. I jerked him towards me and glared daggers into his eyes. “Let’s see you try to kill two hunter class cambions with almost no help and then tell me what you look like afterwards! Oh wait, that’s right! You won’t have to tell me, because I’ll be able to see what you look like when I spit on the corpse those hunters leave behind!”

I bashed him in the head with a head-butt and fell back to my knees while he fell flat on his ass in both pain and shock.

“Even half dead you’re an asshole!” he snapped at me.

“I may be an asshole, but unlike you I’m not useless, and I actually know how to use my power to kill the cambion right in front of me!”

“The combat spells I know are all close range,” he explained begrudgingly, “Whenever I tried to get close he either kept me at bay with his talons or flew out of my reach.”

“Oooooh! They’re all close-range spells,” I said in mock understanding and mock realization, “Ya think I don’t have that problem?!”

“You have your guns!” he countered.

“That’s my point! If what I have doesn’t cut it: I ADAPT!”

He looked at me in surprise while the song finally ended.

“Ya just don’t get. You’re only a kid. Even bruised, bloodied, half dead, and without the use of my legs I could kick your ass out of this building if you forced me to. Y’know why? Because I refuse to die! I won’t let anything get the better of me! I will always find a way to win the fight! Either with what I have or with something I don’t that I’m gonna get!” I glared at him like a disappointed father figure. “You’re weak. You may be a warrior priest, but you’re no demon hunter.”

“I was raised into this!” he yelled with a crack in his voice.

I just kept the disappointed look. “I was born into this.”

He took a step back. I could tell by the look on his face that he was beginning to understand me, and that my words finally got through that thick skull of his.

I looked at one of the other bureau guys. “Ya wanna help me to the cars?”

“You need medical attention,” he insisted.

I waved him off. “I’m a cambion too. I heal a lot faster than humans. I’ll be done bleeding in a few minutes, but I won’t be battle ready for about a day.”

“Alright then,” he said as he and another guy helped me limp towards the exit.

“Y’know what Michael?” I said as I limped away, not even bothering to look back at him, “I may be a cambion, and I don’t like asking for help in a fight, but at least I can admit I need some improvement. When I do, I have enough strength to look past my shame to ask someone for whatever it is I need to improve. I don’t care if it’s a weapon or fighting lessons, I can throw away my pride long enough to ask for help.”

Author's Note

Something worth mentioning: the fight scene in this chapter is actually syncronized to Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne, hence why I thrice state what part of the song it's at. In other words the plug had a purpose, so no it was not just a shameless insert of one of my favorite songs since childhood.

PS I was able to publish this chapter since I was using a friends laptop. It might be a while before I get to any significant progress.

The Storm

Chapter 1

The Storm

Well there I was on another beautiful Sunday afternoon sitting inside like a bump on a log wishing I was—*pfffhahahahahahahaha*—oh shit I couldn’t even say that with a straight face. Woo! Well it was a Thursday night and it was storming like a motherfucker outside. Just the way I like it too.

I’ve never been one for going outside in nice weather anyways. Not since the accident that is, but that’s another story to never tell. I hate the sun. I trained myself to be nocturnal by nature even. In fact: I was just getting up around this time. Yep. 8:00 PM.

The storm almost put me back to sleep. Something about the blast of air slamming back together after seeing it get split by lightning soothed me. Probably that thought that if anyone was fortunate enough to get almost hit by lightning, they would likely go deaf from the following thunder…yeah I’m a cruel person.

Then there was a knock at my door, so I grabbed my baseball bat—the aluminum bat this time. I waited to see if they would just go away for a minute.

“Ah can see the lights on! Ah know yer home, and Ah ain’t leavin’!”

I groaned in annoyance. This wasn’t exactly new to me, but I still didn’t like telling the cops or whoever to piss off whenever this happened. They were just so damn persistent.

Anyways, in one motion I opened the door with my left hand and brought my bat done on the girl’s head with the other hand. I've got a more than pretty good build on me, so it was more than enough to knock her out. She hit the ground pretty hard. I dragged her by her hair and shut the door behind me. In my defense I was pretty sure she wanted to come inside…*pfffhahahahahahahaha* can’t say that with a straight face either!

Yeah so I grabbed the duck tape off the coffee table and got her restrained real nice on the couch. This was when I took the opportunity to take a good look at her. Well for starters she was a blonde—long blonde hair that nearly reached her ass, tied up in single band at the end of it. Her clothing was anything but normal for these parts. She wore tight denim jeans with a thin brown leather belt and a pair of cowboy boots to match. Her shirt was an orange working shirt with the sleeves rolled up, only halfway buttoned up, and tied at the bottom.

I could see her navel and her bra. Ding-ding we have a winner. I was mostly surprised that it wasn’t another nun—don’t ask. I looked over by the door and noticed a Stetson hat, which had to be hers since I didn’t own one. Come to think of it I’d never seen one in this whole city before that night.

I picked it up and set it on my head. It was a bit small for my head, but not by much. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed one of my cleavers, then walked back out where sleeping beauty was still unconscious on the couch. I noticed she was stirring slightly, trying to wake up. Impressively strong willed I have to say. I waited until her eyes started to open a good ten minutes later and threw the cleaver down on the table.

“Alright girly you’ve got ten seconds,” I told her, “Impress me.”

When the cleaver hit the table she jumped, despite the restraints. “Who in tarnation are you?!” she screamed.

“The ass that knocked your ass out with a baseball bat to the head,” I told her, “You're lucky the storm put me in a good mood or I’d have used the wooden bat with a lead core. Translation: you’d be dead.”

“What’s wrong with you?!” she demanded, “And untie me!”

“You’re not in any position to be making demands, but I’ll extend your time since you’re clearly disoriented,” I conceded slightly, “Now what’s your name, where are you from, and who do you work for?”

“Applejack, none of yer business, and what?” she answered.

“’Applejack’?” I parroted in disbelief, “I do believe I’ve just been insulted. THE FUCK KIND OF CODENAME IS THAT?!”

“It ain’t no codename—it’s mah name!” she snapped back.

“Man your parents must have some drunken redneck hicks if they named you that,” I said with a shake of my head.

“YOU LEAVE MAH PARENTS ALONE!” she screeched.

That surprised me. Obviously it was a sore subject, so I left it alone. “How’d you get here?” I asked.

She calmed herself down after a minute of shaking, and segued into some story about how she’d been wandering around all day. After about five minutes of rambling I pulled a gun out of my jacket and fired a shot down the adjacent hallway. That was my blank gun though, which I used as a scare tactic. She suddenly jumped and shut up.

“Oh I’m sorry did I break your concentration?!” I yelled.

She stared at me like I was…well, a psychopath.

“Oh I was just getting a fly on the wall, please, continue,” I said sweetly with I pointed around with the gun like I would have just waved my hand.

She never took her eyes off the gun and kept her mouth shut.

“What’s the matter?” I asked innocently, “Oh you’re done! Alright then. My turn to talk.” I pressed the barrel of the pistol on the coffee table and pulled the trigger. At close range like that even blanks could do some damage, so a couple splinters flew for added effect. “I told you to tell me where you’re from! I didn’t ask how your morning went! NOW TELL ME WHAT COUNTRY ARE YOUR FROM?!”

“What’s it even matter?!” she asked in a panic.

“I’m asking the fucking questions not you!” I snapped, “What is your name?”

“Ah told ya’ll it’s Applejack!”

“How did you get here?” I yelled at her.

“Ah don’t know! I don’t remember!”

I pried the knife off the table and held it to her throat. She shook in fear—on the verge of pissing herself I think—for a few seconds without saying anything. I just gave up and threw the knife down on the ground, cutting the tape binding her legs. I ripped the tape on her hands myself.

She scrambled to the other edge of the couch without daring to move any further without permission. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“I decided I believe you,” I told her flatly.

“You son of a bitch!” she yelled as she jumped at me.

I grabbed her in mid-air and threw her over my head with ease. I took off my leather jacket as she picked herself up, and proceeded to rip off one of my limitless plain black shirts. “Listen ‘Applejack’—if that is your real name—I wouldn't try that again if I was you. Look at the size of me. Do you really think you have a chance?”

She glared fiercely at me. “Gimme mah hat back,” she demanded as though she were in charge, “Ah ain’t askin’.”

I picked the hat up off my head and twirled it in my fingers before tossing it to her. “Keep it. I don’t like wearing hats anyways.”

She flipped it back onto her head and leaned up against the wall, still glaring at me.

I kept quite for a minute while I ran through the last few minutes in my head. She was putting on a brave face, but I really did have her scared stiff. I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for braining her like that. "I…listen," I sighed, "I'm sorry I bashed your head in like that. It's just…I've got a lot of people that want to kick the crap out of me for a lot of things."

"So ya threaten to kill 'em?" she asked aggressively.

"Well..." That did sound pretty bad I admit. "Not only that, but I'm kinda being watched by a lot of government types who think I might be a terrorist or something like that. To make matters worse there's a lot of people that want me outright dead for things I'm definitely not gonna tell you about. To be completely honest that bat has saved my life a few times." Maybe overexaggerating just a bit about the saved my life bit, but the rest was true.

"Sounds like ya kinda got the shit end of the stick," she said pretty apathetically. I might have just been hearing things, but she almost sounded like she felt sorry for me for the breifest moment.

"I am sorry, and I don't ever say that," I told her seriously, "I..." I mentally kicked myself into saying this, "Is there something I can do to make it up to you?"

She still looked pretty mad at me, but I could tell she at least believed me. “…Ah need a place to stay,” she grumbled finally.

I raised an eyebrow for a moment. She looked away so I assumed I heard her correctly. “You can stay in my room,” I said as I waved a hand dismissively and plopped down on the couch, “I sleep here anyways. Bedroom’s down the hall thataway. Break anything and I break you.” I was just joking of course, but she wasn't quite as amused.

“You little—“

“Little?” I asked coyly with a raised eyebrow.

She glared at me a moment longer and just gave up. “Thanks,” she muttered as she marched past me.

I glanced back at her and took a look at her ass. Perfect round ass; enough that there is an ass, but not so big that she’s better coming than going. You could play that thing like a bongo. Hell, you could play quarters off that thing. I pushed the thought out of my mind…with some difficulty.

Oh that thing would be perfect to slam into.

Shut up already.

Yeah, cause saying that worked so well the last time.

I’m not gonna rape her.

Now who’s the sick fuck? I never said anything about rape. I was gonna say you should seduce her.

Yeah, because women are totally hot for a guy that bashes her head in and ties them up when they first meet in the middle of the night. Aren’t I just a charmer?

Eh…okay yeah, scratch that idea. It ain’t happenin’.

No shit sherlock.

Call me crazy: I argue with my own thoughts.

Since she wasn’t working for anyone anyways I guessed I wouldn’t have to worry about the cops asking questions. Unless her family knew where to look and they came to take her off my hands. If that was the case I'd just send her off with them. Not like I was holding her against her will or anything.

I decided to flip the television on. Sixty-inch flatscreen 1080p—just the way I like it: top rate. I scanned my movies on the shelf and settled on “Blade Trinity”. Okay, sure, the Twilight Saga effectively killed the last bit of credibility vampires had, but the stuff before that is still good…mostly.

I always loved Dracula’s true form in the movie. Not to mention Wesley Snipes did a great job in all three movies. He’s one of those black protagonists that doesn’t have to be “gangster”. That alone is worth a hundred points. The character’s anger, bloodlust, sadness, dedication, and just plain being a badass is all brought to life. Too bad about that tax evasion scandal.

Vampires…if only life were that simple, but it never is. It never will be.

I finished the movie and watched through the credits, just bored out of my mind since the film finished. I shut the TV off and headed down into the basement. I’d have used the punching bag to let off some steam, but that shook the floor. I didn’t need any more arguments from the cowgirl upstairs. I could tell she’d end up being a headache if she stayed for too long.

I had a slightly older bowflex that required you to put a metal pin below the amount of weight you wanted to lift. I needed to order a second one and scrap it for parts to double the two hundred pound limit. Then I needed to rig up the spare pulleys and chords so they didn’t snap. It was a bit of a hassle, but worth it.

I set it up to four hundred pound immediately and got going. I think I lost count around one hundred fifty, so I switched to legs, and eventually abs. Needless to say I was a bit tired after all that, so I went up on the couch and took a nap.

***

I awoke to a scream of pain. I looked over and saw "Applejack" holding her shin as she hopped out of my bedroom with her hair slightly wet. She'd made herself at home and used my shower...great. I wasn't quite sure what it was she banged her shin on though.

I picked myself up and walked around the island into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and grabbed myself a venom energy drink. I downed about half of it in one go. “Need a morning pick-me-up?” I offered.

“Oh, now yer all nice and sweet?” she shot at me as she sat down on one the the stools I had set up for mostly decorative purposes, since I wasn't exactly social.

“I slept well,” I answered simply. I tossed her my half empty can and she failed to catch it. Good thing I left the cap on.

She picked it up and took a hesitant swig of it, and apparently liked that flavor. “Now that ain't bad,” she remarked with a smile.

I glanced at the clock. 8:00 AM. Well that’s gonna screw up my sleep schedule for a while. I sighed, “Well I’m headed downtown to get some supplies. You coming?”

“Ah ain’t even had breakfast yet!” she snapped.

“There nothing to make for breakfast,” I informed her, “I haven’t gone shopping for over a month.” Translation: I don’t live well, though not for lack of money believe me. “If you’re going to live here then you’ll want a say in what I get.”

“Ah ain’t stayin’ here another day!” she snapped at me, “Ya’ll nearly killed me last night! Apart from that ya knocked me out with a bat!”

“True, and true,” I mumbled with a nod, “But, the fact of the matter is that you have no idea where you are and you have no idea how to get home, correct?”

“Yeah,” she said with a stern look, “Why?”

“Well in this city you don’t get by unless you know someone,” I told her, “Truth of the matter is: I’m the meanest guy in this city, but I’m your only hope of gettin’ out of here. Alive anyways.”

“Great.” She slumped down on the breakfast bar and pulled her hat over her head. I could tell she was mumbling something obscenely angry, but it didn’t matter. “Aight, aight,” she said as she picked herself back up, “Ya got a way into the city?”

“Yeah. Just let me take my morning shower.” I walked off to my bedroom saying, “The remote is on the coffee table; entertain yourself.”

I heard her muttering something to herself along the lines of “how the hay does this thing work” while I set my clothes out. I noted the odd behavior and hopped in the shower. I turned the heat up as far as it would go and basked in the blazing heat. It wasn’t as hot as it could be, which I figured was because Applejack already took a shower while I was napping. I’d been using the Anarchy scents of Axe recently, but I still had a generic bar of soap for use too. I assumed that’s what Applejack used.

I got out and pulled a quick shave, applied deodorant, and sprayed on a little cologne. That was an old habit my father got me in as a kid. I put on a replacement white shirt and my leather jacket, along with a pair of blue jeans. I left my jacket half zipped and dried my hair.

My hair had been jet black for nearly as long as I could remember, but I know for a fact I’d been born blonde. My eyes had been called emeralds by some girls I’d “met” over the years…kind of like Applejack’s eyes. Then there was my last notable facial feature: the large misshapen “X” on my left cheek that ran over the bridge of my nose. It wasn’t an interesting story, but I feel it helps me stand out—as if I needed help with that.

“Alright I’m set to go,” I said as I walked out to the foyer where Applejack waited for me.

“Y’know, Ah never caught yer name,” she told me.

I realized she was right. Of all the things that happened last night I never gave her my name. “It’s Greg,” I told her, “Greg Masters.” I walked out to the driveway and to the garage door.

“Well what’s that mean?” she asked me.

“What, my name?” I asked, “It’s a name. It doesn’t mean anything.” I noted that too and threw open the garage door, where my one and only love waited for me.

“Ya’ve got to be kiddin’ me,” Applejack deadpanned.

“1980 wide-glide fxwg 1340 shovelhead?” I asked her, “I never kid about my baby.” Harley Davidson Motorcycles has made the best things to ever hit the road. Ever. “This yellow beauty is a collectors item, passed down to me by my father—rest his soul.”

“He’s…”

I nodded simply. “Back when I was a kid,” I told her, “It’s not a secret. My mom too. The state said I couldn’t have it until I was eighteen, so I ‘stole’ what was rightfully mine as soon as I was old enough to pick it up.”

“How do ya steal what’s yours?” Applejack asked me with an odd look.

“Well,” I answered awkwardly, “The thing is that a lot of inheritance in the US can only be legally transacted once the receiving party is eighteen. Mostly with money and motor vehicles I think. I’m not a lawyer. Until then it belongs to the state or some crap like that.”

I hopped on the bike and stood it up. “You gettin' on or what?”

“I wanna say ‘or what’,” she replied.

“Oh you act like you….” Then a thought occurred to me and I smirked. “You’ve never even seen a motorcycle before have you?”

“…No,” she pouted.

Another thing to note. “Don’t worry,” I said condescendingly, “I’ll protect you.”

She glared furiously at me. “Ah don’t need no protection! Ah can take care of mahself!” she snapped as she got on the back seat, “Now git’ goin’!”

“As you wish,” I said darkly. I started up the bike and roared the engine, causing her to cling to me for dear life. “Hold on tight cowgirl. I don’t ride slow.” I pulled a burnout leaving the garage and swerved into a right turn out the driveway. Applejack yelled the whole way, clinging to me with one hand and holding onto her hat for dear life with the other.

I looked off into the distance with fierce determination. I had a gut feeling about something, but I wasn’t sure what exactly. All I knew for certain was one thing: there was a storm brewing, and this one wasn’t going to be the flash and bang kind.

Author's Note

Just a quick heads up: I decided I wanted a story with a pony coming to our world and meeting a person that they first hate, but eventually come to like. The problem is that my stories evolve.

The story you are about to begin is my “no limits” project. It will contain romance, violence, light gore, monstrous designs, a complex backstory, and terribly sad pasts. Also fucking. There will be heavy sex in a couple of the chapters.

Honestly I think this may be some of my best work simply because it came so naturally to me. You’ve been warned though: this is not for the squeamish.

City of Lost Souls

Chapter 3

City of Lost Souls

It had been about a week since our drunken escapade at the bar, and since then I decided that’s where I’d go normally whenever I needed a break. That meant every couple of days, although it wasn’t as though I got drunk every time I went. Last time we went was a fun.

***

“That’s a ringer,” she bragged.

I sat there with a dumb look on my face. “You got a ringer on the first shot?” I said in complete disbelief, “Oh shit, what did I get myself into?”

***

I lost that bet, so yeah, she ended up with her massage after all. To be fair playing a farm girl in horseshoes spelt bad idea to begin with, and the drunken rule did not apply this time around. On the upside I got to feel her up, so I’m calling that win-win.

She’d even gotten used to riding my bike too. Said she wasn’t the biggest fan of the motor, but she did like the speed and wind in her face.

For the last week what we did mostly outside of the bar was either ride around town for no reason, watch movies on the flatscreen, or even spotting each other on the bench press. I did that for the exercise, but she did it to keep up her routine. Guess she felt she needed to stay active. She wasn’t a little girl that was for sure, but she was such a looker too. I still can’t keep my eyes off her ass half the time.

“Headin’ off to the bar again,” I told her, “You comin’?”

“You know it.”

***

“A couple years back Big Macintosh broke a couple ribs during harvesting time, and Ah had to do it all mahself,” she told me, “The orchard goes farther than ya can see from on top of the barn! Finally I got mah friends to help after bein’ stubborn all week. Ah couldn’t even stand up straight after that.”

“Jeez cowgirl, what are you, a bull?” I laughed

“Alright, what’s something stupid you did once?”

I thought that one over, and I settled on one I just despised talking about. With Applejack though it was just for fun. “Well, I told you I used to have really long hair when I was a kid. About sixteen/seventeen years old?” I counted the dates in my head quickly. “Seventeen is when this happened.

“So I get in another fight with one of the kids—you’d think orphans would be nicer to one another, but teenagers are the same everywhere. Finally we settle on a little bet. Nevermind the terms—I can’t remember anymore, but if I won he had to walk into the girls bathroom at school butt-ass naked—“

“Oh good lord.”

“—If he won I had to get a perm and dye my hair pink, and I wasn’t aloud to do anything about it until it came undone naturally. I lost.” Applejack fell out of her chair laughing on that one. “I’m pretty sure one of them still has pictures too.”

“By the harvest moon that’s a good one,” she said as she picked herself back up, “Ah wasn’t askin’ fer embarrassing y’know.”

“Ah know, but I needed that one in a humorous light so I could finally get over it. The image of me with a head of cotton candy has been stuck in my brain for years.”

It was a slow day at the bar. Not many people had arrived yet, and the ones who had weren’t drinking much if anything. The music wasn’t even going yet. It was pretty quiet outside of us two chatting. Since I’d met her I think I’d loosened up a lot. I still didn’t like strangers though.

“Hey Masters,” I heard a voice say. I turned around to see a guy standing twice my size at around seven and a half feet. Give or take an inch or two. “You Greg Masters?”

“Yeah. What’s it to you? Another message from the boss?” I asked sarcastically, “Oh wait, let me get my pen and notepad out.” I held an imaginary one just to mock him.

“Don’t play around you sack of shit you know what you’ve done,” the gargantuan growled.

“Greg what’s goin’ on?” AJ asked me.

“Stay out of it, trust me on this,” I warned her with a very stern look.

“What happened, happened, Greg,” he told me, “It’s not going to change with revenge. All that awaits you at the end of this road is your own grave.”

I stood up and yanked him down by the color of his shirt. “You listen to me you cock sucker. You tell your boss that he can beg and plead and run and hide and cower all he wants, but I’m comin’ for him. When I find him, when I find him, I won’t be nice enough to just rip his head off and be done with it. I will watch him SUFFER!” I shoved the giant back hard enough for him to fall backwards and smash through a table. I threw enough money on the bar to pay for it and walked out the door.

Applejack ran after me. “Now what the hay was that all about?”

“This city is corrupt beyond what you can imagine,” I told her as I got on my bike, “I’m goin’ home. You comin’?”

She looked ready to fire another question, but she just got on the bike instead. We rode home in complete silence. I was in a bad mood, and I think she knew better than to push an issue with me.

***

When we got back I needed to calm down, so I went out back and started playing again. Applejack came out to listen again and sat waiting for me to finish. When I did she said something that surprised me.

“This hat was an anniversary gift from mah daddy to mah ma,” she told me, “Mah granny put it on mah head the day they died, and Ah ain’t never let it go since then. Ah never tell anyone that.”

I listened thoughtfully. It explained why it was so important to her, but I did make a deal I suppose. “…My father was a rebel,” I told her, “He did a lot of thing a lot of people wanted him dead for. Eventually my mother set him straight, and some time after that they got married. He kept his old bike and his guitar when they got married. Only things he kept from his old life. When he died he left them both to me.

“The bike was just a hand-me-down, but the guitar…that meant the world to him. I won’t back down was his favorite song to play. He even used it as a lullaby for me when I was a baby I remember him saying.

“He told me it was about standing up and standing firm in the name of what you believe in, never giving up, never running away, and always pursuing justice. That’s what he wanted for me, and I tried…lord how I keep trying.”

“Wow…I never would’ve guessed…”

“Eventually I just would up here…in the City of Lost Souls,” I told her, “That’s what we all call it here, and there’s a reason for that. It’s about as pretty as most of the attitudes in it.”

“…So what about that guy?”

“In the bar? He was a messenger…that’s another story that I can’t tell you.”

I knew the look she was giving me without seeing it. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t,” I snapped, “I’m stuck in the middle of something you don’t want to see, and I’m not about to drag you into this.”

“What if Ah wanna know what Ah’d be gettin’ into first?”

I set my guitar down and walked up to, glaring daggers into her eyes. She didn’t move an inch. “I’d say ‘no you don’t’.”

I walked past her and out the front door. I didn’t know where I was going, but I couldn’t just wait for her to try and badger the facts out of me. I kept walking through the streets for a few hours. It was a clear and sunny, the kind of weather I hate.

***

I finally circled back home a few hours later. The sun had set a long time ago. It had to be well past midnight. I looked at the house with the lights still on and sighed. As I walked up to the front door I stopped when I saw something move in the shadows. I jumped back and grabbed a loaded pistol from my jacket.

“Now that won’t do you any good you know,” the voice told me.

“I guess not,” I said as I tossed it aside. I skidded to a stop along the driveway pavement. I looked as the shape came into the light. It was the same messenger from the bar, and he looked pretty pissed. “You plan on goin’ renegade?” I asked.

“I’m still under orders actually,” he told me to my genuine surprise, “You see, I’m under orders to kill you if you don’t back off. The boss is done playing your little game Greg.”

“He started this war. I’m just the guy that’s gonna finish it.”

The big lummox practically pulled an owl checking to see if anyone was around. “Completely off the record: why are you doing this?” he asked me, “The Holder doesn’t like telling us much about you. I’m starting to think even he doesn’t know much himself.”

“I’ve sent him more than enough death threats through messengers like you for him to know,” I said coldly, “This is for revenge. It’s not for the people he screws over, it’s not to protect the people, it’s all for me. Anymore questions you wanna ask?”

“No. I don’t really care enough to hear about your life story,” he said simply. He didn’t really come off as the normal kind of messenger. I think he just managed to get himself mixed up in something he didn’t fully understand. If that was the case than I could tell he just accepted it a long time ago.

“Fine, now let’s get this over with so I can go to bed.”

I raised my fist and readied myself for him to come at me. He rushed me trying to bring his fist down right on top of me. I spun to the right to avoid him and threw my fist into his jaw. He reeled back and tried to backhand me with his giant left hand. I swung myself back and it sailed just over my face. I rose back up and jabbed him in the stomach a few times. He swung his leg out to knock me down and I jumped up and kicked him in the face.

Finally he landed a blow by punching me square in the chest. At his size it hurt like hell, but I didn’t even get a fracture. The force of the blow knocked me all the way back into the street though. I flipped back onto my feet and dodged his fist again, I also countered by punching him in the jaw. He threw another punch straight for me and I jumped back out of his reach.

“Y’know you’re pretty fast for your size I’ll give ya that,” I told him as I dodged and jumped around a few more swings.

“And you’re a slippery little bastard is what you are,” he told me, “In that leather jacket I don’t imagine that’s easy. I’ll give you that, that’s impressive.” I slid under his strikes and knocked him off his feet. I jumped up and tried to stomp on him, but he batted me aside.

He jumped up to his feet and threw another punch at me as I landed. I didn’t have time to dodge to I tried to stop the blow. I caught his fist and ended up skidding along the pavement for ten feet. I flipped backwards and managed to jump on top of his head as he tried to pulverize me into the street. I dropped behind him and gave a hard jab to his lower spine, and I knew he felt that one.

He dropped to his knees with a pained yell. He reached behind himself and managed to grab my leg. He stood up, spun around, and threw me as hard as he could. I crashed through the window of my own house. The glass cut into my hands and face a little, but my jacket and pants kept me mostly unharmed.

“What the buck?!” AJ yelled, “Ah was waitin’ for ya, but I didn’t think ya’d come in like that!”

“Shut up I’m busy,” I snapped at her. “Mother fucking son of a bitch!” I roared, “Now you’ve gone too far!” I rushed back out the window and punched him as hard as I could in the face. He’d been coming to fight me inside the house, but I wasn’t gonna have that. I’ve got too much cool stuff in my house. Another thing: he did not expect me to come at him that quickly or hit that hard.

He fucking flew to the sidewalk. I jumped on his chest and started bashing him in the face and hard as I could. I knocked out several teeth, broke his nose, broke his jaw, and gave him a black eye.

He grabbed me by the back of the neck and threw me off of himself. He stumbled trying to stand up

“Greg what’s goin’ on?!” Applejack half demanded half screamed in panic.

“The messenger from the bar came back to kill me,” I explained, “Ya wanna help? Then help me kick his ass before he kicks mine!”

“Ah—but—why?” she stammered.

“Do you ever stop talking?!” I snapped at her.

“Ah expect an explanation after this!”

“Not fucking likely.”

She ran at the messenger, punching him in that one part of the gut with no muscle. He tensed up in pain and AJ punched his lowered face square in the bloodied nose. I ran at him as he reeled back and I ran up him. I kicked him in the face and he stumbled back barely keeping his balance. He must have learned from the last time he was on the ground.

Applejack ran at the messenger and jumped, kicking him in the gut a few times while he was still disoriented. I followed up with a few jabs to his chest. He gained his balance and swiped at us. We both ducked, barely avoiding the strike, and jumped up, both of us hitting him square in the jaw with a strong kick. He stumbled back and I rushed him, hitting him with my shoulder, which knocked him the ground again.

“Think ya can throw me into the air?” I asked Applejack.

“Yeah.”

“Then do it.” I ran towards her and jumped. She caught my foot with both hands interlocked and threw me skyward with a little difficulty. I angled my launch so I’d land on my attacker’s chest. Square hit, which knocked the air out of his lungs, leaving him winded.

I walked off him thinking he was done for the moment, until he got pissed anyways. I walked over to Applejack saying, “Okay now that that’s over you should leave before this gets ugly…er.”

“Ah ain’t going anywhere ‘till ya explain why he’s tryin’ to kill ya!”

“He was ordered to do it if I didn’t back off after his little threat. Happy?”

“No. Ah want the whole story!”

“Well you’re not gettin’ it!”

“Ah have a right to—watch out!” She pointed behind me with a panicked scream. I turned and saw the messenger had already recovered, and his fists were about to come down on both our head. AJ stumbled and fell to the ground. If I dodged she’d be hurt, so I didn’t dodge. I put up a hand and stopped the blow like it was fucking nothing.

“What in?” Applejack muttered.

“No more games,” I growled fiercely, “Time to die.” I held his left fist under my right and brought my wrist up on his elbow, effortlessly breaking his arm. He howled in pain and I grabbed the broken arm with both hands. I ran past him and dragged him with me, popping his shoulder out of its socket as I went. I spun and gave a strong jerk, throwing him down the street.

He struggled to stand and I rushed him again, pummeling his face and chest like a boss. I felt his skull starting to collapse and his ribs breaking like toothpicks. I leaned back and gave a strong kick to his right kneecap, which completely shattered it. He fell to the ground, presumably unconscious.

I turned around breathing steadily, and I saw Applejack looking at me in a mix of shock and awe. “That’s the other reason I didn’t hold you to the arm wrestling bet,” I told her flatly.

She didn’t miss a beat. “Remind me not to make that bet again. Now that King Kong is down for the count, ya mind explainin’ everythin’?”

“Down for the count?” I parroted sarcastically, “Oh no. Now we just pissed him off.”